İzmit earthquake

Earthquake

Also known as: The Kocaeli earthquake, the Marmara earthquake

Date: August 17, 1999

Place: Northwestern Turkey

Magnitude: 7.4

Result: More than 17,000 dead, 25,000 injured, more than 250,000 homeless, 17,000 buildings destroyed, 25,000 buildings badly damaged, total economic cost estimated at $15 billion

The Northern Anatolian fault, which is some 600 miles long, runs east to west through northern Turkey, paralleling the coastline of the Black Sea. It marks the division of the Eurasian Plate to the north and the Anatolian Plate to the south. The Anatolian Plate itself is a small plate, wedged between the north-thrusting Arabian and African Plates. It is highly unstable—both the Northern and Southern Anatolian faults have given rise to frequent earthquakes over the centuries. Like the San Andreas fault in California, the Anatolian fault is a right lateral strike-slip fault, about 10 miles deep. Also like the San Andreas fault, it moves about an eighth of an inch a year and has branches at either end.

Seismologists noted a steady east-to-west shift of earthquake epicenters along the North Anatolian fault in the twentieth century, thrusting the Anatolian Plate in a westward direction. An earthquake occurred in eastern Turkey, for example, with a magnitude of 7.9 on the Richter scale, followed by another, some 100 miles to the west, in 1942, with a magnitude of 7.1. Then, just two years later, in an area north of the capital Ankara, in central Turkey, another earthquake occurred, with a magnitude of 7.3.

Since then, earthquakes occurred along the fault in 1957 and 1967, each one moving further west, of approximately the same magnitude. Seismologists warned the Turkish government that the next earthquake along the fault could be in northwestern Turkey, and that suitable preparations needed to be made. More specifically, in 1997, Ross Stein, a geophysicist at the U.S. Geological Survey at Menlo Park, California, suggested, together with two colleagues, that there was “an increased probability” that the next earthquake would be around İzmit, some 50 miles east of Istanbul, Turkey’s largest city.

Northwestern Turkey is the most densely populated area in the country. With 20 million inhabitants, it contains nearly a third of Turkey’s population. In it lies Istanbul, with 8 million inhabitants, growing at a rate of almost half a million a year; the new industrial areas around İzmit, with over half a million inhabitants; and Bursa, with nearly 1 million residents. Some new resort areas along the south coast of the Sea of Marmara, especially on the Gulf of İzmit around the town of Yalova, are also located in northwest Turkey. Half the nation’s production takes place in the eleven provinces (or counties) surrounding Istanbul. Many migrants from the relatively poor areas of eastern Turkey come to these cities and towns to find work. A major oil refinery was constructed by the government-owned gas company just outside İzmit, as well as Honda and Toyota vehicle factories, a Pirelli tire factory, and several other multimillion-dollar construction projects largely financed by Western companies. Many small-scale businesses also sprang up. New hotels and apartment blocks were quickly constructed to deal with the sudden boom in workers and tourists. Swampland was drained around the Gulf of İzmit to create more building space.

To guard against earthquake hazards, the Turkish government laid down strict building codes, equal, it claimed, to those in force in other earthquake-prone areas, such as California and Japan. These included regulations of the height of buildings (a two-story maximum in many cases), quality of concrete, strength of steel rods, and depth of foundations. Unfortunately, the inspection and control of these regulations was left in the hands of local city and town officials, who were subject to political pressures, bribery, and lack of expertise. Enforcement procedures were generally weak.

Turkey itself is a centralized secular country, even though 99 percent of its population is Muslim. It has had a number of military regimes, and the army has always been large for the size of the country—some 800,000 personnel. Turkey’s democratic structures have been considered weak and open to corruption. Nevertheless, respect for the country has been continuously inculcated into the population, particularly in an effort to keep the state secular—its ideal when the country became a republic after World War I. The economy grew during the 1990’s at a rate of 7 to 8 percent yearly. At the time of the 1999 earthquake it was economically sound, despite some loss of tourist revenue over recent terrorist attacks by Kurdish rebels. Its annual gross national product stood at $200 billion.

The Earthquake. At 3:02 a.m. on Tuesday, August 17, a temblor shook northwestern Turkey with its epicenter near İzmit. It lasted forty-five seconds. First estimates of its magnitude were put at 7.1 by the National Earthquake Information Center at Golden, Colorado, and at 6.8 by the Turkish authorities. Both figures were later revised to 7.4, making it one of the worst quakes to hit Turkey in the twentieth century. It was felt as far away as Ankara, 270 miles to the east.

At the time the quake hit, the population was asleep, so first reports were confused. A few deaths at Adama, Eskisehir, and Istanbul, 162 in total, were reported on Turkish television at daylight. One of the worst-hit areas was Bursa, the foreign press reported, where an oil refinery was blazing out of control. (In fact, the refinery was at İzmit.) As the day wore on, it became clear that the worst-hit areas were İzmit; Gölcük, where there was a naval base; and Yalova, where 90 percent of the houses had collapsed. At Gölcük 248 sailors and officers were reported trapped under collapsed buildings.

It soon became apparent that initial numbers were hopelessly underestimated. Large parts of many towns and cities had been totally devastated, many buildings had simply collapsed on their sleeping occupants, and many others that remained standing were in too perilous a condition for people to remain. A seawall had given way in the Bay of Haldere, and further along the coast, a mile of shoreline had sunk into the sea. Many places within an area of 100 miles east of Istanbul were without electricity and water. Road and rail communications were severely disrupted by fallen bridges and sunken pavements, although telephone communications between the main cities were quickly restored. So many aftershocks occurred (250 within the first twenty-four hours, 1,000 in the ensuing month) that people were afraid to stay indoors even when their houses stood secure.

Rescue and Relief Efforts. By the end of the first day, the Turkish government had reported 13,000 injured. Hospital beds were set up in the streets of İzmit. In one of the suburbs of Istanbul, reporters saw piles of debris 20 feet higher than the bulldozers that were working to rescue people from the collapsed buildings. In fact, bulldozers and other heavy moving equipment were in very short supply over the first few days, and most early rescue attempts were characterized by families and neighbors working by hand or with small-scale machinery—often borrowed or stolen—to rescue their kin. Many inhabitants seemed too shocked and dazed to do anything.

Soon, great tent cities sprang up for the homeless, whose numbers were constantly being revised upward, finally reaching half a million people. Some of the shortage of suitable vehicles could be explained by their being trapped or destroyed in collapsed buildings, as could the shortage of medical supplies. However, the biggest feature of the first few weeks after the quake was the complete lack of any large-scale local rescue plans. There were no militias or civil-defense personnel, no official rescue workers seen by the vast majority of inhabitants, nor any sign of the army becoming immediately involved.

In fact, it was the foreign rescue teams who were the first to reach many of the stricken areas. An Israeli team was the first to arrive, the morning after the quake. The Israeli rescue team was also the largest. The Israelis sent 2 fire-fighting planes, teams of dogs, and 350 rescue workers. They also sent a field hospital and 200 medical workers. Eventually 80 countries and international organizations sent rescue teams or aid, with about 2,000 personnel directly involved. Besides the response from Israel, immediate responses were also made by Germany, the United States, France, Switzerland, and Great Britain, among others. The U.S. 70-person rescue team from Fairfax, Virginia, was typical of many. It naturally took several days to assemble and fly out, not reaching Turkey until two days after the quake. The unit was rushed to İzmit. A much larger U.S. relief effort was then promised, consisting of 3 naval vessels equipped with 80 beds, operating tables, doctors, dentists, and paramedics, as well as 22 rescue helicopters. This could not arrive until the weekend, however.

Those teams that were near at hand found movement difficult, with blocked roads and little direction or coordination from the Turkish government. Many foreign teams, as has been stated, found no local network at all and had to devise their own plans and organization. In the end, many rescue teams felt they had accomplished far less than they might have in better circumstances.

The government did slowly begin to make specific requests for help: body bags, tents, flashlights, blankets, garbage trucks, disinfectant, and tetanus vaccine. At the same time it imposed a blockage on aid by insisting that it be channeled through the Red Crescent (the Muslim equivalent of the Red Cross). National pride and religious feelings seemed to be the main cause for this demand. Indeed, the minister of health, Osman Durmus, declared Turks should not accept blood donated by Greece nor medical aid from the United States, and that foreigners should not actually deliver any relief aid. Aid from Islamic countries and groups was also blocked, the government fearing that any sympathy gained for political Muslims would undermine the secularity of the state.

The Turkish Red Crescent appealed to the International Red Cross for $6.92 million in aid. At the same time, the European Union sent $2.1 million, Britain $800,000, Germany $560,000, and other countries and charities smaller amounts for immediate help. The United States gave some $3 million. Most of these amounts were quickly increased as the scale of the disaster became apparent. A private German television appeal raised $7 million, a Dutch appeal raised $13 million. Even traditional foes of Turkey—Armenians, Kurds, and Greeks—sent gifts.

Turkish television broadcast graphic scenes of the devastation and early rescue attempts to drag people out of the wreckage. This caused an unorganized stream of Turkish volunteers from other parts of the country to make their way toward the devastated area. Some did sterling work in helping with the rescue efforts, especially groups of students from Istanbul, but many efforts were counterproductive, causing 20-mile traffic jams along already damaged highways, thus preventing heavy equipment and much-needed supplies from reaching their destination. Such volunteers often brought aid that was not actually needed, such as bottled water or bread. On the positive side, very little looting was reported.

As stated, the epicenter was near the industrial city of İzmit. One of the main dangers there was the oil refinery on the edge of the city, which had caught fire immediately and blazed uncontrollably for three days, despite aerial attempts to douse the flames. A nearby fertilizer plant with 8,000 tons of inflammable ammonia could have exploded easily, so all the nearby inhabitants had to be evacuated. At the hospital, medical supplies ran out, and nearby pharmacies were raided. An astonishing number of buildings less than five years old had collapsed, and the mayor declared he would need 250 teams to rescue everyone.

At Gölcük, the naval base and most of the town were flattened. One of the prominent features here, as elsewhere, was the haphazard nature of the building collapse. Some buildings were left standing; others appeared to be until it was clear that the first floor had sunk completely into the ground. Other buildings stood tilting sideways at 45-degree angles; many had cracks and fissures running through them. Each building had to be assessed separately for rescuing those still trapped inside, and it was often difficult to obtain the ground plans for the structures. It was feared that up to 10,000 people were trapped in the town.

Criticism was leveled against the government that its main rescue efforts, using Israeli as well as naval personnel, had been directed toward the army barracks, leaving individuals on their own. In fact, the navy did set up a crisis center, but it was in the town center and few trucks could reach it.

By Friday the death toll in Gölcük had reached 7,000, and bodies were being lined up in an ice rink for identification. Voices could still be heard in the rubble two and a half days after the quake, but lack of equipment or the wrong equipment continued to hinder the rescue teams. In other towns, the death toll also continued to rise: İzmit reported 3,242 dead and 8,759 injured; Adapazari 2,995 dead and 5,081 injured; Yalova 1,442 dead and 4,300 injured; and Istanbul, 984 dead and 9,541 injured. In Adapazari 963 bodies were interred in a mass grave. Not until Saturday, August 21, did soldiers appear, reaching a total of 50,000 eventually. Their first jobs were to pick up the rotting garbage, to spray disinfectant, and to set out lime. The stench of rotting bodies and garbage was giving rise to fears of an epidemic of cholera or typhoid, but in fact there was little medical evidence to support such fears. Nevertheless, dysentry and scabies were real threats to the tent-dwellers.

By the weekend, hope of pulling more survivors from the wreckage was fading. On Saturday the 21st, Austrian rescue workers pulled a ninety-five-year-old woman from a seaside complex at Yalova; on Sunday just two survivors were found. The last survivor to be pulled out was a small boy who had somehow survived for six days. At this stage, some foreign rescue teams began to pull out.

In some areas, it was reported that the army had intervened in these final rescue attempts, taking over from the foreign teams, but had only made a bad situation worse through their inexperience. However, the army’s presence helped to stem the tide of volunteers and ease the massive traffic jams. Rain began falling the second week, keeping up for three straight days. To add to the misery of the homeless, many of the army-supplied tents were found not to be waterproof.

Public Criticism. After the initial shock of the quake, the severity of which affected the whole nation deeply, public criticism and anger quickly took over, on the part of both the survivors and the mass media. It was pointed in two directions: at the government for its inaction and lack of preparedness, and at the contractors and local officials who had allowed substandard buildings to be erected. Both criticisms point to the fact that the extent of the destruction was human-made—that a 7.4 earthquake should not have had such a deleterious effect.

The government tried to allay this criticism in a number of ways. On the evening of the quake Prime MinisterBülent Ecevit made a national broadcast. Parliament met in special session on Thursday, August 19, when Koray Aydin, minister of public works and housing, gave a report, stating that this was the greatest natural disaster in the history of Turkey. On the same day, the prime minister broadcast again, trying again to allay public anger, but the only positive step he took was to announce plans for more tents. The next day he ordered immediate burial of the dead and asked for more body bags. The much more robust response of the government and military to a November earthquake did lessen immediate criticism, even though confusion and delay were still very much in evidence.

The minister of the interior, Sadettin Tantan, promised harsh punishment for contractors, engineers, and building owners. In Duzce alone, magistrates arrested 33 very quickly. Three provincial governors were also dismissed for their failure to coordinate efforts, being replaced by cabinet ministers. However, some politicians were willing to avoid a cover-up. The minister of tourism, Erkan Mumcu, declared the lack of response was symptomatic of the Turkish political and economic system. By contrast, on August 25, Ecevit criticized the press for its “demoralizing” earthquake reporting and shut down one of the more outspoken private television stations under an anti-incitement law.

The case against contractors and local officials was overwhelming. For example, in Avcilar, the worst-hit suburb of Istanbul, a five-story building had collapsed in twenty-seven seconds, while a mosque standing nearby stood firm. The reasons the building collapsed were clear: cheap iron for support rods, too much sand mixed with the concrete, some buildings built without permits, and some with stories added without permission. In one case, local officials had ordered a halt three times to a building, but it had been completed just the same, demonstrating the weak enforcement laws, even when local inspectors were doing the job properly. A report by the Turkish Architects and Engineers Association suggested that 65 percent of new buildings put up in Istanbul were not in compliance with the building regulations. The strength of the quake by the time it had reached Istanbul was only 5.5, and all the buildings should theoretically have been able to withstand that magnitude quake. Other claims were made that of Turkey’s forty thousand contractors, most were unqualified.

In Yalova, for example, survivors burned the car and stoned the house of one local contractor by the name of Veli Gocer. Seven of the 16 buildings he had constructed had collapsed. He quickly fled to Germany but is reported in an interview with the newspaper Bild am Sonntaq to have said that while he sympathized with the victims, he should not be made a scapegoat. His training was in literature, he said, not in civil engineering, and he had believed the builders when they had told him he could mix large quantities of beach sand with his concrete as a way of cutting costs.

The Geological Aftermath. Besides the many small aftershocks, two major aftershocks caused panic and some further deaths and damage. The first of these was on August 31, lasting ten seconds, with a 5.2 magnitude and its epicenter east of İzmit. The second was on September 13, registering 5.8 on the Richter scale. The Anatolian fault had ruptured for at least 60 miles east of İzmit, and in some places the ground was offset by 12 feet. One possible reason for this was that the original quake may in fact have been caused by two fault segments splitting thirty seconds apart, thus causing such a large shock.

Mehmet Au Iskari, director of Turkey’s leading observatory, observed continuing unusual seismic movements that could suggest another temblor soon. On Monday, November 15, a temblor of approximately 7.2 magnitude struck with its epicenter at Düzce, 90 miles east of Istanbul. At least 370 people were killed and 3,000 injured.

The U.S. government, aware of the similarities between the San Andreas fault and the Anatolian, quickly dispatched a team of experts from Menlo Park, California, and Golden, Colorado, as well as from the University of Southern California and San Diego State University. They were to investigate what lessons could be learned from a country where building regulations were, in theory, as strict as those in California, and especially the lessons from those buildings that were left standing and the type of soil they were built on.

Geologists and seismologists made a prediction that the next big quake on the fault will be in Istanbul itself, or a little to the south, in the Sea of Marmara, in perhaps thirty to fifty years. Istanbul is somewhat more secure than the İzmit area in that it is built on harder rock and is 6 to 10 miles from the fault line. However, if the standard of building construction is not improved, that will clearly be of little advantage in the next big quake.

The Economic Aftermath. The northwest region of Turkey was the base for the country’s economic growth during the late twentieth century, with many new industries creating new jobs. The destruction of much of this area was bound to have enormous economic consequences. Reconstruction of houses, apartments, shops, hotels, and factories, as well as the infrastructure of roads, railways, bridges, sewerage, and water supply, would cost billions of dollars. Added to this was the unemployment that followed the loss of workplaces and small businesses, the loss of stock and capital, and the loss of production. Worst hit were the small to medium-sized businesses that had fueled the economic progress of the 1990’s. Fewer than 10 percent of houses were covered by insurance, adding to the financial loss.

Turkey’s hopes of being in an economically sound position to apply for membership in the European Union (EU), whatever its democratic weaknesses, were thoroughly dashed. However, the EU did express sympathy for Turkey’s plight. President Jacques Chirac of France wrote to each of the EU states asking for a “new strategy” for dealing with Turkey, after a two-year freeze in dialogue.

Turkey had also been in negotiation with the International Monetary Fund (IMF), especially since it had been in financial difficulties in 1999. It had been seeking to put the IMF’s recommendations into practice. The loan originally requested had been $5 billion, but with the estimated $25 billion total loss, such a sum had clearly become too small. The government announced that it would endeavor to stick to the previously agreed fiscal measures. The government also immediately put aside $4 billion to repair businesses and $2 billion to $3 billion to repair the oil refinery. However, foreign aid would clearly be needed to supplement the long-term IMF loan. The World Bank pledged $200 million for emergency housing, and the EU gave $41.8 million. The future of Turkey’s economy looked considerably bleaker than it had for many years, however.

The Political Aftermath. Potentially the most damaging results of the quake were in the political arena. The country’s disillusionment with the government went deeper than particular individual politicians. It reflected a questioning of the paternalistic state that hitherto had been trusted by its citizens to care for them. Such an attitude had been fostered to bring unity to a country whose secular basis lay counter to the traditionalism of many of its conservative Muslims, who would prefer an Islamic republic.

The exposure of corruption at a local level, although well known by the population before, added to public anger and frustration, as did the inept bureaucracy. Most of the country’s residents had experienced this frustration daily in a minor way, but the earthquake brought years of simmering annoyances to the boil. In a country where the state was treated with great respect, the depth of such anger and criticism may well have permanently undermined such trust, making the job of future governments that much harder. Indeed, some politicians and academics took the opportunity to call for reform, even to the extent of rewriting the constitution.

Not all the political aftermath was negative, however. International relationships were improved in a wave of sympathy, however frustrated individual foreign relief and rescue teams were (the U.S. naval ships were barely used in the end, for example). Prime Minister Ecevit arranged a meeting with U.S. president Bill Clinton to ask for more U.S. aid. Turkish-Israeli relationships were also strengthened by the early and efficient arrival of Israeli rescue teams. Even the Kurdish rebels in the southeast of the country offered a temporary cease-fire.

Perhaps the most remarkable benefit politically was the blossoming of Turkish-Greek relationships. Enemies for centuries, these neighboring countries became antagonistic over the island of Cyprus, which was divided into Greek and Turkish sectors after a Turkish military invasion in the 1970’s. The sending of a small Greek rescue team to the quake site was therefore an important symbolic gesture. This gesture was returned by the Turks when Athens was hit by an earthquake on September 9, 1999. A spontaneous response of reconciliation was released between the two populations and taken up by the media and politicians. The following month, President Clinton sought to seize on this goodwill by offering to broker talks over Cyprus. Rarely does an earthquake have such a profound effect politically and economically, as well as in terms of human tragedy.

Bibliography

The New York Times, August 17-September 14, 1999.

Tang, Alex K., ed. Izmit (Kocaeli), Turkey, Earthquake of August 17, 1999, Including Duzce Earthquake of November 12, 1999: Lifeline Performance. Reston, Va.: American Society of Civil Engineers, 2000.

U.S. Geological Survey. USGS Scientific Expedition: Earthquake in Turkey—1999. http://quake.wr.usgs.gov/research/geology/turkey/index.html.

Youd, T. Leslie, Jean-Pierre Bardet, and Jonathan D. Bray, eds. 1999 Kocaeli, Turkey, Earthquake Reconnaissance Report. Oakland, Calif.: Earthquake Engineering Research Institute, 2001.