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In the wake of the catastrophic earthquakes that rocked Kahramanmaraş, the Ministry of Environment, Urbanization, and Climate Change has heroically completed micro-zoning studies over 200,000 hectares across 23 provinces. Because, you know, what better time to assess risk than after the ground has decided to throw a tantrum?
Armed with maps and a sprinkle of hope, the ministry is diligently identifying “safe” residential areas like a hipster in a coffee shop picking out the least pretentious brew. They’re sifting through the rubble of 1,700 buildings in Tunceli that can only be described as tragic modern art installations—by brute force—while claiming they’re crafting disaster-resistant cities. It’s as if their motto is, “Build it, then hope it doesn’t fall over like a toddler on roller skates.”
Oh, and let’s not ignore Minister Murat Kurum, who took to social media to share snapshots of their groundbreaking (or is it ground-shaking?) efforts. With a charming mix of optimism and denial, he assures us they’re “identifying safe residential areas” in places where mountains dare to change their minds and unleash landslides. If only life came with a disclaimer saying, “May contain active fault lines and existential dread.”
As they identify boundaries for slide risks and rockfalls, one can’t help but admire the irony of the whole charade. It’s like trying to arrange chairs on the Titanic after it hit the iceberg, invoking a certain admiration for the art of delusion. Because surely, the answer to disaster is more buildings—yes, let’s just strengthen that beautiful fabric of urban life with some New TOKİ flats, perhaps built with optimism as a primary material.
So, here’s to the gulf between intention and reality, marinated in bureaucracy and served with a side of irony. Cheers to a paradigm of preparedness crafted in the ashes of catastrophe—because nothing says “we care” like frantically drawing lines in the sand after the waves have crashed in.
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