Northern Syria’s sad history of devastating earthquakes

Once again, the battered Syrian people find themselves homeless albeit this time by a natural rather than a man-made disaster

Andrei Cojocaru

The first recorded earthquake struck Antioch in 115 AD, and the city was said to have been completely flattened, killing 260,000 people.

Northern Syria’s sad history of devastating earthquakes

Diana Darke

last update on 08 Feb 2023

Taking a look at the world’s most severe earthquakes throughout history, one will discover that a striking number have afflicted northwest Syria and southeast Turkey, especially the area between Aleppo and the Mediterranean coast.

Southeast Turkey and northwest Syria sit at the confluence of three tectonic plates — the Arabian, Anatolian and African plates — which push against each other, increasing the pressure and friction that causes the earthquakes.

Today this same area has the great misfortune to be where, in the province of Idlib, some 3 million Syrians are currently kettled, some because of their opposition to the Syrian government of President Bashar al-Assad based in Damascus, and others through the mere accident of geography.

Many have been displaced multiple times within Syria over the course of the uprising-turned-war that began in March 2011. Large numbers arrived, too, from Aleppo after it was bombed into submission by Russian and Syrian aerial strikes in December 2016.

Historic Syria, as opposed to the modern truncated rump state of al-Assad’s Syria, extended from the Taurus Mountains in the north to the Sinai Desert in the south and, therefore, included ancient Antioch, today’s Antakya in modern Turkey’s Hatay Province — a city of great importance in the early history of Christianity.

Diana Darke — The Church of Saint Simeon Stylites is one of the oldest surviving church complexes, founded in the 5th century. It is located approximately 30 kilometres northwest of Aleppo.

The first recorded earthquake struck Antioch in 115 AD, and the city was said to have been completely flattened, killing 260,000 people, and almost killing Emperor Trajan, who was over-wintering following a military campaign. Seismologists have estimated its magnitude to have been 7.5.

Roman historian Cassius Dio gave a vivid account of the moment it struck: “First there came a great bellowing roar, and this was followed by tremendous quaking. The whole earth was upheaved, and buildings leaped into the air,” he said.

“Some were carried aloft only to collapse and be broken in pieces, while others were tossed this way and that as if by the surge of the sea, and overturned, and the wreckage spread out over a great extent even of the open country.”

First came a great bellowing roar, followed by tremendous quaking. The whole earth was upheaved, and buildings leaped into the air. Some were carried aloft only to collapse and be broken in pieces, while others were tossed this way and that as if by the surge of the sea.

Roman historian Cassius Dio

The early bishops of many European cities were originally sons of Antioch, schooled in its rich Christian traditions, who travelled west, like Apollinaris, patron saint of Ravenna in Italy.

But early Syrian monasticism also thrived in the hills of Antioch's hinterland, especially in the limestone massifs of Idlib Province, so much so, that European pilgrims travelled east to see for themselves 'the monks,' as one 4th century Spanish woman called Etheria described: "of such holiness that it can hardly be told."

After Christianity was adopted as the official religion of the Roman Empire in 313, churches and monasteries could be built openly, and the largest concentration of them grew up in the hillsides south and west of Aleppo, where some 800 settlements have been identified, between them boasting an astonishing 2,000 churches, dating to the 4th, 5th and 6th centuries.

Andrei Cojocaru — In the 6th century, when Syrian monastic life had reached its Golden Age, two massive earthquakes struck the region.

They were inscribed, ironically, onto UNESCO's World Heritage list in June 2011, a status that would in theory protect them from damage, but in practice achieved nothing except maybe, to alert the world that their heritage was under threat.

Together they represent a remarkable legacy in early Christian architecture, the field of experimentation that would eventually culminate in Constantinople's Hagia Sophia.

In the 6th century, when Syrian monastic life had reached its Golden Age, two massive earthquakes struck the region, the first in Antioch on 19 May 526, killing 250,000 with a magnitude of 7.0, as documented by John of Ephesus, and the second in Aleppo on 29 November 533, killing 130,000.

Yet the settlements survived and continued to thrive on their production of wine and olive oil, only dwindling when the trade routes changed following wars against the Persian Sassanians in the 7th century.

In the 12th century no less than three huge earthquakes struck the region. The first, with its epicentre in Aleppo, struck on 11 October 1138 and was documented by the Arab chronicler Ibn al-Athir as lasting several nights.

He wrote: "The people there, when the tremors became too much for them, left their homes and went into open country. In a single night they counted 80 tremors."

Over 300,000 people were said to have been killed.

The second earthquake, with its epicentre in Hama, happened in 1157, when the region was divided between the Crusader kingdoms and local Muslim lords.

The Syrian poet Usama ibn Munqidh, whose autobiography has been translated under the title 'The Crusades Through Arab Eyes', lost his entire family, only escaping himself because he had been sent to Damascus on a mission.

"Death did not advance step by step to destroy the people of my race," he wrote, "to annihilate them separately or to strike them down two by two. They all died in the twinkle of an eye, and their palaces became their tombs."

Death did not advance step by step to destroy the people of my race. They all died in the twinkle of an eye, and their palaces became their tombs.

12th century Syrian poet, Usama ibn Munqidh

Such sentiments are uncannily echoed in the tragedy of the current earthquake, except that the earthquake of 1157 took place on 12 August at the height of summer, the polar opposite of today's harsh winter freezing conditions.

How long will it be until the suffering of the displaced Syrian people, now made homeless once again — albeit this time by a natural rather than a man-made disaster — finally comes to an end? How long until they can live a normal life with the basic comforts of running water, food and shelter?

No one knows the answer, but the least we can do is highlight their plight and recognise the importance of the deeply rooted cultural legacy to which they are the heirs.

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