Warnings were issued about the dangerous shortcomings in Turkey's construction efforts. And then an earthquake happened.

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They knew that Turkey's day of reckoning would come. They are architects, urban planners, seismologists and civil engineers. They predicted that a massive earthquake would occur. Their warnings about the consequences of lax building code enforcement, chaotic urban planning and substandard construction standards became prophecy that went unheeded, like the ancient Greek mythical Cassandra, who was given the gift of seeing the future but cursed not to be heard.

“It's not a celebration; it's not 'We told you and you didn't listen,'” says Akif Burak Atlar, a leading member of the Turkish Chamber of Urban Planners. “There is no complacency here. There is anger and a deep sadness here that I can't even talk about.”

Turkey is now trying to recover from two powerful earthquakes that killed more than 38,000 people in Turkey and at least 6,000 in northern Syria. The disaster has plunged the country into deep grief. Turkey is one of the most seismically active countries in the world and has already experienced a similar tragedy 24 years ago.

After that earthquake, with an epicenter near the city of Izmit in the northwest of the country, building codes were improved, standards were raised, and mandatory insurance policies were introduced. Gecekonda, houses that were built almost overnight on the outskirts of large cities, were ordered to be improved or demolished.

Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, now president of Turkey but then a staunch reformer (and former mayor of Istanbul), became a vocal critic of the government's actions during the earthquake. He and his Justice and Development Party (AKP) capitalized on the wave of popular anger and discontent over the disaster and the economy to win the 2002 elections.

Despite the commitment to make Turkey more earthquake-resistant, inside sources say that the privileged class of real estate developers who have always been among Turkey's elite became even more influential after 1999. Maximizing profits seemed to have a higher priority than ensuring public safety.

“Let's say a five-story building costs you $500,000 and you want to sell it for $1 million,” says one inside industry source. “But what if you have the ability to build it for $300,000, use cheap materials and pay a $30,000 bribe to get a permit? It could be a bribe. Or it could be through good connections so you can just be let off the hook. Issues can be resolved over a cup of tea.”

Developers could buy an amnesty that officially brought a building into compliance, whether it met codes or not. “Illegal buildings became legal,” says Atlar. “Buildings weren't inspected. But if you pay, it's OK.”

Architects developed plans that included ambitious specifications for earthquake resistance. But this did not mean that the right materials were used in practice; using inadequately iron-reinforced concrete or low-quality material was cheaper. Engineers were shocked to find that even quality-built apartment buildings were adding additions or modifications that maximized profits by adding one, two or three stories to roofs or installing extra elevator shafts in older buildings. More apartments were sold. But what is the price of safety?

Architects and urban planners have repeatedly warned of these abuses and shortcuts. But rapid and unrestrained growth has long been the motto of Erdogan's rule. The president has lowered interest rates, exacerbating inflation but stimulating construction.

The Gezi Park protests in Turkey in 2013 and 2014 were, at least in part, linked to many Turks' fears about the unfettered power of real estate developers who were rapidly transforming cities and neighborhoods.

In 2016, Turkish authorities arrested 15 members of the Turkish Architects Association; their criticism of the country's urban politicians was allegedly one of the reasons for their detention.

When the government introduced a new amnesty law on illegal construction in 2018 that brought billions in revenue to the state, architects and urban planners warned that it would turn Turkish cities into “graveyards,” benefiting only developers.

“People will pay for this with their lives,” Esin Koymen, head of the architects' association, is quoted as saying.

In addition, the number of Turkish real estate developers is staggering. If there are about 5 thousand real estate construction firms in Germany, and perhaps about 50 thousand in the U.S., there may be up to 300 thousand in Turkey, according to an inside source.

Real estate industry insiders note that in the quake zone, some buildings collapsed while others across the street didn't even crack. “Obviously, some developers followed the rules and some didn't,” says one realtor. The result is a competition for the fall. Less conscientious builders can bid lower on projects and make higher profits, leaving their competitors tempted to cut corners. One builder who always says his projects follow the rules says he hopes his less ethical peers will pay a price - even criminal prosecution. “Why do I follow the rules and no one else does?” - he says.

But real estate developers are not entirely responsible. Geophysicist Sawash Karabulut and his team from Gebze Technical University rushed to the earthquake zone this week to assess the damage. They found that buildings such as shopping centers were built on irregular, poorly reinforced foundations and towers on soft soil that amplifies the impact of earthquakes. No inspector should have authorized such construction.

“Many buildings in the villages were not subjected to engineering inspections, and people living in the area built them themselves,” says Karabalut. “The problem is that the central government has privatized the inspection process.”

Insiders point out that the builders are only part of the whole system of power. Put the case to the builders and they will claim that they used materials from reliable wholesalers and that they have receipts to prove it. Sue the wholesalers and they will say that their concrete and beams have all the necessary signatures from the relevant authorities. Sue the Ministry of Housing and they will say their paperwork is in order and that they are only following the instructions of the presidency. Everyone dotted the i's and crossed the t's. “I talk to the builders all the time and they say they are not afraid,” says one Turkish real estate industry insider. “Yes, they have committed crimes ... But if the case goes to court, the responsibility will really fall on the very top.”

The saying goes, “Earthquakes don't kill people, buildings do.” But the Feb. 6 earthquakes that struck southern Turkey and northern Syria were so strong that they would have been deadly and historic regardless of building construction. The magnitude 7.8 and 7.5 earthquakes, which occurred at very shallow depths and more than 2,000 aftershocks, would have struck devastatingly anywhere.

Civil engineers, after watching videos of long and powerful earthquakes, shook their heads and realized that few structures could withstand such an impact. Several historic buildings and ancient fortresses that had withstood many earthquakes collapsed in the latest disaster.

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