It was 7:53 in the evening when the walls trembled. A soft rattle at first, then a jolt that pulled people away from what they were doing. In Istanbul, this was a familiar scene. Some reached immediately to their phones, while others rushed to the window to see if the neighbors felt it too. Within minutes, WhatsApp groups buzzed with the same question: “Did you feel it?”

This is the paradox of life in Istanbul, a city of more than 16 million living dangerously close to the North Anatolian Fault, the 1200-km-long active continental transform boundary between Anatolia and Eurasia. 

Everyone knows “the Big One” is coming. Scientists have warned for years that a devastating earthquake is overdue. As geologist Celal Şengör stated, “I warn Istanbul once again. And maybe we may not even have a chance to warn anymore. My advice to you is to move from Istanbul.” 

Yet after each tremor, after the heartbeats slow down and news fades from television screens, life returns to normal.

One of the most devastating earthquakes Istanbul witnessed was the 1999 Marmara earthquake, which ended up killing over 17,000 people. 

Even though experts have been warning about the possibility of a major earthquake for years, these warnings don’t seem to affect citizens’ lives. The reality of earthquakes becomes as common as the bagels sold on the street.

However, when a minor earthquake occurs, everything changes completely. A high school student İpek, who was making bracelets with children at the festival during the earthquake on April 23 said, “Children were mainly shocked because they didn’t acknowledge what was happening, but when their parents started to panic and tried to calm them down, they started to fear.”

Her experience demonstrates that for children, earthquakes are an abstract fear. However, for adults they are a reflex. They tend to go outside and seek assurance in the crowd because they feel relaxed when they share the same fear with others.

However, a few hours after an earthquake everything returns to normal. A couple of days later, students arrive at their schools, people go to work, and traffic jams as always. People mention the tremble in daily conversations and then forget it has ever happened. Some even try to lighten the topic with jokes. “It didn’t even spill my coffee, it wasn’t that strong,” people said after the 6.1 magnitude earthquake occurred on August 10. 

Mrs. Semahat, a housewife who had witnessed the 1999 earthquake, said, “We stayed at a park for two days after the earthquake, even when we went back to our house, I was still afraid to sleep at night. But life goes on, and if we think about it all the time, we couldn’t move on with our lives.” 

This attitude may seem like negligence, but it is actually the way people deal with traumatic experiences. They suppress their fears because it is impossible to live with constant uncertainty. 

There are both psychological and sociological reasons behind this rapid normalization. People develop defense mechanisms against the threat they cannot control. Trying to forget the earthquake is actually a way for people to deal with fear. Since the constant reminder of danger reduces their quality of life, citizens are prioritizing things that would distract them from the threat. The outcome of living under constant uncertainty is to internalize the fear and manage to move forward with it.

From a sociological perspective, economic imperatives are playing a key role. Most people don’t have the luxury of staying in bed with fear because their social routines force them to return to their normal lives. To an outsider, this attitude may seem like a denial, but the truth is that in Istanbul, earthquakes are a shattering metaphor not only for the ground but also for life. Citizens fear the next disaster but also laugh and dream as if it will never come true.

On a warm evening in Beşikaş, the streets are full. Gypsies sell roses, ferries glide across the Bosphorus while seagulls try to snatch bagels from passengers, children chase pigeons in the squares, and cats sleep on benches. To an outsider, the city seems peaceful. But ask almost anyone, beneath the surface, fear is hidden.

“When the ground shakes, I think, this is it. I worry about the people I care about because most of them do not live in earthquake-resistant houses,” said Nehir, a 14-year-old high school student who was at school during the earthquake on September 26. “Since Istanbul is constantly experiencing earthquakes, they are considered normal, so as long as it does not have a major destructive effect, citizens continue their lives as usual.” 

“Istanbul has been shaken by major earthquakes throughout its history, but still it has not collapsed, and I believe its citizens have inherited this characteristic,” she said about what it means to live in Istanbul. “Living in Istanbul cannot be defined with only one word, but I believe what it means to live in this city is that you carry both fear and hope together.”

This article was written for the Yale Daily News’ 2025 Summer Journalism Program for high school students.