Istanbul at Risk if Earthquake Strikes Again

With memories still fresh of a 1999 quake that killed about 20,000 people in western Turkey, officials and residents of Istanbul say the city is not yet prepared for the strong possibility of another major temblor.

Home to hundreds of ancient churches, palaces and mosques, the onetime capital of both the Ottoman and Byzantine empires lies on a major fault line. According to a recent risk assessment financed by the American Red Cross, there is a 20% chance that a magnitude 7.5 quake will hit Istanbul in the next decade.

In the worst-case scenario, if the government fails to prepare properly, 50,000 of Istanbul’s 10 million people are likely to perish and about 300,000 buildings will be damaged--perhaps 45,000 of them beyond repair. Among the structures at risk of being severely damaged are Istanbul’s major hospitals.

“It’s an absolute certainty,” said Mustafa Erdik, who runs the Earthquake Research Institute at Istanbul’s Bogazici University. Erdik conducted the recent study. “The next great earthquake will be centered on the Istanbul metropolitan area.”

His views are echoed by other prominent seismologists here. Many question just how ready Istanbul--Turkey’s business and entertainment capital as well as a prime tourist destination--is to cope.

“I regret having to admit this, but Istanbul still does not have an earthquake master plan,” Istanbul Mayor Ali Mufit Gurtuna acknowledged at a recent news conference.

Gurtuna said the municipality has drawn up a transportation plan allowing rescue and medical teams to move rapidly in and around the city after an earthquake. It has begun work to strengthen the city’s flyovers and viaducts. Istanbul also has a new rapid response system.

“But if a quake were to strike today, it would be an absolute catastrophe--we are nowhere near ready for it,” said Ahmet Mete Isikara, former head of Istanbul’s Kandilli observatory, which includes the earthquake institute.

Isikara stepped down last month to run for a seat in the parliament in the Nov. 3 elections. He argued that the government’s failure to address earthquake risks should be a campaign issue.

Shoddy construction material, loose building codes and widespread corruption among licensing officials were widely blamed for the high death toll in the 1999 quake, which was centered on the northwestern city of Izmit but also felt in Istanbul.

“I knew at that very moment, I had to find a new home,” recalled Meral Tamer of the moment when that quake struck.

Like thousands of Istanbul residents, Tamer, a prominent financial journalist who specializes in consumer rights, is haunted by the constant fear of the next big one.

“Sadly, we see the same mistakes being repeated,” she said.

Tamer has been convicted by Turkish courts of insulting former President Suleyman Demirel by accusing him of negligence in a series of articles she wrote in the daily Milliyet following the 1999 earthquake. She has appealed to the European Court of Human Rights.

Erdik confirmed that his team warned Demirel of the danger of a major earthquake in a 1998 study. On Aug. 17, the third anniversary of the earthquake, a seven-story building collapsed in Istanbul’s lower middle-class Avcilar neighborhood, sending terrified residents into the streets.

“We thought it was another earthquake,” recalled Mehmet Kuru, an unemployed youth, as he sipped a glass of tea near the collapsed structure. The residential building had suffered heavy damage during the 1999 quake, and been earmarked for demolition.

But residents charged that the building’s co-owners had bribed government officials into designating it as having sustained only moderate damage, thereby saving it from being demolished.

“The building’s collapse was an act of divine justice,” said Mustafa Degirmenci, chief of the municipal district that includes Avcilar. Degirmenci led the campaign to have the building condemned. About 900 people died in Avcilar in the 1999 quake. It later emerged that the neighborhood was partially built on swampland, which magnified the quake’s motion.

Turkey’s Disaster Agency says nearly 70% of the 869,500 buildings constructed in Istanbul after 1980 were built without proper government oversight, many of them illegally, as millions of rural Turks flocked to the city in search of a better life. And vote-hungry politicians typically would hand out licenses for unauthorized structures before an election.

In Tamer’s apartment building, a car dealer cut out some of the supporting pillars in a ground floor showroom to fit in his fleet of Hummers. “It’s a miracle our building survived without damage,” she said.

Tamer said she’d be lucky to sell her apartment for $100,000 today, even though she paid $170,000 for it in the mid-1990s.

“Fears of another earthquake have killed the real estate market,” said Hasan Ekinci, an agent in Istanbul’s popular Cihangir neighborhood. “Foreigners, especially, are leaving in droves.”

Ahmet Vefik Alp, a prominent city planner, triggered a drop in the city’s sagging real estate prices by suggesting last month that the city should be rebuilt from scratch. Alp argued that this would be far cheaper and safer than reinforcing existing structures.

The safest buildings are those put up after the 1999 quake, which must adhere to stricter standards. However, they are much more expensive, and beyond the reach of most Turks. Turkey is grappling with the effects of its worst recession since World War II.

After three years of house hunting, Tamer and her 23-year-old daughter finally moved last month to a building on the eastern side of the Bosporus after experts assured her that it would likely withstand a big earthquake. “We are lucky,” Tamer said of her new home, which includes a swimming pool and a panoramic view of the Bosporus, all for $1,000 a month. “But I still do not feel 100% safe.”