Why Vikings Avoided Northern Norway

Some time ago, as we spent some winter days in Northern Norway beyond the Polar Circle, I had the initial impression that we would be entering a harsh and heroic land – the kind of environment that forged the Vikings into formidable seafarers. But on-site, an later digging the Internet, I realized that I was absolutely wrong. No, Vikings did not settle there.

Northern Norway in winter, with only a couple of hours of twilight, is dark and cold. We were there around the full Moon – the moonlight was powerful, as though it wanted to compensate for the absent sun. But on cloudy nights, total darkness engulfed everything, stripping even the mountains of their outlines. This polar night period, lasting from late November to mid-January depending on latitude, shaped traditional human activity for centuries. Besides, the mountainous terrain and fjords made overland travel difficult. Fjord landscapes – while spectacular – presented serious challenges. Even today, roads are carved into rock or replaced by ferries.

Northern Scandinavia – stretching across modern-day northern Norway, Sweden, and Finland – lies mostly within the subarctic and Arctic climate zones. The region is defined by long, harsh winters, where temperatures can drop below –30°C in inland areas, and short, cool summers with a growing season often limited to just 50–90 days. These extreme seasonal contrasts are intensified by dramatic changes in daylight: during the polar night (mørketid), the sun does not rise for weeks; during the midnight sun, it never sets. These conditions severely limited traditional Norse agriculture, making year-round farming unsustainable.

The terrain itself compounds the climatic challenge – rugged mountains, deep fjords, and poor soils make large-scale cultivation nearly impossible. Snow cover can last for six to eight months, and inland areas experience more extreme cold than the coast. One exception is coastal northwestern Norway, including the Lofoten Islands, which benefits from the North Atlantic Drift (a branch of the Gulf Stream). This maritime influence moderates winter temperatures, allowing for seasonal fishing activity even in midwinter. Still, even in these milder zones, the land was too marginal to support the Norse agrarian lifestyle. That’s why, historically, only reindeer-herding Sámi communities thrived in this environment – while the Vikings avoided it almost entirely.

Still, northern Scandinavia held a different kind of value: not as a home, but as a resource frontier. Norse traders and chieftains ventured northward to exploit the riches of the land through seasonal expeditions – hunting, trapping, and above all, trade with the indigenous Sámi. The Sámi, expert reindeer herders and trappers, became crucial partners (and at times, subjects) in a quiet but persistent economy of exchange. Furs, walrus ivory, and dried fish from the Arctic made their way south, often taxed or claimed by Norse elites. Though the Vikings may not have planted crops in the frozen soil of the north, they reaped its hidden wealth.

So, for many ages, besides the indigenous Sámi, only a few Norsemen dared to settle in the north. The exception would be coastal West-Northern Norway, including Lofoten, as well as … Iceland and southern Greenland.

How was this possible? The answer lies in a phenomenon we now call the Medieval Warm Period. This was the period from 950 to 1250 CE, which was a time of relatively warm climate, particularly affecting the Northern Hemisphere. While not a globally uniform phenomenon, this period saw higher average temperatures in many regions, including Europe, the Arctic, parts of North America, and Asia.

For the Vikings, it was a time of expansion, exploration, and attempts to settle new lands. However, the warming did not affect all northern regions equally. Paradoxically, some remote Atlantic islands became more hospitable than the continental north of Scandinavia. The key to understanding this imbalance lies in ocean currents, especially the Gulf Stream and its northern extension, the North Atlantic Drift. These powerful flows of warm water, moving from equatorial regions toward the North Atlantic, tempered the climate of islands and coastal regions in western Europe and the Arctic. This is precisely why Iceland, and even southern Greenland, despite their high-latitude locations, became temporarily suitable for settlement and agriculture. In Greenland, in the sheltered fjords of the southwest coast, Norse settlers established farms, raised livestock, grew barley, and harvested hay for the winter. Iceland also developed as a self-sustaining colony, benefiting from a milder climate and access to rich marine resources. Even the Lofoten Islands – an archipelago in northern Norway – managed to retain a surprisingly mild winter climate thanks to the Gulf Stream’s influence. This made year-round fishing and seasonal Viking activities possible there, despite the high latitude.

The Medieval Warm Period enabled Norse settlement and activity in the west and partially along the coast of Norway, but it did not transform the Arctic interior of Scandinavia into a region fit for permanent habitation. This contrast between the ocean-borne warmth and the frozen continental interior remains one of the most fascinating climatological paradoxes of the medieval period – and one of the keys to understanding Viking migration patterns.

Although much land was available, the Vikings did not settle the far north. Outside the few coastal zones influenced by warm oceanic currents – such as the Lofoten Islands, Iceland, and southern Greenland – the vast interior of northern Scandinavia remained largely untouched by permanent Norse settlement. While harsh climate certainly played a role, the Vikings’ persistent drive southward was rooted in a much broader set of motivations. Their avoidance of the Arctic interior was not only about survival – it was also about opportunity, strategy, and ambition.

The northern interior was simply unsuitable for Norse agriculture. Even during the Medieval Warm Period, its thin soils, short growing seasons, and prolonged winter darkness made farming nearly impossible. In contrast, southern lands offered fertile fields and a growing season long enough to sustain grain and livestock – vital for Viking settlement. Social dynamics added further pressure. Inheritance customs left many younger sons without land, pushing them to seek fortune elsewhere. In the remote far north, there was no path to status. But abroad, these men could gain land, gold, or even noble titles through conquest and alliance.

Economically, the south was far more profitable. Viking trade networks stretched into the Islamic world, Byzantium, and Western Europe – regions rich in silver, spices, and textiles. The far north offered no such goods, nor access to major trade routes. Crucially, slavery was a major Viking enterprise. Raiding expeditions into Ireland, the British Isles, and Slavic territories provided a steady supply of captives – thralls – who were sold or used as labor. The sparsely populated Arctic offered no such opportunity. For a society in which slave-taking was both business and warfare, heading south made practical and economic sense.

Finally, the Viking world was oriented toward the sea. Their ships were designed for coastal raiding and river navigation, not for overland migration through mountains and tundra. The north lacked both navigable routes and economic incentive, making it a natural frontier to avoid.

In short, the Viking expansion southward wasn’t just about climate – it was about power, profit, and people. The Arctic north may have been vast, but it lacked the very things Viking society thrived on: farmland, wealth, trade, and human capital.

You might also be interested in who the Normans were – as they were descendants of the Vikings – and in slavery in Middle Age Europe, since the Vikings made much of their living through the slave trade.

Why Vikings Avoided Northern Norway

Brussels History. From Medieval Guilds to a Multicultural Capital of Europe

Today’s post is dedicated to a city that I hold in great affection and have had the chance to visit many times. Most often my trips there were work-related, but because they required more than just flying in for a day and heading straight back – sometimes a week, and once even two – I had the opportunity to get to know the city more closely. Until now I have written several posts about specific buildings there, but I have never devoted one to the city itself and its history. Today feels like the right occasion to do so – to rediscover Brussels, the capital city of Belgium and the European Union.

In the 10th century, Charles, Duke of Lower Lorraine, built a fort on Saint-Géry Island where the Senne river was navigable, laying the foundation for Brussels. A turning point came in the late Middle Ages when in the 14th century Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy and youngest son of the French king John II, married Margaret III of Flanders, heiress to vast lands in the Low Countries. Under Philip’s successors, especially Philip the Good, these lands expanded further. By the end of the 15th century, Brussels had become the de facto capital of the Burgundian Netherlands, serving as a residence of the ducal court and a center of administration.

The strategic location of Brussels played a decisive role in shaping its prosperity. Situated on the Senne river, the city became a natural hub for the trade of goods between the wealthy Flemish cities such as Bruges and Ghent, the Rhineland, and regions further afield. Markets flourished, drawing merchants from across Europe who came to exchange products.

Brussels, like many cities in Flanders and Brabant, specialised in the production and trade of textiles, particularly woolen cloth. This industry was not only the backbone of the local economy but also a cornerstone of the medieval European economy. The city’s craftsmen earned a reputation for producing high-quality textiles, which were exported far beyond the Low Countries.

The growth of trade and manufacturing was further stimulated by the presence of the Burgundian and later Habsburg courts. Their demand for luxury goods and fine craftsmanship encouraged the development of diverse industries and services. Brussels also hosted trade fairs, which facilitated the exchange of goods and ideas, linking the city more closely to the wider European economy.

The city’s prosperity relied not only on trade and craftsmanship but also on an organised system of revenue that allowed it to fund infrastructure, fairs, and, eventually, the splendid projects that symbolised its power. Taxes on commerce, levies on goods entering the city, and contributions from wealthy citizens all strengthened the urban treasury.

Within this financial system, the guilds played a decisive role. Organised around specific crafts and trades, they regulated production, ensured the quality of goods, and trained apprentices. But their influence went far beyond economics. Guilds wielded considerable political power, often participating directly in the governance of the city and holding seats in municipal councils.

Some guilds rose to particular prominence. The brewers, whose industry was among the most profitable in Brussels, accumulated vast wealth and influence. The butchers, by maintaining a monopoly on the supply of meat, secured steady income and leverage in urban politics. The cloth weavers and drapers, tied to the textile trade that formed the backbone of the city’s exports, also ranked among the wealthiest and most respected corporations. Even the boatmen, controlling river transport along the Senne, held strategic importance for the flow of goods.

Daily life in medieval Brussels looked rather different for the majority of its inhabitants than for the wealthy guild masters. The narrow streets were crowded and noisy. Artisans worked in open workshops, market traders haggled at stalls, and carts full of goods rolled across the bridges over the Senne. Poorer townsfolk and domestic servants often lived in modest timber houses, vulnerable to fire and disease. Periodic outbreaks of plague, typhus and dysentery swept through the crowded quarters, with the Black Death of the mid-14th century leaving a particularly deep mark on Brussels.

The city’s wealth allowed it to raise splendid and ornate buildings – and its pride was the central square with its magnificent Town Hall, which – despite the turbulence of wars – has survived in an almost unchanged form to this day.

When the last Burgundian duke, Charles the Bold, died in 1477, the Burgundian Netherlands passed to the Habsburg dynasty through the marriage of his daughter, Mary of Burgundy, to Maximilian I of Austria. Under Maximilian I and later Charles V, who was born and raised in the Low Countries, Brussels reached a new peak of prestige. Charles V ruled over a vast empire stretching across Europe and the Americas, and Brussels served as one of his principal residences. The presence of the imperial court attracted nobles, diplomats, merchants, and artists from all over Europe, reinforcing the city’s cosmopolitan character.

The dukes of Burgundy and later the Habsburg sovereigns sought to centralise power and reduce the autonomy of guilds and urban institutions. On the other hand, the guilds resisted any attempt to curtail their privileges. Disputes often arose over taxation or the right to influence city councils. But, both sides recognised their mutual dependence. The rulers needed the wealth of Brussels to sustain their courts and military campaigns, while the guilds relied on princely protection to safeguard trade routes and markets. Still, growing tensions between local privileges and dynastic authority became a defining feature of the period.

Brussels was also a city of languages and culture. In daily life most people spoke Brabantine Dutch. French became increasingly dominant at court and among the nobility. Latin remained the language of administration and scholarship. Merchants from England, Spain, Italy and the German lands added to the city’s cosmopolitan air. Over time, this linguistic divide took on a social meaning. Dutch remained the language of craftsmen and commoners. French became ever more associated with prestige, authority and aristocratic culture.

After Charles V’s abdication (1555–56), the Habsburg realms were divided. The Low Countries passed to Philip II of Spain. Philip pursued a policy of religious uniformity and harsh repression of Protestantism, combined with centralization of power and heavy taxation. In Brussels, as in many Netherlandish cities, Lutheran and later Calvinist communities had begun to take root. In 1566 the wave of riots known as the Beeldenstorm reached the city’s churches. Philip responded by sending troops and by strengthening the Inquisition, which prosecuted heresy with ruthless severity. These measures fueled growing resentment against Spanish rule and erupted into the Eighty Years’ War (1568–1648). Over the following decades, the northern provinces broke away, forming the Union of Utrecht (1579) and laying the foundation of the Dutch Republic.

The southern provinces, however, failed to break away from Spanish control. Strong military garrisons, the success of the Counter-Reformation, and the reluctance of many Catholic elites to join the rebellion kept the south under Habsburg authority. It was this division that gave rise to the Spanish Netherlands, with Brussels as their capital. Brussels remained the administrative and ceremonial heart of the southern provinces. The presence of the governor-general, representing the Spanish Crown, ensured that the city retained prestige, even as its international economic role diminished.

As the capital of the Spanish Netherlands, Brussels retained its importance as a political and administrative centre, but its economic fortunes shifted during the seventeenth century. The long conflict of the Eighty Years’ War had disrupted trade routes and drained resources, weakening the city’s role in international commerce. Brussels was increasingly oriented towards serving the needs of the Spanish court and administration.

Despite these challenges, the city’s economy did not collapse. Luxury industries, such as tapestry weaving, flourished under royal patronage and commissions from European nobility. Brussels’ workshops became famous across the continent for their elaborate wall hangings, which decorated palaces from Madrid to Vienna. The city also continued to profit from regional markets. Agriculture from Brabant and surrounding areas supplied foodstuffs, while traditional crafts like brewing and cloth production remained staples of urban life.

Still, the scale of commerce could no longer rival the dynamism of the Dutch Republic to the north. Brussels’ economic trajectory under Spanish rule thus reflected a shift: from a thriving hub of European trade to a court-driven economy, sustained by the presence of rulers, nobles, and their demand for luxury goods and services.

The seventeenth century was marked by almost constant warfare between the Spanish Habsburgs and France, whose kings sought to expand their influence into the Low Countries. Brussels became a strategic target. The most dramatic moment came in 1695, during the Nine Years’ War (1688–1697). French troops under King Louis XIV launched an attack on Brussels, bombarding the city with heavy artillery. The Grand Place, the pride of the city and the seat of its guilds, was almost entirely destroyed.

The financial strength of Brussels was still so great that the Grand Place was rebuilt in barely five years. The city’s guilds and wealthy citizens financed the reconstruction, each contributing to the splendid facades that today surround the square. The result was not only a rapid recovery from disaster, but also a unique ensemble of late baroque architecture that remains one of Europe’s most celebrated urban landmarks.

In 1701–1714, the War of the Spanish Succession broke out after the death of the last Spanish Habsburg, Charles II, who left no heir. The conflict drew in all of Europe and turned the Low Countries into one of its main theatres. Brussels once again became a contested city. The war ended with the Treaty of Utrecht (1713) and the Spanish Netherlands were transferred to the Austrian Habsburgs. Under Austrian rule in the eighteenth century, Brussels enjoyed relative stability and prosperity. The governors-general, often members of the imperial family, resided in the city. Although Vienna controlled foreign policy and military affairs, the Southern Netherlands retained a degree of autonomy in local governance.

A change came as Emperor Joseph II (1765–1790) tried to modernise administration, limit the power of the Church, and standardise governance across his empire. In the Austrian Netherlands, these reforms clashed with local traditions, privileges, and the autonomy jealously guarded by the provinces. In 1789, resentment boiled over into the Brabant Revolution. Rebels, inspired in part by Enlightenment ideas briefly drove Austrian forces from Brussels and declared the United Belgian States. After a couple of months Austrian troops had already restored control, but shortly after in the 1790s, revolutionary France expanded its wars into the Low Countries.

After the Battle of Fleurus (1794), the Austrian Netherlands, including Brussels, were annexed by France. It was the time of the French Revolution. Brussels became part of the new French administrative system, governed as the chief city of the Département de la Dyle. French rule brought deep changes. Church property was confiscated, monasteries were dissolved, and the traditional privileges of guilds and corporations were abolished. French law, including the Napoleonic Code, replaced local statutes. After Napoleon’s defeat at Waterloo (1815), just outside Brussels, the Congress of Vienna created the United Kingdom of the Netherlands under King William I of Orange.

The idea was to unite the northern and southern provinces into a single strong state that could act as a buffer against future French expansion. Brussels became one of the political centres of this new kingdom, alternating with The Hague as a seat of government. Economically, the south (with its industry and wealth) and the north (with its navy and trade) were meant to complement each other. Yet tensions quickly surfaced. Differences in language, religion, and political outlook created growing resentment among the southern provinces. In August 1830, unrest broke out in Brussels, and quickly escalated into a full-scale uprising known as the Belgian Revolution. Brussels was at the heart of the rebellion. After fierce street fighting, Dutch troops withdrew from the city. On 4 October 1830, independence was formally declared. A constitutional monarchy was established, and in 1831 Leopold I was crowned the first King of the Belgians. From that moment on, Brussels became the capital of the independent Kingdom of Belgium, a role it has held ever since.

Under the United Kingdom of the Netherlands (1815–1830), Brussels benefited from investment in trade, infrastructure and industry. The southern provinces were more heavily industrialised than the north, with textiles, mining and metallurgy driving economic growth. Brussels, though not a manufacturing hub itself, thrived as an administrative, financial and cultural centre, drawing strength from its central location. After 1830, independence gave the city a decisive boost. As the capital of the new Belgian state, Brussels became the seat of government, finance and national institutions. The city quickly developed banks, a stock exchange and service industries, consolidating its role as a financial hub.

While Leopold I consolidated the new Belgian state after independence, ensuring its neutrality and stability, his son Leopold II pursued far greater – and far more controversial – ambitions. Frustrated that Belgium itself lacked overseas possessions, he set out to acquire one personally. Through diplomatic manoeuvres, international conferences and the explorations of Henry Morton Stanley, Leopold secured recognition at the Berlin Conference of 1884–85 for his private rule over the Congo Free State (Africa).

Officially presented as a humanitarian and scientific mission, Congo quickly became the foundation of Leopold’s personal fortune, built on the ruthless extraction of rubber, ivory and other resources. With these revenues, he launched an ambitious programme of urban transformation in Brussels. Monumental projects such as the expansion of the Royal Palace, the triumphal arch and park at Cinquantenaire, the creation of the Mont des Arts as a cultural quarter, and the opening of broad new boulevards were all financed by colonial wealth. In this way, the splendour of modern Brussels was inextricably tied to the exploitation of Africa. Profits from the Congo Free State financed monumental building schemes, but in Africa they were extracted through forced labour, violence and exploitation of the local population.

The brutality of Leopold II’s regime provoked growing international outrage, and under pressure the king was forced in 1908 to transfer the territory to the Belgian state. In Brussels, however, colonial power long remained a source of pride, celebrated in museums, exhibitions and monuments. Only in recent decades has the city begun to confront this legacy more critically, acknowledging the suffering that lay behind its golden façades.

At the same time, Brussels became one of the birthplaces of Art Nouveau, a style that transformed the appearance of domestic architecture. Victor Horta, together with architects such as Paul Hankar, designed houses whose flowing lines, floral motifs and ingenious use of light defined an entirely new aesthetic. Many of these masterpieces still stand in Schaerbeek, Ixelles and Saint-Gilles, where elegant façades, stained-glass windows and wrought-iron balconies turn ordinary streets into open-air galleries.

After the death of Leopold II in 1909, Brussels entered a new and turbulent century. Under King Albert I, the city faced the First World War. German troops occupied Brussels (1914–1918), turning the capital into the administrative center of their military regime in Belgium. Daily life was marked by shortages, censorship, and repression, yet the city also became a symbol of quiet resilience. In the interwar years, Brussels recovered, hosting international exhibitions and affirming its cultural prestige. War returned in 1940. Under King Leopold III, the city again fell to German occupation. This period brought hardship and controversy, with the king’s decision to surrender casting a long shadow over post-war politics.

In the decades after the wars, Brussels underwent rapid transformation. The 1950s and 1960s saw a wave of redevelopment known as bruxellisation, when historic houses and entire neighbourhoods were demolished to make way for office blocks, motorways and modern housing estates. While this symbolised ambition and modernity, it also provoked dismay at the loss of heritage. At the same time the city became ever more multilingual and multicultural. Alongside the traditional Dutch-French divide, communities of Italian and Spanish workers arrived, soon followed by migrants from Morocco and Turkey. These new inhabitants contributed greatly to the post-war prosperity of Brussels, shaping the diverse identity of the modern metropolis.

The post-war decades transformed Brussels into the administrative capital of Europe. With the creation of the European Economic Community in 1957, the city was chosen as its provisional seat – a decision that gradually became permanent. Around Place Schuman and Rue de la Loi, the first offices of the new European institutions established a centre of political gravity that would redefine Brussels. From the 1960s onwards, the growing Communities required ever larger headquarters. Their financing came directly from the shared budgets of member states. The construction and expansion of Brussels as a European capital was effectively funded by taxpayers across the continent. This steady flow of European money attracted thousands of civil servants, diplomats, lobbyists, and journalists. Over time, the European quarter became an engine of employment and investment, giving Brussels a new role beyond its national borders. By the late twentieth century, the city had evolved from the capital of Belgium into the political and administrative heart of the European Union.

Today, Brussels is considered one of the most multicultural cities in Europe. First, because of the waves of post-war migration from other continents. Second, because of the presence of countless officials, diplomats and civil servants who have settled here from all across Europe.

Today, Brussels also dazzles architecturally, offering a panorama of styles that reflect its long and complex history. The Grand Place remains one of Europe’s most admired squares, while the Basilica of Koekelberg, a monumental creation in Art Deco style, stands as a twentieth-century landmark. Beyond these, the city reveals its charm in elegant streets, grand boulevards, and carefully planned axes. Outside the dense historic core and the modern European quarter, Brussels continues to surprise visitors with its variety of neighborhoods, where medieval traces, nineteenth-century façades, and modernist experiments coexist in a uniquely layered urban landscape.

Brussels History. From Medieval Guilds to a Multicultural Capital of Europe

Hagia Sophia History. From Byzantine Glory to Modern Day

Today I want to introduce you to one of the most monumental buildings of Ancient Europe – the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul. I had always thought of stepping inside and seeing it with my own eyes. When I finally managed to do so last year, I can’t say I was either surprised or disappointed, as I was already well-acquainted with the history of this temple. Yet, with the splendour of other sacred buildings – Catholic, Orthodox, Anglican – that I have had the chance to admire in recent years, and with the Blue Mosque standing right next to the Hagia Sophia, I couldn’t help but feel a certain disappointment at the way its interior looks today.

Let us then look into its history. Let us try to answer the question of what made this temple – the most illustrious and most exquisitely decorated Christian building of its time – although still standing in an almost intact mass, no longer inspire awe with its interior décor as it once did. Let us trace the events that, over the centuries, have shaped its present appearance.

The Hagia Sophia, meaning Holy Wisdom, is actually the third temple to stand on this site. The first Basilica of Holy Wisdom in Constantinople was built by Emperor Constantius II in AD 360 – a church of the Eastern (Byzantine) rite, still within the single, undivided universal Church, though with liturgy in Greek and traditions distinct from those in the West. It was destroyed by fire in AD 404 during riots sparked by the exile of Patriarch John Chrysostom. The second church, larger and more magnificent, was built by Emperor Theodosius II in AD 415 – also in the Eastern rite, still formally united with the Western Church, yet with growing liturgical and theological differences. This one too was destroyed – in AD 532, during the Nika Revolt that shook the city. The third and most famous Hagia Sophia, whose essential form has survived to this day, was built by Emperor Justinian I. Completed in AD 537, it served as the cathedral of the Eastern rite and the principal church of the Patriarchate of Constantinople. It was a true masterpiece of Late Antique architecture – designed by Anthemius of Tralles and Isidore of Miletus, with a monumental dome, gilded mosaics, and marble cladding.

Very little written evidence has survived describing what the Hagia Sophia once looked like. Our modern vision is based on fragments of sources from the 6th to the 12th century, chiefly the works of Procopius of Caesarea, Paulus Silentiarius, and Bishop Anthony of Novgorod. Upon crossing the threshold of the Hagia Sophia, one would enter a space that seemed not of this world. The dome appeared to float in the air, suspended by an invisible chain of light, whose glow reflected off thousands of golden tesserae. Rays streaming through rows of windows spilled into the interior, mingling with the glow of lamps and candles. The walls and floors were clad in marbles of green, purple, white, and black, brought from the farthest provinces of the empire – from Thessaly, Egypt, and Phrygia. The great altar gleamed with gold, silver, and precious stones. Above it rose a ciborium, supported by columns of green stone adorned with gilded capitals. In the apse, high above the altar, shone a mosaic of the Mother of God with the Child, and below it rows of angels and saints. Along the naves and galleries stretched richly decorated balustrades, and everywhere the eye turned, the golden backgrounds of mosaics shimmered.

Though it has withstood the centuries, the Hagia Sophia suffered serious damage from earthquakes on several occasions – notably in AD 558, 989, and 1346, when parts of its dome collapsed and had to be rebuilt. Yet the greatest blow came not from nature but from human hands – during the Fourth Crusade in AD 1204, and, importantly, at the hands of Christians who were meant to defend the faith, yet ended up plundering the most illustrious Christian building of the age. It should be remembered, however, that since the Great Schism of AD 1054, the temple had represented the Eastern rite, and was thus an Orthodox cathedral, not a Latin (Western Church) one.

At that time, the Angelos dynasty ruled Byzantium. In AD 1195, Emperor Isaac II Angelos was deposed and blinded by his own brother, Alexios III, who seized the throne. Isaac’s son, Alexios IV, fled to the West in search of help. In AD 1202, he reached the Crusaders, who were preparing an expedition to Egypt but lacked the funds to pay for the Venetian fleet. Alexios IV offered them an extraordinary bargain: if they helped him reclaim the throne, he would pay them a vast sum, provide supplies, and promised to unite the Eastern Church with Rome.

The Crusaders, financially bound by their contract with the Venetians, agreed. In AD 1203, they captured Constantinople and placed Isaac II and Alexios IV on the throne. The promised funds, however, proved impossible to raise without plunder and drastic taxation. In January AD 1204, a revolt broke out in the city. Alexios IV was overthrown and killed, and power passed to Alexios V Mourtzouphlos. In April AD 1204, the Crusaders attacked and seized the city once again – this time for themselves.

During the three-day sack, palaces, monasteries, and churches – including the Hagia Sophia – were plundered. Altars of marble and gold were dismantled, mosaics were smashed or prised apart for their golden tiles, and the church’s interior became a scene of profanation – chroniclers speak of horses being led inside and of feasts held in the sanctuary.

Among the priceless relics and treasures looted in AD 1204 was the Crown of Thorns, formerly kept in the imperial chapel of St Mary of the Pharos within the Great Palace. It fell into the hands of the Venetians, probably as part of the Crusaders’ debt repayment to the Republic. It was later purchased by King Louis IX of France, who brought it to Paris. To house it, the Sainte-Chapelle – a masterpiece of Rayonnant Gothic – was built between AD 1242 and 1248. The relic later passed to Notre-Dame Cathedral.

After the capture of Constantinople in AD 1204, the participants of the Fourth Crusade established the Latin Empire on its ruins, which lasted until AD 1261. Count Baldwin IX of Flanders was placed on the imperial throne and crowned in the Hagia Sophia. The church, until then the cathedral of the Patriarchate of Constantinople in the Eastern rite, was turned into a Latin cathedral, with the liturgy conducted in Latin according to the Western rite. The Orthodox patriarch was exiled and replaced by a Latin patriarch. The Latin Empire controlled only part of the former Byzantine territory, its power relying largely on Venetian support. Economically and militarily, the state was weak.

In AD 1261, the Byzantines of the Palaiologos dynasty recaptured the city, restoring the Eastern rite. Yet the empire they recovered was far smaller than in its glory days, holding mainly Constantinople, the Sea of Marmara region, parts of Thrace, and fragments of Greece. Economically devastated after the Latin occupation, its trade largely taken over by Venetians and Genoese, the empire was too poor and too weak to fully restore the Hagia Sophia. The church was repaired only provisionally, and the lost decorations and relics were never returned.

Politically, Byzantium was forced to navigate between stronger neighbours – the Latin states, Serbia, Bulgaria, and later the rising power of the Ottoman Empire. A weak economy made it impossible to maintain a large army, so the state relied mainly on alliances and mercenary troops for its defence. From the late 14th century, the Ottomans gradually seized Byzantine lands, so that by 1450 the empire had been reduced to Constantinople and a handful of nearby settlements. The city was by then sparsely populated – around 50,000-60,000 inhabitants, compared with several hundred thousand at its height in the 11th century. The Ottomans, under Sultan Mehmed II, prepared a major campaign, employing modern siege artillery, including massive bombards. The siege lasted from April until 29 May 1453, when the Turks breached the walls and entered the city.

After the capture of Constantinople in May 1453, Sultan Mehmed II almost immediately converted the Hagia Sophia into a mosque. The process began within the very first days after the city’s fall. First, the interior was cleansed, all remnants of Christian liturgy were removed, and elements essential for Muslim prayer were introduced. In the apse, a mihrab – a niche indicating the direction of Mecca – was installed, a minbar (pulpit for sermons) was added, and carpets were spread across the floor. The altar, reliquaries, and other liturgical furnishings were taken away. As a result, within just a few days of Constantinople’s capture, the Hagia Sophia was already functioning as a mosque, although the full adaptation of its architecture and aesthetics to the Islamic tradition would continue for decades.

In the first stage, the Christian mosaics and decorations were covered with cloths or a thin layer of plaster wherever required for Islamic prayer. In the 15th century, the Ottomans did not typically engage in the systematic destruction of such imagery – on the contrary, in the case of a monument as valuable and monumental as the Hagia Sophia, they favoured reversible methods, avoiding permanent interference with the decorative structure. The thin plaster was applied without deep bonding to the mosaics, making later uncovering easier. As a result, a significant portion of the mosaics survived the first decades of Ottoman rule in relatively good condition. Their complete covering or partial removal occurred only in the following centuries, usually due to renovations, moisture damage, or alterations. However, elements of gold and silver with intrinsic material value were melted down and reused for other purposes.

After the conversion of the Hagia Sophia into a mosque in 1453, work began on adding minarets, which would become a defining feature of its silhouette. The first minaret was built on the orders of Mehmed II soon after the city’s conquest, probably in brick or stone, positioned at one of the building’s corners. Its form was relatively slender and simple, in keeping with the Ottoman architecture of the time. In the 16th century, under Sultan Selim II and his successor Murad III, the renowned architect Mimar Sinan rebuilt the earlier minaret and added others, constructing them from white stone and giving them a more massive, harmonious appearance. Ultimately, the Hagia Sophia acquired four minarets – each slightly different, as they were built in different periods: the two south-western ones are larger and more solid, while the north-eastern and south-eastern are more slender. The minarets not only served a religious function (the call to prayer) but also became a visual symbol of the Islamisation of the former cathedral.

After the First World War, the Ottoman Empire, allied with Germany, was defeated. It was divided among the victorious powers, and Istanbul was occupied by British, French, and Italian forces. In Anatolia, the Turkish War of Independence (1919–1923) broke out under the leadership of Mustafa Kemal Pasha, later known as Atatürk. It ended with the Treaty of Lausanne (1923), which recognised the sovereign Turkish state. In the same year, the sultanate was abolished, and the capital was moved from Constantinople (Istanbul) to Ankara.

The Hagia Sophia continued to function as a mosque until 1931, when it was closed to worshippers by decision of the Republican authorities. In 1935, as part of Atatürk’s secular reforms, it was converted into a museum. This opened the way for the first systematic conservation work, including the uncovering of mosaics that had been hidden since the Ottoman era.

In 2020, the Hagia Sophia was once again converted into a mosque, resulting in changes to both access and interior display. The ground floor – the main prayer space – is now reserved for Muslim worshippers (primarily men), while tourists may access only the upper galleries. The mosaics on the ground floor uncovered during conservation work have not been destroyed or plastered over, but are covered with cloths and curtains. Some of these coverings remain in place even outside prayer times. By contrast, the mosaics uncovered in the upper galleries – being outside the prayer area – remain accessible and visible to visitors.

Although I was equipped with a fairly good camera, I was nevertheless unable to fully capture what was happening on the lower level of the church. The angles from which photographs can be taken from the galleries did not allow for a precise view of that part, so from my own observation I cannot confirm exactly what the situation is in the lower section of the interior. My camera has good zoom, but in darker spaces exposure time has its limits if you don’t have a tripod.

As for the upper section in the galleries, as far as I can recall, only two or three uncovered mosaics were visible. One was in relatively good condition, the other was damaged by about half – just as shown in the photographs attached. There is also a mosaic in the entrance area, outside the prayer zone, which currently has no unrestricted access, so it is likely viewed only by tourists – and it is this very mosaic that depicts the scene in which Emperor Constantine the Great offers the city, and Emperor Justinian I offers the Hagia Sophia, to the Blessed Virgin Mary and Christ. A photograph of this mosaic is also included in this material.

In the upper section, almost everywhere one can see plastered surfaces that have not been renovated for years. Much of this plaster is cracked, with peeling paint, as is clearly visible in the photographs. Conservation work, however, can be seen being carried out on the exterior of the church.

The Hagia Sophia is a living testament to centuries of faith, power, and change. Its walls still echo with the grandeur of its past, even as time and transformation have altered its form. Whatever its role, it remains one of the world’s most remarkable monuments.

Hagia Sophia History. From Byzantine Glory to Modern Day