Scientists Warn, One of World’s Super Volcanoes is Waking Up: ‘It Will Plunge the Planet Into Chaos’

Beneath the charming streets of Naples, beneath the cafés, cathedrals, and crowded neighborhoods, lies something far more ancient—and far more dangerous—than most residents ever think about: a supervolcano big enough to alter the course of human history.

Campi Flegrei, or the “burning fields,” is not your average volcano. It’s a sleeping giant with a history of mass destruction, capable of hurling enough ash into the sky to dim the sun and cool the planet. Around 40,000 years ago, it did just that—an eruption so violent it may have helped wipe out the Neanderthals. Now, scientists are warning that this giant is stirring once more.

More than 3,000 earthquakes in six months. Carbon dioxide emissions surging to levels that suggest magma is rising. The ground itself lifting steadily beneath people’s feet. These aren’t scenes from a disaster movie—they’re real-time observations from one of the most closely monitored volcanic systems on Earth.

If it erupts, the damage wouldn’t stop at Italy’s borders. What happens in the heart of southern Europe could ripple across continents, triggering climate disruptions, grounding flights, and threatening global food supplies. The question isn’t just whether Campi Flegrei will erupt—it’s whether the world is ready if it does.

What’s Happening Beneath Campi Flegrei

Tucked beneath the rolling hills west of Naples, Campi Flegrei is no ordinary volcano. Unlike the iconic cone of Mount Vesuvius nearby, it spreads across a vast caldera—an ancient crater formed by past super-eruptions. And while its surface might seem still, the signs coming from below suggest otherwise. In recent months, this seemingly quiet landscape has become a focus of mounting scientific concern.

The most visible warning has been seismic activity. In May, the region was shaken by a magnitude 4.4 earthquake—the strongest in four decades. That jolt was not an isolated event but part of a swarm of more than 3,000 smaller quakes recorded over just six months. These tremors are more than minor geological hiccups; they’re indicators of stress building beneath the Earth’s surface. Scientists interpret them as signs that magma may be rising, pushing upward against brittle rock. The ground, like a lid under pressure, is starting to flex.

This metaphor—Campi Flegrei as a pressure cooker—isn’t just dramatic flair. In volcanic systems, pressure builds as magma moves upward, and the lid, in this case the Earth’s crust, can only hold so much. If the rock above the magma chamber becomes sufficiently fractured, it could provide the escape path for an eruption. According to volcanologist Dr. Christopher Kilburn, distinguishing between gas released from magma versus hydrothermal activity is crucial, as only the former signals imminent eruption risk. Recent findings point heavily toward magmatic gas being the primary source.

Indeed, carbon dioxide emissions have surged. Italy’s National Institute of Geophysics and Volcanology (INGV) reports that CO₂ emissions now range between 4,000 and 5,000 metric tons daily—an unusually high figure. This is not just hot air.

Magma releases carbon dioxide as it nears the surface and depressurizes, and when this much gas is being emitted, it strongly suggests that magma is dangerously shallow. A recent study from the University of Naples found that roughly 80% of the region’s gas emissions originate from magma, not merely from heated groundwater interacting with rock.

Adding to the concern is a slow, persistent uplift of the ground—what scientists call bradyseism. In Pozzuoli, a town at the center of the caldera, the ground has risen nearly five feet since 2005. This isn’t just a natural geological rhythm. It’s a response to changes underground, including gas accumulation and magma movement. Like a balloon inflating beneath the surface, the earth is gently lifting. While bradyseism alone doesn’t guarantee an eruption, when it coincides with increased seismicity and gas output, it raises serious red flags.

One of the more advanced tools scientists are using to assess risk is mechanical failure modeling, borrowed from engineering. By studying how rock behaves under extreme pressure, researchers have found that the crust beneath Campi Flegrei is transitioning from bending to cracking—a subtle but critical shift. Cracked rock is not just weaker; it’s more permeable. If fractures open wide enough, magma could find its way to the surface quickly and explosively.

Together, these signals—persistent tremors, elevated gas levels, ground uplift, and changes in subsurface stress—are not cause for panic, but they are cause for preparation. Campi Flegrei has rumbled before without erupting. But as the data accumulates, the scientific consensus is clear: something is stirring beneath one of the most powerful volcanoes on the planet, and we may be watching the early chapters of a story that could rewrite the geological and human landscape alike.

The Human Risk Around Naples

For millions of people living in the shadow of Campi Flegrei, volcanic risk is not an abstract concept—it’s a looming reality woven into the fabric of daily life. The region is home to more than four million residents, including the densely packed urban centers of Naples and surrounding towns like Pozzuoli, which sits directly within the caldera. Unlike remote volcanic regions with sparse populations, this is one of the most densely inhabited volcanic areas in the world, turning any potential eruption into not just a geological event, but a full-blown humanitarian crisis.

If Campi Flegrei erupts, the impact would be swift and potentially devastating. The threats are manifold: lava flows, ash plumes, and pyroclastic surges—fast-moving clouds of scorching gas and volcanic debris that can obliterate everything in their path. Pyroclastic flows are particularly lethal; they travel at speeds of over 100 kilometers per hour and can reach temperatures exceeding 700°C, making survival within their path nearly impossible.

But it isn’t only the dramatic images of flowing lava that raise concern. Volcanic ash poses a more insidious, widespread threat. Even moderate ashfall can collapse roofs, contaminate water supplies, disable machinery, and cause respiratory distress. A significant eruption could ground flights for days or weeks across Europe, as happened in 2010 with Iceland’s Eyjafjallajökull eruption—but on a far larger scale. Agricultural lands could be buried in ash, threatening food production and supply chains not just in Italy but across neighboring countries.

Public infrastructure would be especially vulnerable. Roads could be rendered impassable, electricity grids and water systems damaged, and hospitals overwhelmed. In a modern city like Naples, built on ancient streets and historic foundations, a major disruption to utilities and emergency services could quickly spiral into chaos. And unlike disasters with long warning windows, volcanic eruptions—especially in systems showing rapid changes—can unfold with very little lead time.

To address these dangers, Italian authorities raised Campi Flegrei’s alert level from green (normal) to yellow (caution) back in 2012. Since then, emergency protocols have been revised and detailed evacuation plans developed. But even the most robust strategies face daunting logistical hurdles when the scale of evacuation involves moving potentially hundreds of thousands—or even millions—of people in a short time. Naples’ narrow streets, limited exit routes, and aging infrastructure make fast, coordinated evacuation a monumental challenge.

Beyond logistics lies the psychological weight of uncertainty. Residents of areas like Pozzuoli live with periodic tremors and ground shifts as part of their environment. Over the decades, this has led to a kind of “volcanic fatigue,” where frequent alerts and drills can desensitize communities. Yet complacency is a luxury Campi Flegrei does not afford. The very act of preparing for the worst while living through the mundane—going to work, sending children to school, running errands—is a quiet resilience that defines life in the danger zone.

Climate Disruption and the Chain Reaction

One of the most profound global effects comes from the release of sulfur dioxide into the stratosphere. When propelled high enough, this gas reacts with water vapor to form sulfate aerosols—tiny reflective particles that scatter sunlight and cool the planet. This natural cooling mechanism is well documented: the 1991 eruption of Mount Pinatubo in the Philippines released around 15 million tons of sulfur dioxide and cooled global temperatures by about 0.5°C for several years. Pinatubo, however, was not a supervolcano. Campi Flegrei has the potential to emit far greater volumes, with correspondingly larger climate impacts.

Past eruptions like Tambora in 1815 offer a sobering preview. That eruption led to the “Year Without a Summer,” a global climate anomaly that caused crop failures, famine, and mass displacement. Today’s globalized world—with its interlinked food systems, just-in-time supply chains, and high population densities—is arguably even more vulnerable. A sudden global cooling of just 1°C might not sound catastrophic, but it’s an average; some regions could experience temperature drops of 5–7°C. Such shifts could devastate major agricultural zones in North America, Europe, and Asia all at once, straining food security and inflaming geopolitical tensions.

There is also growing evidence that volcanic eruptions can disrupt rainfall patterns. Changes in temperature and atmospheric circulation may weaken summer monsoons, especially in already vulnerable regions of Africa and Asia. Droughts, crop failure, and water scarcity could follow—impacting millions, especially in countries least equipped to respond to sudden climate shocks. According to a recent analysis by Lloyd’s of London, such a scenario could create a “multi-breadbasket failure,” threatening global grain reserves and pushing food prices to crisis levels.

Adding to the complexity is the interaction between volcanic cooling and existing climate change. In a warmer world, atmospheric dynamics are different. As the climate warms, air circulation patterns speed up, altering how aerosol particles are transported and how long they persist. Paradoxically, this can make volcanic cooling even more intense and widespread. Warmer ocean surfaces can also trap more heat in the upper layers, but when these are suddenly cooled, it can destabilize local weather and marine systems.

And while the eruption itself is beyond human control, the fallout is something we could prepare for—at least in theory. Experts like Professor Markus Stoffel from the University of Geneva stress that governments and global agencies must conduct stress tests and prepare for worst-case scenarios. Emergency food reserves, international aid protocols, and coordinated responses to sudden climate variability are all part of the preparedness toolkit. Yet as things stand, most countries remain focused on near-term climate issues, with little planning for volcanic disruption on a planetary scale.

Are We Prepared? Science, Surveillance, and Global Readiness

As the world becomes more alert to the possibility of a major eruption at Campi Flegrei, a sobering question emerges: are we truly prepared for the scale of disruption such an event could unleash? The unsettling consensus among experts is that while scientific understanding has grown significantly, global readiness has not kept pace.

Campi Flegrei is one of the most closely monitored volcanic systems in the world. Italian authorities, through institutions like the National Institute of Geophysics and Volcanology (INGV), have invested heavily in surveillance tools: satellite imaging, ground deformation sensors, seismic arrays, and gas spectrometry are all in place to track the volcano’s every move. These instruments can detect subtle shifts—like increased carbon dioxide levels, crustal cracking, and bradyseism—that may signal escalating risk.

This comprehensive monitoring network has allowed scientists to catch early warning signs and make evidence-based decisions. In 2012, for example, the volcanic alert level was raised from green to yellow—a move reflecting growing concern but also a commitment to transparency. Emergency plans have been updated, and evacuation protocols for the millions in the Naples metro area have been drafted. These include zone-specific evacuation routes, communication systems, and coordination among civil protection agencies.

Yet the sheer scale of the threat reveals deep limitations. Evacuating hundreds of thousands of people, many of whom live in densely packed urban neighborhoods, is an enormous logistical task. Roads in and around Naples are already congested under normal conditions. In the event of an emergency, even a small delay or miscommunication could result in chaos. Moreover, a rapid eruption could leave very little time to act—especially if magma breaches the surface with limited or ambiguous precursors.

Beyond Italy, the picture is even more concerning. At the international level, there is no unified framework for responding to supervolcanic eruptions, despite their global implications. Unlike earthquakes or hurricanes, which have well-established emergency response models, supervolcanoes occupy a gray zone in disaster planning. Their infrequency makes them easy to overlook in policy discussions, yet their potential impact is so large that ignoring them carries its own risk.

Scientists like Dr. Markus Stoffel and Dr. Alan Robock have long advocated for greater integration of volcanic scenarios into global climate and disaster preparedness frameworks. This includes running stress tests on global food systems, simulating the economic impacts of a volcanic winter, and establishing contingency plans for displaced populations. The knowledge exists—what’s lacking is the political will and cross-border coordination to act on it.

Another concern is public communication. While researchers and civil protection agencies are working diligently, the general public may not fully grasp the seriousness of what’s at stake. Volcanic fatigue—born of decades of minor tremors and false alarms—can dull public responsiveness. Bridging the gap between science and public understanding requires more than alerts; it requires sustained education, trust-building, and clear, timely messaging.

In the broader sense, preparedness isn’t just about evacuation drills and gas monitors. It’s about imagining—and planning for—a world that could suddenly look very different. A major eruption could bring food shortages, price shocks, mass migration, and infrastructure breakdowns. It could accelerate existing crises or create new ones, all within weeks of the initial blast.

Living with the Unpredictable Power of Nature

Campi Flegrei is a stark reminder that even in an age of satellites and supercomputers, nature still operates on its own terms. Beneath the paved streets of Naples and the quiet hills of Pozzuoli lies a force capable of reshaping not just a region, but the global climate, economy, and food systems. It is one of the few natural phenomena with the power to turn modern life inside out in a matter of days.

And yet, despite the technology we possess and the knowledge we’ve accumulated, much of the response to this risk still hangs in a delicate balance. Scientists are watching, authorities are planning, and residents are waiting—living their lives beneath a landscape that is rising, trembling, and exhaling gas. The data may not point to an imminent eruption, but the signals are clear enough to demand our attention and action.

The story of Campi Flegrei is not just about Italy, nor is it only about geology. It’s about global interconnectedness, about the fragility of systems we often take for granted, and about the need to treat rare but high-impact events with the seriousness they deserve. The warning signs are not a cause for panic, but for preparation.

We do not know when—or if—the next great eruption will occur. But we do know this: time spent preparing is never wasted. The world has a narrow window to learn from the past, listen to the present, and invest in resilience for the future.