In the 1970s, Turkey was plagued by deadly street clashes that claimed at least 10 lives a day. One of the bloodiest moments came in 1977, when the May Day rally in Istanbul’s Taksim Square turned into a massacre after shots were fired into the crowd, killing over 30 people. The ongoing ban on May Day rallies in Taksim dates back to that tragedy. As the violence escalated, conventional media outlets repeatedly asked, “Where is Turkey heading?” The era came to a close with the military coup of September 12, 1980.
With civilian rule restored in 1983, Turgut Özal won the elections and ushered in the “1980s” in their full sense. With his market-oriented policies, economic issues dominated the national agenda—and economic experts became the new stars of the media.
In the 1990s, the Kurdish issue took center stage—an issue that remains relevant today.
With the launch of private television channels, security experts became the new media darlings.
THE 1999 EARTHQUAKE
The devastating Marmara Earthquake of 1999 introduced a new kind of media expert: the seismologist. The public face of this new era was Professor Ahmet Mete Işıkara, a geophysicist and head of Boğaziçi University’s Kandilli Observatory.
He was chased by TV networks and became as famous as a film star, earning the nickname “Earthquake Grandpa.” Back then, the looming mega-quake expected in Istanbul was a hot topic—but, as time went on, it too faded from the public agenda.
That is, until February 6, 2023. That was when twin earthquakes centered on Kahramanmaraş killed over 50,000 people across 11 provinces. The Istanbul mega-quake was back on the agenda—albeit briefly, before being pushed aside once again.
FAULTLINE BETWEEN SEISMOLOGISTS
After the 6.2 magnitude earthquake shook Istanbul on April 23, 2025, the media once again turned to seismologists, asking: “Is this the long-feared Istanbul earthquake?”
The answers were confusing. Professor Şener Üşümezsoy claimed, “The earthquake threat in Istanbul is over” and dismissed predictions of a major quake in the Marmara Sea.
Professor Naci Görür took the opposite stance. He warned that the latest quake may have accelerated the timeline for the “Big One,” which he expects to reach a magnitude of 7.5.
Professor Özgün Ahmet Ercan tried to reassure the public. He said the 6.2 quake had ended but estimated that a major Istanbul earthquake could still be 20 to 50 years away.
Professor Celal Şengör cautioned that the recent quake could be a sign of more to come.
Subsequent quakes could signal the “Big One,” he said, but whether that comes in 10 minutes or 10 years remains unknowable.
On the day of the quake, panic spread throughout Istanbul. People flooded the streets, and traffic came to a standstill. Uncertainty over whether it was safe to return home left many uneasy. Within a week, traffic in Istanbul declined, and signs of internal migration began to emerge, as some residents appeared to be fleeing the city in fear.
LIVING WITH FEAR IN THE CITY
Following the 6.2-magnitude quake, Istanbul continues to experience aftershocks—both physical and psychological. Many residents avoid sleeping in their homes, opting to spend nights in cars or with relatives in neighboring provinces. A week on, the question still lingers in the minds of many: “Is Istanbul the same city after the quake?”
For years, scientists have warned about the faultline running beneath the Marmara Sea. Yet, these warnings have rarely stuck in the public’s mind for long. As with the pandemic, fear tends to give way to routine. But this time, the absence of a scientific consensus has only deepened the public's anxiety.
While some experts say “stay calm,” others warn that “the quake is imminent.”
Caught in between are millions of Istanbulites, unsure of what to believe.
Uncertainty now hangs heavy in the city’s air. While experts continue to debate, the public is taking matters into its own hands: some are having their buildings inspected, others are making plans to relocate, and many have surrendered to fate—turning to prayer instead.
