For a moment, earthquake makes Turkey’s divisions a little smaller

|
Francisco Seco/AP
With the hope of finding survivors fading, rescue teams in Elbistan, southern Turkey, searched Feb. 8 for signs of life in the rubble of toppled buildings.
  • Quick Read
  • Deep Read ( 4 Min. )

In a nationwide swell of unity and unconditional sympathy for thousands of victims of Monday’s 7.8 magnitude earthquake in Turkey, regular citizens are filling the gap where the government is falling short of helping and rescuing survivors.

Gathering points for volunteers have cropped up in virtually every neighborhood in cities across Turkey. In Istanbul, teenagers stand in line shivering in the snow to give blood. A few kilometers away, families stand with boxes full of winter clothes at a donation center. On social media, bank accounts are shared to send money for earthquake victims in the southeast.

Why We Wrote This

A story focused on

Turkey’s 7.8 magnitude earthquake has disrupted the lives of millions and also the nation’s political divide, uniting people – at least for the moment – in sympathy and care.

The goodwill – however short-lived it may prove – exists amid a growing outcry alleging government neglect in disaster preparedness and response. Before the quake, which killed more than 11,000 people, the nation was divided, with resentment expressed against migrants who were blamed for an ailing economy and inflation. 

Against that deeply nationalistic and xenophobic backdrop, Hunadah Hariri, a Syrian graduate student who fled the war in Syria to live in Turkey, expresses gratitude from a shelter in Gaziantep for the surprising national response to the disaster.

“One very positive feeling that I was very surprised at was the overwhelming warmth of people,” she says. “Honestly, it was magical.” 

Teenagers stand in line shivering in the snow to give blood. A few kilometers away, families stand with boxes full of winter clothes at a donation center. On social media, bank accounts are shared to send money for earthquake victims in southeast Turkey. 

People are filling the gap where the government is falling short of helping and rescuing victims of the Feb. 6 earthquake – a 7.8 magnitude temblor that is one of the deadliest ever to hit Turkey and Syria.

It’s part of a nationwide swell of unity and unconditional sympathy for the thousands of victims and their families emerging from the chaos and grief – even as Turks accuse the government of neglect in disaster response. 

Why We Wrote This

A story focused on

Turkey’s 7.8 magnitude earthquake has disrupted the lives of millions and also the nation’s political divide, uniting people – at least for the moment – in sympathy and care.

Before the quake and dozens of aftershocks took more than 11,000 lives in Turkey alone, the nation was politically polarized, with resentment voiced against migrants who were blamed for an ailing economy and inflation. 

In an apparent move to curb disinformation and criticism, the government on Wednesday blocked social media – even though it’s a channel of communication for volunteers and families of victims.

But – at least for the short term – the disaster has palpably shifted the mood to one of solidarity in this deeply nationalistic country of 85 million.

Jihan Hajbakri, a Syrian journalist from Hatay on the border of Syria, says she’s grateful for the sudden unity. She lost 50 members of her family. Her husband and two children survived.

“There are many efforts to help, perhaps so far they have not reached everyone because of the disaster, but I appreciate what everyone is doing to help the victims,” says Ms. Hajbakri.

Suhaib Salem/Reuters
Volunteers serve meals to people in Kahramanmaraş, Turkey, on Feb. 8 in the aftermath of the 7.8 magnitude earthquake that hit cities across southeast Turkey and Syria.

Dozens of countries are sending money, rescue teams, and even rescue dogs to help. The United States is sending two search and rescue teams, each with 79 people, and Los Angeles County is sending 100 firefighters and engineers. Even Afghanistan – in the midst of a dire humanitarian crisis – is sending $166,000 to both Turkey and Syria.

The relief efforts are complicated by the freezing weather – rescue teams and aid are just arriving in some areas three days later. Ten cities are officially in a state of emergency. 

Demir Karabacak is a student at Bosphorus University and a member of the youth political group Gençlik Komiteleri, which normally lobbies for worker rights. But they are collecting tents, sleeping bags, canned and baby food, and winter clothes and shipping them by road to earthquake victims. It can take more than 20 hours to reach some of the villages in the snow.

“We had to take action. The government doesn’t reach all the places. We took responsibility, even though it’s not what we normally do,” Mr. Karabacak says in an office full of somber volunteers, much like volunteer gathering points in virtually every neighborhood.

One woman comes in with a suitcase full of winter coats, and team members pack the clothes in boxes. Young men and women talk on the phone to their group members in the southeast. 

Mr. Karabacak reaches out to Mert Batur, a paralegal, who has just arrived in Malatya from Istanbul after 26 hours of driving with food and medicine for victims. Mr. Batur says 18 aid vehicles are on the way, but it’s not enough.

“We really need proper equipment to dig. Usually, the government’s emergency teams do this, but this earthquake is beyond the government’s capacity. It’s just too big. We all need to pitch in,” Mr. Batur says, his voice shaking from the cold outside.

SOURCE:

U.S. Geological Survey

|
Jacob Turcotte/Staff

In Hatay and Kahramanmaraş, entire blocks have been reduced to rubble, and nowhere is safe inside because of structural damage and possible aftershocks. Roads and airports are damaged, and there are few flights to get people in and out. 

Survivors say they had to dig with their hands to find loved ones under fallen buildings. 

The journalist Ms. Hajbakri is safe with her children now in the capital, Ankara, while her husband stays behind in Hatay to search for missing relatives. She’s grateful, but also disappointed that the Turkish government wasn’t faster in sending rescue teams and aid. More lives might have been saved, she says. 

“There was no rescue team. The city was not prepared for such a catastrophe,” Ms. Hajbakri says, crying on a phone interview. “My home is leveled. The help is chaotic. Everyone is trying to rescue who they know. People now only go to the buildings where they hear people calling out.”

But the calls are fewer and fainter, as fatalities increase, people interviewed in four cities say.

For the moment, quake chaos has relieved high political tension that was mounting for upcoming elections May 14. In addition to blatant xenophobic resentment of Kurdish and Syrian migrants and immigrants, Turks on all political sides were casting blame back and forth for inflation, censorship, the high cost of housing, and security concerns. And as the nation recovers, there are already questions about what happened to funds from tax hikes for preparedness and enforcement of building codes following the major earthquake in 1999 that killed 17,000 people near Istanbul.

Courtesy of Hunadah Hariri
Hunadah Hariri (in red cap), a Syrian graduate student and activist who fled the war in Syria to live in Turkey, survived the Feb. 6 earthquake in Gaziantep and made it to a shelter with her sister, 10-year-old niece, and cat.

Hunadah Hariri, a Syrian graduate student and activist who fled the war in Syria to live in Turkey, survived the earthquake with her sister and 10-year-old niece in their four-story apartment in Gaziantep. They are staying in a shelter in an art center with their cat.

Despite the national solidarity, Ms. Hariri, no stranger to discrimination, says the poorer neighborhoods suffer disproportionately, losing more lives because of older, shoddier buildings.

Nevertheless, she’s touched by the camaraderie.  

“One very positive feeling that I was very surprised at was the overwhelming warmth of people. Honestly, it was magical,” Ms. Hariri says. “I’m in contact with people I have not been in contact with in years, and they are so genuine. And you start appreciating things. We were lucky. 

“But I feel guilty that so many others are under the rubble.”

You've read  of  free articles. Subscribe to continue.
Real news can be honest, hopeful, credible, constructive.
What is the Monitor difference? Tackling the tough headlines – with humanity. Listening to sources – with respect. Seeing the story that others are missing by reporting what so often gets overlooked: the values that connect us. That’s Monitor reporting – news that changes how you see the world.

Dear Reader,

About a year ago, I happened upon this statement about the Monitor in the Harvard Business Review – under the charming heading of “do things that don’t interest you”:

“Many things that end up” being meaningful, writes social scientist Joseph Grenny, “have come from conference workshops, articles, or online videos that began as a chore and ended with an insight. My work in Kenya, for example, was heavily influenced by a Christian Science Monitor article I had forced myself to read 10 years earlier. Sometimes, we call things ‘boring’ simply because they lie outside the box we are currently in.”

If you were to come up with a punchline to a joke about the Monitor, that would probably be it. We’re seen as being global, fair, insightful, and perhaps a bit too earnest. We’re the bran muffin of journalism.

But you know what? We change lives. And I’m going to argue that we change lives precisely because we force open that too-small box that most human beings think they live in.

The Monitor is a peculiar little publication that’s hard for the world to figure out. We’re run by a church, but we’re not only for church members and we’re not about converting people. We’re known as being fair even as the world becomes as polarized as at any time since the newspaper’s founding in 1908.

We have a mission beyond circulation, we want to bridge divides. We’re about kicking down the door of thought everywhere and saying, “You are bigger and more capable than you realize. And we can prove it.”

If you’re looking for bran muffin journalism, you can subscribe to the Monitor for $15. You’ll get the Monitor Weekly magazine, the Monitor Daily email, and unlimited access to CSMonitor.com.

QR Code to For a moment, earthquake makes Turkey’s divisions a little smaller
Read this article in
https://www.csmonitor.com/World/Europe/2023/0208/For-a-moment-earthquake-makes-Turkey-s-divisions-a-little-smaller
QR Code to Subscription page
Start your subscription today
https://www.csmonitor.com/subscribe