Hakan Tanriverdi delivered a stark warning to President Recep Tayyip Erdogan just days after Turkey experienced its worst disaster in generations: “Don’t come here asking for votes.” The earthquake that claimed more than 21,000 lives in Turkey and Syria struck at a politically sensitive moment in Erdogan’s two‑decade rule. The president has proposed a snap election for May 14, which could keep his Islamic‑rooted government in power until 2028. The timing leaves the fragmented opposition little opportunity to resolve their differences and nominate a joint presidential candidate, and it remains uncertain whether the vote will proceed as planned.
Erdogan declared a three‑month state of emergency across ten quake‑hit provinces. The region is still sifting through the dead, while many residents are forced to live on the streets or in their cars, making any campaigning seem impossible. Yet the disaster also carries a personal political dimension for Erdogan. It struck just as his approval ratings were beginning to recover from the severe economic crisis that erupted last year. Tanriverdi’s bitterness signals a troubling sign for Erdogan in a province where he comfortably defeated his secular opposition rival in the 2018 election. “We were deeply hurt that no one supported us,” Tanriverdi said of the government’s response.
Grievances like Tanriverdi’s are common in Adiyaman province, one of the hardest‑hit areas. Locals complain that rescuers arrived too late to save those who survived the critical first hours, and that there was insufficient machinery to drill through concrete slabs. “I did not see anyone until 2:00 p.m. on the second day of the earthquake,” Adiyaman resident Mehmet Yıldırım said. “No government, no state, no police, no soldiers. Shame on you! You left us on our own.” Erdogan acknowledged “shortcomings” in the disaster handling on Wednesday, but he is also fighting back. The 68‑year‑old led a rescue‑response meeting in Ankara on Tuesday and spent the next two days touring devastated cities, though he has yet to visit Adiyaman. This omission upset volunteer Hediye Kalkan, who traveled nearly 150 kilometres (95 miles) to assist with the rescue and recovery effort. “Why doesn’t the state show itself on a day like this?” she demanded. “People are taking their relatives’ bodies out by their own means.”
The sheer scale and timing of the disaster—spanning a large, remote region amid a winter storm—complicated rescue efforts. Erdogan received a largely warm reception during carefully choreographed visits broadcast on national television; an elderly woman embraced him and wept on his shoulder. Yet Veysel Gültekin might not have reacted the same way if he faced the leader. Gültekin said he saw a relative’s foot trapped under rubble after rushing out during Monday’s pre‑dawn tremor. “If I had a simple drill, I could have pulled him out alive,” he said. “But he was completely trapped and, after a strong aftershock, he died.” AFP reporters observed more machines and rescue workers—including international teams—around collapsed buildings on Thursday, but this was insufficient to ease Tanriverdi’s pain. “People who didn’t die from the earthquake were left to die in the cold,” he said. “Isn’t it a sin, people who have been left to die like this?”
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