by Ilayda Habip and Mascha Wolf
One morning in February 2023, Nurgül Göksu received a call about an earthquake that had devastated parts of Turkey and Syria. Kahramanmaras, her son’s hometown in south-east Turkey, was hit, and she worried that he and his family would be cold, having to evacuate outside. After all, it was winter, and her granddaughter was only six months old. No part of her thought it possible that a modern apartment block, like the one her son lived in, could collapse. And it wasn’t until she saw the remains of the building with her own eyes, one day later, that the horrifying realisation sunk in: her son Ahmet Can, his daughter Asude, and Göksu’s daughter-in-law Nesibe had been buried under the rubble of their home.
Göksu’s family is among the over 50 thousand Turkish victims who lost their lives to the earthquake that shattered Turkey and Syria on February 6th, 2023. Many, including her family, were buried under buildings that were supposed to be earthquake-safe.
The scale of the devastation was ubiquitous; the number of citizens in the earthquake zone was over 14 million, and every sixth Turkish citizen was affected. The destruction of buildings rendered some 1.5 million people homeless and many areas uninhabitable, causing a mass migration of an estimated 3.3 million people a week following the earthquake.
As the dust settled, surviving victims and their relatives began questioning who was responsible for the building collapses and lives lost. In the earthquake’s aftermath, the Turkish authorities rapidly collected rubble and debris from earthquake-affected cities, disappearing evidence that could prove negligence, unauthorised structural changes, usage of unsafe materials, and lack of precautionary measures. Such evidence is necessary to mount a case and prosecute those responsible, from construction firms to city officials. But the potential obstruction of evidence underscored a broader issue of corruption and transparency. An insight into leaked documents reveals a web of accountability in which officials use legal loopholes to forgo liability.
The question of evidence
During the earthquake, the Ezgi Apartment complex, where Göksu’s family lived, was reduced to rubble. What struck her most was the isolated destruction—only their building was demolished while neighbouring structures remained intact. Göksu was determined to understand why. She began rummaging through the rubble of the collapsed building and sifting through documents provided to her by the doorkeeper, in order to uncover evidence of malpractice. “For 12 days, day and night, I collected evidence at the place where my children died,” Göksu said.
Soon, the city sent dodgers and trucks to demolish what remained, and it became almost impossible to continue. As the mother of a lawyer, Göksu knew rubble was crucial evidence, and she found herself guarding it by blocking the vehicles.
Across Turkey, authorities were adamant about cleaning up affected areas. And on the 11th of February, a few kilometres south of the centre of the earthquake in Antakya, Hatay, a government complex that housed the Buildings Inspection and Material Branch Directorate, a unit under the Ministry of Environment and Urbanization, became a target for demolition. Partial damage caused by the earthquake was given as reasoning. But this building housed documents and records pertaining to earthquake prevention measures. The implications were dire; critical evidence detailing construction standards, materials used, and adherence to earthquake regulations risked being lost.
While authorities justified the demolition with the existence of digitised records, lawyers like Seher Eriş and others from the Hatay Bar Association fear the intentional destruction of crucial evidence that could implicate Hatay construction companies known to have ties with the Turkish state. “I fear once we go to trial and ask for documents, they will use the demolition as an excuse not to provide them,” said Seher Eriş.
“My lawyer colleagues mobilised and collected as many documents as they could from the destruction site with their bare hands,” Eriş said. They did the same with the debris and rubble of the destroyed houses. Thus began a race to salvage evidence before authorities got to it. Eriş and her colleagues lied in front of buildings to prevent the demolition of the digger.
Sifting through the rubble
Göksu’s suspicions centred on the renovation of the “Kervan Patisserie” on the ground floor of the Ezgi Building, where her children lived. She believed it contributed to the building's collapse. With evidence in hand, including photographs revealing unauthorised alterations to the building's structure, she halted debris collection and demanded a thorough investigation.
Photos from the Kervan Patisserie, showing the unauthorised alterations. Credit: Göksu
Using photos and collected evidence, she could prove that the patisserie added an elevator that was not in the original plans for the building. She also proved that they made changes like opening large gaps in the walls for ventilation and cutting a column to make more space, which all destabilised the structure. She turned to lawyers for help. Pro-bono practices all over Turkey were galvanised to help victims seek justice.
By March, around 80 lawyers had joined forces to open a legal aid office in Hatay, according to attorney Bedirhan Tuna Yildiz, a lawyer at the Adana Bar Association. Adana was less affected and only two hours away, so Yildiz decided to travel to Hatay to help his colleagues on site. Their office provided pro-bono services to those who wanted to file a lawsuit. They worked with other bar associations across Turkey to create an app that allowed citizens to upload real-time evidence, such as photos and videos of the destruction, that could later be used as evidence in court.
According to Yildiz, in the town of Antakya, around 70% to 80% of the destruction was uploaded as evidence to the app. “It becomes much easier to prove these things using this program,” he says. Still, most of the debris has been removed, so gathering further evidence is impossible.
To determine if materials adhere to construction guidelines, which should prevent collapse, so-called core samples—samples of the building materials—are analysed in a lab. However, according to Yildiz, the materials alone can only reveal so much about the cause of the collapse. In many cases, renovations and building changes after initial construction destabilise the structure. The changes must be documented to analyse if they played a role in the destruction. This was the case in the building in which Göksu’s family lived.
Eyewitness testimonies revealed that the Ezgi building collapsed mere seconds after the earthquake—a fact corroborated by Göksu's discovery that her son was active on social media moments before the disaster struck but still their bodies were found in bed, indicating the building's collapse occurred abruptly. “I live the sixth of February every day,” said Göksu.
Concealed documents
Göksu's case is emblematic for several reasons. A document, signed by the building’s residents in 2021, points to potential negligence during the renovation of the Kervan Patisserie in the Ezgi building. Residents raised concerns about activities that might have compromised the building's foundation and structural integrity by cutting columns. Tragically, all signatories of this document died in the earthquake, in the very building. Only the owners of the Kervan Patisserie remain, currently facing trial for manslaughter after reportedly fleeing following the disaster; it is believed they left Turkey.
The court rejected classifying the Kervan Patisserie owners as fugitives, which would warrant an Interpol red notice.
Secondly, she points to a document filed by the municipality in 2021 as a response. This second document attests to municipal officials inspecting the Kervan Patisserie construction in 2021 and finding “no damage” to the building.
However, the individuals responsible for providing this document, along with the municipal employee who signed it, remain spared from legal proceedings. Turkish criminal law mandates that civil servants undergo investigation by their respective state units before standing trial, yet this process has not commenced. Consequently, civil servants implicated in earthquake-related incidents, including the officer who certified the patisserie’s safety, remain beyond the reach of justice.
“Isn't the municipal officer who declared the building undamaged during renovation complicit in the loss of my children,” Göksu said. Karadeniz Technical University’s report that was prepared after the collapse of Ezgi Building, substantiates the claim that the patisserie renovation significantly contributed to the building’s collapse, a crucial piece of evidence currently submitted to the court as part of the trial.
Döne Kaya, a doctoral student in Turkish Language and Literature, lost her sister, brother-in-law, nine-month-old nephew, and mother in the Fuat Koku Apartment blocks in Antakya. When she reached the site six days after the earthquake, she did not think of collecting samples from the rubble of the building due to the pain and shock she experienced. She knew that the Fuat Koku Building, which was only built in 2016, should be constructed in accordance with Turkey's latest earthquake regulations and, therefore, should not be demolished. Later, Kaya uncovered that samples were collected twice from the Fuat Koku apartment, where 65 individuals lost their lives. The first set was obtained in February, immediately following the earthquake, while the second set was gathered in July, approximately five months later. The samples yielded contrasting results. The February sample suggested a deficiency in building materials, indicating potential non-compliance with earthquake regulations. Conversely, the July sample seemingly contradicted these findings. Despite these discrepancies, only the core sample data from July found its way into the official case files. “They ask us to believe in the reports of the people who are probably accountable for the death of our loved ones,” Kaya says.
Further investigation by the court revealed extreme negligence during the building’s construction. A third document reveals the absence of a soil analysis and municipal approval, which are obligatory documents to provide before erecting a building under the law. “I have vowed to myself to pursue this judicial struggle, until all involved will be held accountable", Kaya said. According to her, this goes from the contractor Fuat Koku, up to the president himself.
The problem of accountability in Turkey
According to experts, the underlying issue stems from corruption in Turkey's construction sector. “This often leads to shortcuts and compromises in safety standards,” German seismologist Norberg Gebekken says. He emphasises that ensuring earthquake resilience doesn’t necessarily entail exorbitant costs, especially in the long term. “Seismic building costs usually are only marginally higher, typically 10 to 15 percent more,” Gebekken explains. Instead, it is a lack of oversight and regulation that allows corruption to prevail. “If this earthquake happened in Switzerland, the destruction would be nowhere as immense,” he said.
Key to Europe’s success in earthquake-resistant construction is the rigorous accountability mechanisms in place. “In contrast to Turkey, where the building contractor is seldom held accountable, the EU employs a four-eye principle,” Gebekken notes. This approach ensures that both planning and construction undergo independent verification, for which the independent observer is personally legally liable. This minimises the risk of oversight or negligence. In theory, this verification system exists in Turkey, but in practice, only private bodies are held accountable.
Europe's emphasis on the role of the test engineer—a figure responsible for verifying both planning and construction—further enhances safety standards, but similar practices have not been successfully adopted in Turkey.
But the corruption in Turkey prevails. Despite her efforts, Kaya doubts that municipal employees will be held accountable, believing corruption shields them from legal repercussions. She fears that implicating lower-ranking officials will shield powerful figures from accountability.
Lawyer Eriş agrees. She believes that the earthquake's magnitude will be used as a reason for not holding trials. “Perhaps in some of our case files, they will say, ‘we do not have this information, it was destroyed in the earthquake, the magnitude of the earthquake was large, there is nothing we can do’ and they will get away with it,” she said.
It has been 14 months since Göksu lost her son and his family to the earthquake. Her case is one of a few that has gone to trial. “There is still a long way to go. But I will go until the end,” she said.
Comments