The building began to convulse at 4:17 a.m. Firat Yayla was awake in bed, watching videos on his phone. His mother slept in the next bedroom. The region along Turkey’s border with Syria was known for earthquakes, but this complex was new, built to withstand disasters. It was called Guclu Bahce, or Powerful Garden. Yayla’s own cousin had helped build it. He and his business partner had boasted that the complex could withstand even the most powerful earthquake.
So while the earth trembled for more than a minute, Yayla, 21, and Sohret Guclu, her 62-year-old mother, a retired teacher, stayed inside. However, at that moment, Yayla’s cousin, the developer, was jumping to safety from a second-story balcony.
What Yayla and her mother didn’t know was that the system for ensuring that buildings were built safely in compliance with regulations had been tainted by money and politics.
An investigation by The New York Times found that a developer got approval for the project after donating more than $200,000 to a local soccer club, where the Mayor is honorary president. Then, when residents raised the alarm that the plans did not match what had been built, they received no response from the local government. The building inspector said that even after the project failed inspection, the developers used political influence to open it up.
The apartment complex, in the southern city of Antioquia, was a concrete representation of a patronage system that has flourished under the presidency of Recep Tayyip Erdogan while fueling a 20-year construction boom in Turkey. Undeterred by warnings that the rapid development lacked sufficient engineering oversight, officials in the capital Ankara have given local politicians more power to issue building licenses without independent scrutiny.
That building frenzy turned middle-class landowners like the Guclu, after whom the Guclu Bahce complex was named, into developers and owners. Erdogan, who faces a re-election challenge on Sunday, used the building as a vehicle for economic growth and a symbol of Turkey’s progress. Local politicians benefited from the jobs, housing, and informal payments that arose from it all.
The earthquake on February 6 revealed the shaky foundations on which so much growth was built. More than 50,000 people died, including some 65 in Guclu Bahce, the supposedly earthquake-proof complex.
“Many died because they were told that the safest place was inside and that they should not try to leave during an earthquake.said Fatma Oguz, whose sister died in the collapse.
For the Guclu family, several of whom lived in the building, the collapse created a fatal fissure. Survivors have turned on each other amid a lawsuit, a criminal investigation and a search for answers: Was someone at fault? Who can be held accountable in a system where blueprints cannot be trusted and no one agrees on whether the building passed inspection?
Family members say the land, covered in fig trees, had been theirs for three generations. By 2015, buildings were popping up all around him, testament to a Turkish economy that had been growing at about 7 percent a year. Mehmet Guclu, a young developer with a degree in civil engineering, approached his relatives with a plan. Look around, he said. Someone is going to develop this plot. Better to keep it in the family, be a renter and earn money.
“He convinced us that he would build the most magnificent project with the name of our familysaid Yusuf Guclu, a cousin who lived in the compound.
Mehmet Guclu, then in his 30s, had already built some of the tallest buildings in Antioch. The complex was to be a centerpiece of the community—five towers, complete with luxury apartments, retail stores, a pool, and a gym.
In this part of southern Turkey, contractors know that a donation to the local soccer club can move a project forward, said Hikmet Cincin, a former soccer club director. Lutfu Savas, Mayor of Antioquia at the time, serves as the club’s honorary president.
After talks with the mayor, Mehmet Guclu gave the club more than half a million lira, more than $200,000 at the time, according to a person involved in the construction process who spoke on condition of anonymity due to an investigation in course. Savas denied making a profit and said the donation was not linked to the project.
He called himself an honest politician in a corrupt system. He said developers commonly made payments to bypass bureaucratic approvals.
The foundations for the project were laid in the summer of 2017. But the land in that part of Turkey is not ideal for building, particularly in an earthquake zone, said Serkan Koc, a member of the Turkish Union of Chambers of Engineers and Architects. “These areas should not have been converted to construction zones“, said.
Shortly after the foundation was poured, Guclu’s money ran out. He turned to a developer, Servet Altas, who became the public face of the project.
Few have argued that developers knowingly put people in deadly buildings. After all, Guclu’s own family lived there, as did Altas’s son. But the buildings did not pass final inspection, according to testimony given to the court. Ismail Ozturk, an inspector, said that the contractors had taken advantage of “close relationships” in the City Government to overlook the failed inspection. His signature appears on a certification document, but through his lawyer he said it had been forged.
The opening of the Guclu Bahce was postponed. There were discrepancies between the plans and what was built, Ozturk said in his testimony. Some former residents sent a letter to the City expressing their concern. One said the dispute centered on Yayla’s building—the first to collapse. The resident, who spoke on condition of anonymity to avoid being dragged into a legal dispute, said the building had an additional floor that did not appear on the plans. Residents said the City promised to investigate but never heard back.
The City eventually granted occupancy permits and residents moved into their apartments in 2021.
Lying on the floor while her room shook that night, Yayla thought about her cousin’s assurances regarding the building. She then heard the wall next to her collapse. As the 7.8 magnitude quake continued for about 90 seconds, the building fell on its side. Yayla was sure she was going to die.
The next thing he registered was the sound of car alarms. His foot was caught in a crack and he couldn’t move. She called in the dark. “Mother!“, shout. “Are you OK?”. She answered, “Firat! Firat! Firat!”. But his screams faded and then there was silence.
A resident helped free Yayla from the rubble. She survived without serious injuries. Sohret Guclu died.
Several members of the Guclu family have sued the contractors and the inspection company. Among those accused of crime is Mehmet Guclu, the cousin in whom so many hopes had been placed.
Yusuf Guclu, Sohret’s brother, said family members were angry at a system of favor-trading that had covered up potential problems. That system had worked in favor of his family. The Guclus had lived the Turkish dream, turning their land into a money maker through connections.
Now, Yusuf’s sister was dead and his family was accepting donated clothes. “we have lost everything“, said.
Altas was jailed pending investigation. Ozturk, the inspector, has also been arrested, but not charged.
Mehmet Guclu had told The Times that he would consider public speaking. But with a warrant out for his arrest, he stopped returning messages.
CEYLAN YEGINSU, REBECCA R. RUIZ AND NIMET KIRAC
THE NEW YORK TIMES
BBC-NEWS-SRC: https://www.nytimes.com/2023/05/04/world/europe/turkey-earthquake-corruption.html, IMPORTING DATE: 2023-05-12 15:00:08
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