Inside Antakya’s reconstruction two years after earthquake

Once celebrated as the world’s first illuminated street in ancient times, Kurtulus Caddesi now lies in ruins, covered in dust and fragments of decayed cement.

The survivors of the 2023 twin earthquakes in Antakya, the ancient Hellenic and Roman city of Antioch, can barely walk through its remains.

While large banners and steel sheets cover many registered buildings, there are no pavements, and with the rubble cleared, even the streets have disappeared.

At night, darkness engulfs the area. The wind whistles through the empty streets, and the buildings stand in eerie silence, devoid of light. Shadows move in the distance, but the city feels like a remote village - no less than a war zone. 

Even one of the few hotels functioning in the remnants of the old city is pitch black. Someone has stolen the neighbourhood’s power transmission in broad daylight.

In the mornings, a thick dust cloud blankets the city as high cranes dominate the skyline of its modern centre. Hundreds of trucks move in and out daily, further eroding the already damaged roads.

A walk along the banks of the Orontes river, which separates the modern city centre from the old city, is still possible. But the constant winds carrying dust make breathing difficult.

"We hate the sand and dust. Yet when it rains, it's worse; mud covers everything," says a resident.

The twin tremors claimed more than 48,000 lives across southern Turkey, with 24,000 deaths in southern Hatay province alone. More than 6,000 buildings were destroyed and 24,000 others were rendered uninhabitable.

Government data shows that more than 210,000 people still live in container cities in Hatay, where Antakya is located.

Yet, Antakya remains a symbol of diversity in Turkey, with a history dating back thousands of years. Its cultural fabric weaves together Alevis, Arabs, Turks, Jews, Armenians and Greeks.

The city's restoration carries both local and national political significance. The Turkey Design Council developed a reconstruction plan over eight months, holding 40 meetings with 1,000 stakeholders, including government ministries, Turkish and foreign architects, local experts and residents. 

While the council established architectural and landscaping guidelines for all of Antakya, it focused specifically on the city centre, a 500,000-sqm area set to include 5,000 housing units and 2,000 stores.

Furkan Demirci, chairman of the Turkey Design Council, estimates the cost at $1bn - a mere drop in the ocean, as the government would need tens of billions for the full reconstruction.

The master plan prioritises water and agriculture, acknowledging the region’s fertility, where farmers traditionally can harvest three crops a year without major changes to agricultural practices.

"As a first step, we cleared the river beds," Demirci explains.

The council, alongside architect Bunyamin Derman and the British firm Foster and Partners, has shifted Antakya’s layout from a single-centred to a multi-centred open-city strategy. The street grid has been redesigned, ensuring that every property owner receives a new space of equivalent value to their previous holdings.

A key feature of the plan is the introduction of superblocks - large, five-storey buildings covered in trees, with wide streets, plazas, and markets. Some feature open corridors, and all include courtyards where residents can grow gardens.

The council enlisted renowned Turkish architects, including Caner Bilgin, Can Cinici, Boran Ekinci, and Nevzat Sayin. Local Hatay-based architects who survived the quake also contributed, with each architect designing one superblock to ensure diversity in the plan.

At first glance, the design appears inclusive and aesthetically innovative, unlike what Turks are accustomed to seeing. However, it faced opposition.

According to Ankara insiders, former environment and urbanisation minister Mehmet Ozhaseki opposed the plan, arguing that its complexity would delay construction, frustrating locals still trapped in container cities. He preferred simpler concrete buildings.

In May 2024, Ozhaseki publicly announced that he would not honour the protocol his ministry had signed with the council. By July, he had resigned, citing health reasons. However, insiders suggest that wealthy conservative families supporting the council convinced President Recep Tayyip Erdogan of the project's importance, leading to Ozhaseki’s removal.

Despite this, two years after the disaster, construction is still ongoing, and no one has yet received their new housing units. A tour of the nearly completed blocks reveals that there is still a long way to go.

"It will take at least another year before people can return home," Demirci admits, adding that five more years are needed for a sense of normalcy. 

The construction is being carried out by two government agencies: Emlak Konut, a real estate developer, and Toki, a housing development administration.

Satellite images show that outside the city centre, Toki is not adhering to the superblock design, constructing high-rise buildings exceeding five storeys instead.

"Only 20 percent of our master plan is being implemented," says Demirci.

Such modifications could make the city less walkable and more hazardous. At least one property owner has voiced concerns about the construction of six-storey buildings, noting that even three-storey structures collapsed in the earthquake.

The most concerning issue, however, lies across the Orontes river, where ancient Antioch once stood. This area, home to Antakya’s most treasured landmarks, has seen little progress.

Among the ruins are Habib-i Neccar Mosque (Anatolia’s first Islamic place of worship), the Greek Orthodox Church, the famous Long Bazaar, as well as several mosques, tombs, and churches. 

"If you dig 3m beneath Kurtulus Street, you’ll find ancient Roman roads. The entire area is filled with archaeological treasures," says Demirci.

The earthquake shifted the city’s very foundation. Some buildings moved 3m from their original locations.

Since many old buildings were never properly registered, architects had to rely on academic articles and old photographs to reimagine the old city.

Historically, this area housed 20,000 small buildings and depots, many of which were narrow structures with multiple owners, forming a labyrinth of passages, courtyards, and interconnected businesses and homes.

The combination of complex ownership issues and a lack of historical records has slowed reconstruction efforts, which on this side of the city are mainly overseen by Turkey's Ministry of Culture and Tourism.

Even residents whose homes were damaged but not destroyed have no guidance. They are not allowed to repair their cement buildings, as the infrastructure remains unrepaired.

Rebuilding this part of the city is expected to cost several billion dollars, with no clear timeline for completion.

Some reconstruction efforts are visible. The wooden dome of Habib-i Neccar Mosque now welcomes passers-by, and a section of Kemal Pasa Street - a significant landmark - is nearing completion.

Economic activity is projected to return within five years as construction in the old city progresses slowly.

"For full revitalisation, we need at least 10 years," Demirci says.