How a Mountain Became a Cathedral

The original vision for the Temples was not merely architectural. Airaudi — who had been meditating since childhood on the nature of consciousness and human spiritual potential — conceived the underground complex as a kind of ark: a vessel in which the best of human spiritual art and knowledge would be preserved for civilisations far in the future, capable of surviving any global catastrophe that might overtake the surface world.

The choice to build underground was deliberate and multilayered. Underground structures survive earthquakes, floods, and other surface catastrophes better than above-ground buildings. Underground space has a natural constancy — temperature, humidity, and light are all controllable in ways impossible above ground. And there was a symbolic dimension: the underground represents the interior, the hidden, the sacred depth beneath the visible surface. The Temples would be, in the most literal sense, an inner world.

The original plan — considerably more modest than what was eventually built — envisaged a series of chambers on a single level, dedicated to different aspects of human experience. As construction proceeded and the community's skill and ambition grew, the plan expanded dramatically: five levels, seven major halls, the Labyrinth, and dozens of connecting passages and smaller spaces.

The workforce that built the Temples was drawn entirely from the Damanhur community. In the early years, approximately fifteen people worked on the excavation during evenings and weekends — the constraints of daylight and the need to maintain the secret of what was happening inside the hill requiring that construction be conducted in darkness and near-silence.

As the community grew through the late 1970s and 1980s, the workforce expanded. By the early 1990s, over 150 community members had contributed to the construction at various stages. Skills were shared and developed collectively: those who discovered an aptitude for plastering taught others; those who mastered mosaic techniques passed them on; those who developed structural engineering intuition through necessity shared their hard-won knowledge with whoever would need it next.

The social dimension of the construction was as important as the physical. Working together inside the mountain — in conditions that were challenging, often uncomfortable, and always demanding — forged deep bonds of trust and shared purpose among community members. The Temples are, in the deepest sense, a social achievement as much as a physical one: the product of a community's willingness to give itself to a collective project over many years.

The geological conditions of the Valchiusella hillside presented multiple engineering challenges. The rock was not uniformly hard — areas of weaker, more fractured stone required special handling to prevent collapse. Water percolation from the surface — particularly during and after heavy rainfall — required ongoing management to protect both the structural integrity of the complex and the artwork within it.

Creating the Hall of Spheres presented perhaps the greatest structural challenge. The curved domed forms require that excavated surfaces follow precise geometric curves — an extraordinary feat of precision in a hand-excavated underground space. The builders developed templates and measurement systems to guide the excavation, achieving curves that remain geometrically accurate to this day.

Ventilation was another major challenge. A complex of 8,500 cubic metres of enclosed underground space, regularly occupied by working groups of ten to thirty people, requires adequate air circulation to prevent dangerous CO2 build-up. The community developed a ventilation system through the existing network of passages and carefully positioned vents that maintained safe air quality throughout the complex.

One of the most important things to understand about the Temples of Humankind is that they are not finished. This is not a statement about incompleteness but about a fundamental aspect of what the Temples are: not a monument to the past but a living project oriented toward the future. The community's position is that the work of building and embellishing will continue as long as the community continues — perhaps for centuries.

Current ongoing work includes artistic refinements to existing halls — new mosaic passages, fresco sections, and sculptural elements commissioned to fill areas where the artistic programme remains incomplete. Conservation work on the oldest frescoes, which have now been in place for over forty years, requires ongoing attention from both community members and specialist conservators.

Areas of the mountain that have not yet been excavated remain as potential future chambers. The community has mapped the surrounding geology and identified areas suitable for further excavation. Whether and when these potential spaces will be developed depends on the community's evolving needs, resources, and vision — but the possibility of the Temples growing substantially in future decades is real and actively contemplated.