On a spring morning in Istanbul, government officials, engineers, and mayors from all 39 districts gathered behind closed doors at the city’s governor’s office. The mood was sombre but determined — not unusual in a city that lives with the daily dread of what experts say is inevitable: a devastating earthquake.

At the helm was Environment, Urbanization and Climate Change Minister Murat Kurum, who didn’t mince words. “Istanbul is the heart of Türkiye,” he said. “Its safety is our nation's safety. But if it falls, Türkiye suffers wounds it may never heal from.”

The gathering marked a turning point in Türkiye’s bold — and urgent — push to reimagine the future of Istanbul, a city of nearly 20 million sitting along one of the most dangerous fault lines in the world. Authorities estimate that 600,000 residential buildings here are in urgent need of transformation.

For Istanbul’s residents, that number isn’t just a statistic. It’s the foundation they walk on, the walls their children sleep behind, the cafés where life hums beneath ageing concrete.

‘You never forget that sound’

Kenan Kansiz still remembers the way the earth moved in 1999. “You never forget that sound,” says the 58-year-old small business owner, his voice steady but grave. 

He was in Istanbul when the Golcuk earthquake struck, killing more than 17,000 people. “We thought that was the worst,” he says. “But then came February 6.”

He’s referring to the twin earthquakes of 2023, which tore through southeastern Türkiye, killing more than 50,000 people and levelling entire neighbourhoods. 

“If something like that hits Istanbul,” he adds, “it will be far worse. There are too many people, too many old buildings. We have to rebuild — now.”

A city on edge

Just months after the February 6 catastrophe, a 6.2-magnitude quake jolted Istanbul. Though it didn’t cause major damage, it was enough to wake up old fears — and trigger a fresh wave of urgency among both officials and residents.

“I remember grabbing my kids and running out barefoot,” says Neslihan Akyuz, a 39-year-old mother of three who lives in a crowded district of the city. “It was chaos. The streets were full of people crying, praying. I worry every day — not just for my family, but for the whole city.”

She points to the dense population, traffic-choked roads, and creaking infrastructure. “A major earthquake wouldn’t just destroy buildings,” she says. “It would paralyse the city. We need stronger structures, better planning — we need to act before it’s too late.”

A painful lesson, a hard reset

At the Earthquake Transformation Evaluation Meeting this week, those fears were echoed by top officials. Deputy ministers, TOKİ (the state housing agency), and Istanbul’s metropolitan representatives sat side by side — a rare show of unity in a country often polarised on urban planning.

The government’s plan involves a massive overhaul: replacing vulnerable buildings, expanding open evacuation areas, and fast-tracking construction permits. Officials say that coordination between local and national bodies will be key — and so will public trust.

“We're not just talking about concrete and steel,” said Kurum. “We’re talking about protecting history, livelihoods, and the soul of this city.”

The clock is ticking

Seismologists have long warned that Istanbul is overdue for a major quake. The North Anatolian Fault — which runs just south of the city — has produced a series of deadly earthquakes moving westward for over a century. Statistically, Istanbul is next.

That sense of inevitability hangs heavy. But for many, it also sparks action.

“I think people finally understand this isn’t something abstract,” says Kansiz. “We’ve seen the horror. We’ve smelled the dust. We’ve buried loved ones. Now it’s time to prepare — really prepare.”

Because in Istanbul, the ground may be calm for now. But everyone knows: it won’t stay that way.