2.2
Note 2
Wildfires are burning up forests across the Aegean, Mediterranean, and Anatolian regions of Turkey. In the west, flames have reached the hilltops of Seferihisar in İzmir, where more than 50,000 people have been evacuated. Further eastwards on the Mediterranean coast, beyond the periphery of mainstream Turkey’s jaded gaze, wildfires rage around the city of Antioch with unprecedented force. Locals on social media claim that an area the size of seven hundred football fields has already burned in the past week alone. Unsurprisingly, no coordinated state response is on site. Instead, a plethora of videos and images emerge of locals looking on in disbelief as their land, homes, and livelihoods are turned to ashes.
It was just last week that Antiochians were sharing videos, infographics, images, anything to draw attention to the compounded humanitarian crisis unfolding since the February 2023 earthquakes; the lack of running water, the poisoning of the soil, the mass uprooting of olive trees, the seizure of properties. The list continues. And now, these wildfires become yet another uneasy addition to the timeline of disastrous milestones that litter the city. This is beyond a disaster. One must refuse the use of this word so objectively, to let it be ostentatiously attributed as the fate of such a beautiful land. This is neglect. A systemic, pathological practice of ordering, in which native communities in the south(-east) have been cursed to fluctuate between empty declarations of solidarity, and a resolute omission from nationwide emergency response.
One could project whatever rationalisation the book could offer to negate the severity of such neglect: “all of Turkey is in shambles”, “everywhere is burning”. these are somewhat valid. The whole country is, after all, rife with ruptures and flames, earthquakes and wildfires. Yet the soil is still fresh on the mass graves in Antakya, the vines have not yet filled the unfinished crevices of the state-built homes, the streets lack proper are yet to be dry. Further into the city, the reservation area, as Turkey’s first, continues to threaten survivors with permanent dispossession from their lands. Cracks remain visible across the surfaces of walls, doors, and obituaries, whilst dust from contaminated debris continues to fill the air. Antakya hasn’t stopped being in disaster since 2023, and there seems to be no end in sight...