Over the years, in different cities, sometimes in the middle of a walk, sometimes on the way back home, and sometimes simply because I could not bear to let that moment slip away, the small visual notes I kept led me again and again to the same thought: A city is assumed to be seen first, but in fact it is heard first. Sometimes beneath the lights slowly spreading over the night along a shoreline, sometimes in the hum resting on the shoulder of a crowded street, and sometimes on a morning when snow softens everything into silence, the city takes the task of reading its character away from the eye and hands it to the ear. The eye selects many things according to its taste. The ear, however, is less fond of ornament and less easily deceived.

To get to know a city, it is not always enough to lift your head and look at building facades; sometimes you need to fall silent and listen for a while. Because what we call a city is not made only of stone, asphalt, trees, buildings, and voids. It is also the way these things speak to one another. Roads have a sound, the wind touching a pavement has a sound, crowds have a rhythm they organize within themselves. Even silence has a sound; at times it brings peace, at times unease, and at times it suggests that public life there has thinned out, withdrawn, begun to recede. From the sound of a city, one can read far more than expected about what it values, whom it places at the center, and whom it leaves at the margins.

The eye selects many things according to its taste. The ear, however, is less fond of ornament and less easily deceived.

Images can often be beautified. A square, when photographed from a good angle, may appear more orderly, more spacious, more inviting than it truly is. But sound is not so easily polished. Where the sound of engines dominates, the pedestrian is secondary. Where horns, brakes, exhaust, and a constant sense of haste are always audible, that city has been built around speed; not for people, but for flow. By contrast, where footsteps, brief encounters, distant children’s laughter, water, birds, and a light breeze can all exist without drowning one another out, another idea of the city begins to emerge. There, life is not merely continuing; it is, to some degree, being lived.

Coastal cities are especially interesting in this regard. Cities founded by the sea are often described only through their scenery. Yet the real story is often hidden in layers of sound. The relationship between waves and hard pavement, the faint metallic trace left by a bicycle wheel on the promenade, fragments of conversation from people sitting on benches, the slowed rhythm of walking a few steps away… These reveal the public life of that city. There is a clear difference between the sound of a person walking along the shore and the sound of a vehicle passing at speed: one settles into the city, the other cuts through it. No matter how crowded a waterfront may be, if that crowd can establish an acoustic balance without suffocating itself, then public life there may have been formed not in a crude way, but in a mature one.

Crowded streets, meanwhile, reveal another face of the city. When you enter a major pedestrian axis, the first thing you usually notice is not the architecture but the density. That density has its own sound. Footsteps overlap, the call of a street vendor rises briefly above the rest, storefront conversations blend into the flow, the sound of rails or tire friction draws a thin line through it all. In such places, the city becomes more anonymous. A person becomes invisible within the crowd while at the same time belonging to it. Perhaps this is one of the oldest contradictions of the big city: Crowds give a person both loneliness and belonging. Through sound, the city both pulls you in and leaves you with a certain weariness toward people.

The character of a city lies not only in how it looks, but also in what it compels its people to hear.

Marketplaces, bazaars, and semi-covered commercial spaces make the social backbone of a city clearly audible. There, sound is rougher but more alive. The sound of bargaining, calls, rustling bags, the noise of wet ground underfoot, all rub the class layers of everyday life against one another beneath the same roof. These are not sterile spaces; perhaps they are a little tiring, but they are real. Because what is heard there is not life in its arranged version, but life in something close to its raw form. Sometimes the character of a city is understood most clearly precisely here: where it is not perfect, where it loosens control a little, where it allows everyday life to compose its own music.

The sound of youth in a city also matters. Because young people are not only users of public space; they are a social force that gives it tempo. Skateparks, rollerblading areas, walls, steps, railings, open concrete surfaces… Places that the adult mind often sees as leftover spaces can become the liveliest stages of the city for young people. The sound of wheels, laughter, that brief silence between trying and falling, the rhythm a group of friends creates among themselves… These may appear disorderly, yet they are in fact an acoustic declaration of the right to exist in the city. If the sound of youth is overly suppressed in a city, that city may be orderly, but it is also a little old. Slightly noisy, somewhat scattered, and at times filled with metallic echoes, these sounds show that public life is still open.

The sound of children is similarly decisive, though it is a more fragile sign. If children’s voices cannot be heard in a city, that does not simply mean children are indoors. Perhaps the street is no longer safe for them. Perhaps speed has increased too much. Perhaps adults have occupied public space so completely that children have been compressed into small, designated areas. Yet children’s voices are among the signs of how open a city remains to the future. Because the sound of children is unplanned, a little startled, a little unruly; and precisely for that reason, it is a powerful proof that public space is alive. As the city is built more and more for the frictionless passage of adults, it loses its voice; or rather, it collapses into a single sound: the sound of a system that functions, but does not live.

In historic cities, this issue becomes even more layered. There are places where the sound of water and the horn of a ferry, seagulls and human crowds, the call to prayer and engine noise, slopes and the shoreline all exist within the same acoustic texture. Such cities are not merely large; they are polyphonic. And this polyphony does not always mean harmony. Sometimes it means collision, sometimes overlap, and sometimes one sound suppressing another. Yet even so, that layered structure keeps the city’s memory alive. Because history does not survive only in stone buildings; it also survives in regimes of sound. The sound of a port city is not the same as that of a steppe city. The sound of a commercial center does not carry the same weight as that of a border city.

When night falls, the sound of cities changes, but it does not disappear. In fact, some cities reveal their true identity most clearly at night. Seen from above, lights create the first impression of silence; yet that silence is deceptive. Every light carries an interior life. The hum of a road not visible in the distance, conversations rising from a side street, mechanical sounds from the port, the movements of a hilly city folding into itself… Night does not reduce sound; it makes it invisible. Perhaps that is why, when we look at cities at night, our ears work a little more through imagination. We look at the lights, but in truth we think about what we might be hearing.

In winter cities, sound takes on an entirely different character with the season. When snow falls, the city suddenly ceases to be the same city. The echoes of hard surfaces soften, the sound of wheels grows heavier, the sense of distance changes, and footprints and footfall nearly converge. Snow covers acoustics too. That is why winter cities do not always sound calmer; they often sound more withdrawn. They pull people from the outside toward the inside, from the public toward the more private. Yet precisely for that reason, the sound of a city under snow is instructive. Because in that moment, it becomes clearer which sounds remain alive: the scrape of a shovel, a distant engine, short conversations leaking from inside thick coats, the rhythm of someone walking through snow. Winter filters out the city’s unnecessary sounds and reveals its backbone.

But the city is not shaped only by natural sounds and everyday sounds; there are symbolic sounds as well. The relationship between a flag and the wind, the ceremonial moments of a square, the silence surrounding a monument, the acoustic counterparts of historical memory… These are heard less often, yet they sink deeper. A city can sometimes become the sound of a nation, sometimes of a shared memory, sometimes of a feeling carried for a long time. For that reason, to understand a city means not only understanding which sounds are present there, but also which sounds respectfully step back. Silence, no less than sound, is culturally constructed.

When speaking about the sound of cities, it is difficult to ignore the question of class. Because not every neighborhood produces the same sound, or rather, not every neighborhood is exposed to the same sound. Affluent areas may contain a filtered silence, an acoustic softened by trees, and a controlled traffic order. More fragile neighborhoods, by contrast, may live with high speed, hard surfaces, dense traffic, irregular infrastructure, and mechanical noise all at once. The issue here is not merely decibels. The issue is who is forced to live with which sounds all the time. Spatial justice is, in part, acoustic justice. What a child hears when opening the window, which sounds surround an elderly person sitting on a bench, whether a student can hear their own thoughts while walking, all of these are invisible components of the right to the city.

Cities built for the eye attract attention. Cities also imagined for the ear remain in memory.

Some cities wake to the sound of a market, some to ferries, some to trams, some to the heavy hum of traffic. In some, the waterfront in the late afternoon mixes human voices with water; in others, life withdraws as snow begins to settle. Yet in every case the same question remains important: do these sounds crush one another, or do they together form a rhythm of life? A good city is perhaps not a completely silent city. A city that is entirely silent is often either abandoned or over-controlled. The more livable city is one in which the right sounds can exist without smothering one another. A city where children’s voices are not drowned out by horns, where the rhythm of walking is not shattered by engines, where water can truly be heard, where wind can be felt not only in its harshness but in its presence.

In the end, the issue seems to come down to this: The character of a city lies not only in how it looks, but also in what it compels its people to hear. Because sound carries the traces of power, of everyday life, of memory, and of exhaustion. Some cities remain in the ear like a tiring command sentence; others linger in the mind like a melody long after one has left. Perhaps good design is, in part, this: reducing what should not be heard and making room for what should. Cities built for the eye attract attention. Cities also imagined for the ear remain in memory.

A symphony cannot be made with a single note. Spring does not arrive with a single flower. You cannot claim that “public life” has been saved with one well-designed square. This question of repetition can look like a technical “scaling up” problem; yet in truth, it leans on something sociological: Collective behavior is shaped not by isolated examples, but by patterns that multiply. People see something once and call it “interesting”; by the third time, they begin to “get used to it”; by the tenth encounter, they internalize it as “this is how this city is.” Cities work a bit like that: a single project is a story; multiplying projects become culture.

Architects, landscape architects, urban planners… From time to time, all of us carry the weight of good ideas that remain in the “minority.” A bold project gets built, the visuals are splashed everywhere, it’s talked about intensely for a while—and then everyday life returns to its own rhythm. At that point, you can’t help thinking, “What did I fail to do?” Yet in most cases, what’s missing is not the quality of the design, but the power of repetition. The absence of repetition is the city’s greatest forgetfulness. And that forgetfulness comes back to the designer as “failure,” even though a city does not learn by seeing something only once.

Why Is the Majority a Design Material?

One of the most valuable reminders from the field known as the sociology of architecture is this: Space is not only designed; it is lived, imitated, and sometimes quietly rejected. People learn how to walk on a sidewalk, how to sit in a park, where a parent positions themselves in a playground—less from “written rules” and more from repeated practices. If the designer does not align with these practices, design eventually remains as mere decoration.

That is why thinking about the majority in design is not “trying to please the majority”; it is about building a language that can touch the majority’s repetitive behaviors. The mere existence of a bike lane does not create a cycling culture in a city. But a network that connects neighborhood to neighborhood—repeatedly establishing the school–park–market axis—eventually produces the perception of a “cycling city.” The same is true for children’s playgrounds: a single outstanding playground looks great on Instagram and makes for good political material; but for a child, the feeling of a safe city emerges when all playgrounds work with “similar qualities.” Trust is not a singular object; it is a repeated experience.

Let’s think of it this way: Snow that falls once is a “view.” But snow that keeps falling for days, layering on top of itself, is “winter.” A city’s character works the same way; a single implementation creates a view, while repetition creates a season. If we want design to become a “season,” we have to take the majority into account: multiple repetitions, continuity, a maintenance routine, institutional ownership—and even a bit of stubbornness.

Here, the designer’s field of empathy expands. Because many designers want to convince everyone that they have saved the world with “a single powerful project.” Yet the city is not persuaded; the city slowly gets used to things. And getting used to something is, for the most part, a product of repetition.

The City Likes “Series”

Cities live through collective memory. A city comes to accept as “natural” the things it has done again and again in the past. In our cities, the problem is often this: something is done once, and then it remains the “first and only.” Being first and only can carry a kind of romantic pride, but it does not build a sustainable language. There is a big difference between saying “we have it too” and saying “we have this culture.”

Sometimes, the design world also falls into a kind of “novelty fetish.” Every project wants to act as if it has never been done before. That flatters the designer’s ego, but the city’s learning mechanism asks for the opposite: encountering something familiar again, in a different place. The city likes “series.” And that is not a bad thing. Just as a chorus repeats in a piece of music and we catch the emotion in that repetition, cities also need certain choruses. Pedestrian priority, shading, seating-and-rest bands, child-scale details… These are the chorus. When the chorus repeats, it doesn’t simplify the song; it makes the song something people can claim as their own—something they can memorize.

We can see this most clearly in something very simple: wayfinding behavior. If, in a city, directional signage, the lighting language, and sidewalk materials keep changing, people have to “relearn” each time—and they get tired. But if the language is consistent, people move faster, feel more at ease, and the city becomes “familiar” to them. This is how design relates to the majority: producing trust through familiarity.

My Claim: “Let There Be Ornamental Crabapples Everywhere”

Years ago, after seeing the Ornamental Crabapple and ornamental pear trees planted opposite each other along Cumhuriyet Avenue, an idea came to my mind. With that idea, I repeatedly posted the following sentence—quite boldly—on Twitter to the Erzurum Metropolitan Municipality mayor of the time (Ahmet Küçükler): “Ornamental crabapple trees should be planted everywhere in this city.” When I say this in a conversation, some people smile; some say “you’re exaggerating”; and some ask a fair question: “why a single species?” My concern is not to reduce botanical diversity; it is to weave a city’s visual–scent–seasonal memory through one strong motif. In a place like Erzurum—where the climate is harsh, winter lasts long, and the color palette hovers for months between grey and white—having spring felt through a sudden burst of red blossoms is genuinely valuable. Ornamental crabapples (Malus species) can stage that burst; at a small scale, yet with a large effect, they can function almost like an “urban signature.”

Ornamental crabapple stays on stage not only with its blossoms, but also with its fruit. Even after flowering ends, the small fruits provide visual continuity; they attract birds; and with fruits that can remain on the branches even in winter, they leave a “trace of life.” On Cumhuriyet Avenue, it has already been planted together with ornamental pear trees. Now imagine starting to see this plant again and again—along Erzurum’s wide boulevards, in neighborhood streets, around schools, near playgrounds, and within mass-housing landscapes. Not for one year, but for five years, ten years… That is when the ornamental crabapple becomes not just a tree, but an “urban memory.”

The core of my claim is this: the character of cities is often built not through a single good idea, but through that idea multiplying. In Erzurum, the ornamental crabapple repeats—again and again and again. After a while, people start describing spring as “ornamental crabapple season.” Children memorize those blossoms on their way to school. Photographers choose locations around them. Café names, boutique brand packaging, and municipal posters borrow the motif. This is a kind of “urban imitation economy.” Here, imitation is not negative; it is the engine of cultural production.

Looking with Empathy at the Question: “Why Don’t We Have Something Like Japan’s Cherry Blossom Festival?”

When people talk about Japan’s cherry blossom festivals (hanami), they tend to swing between two extremes: either we romanticize it (“they do it so beautifully”), or we dismiss it altogether (“it wouldn’t work here”). Both are easy sentences. The harder thing is to build empathy and see the mechanism.

In Japan, cherry blossom is not merely an aesthetic event; it is a public ritual repeated for years. That ritual is sustained by a finely woven network of understandings—between government and residents, between local businesses and park management, between the media and everyday life. For a festival to “exist,” it is not enough simply to plant trees; regular maintenance of those trees, tracking the flowering period, a more flexible approach to public-space management, the organization of safety and cleanliness, and even people considering it normal to “be there” during that time are all required. And that normalization, again, is a product of repetition.

In our cities, however, the situation is often this: something gets done, but ownership across institutions is not clearly established. The rhythm of the parks department, the culture department, the transport unit, and the security unit does not really meet. For a festival to be continuous, it needs to be held “every year on the same dates, with the same seriousness”; here, we often have to start from scratch each year. Starting over is exhausting. And where exhaustion sets in, the festival becomes “a one-off event.”

There is also the issue of climate, maintenance, and spatial continuity. Cherry blossom season is brief, but it is a brief period people expect. Here, flowering can sometimes be a surprise; sometimes frost hits; sometimes maintenance is delayed; sometimes pruning is done incorrectly. When people do not develop the confidence that “it will happen this year as well,” the ritual breaks. When the ritual breaks, the festival remains at the level of a poster. And a poster does not build a city; a poster only announces something.

Right here, a more realistic question emerges for our cities: “Instead of imitating the culture of cherry blossoms, can we derive a repeatable flowering ritual from within our own climate and urban memory?” My insistence on ornamental crabapples in Erzurum is nourished, in part, by this question. Because ornamental crabapple can speak with Erzurum’s reality—not with the romance of cherry blossoms, but with Erzurum’s wind, cold, wide avenues, long winter, and strong sun.

Positioning the Flowering Crabapple as an Element of Urban Character

Cities are sometimes remembered by a scent. Sometimes by a color. Sometimes by a taste. Designers usually focus on the visual language; yet urban character is something multi-sensory. What the ornamental crabapple offers here is not merely a “flower”; it can function like a package—given a bit of intent, a bit of organization, and a bit of repetition._

The scent of ornamental crabapple blossoms (yes—that lightly sweet scent that sometimes feels almost like “clean air”) could become an urban signature. Small-scale initiatives inspired by this scent could be imagined: cologne, soap, candles, room fragrances… These need not be designed as tourist trinkets, but rather as more refined “city mementos.” Just as Oltu stone carries an identity in Erzurum, ornamental crabapple could carry identity from a softer angle. Moreover, products like these bring local producers and designers to the same table; this is exactly where the sociology of design comes to life.

The question of a mascot is often underestimated, but I think it is a very “public” tool. When a city has a child-oriented face—one that makes people smile—it softens urban belonging. Creating a character based on the ornamental crabapple fruit (for instance, a small red apple figure—wearing a scarf in winter, a hat in summer…) may sound simple; yet as it is repeated in school activities, municipal children’s festivals, and playground wayfinding, it gradually turns into a symbol. A symbol keeps memory alive.

The festival dimension is the most critical part: a festival should not be a one-off celebration; it should be a fixed knot point in the city’s calendar. Imagine something like an “Ornamental Crabapple Month.” Not only concerts, but also walking routes, photo frames, jewelry, perfumes, drawing workshops for children, guided photobotanical tours led by landscape professionals, gastronomy workshops… A program that repeats every year gradually becomes “the ritual of our spring.” At that point, the role of designers is not only to draw spaces, but to design programs, to design experiences, and even to stage a kind of urban scenography.

I think the gastronomy part could be the most enjoyable section… The fruit of the ornamental crabapple may not be directly suitable for the table, but it is powerful as inspiration: apple-themed flavors, experiments with apple vinegar, local reinterpretations with an ornamental-crabapple theme, even trials like “ornamental crabapple pickles”… The aim here is not to eat the biological material as it is, but to help the motif spread throughout the city. If the motif spreads, the city gains character. That character is more lasting than a tourism brochure, because it seeps into everyday life.

And let me emphasize again: none of this “happens” within a single year. That is the point. The point is to multiply the same idea—to repeat the same language. To have design, governance, civil society, and local businesses play the same melody, each with different instruments.

To Be Effective Is, in Part, a Matter of Patience—and of Working in Series

Sometimes we want to define ourselves through a single “icon project.” We want that project to stand like a sculpture—seen by everyone, applauded by all… But cities are less like sculptures and more like walks. In a walk, rhythm matters. And what builds rhythm is repetition. A city being child-friendly, a city being pedestrian-friendly, a city’s “spring” being remembered… These are not built through singular miracles, but through small truths that multiply.

That is why I like the ornamental crabapple idea in Erzurum. A little romantic, yes. A little like a dream, yes. But also very realistic: choosing one tree and stitching it into the city’s veins again and again simplifies and strengthens the city’s language. Rather than copying a cherry blossom festival one-to-one, it feels more genuine to draw a flowering culture from within our own climate. In our cities—or in our lives—many of the things we say “don’t work” often don’t work simply because they were tried only once. They don’t work because they weren’t repeated. They don’t work because they never reached the majority.

Perhaps the quietest yet strongest question in design is this: How many more times am I willing to say this idea? Across how many more streets am I willing to repeat it? For how many more years can I keep walking after the same small sentence?

The city takes that answer seriously—whether we notice it or not…

Bisiklet kullanımı, sürdürülebilir ulaşım ve sağlıklı yaşam trendleriyle birlikte dünya genelinde hızla artıyor. Birçok şehir, trafik sıkışıklığına çözüm ve karbon emisyonlarını azaltma hedefleri doğrultusunda bisiklet altyapısına yatırım yapıyor. Peki, dünyada bisiklet yolu standartları ne durumda ve Türkiye bu resimde nerede duruyor? Bu makalede, bisiklet yolu tasarım ilkelerini, dünyadaki yenilikçi uygulamaları ve Türkiye’nin mevcut durumunu inceleyerek bu sorulara yanıt arayacağız.

Dünyada Bisiklet Yolu Standartları ve Eğilimler

Dünyanın en bisiklet dostu şehirlerine baktığımızda güçlü bir ortak payda görüyoruz: güvenli ve iyi tasarlanmış bisiklet altyapısı. Örneğin Kopenhag bu konuda başı çekiyor; şehirde işe veya okula yapılan yolculukların %62’si bisikletle gerçekleştiriliyor[1]. Benzer şekilde Amsterdam da yarım asırda 767 km’yi aşkın bisiklet yolu inşa ederek hemen her caddeye bisiklet erişimi sağlamış durumda[2]. Bu başarının arkasında yatan, yıllar içinde oluşmuş standartlar ve kararlı şehircilik politikaları.

Uluslararası tasarım standartları, bisiklet yollarının belirli teknik kriterlere uygun olmasını öneriyor. Örneğin Avrupa’da tek yönlü bir bisiklet şeridi için önerilen minimum genişlik ~1,5–2 metre, çift yönlü ayrı bir bisiklet yolu için ise ~2,5–3 metre civarındadır[3]. Bu genişlikler, iki bisikletin yan yana geçebilmesi veya karşılaşması için konforlu bir alan sunar. Ayrıca bisiklet yolu ile motorlu taşıt yolu arasında güvenlik mesafesi bırakılması önemlidir: Hız limitine bağlı olarak araç yolundan en az 0,5 ila 0,75 metre mesafe bırakılması tavsiye edilir[4]. Birçok ülkede otopark edilmiş araçların yanındaki bisiklet şeritlerinde de kapı açılma riskine karşı benzer bir tampon mesafe uygulanır[5].

Kavşak tasarımları da standartların kritik bir parçasıdır. Dünya genelinde iyi uygulamalarda bisiklet geçişleri kavşaklarda belirgin renklerle boyanır, uyarı levhaları ve bisikletlilere özel trafik ışıkları kullanılır. Örneğin Hollanda ve Danimarka’da kavşaklarda bisiklet geçiş alanları genellikle kırmızı asfalt veya yeşil boya ile vurgulanır. Türkiye’de ise yeni yönetmelikle kavşak kesişimlerinde bisiklet yolunun zemininin kaymaz mavi boya ile boyanması kural haline getirilmiştir[6]. Bu tür işaretlemeler, sürücülerin bisikletlilerin geçiş alanını uzaktan fark etmesini sağlayarak kazaları azaltmayı amaçlar.

Ağ bütünlüğü de başarılı bisiklet şehirlerinin vazgeçilmez prensibidir. Bisiklet yolları sadece parça parça değil, şehrin tamamını kapsayacak bir ağ olarak planlanır. Amsterdam, Kopenhag gibi şehirler yıllar içinde sürekli ve kesintisiz bisiklet ağları kurdular. Bu ağlar konut bölgelerini, şehir merkezini, okulları ve iş yerlerini birbirine bağlayarak bisikleti gerçekten pratik bir ulaşım alternatifi haline getiriyor. Ayrıca, bisiklet yolları genellikle toplu taşıma ile entegre ediliyor: Tren istasyonlarında büyük bisiklet parkları, otobüslere bisiklet aparatı takılması veya metro girişlerinde bisiklet kiralama istasyonları sıkça görülen uygulamalar. Bunun sonucunda Kopenhag gibi kentlerde kişi başına yılda 45$’ın üzerinde bisiklet altyapı yatırımı yapılırken, dört bir yanda yeni bisiklet köprüleri ve otoyolları inşa ediliyor[7].

Dünya Geneli Standart Bisiklet Yolu Tasarım Özellikleri

• Yeterli Genişlik: Tek yönlü şeritlerde ~1,5–2 m, çift yönlü yollar için ~2,5–3 m genişlik önerilir; böylece geçişler rahat ve güvenlidir[3].
• Ayrılmış Alan: Mümkün olduğunda motorlu trafikten fiziki ayırıcılarla (set, bordür veya delinatör) ayrılmış özel bisiklet yolları tercih edilir. Boyayla ayrılmış şeritler asgari düzeyde çözüm sayılır; ideal olan gerçek bir fiziki ayrımdır[8].
• Güvenli Kavşaklar: Kavşak ve yol geçişlerinde bisiklet yolu zemini farklı renkte (örn. kırmızı, yeşil veya yönetmelikte belirtildiği üzere mavi[6]) boyanarak vurgulanır. Bisikletlilere özel trafik ışıkları ve uyarı levhaları kullanılır.
• Kaliteli Zemin ve Bakım: Bisiklet yollarının zemini düzgün, kaymaz ve dayanıklı malzemeden olmalıdır. Çukur ve tümseklerin olmaması, drenajının iyi yapılması bisiklet konforu için gereklidir. Düzenli bakım ile yol yüzeyinin ve işaretlerin görünürlüğünün korunması sağlanır.
• Destekleyici Altyapı: Yeterli aydınlatma (özellikle gece güvenliği için), bisiklet park alanları ve tamir istasyonları gibi destek unsurları ağın parçası olarak düşünülür. Ayrıca yönlendirme levhaları ile bisiklet rotaları açıkça belirtilir.

Bu standartlar, Londra’dan New York’a, Paris’ten Kopenhag’a pek çok şehirde benzer şekilde benimsenmeye başlanmıştır. Örneğin, New York son yıllarda yüzlerce kilometre bisiklet şeridi oluşturup bazı caddeleri “bisiklet bulvarı” olarak düzenlerken, Paris 2024 Olimpiyatları hedefiyle bisiklet yol ağını büyük oranda genişletmiş ve şehir merkezinde hız limitini 30 km/saate düşürerek bisikletliler için daha güvenli bir ortam yaratmıştır. Bu adımlar gösteriyor ki dünya metropollerinde bisiklet, alternatif değil ana akım bir ulaşım modu olma yolundadır.

Tasarım, Sürdürülebilirlik ve Yenilikçi Uygulamalar

Kopenhag’daki ikonik bisiklet köprüleri, kentin bisiklet dostu tasarım vizyonunu yansıtan estetik ve işlevsel örnekler sunuyor. Bu tür altyapılar, bisikletlilerin motorlu trafikten tamamen ayrılmış olarak güvenle yol almasını sağlarken kentsel manzaraya da modern bir dokunuş katıyor.

Bisiklet yolu tasarımı yalnızca teknik standartlara uymakla kalmıyor, aynı zamanda kentsel tasarım, estetik ve inovasyon boyutlarını da içeriyor. İyi tasarlanmış bir bisiklet yolu, kullanıcılarına hem işlevsel hem de keyifli bir deneyim sunabilir. Örneğin, birçok şehirde bisiklet yolları ağaçlıklı bulvarlar boyunca uzanıyor ve bu sayede bisikletlilere doğal gölgelik sağlanıp, yolculuk daha hoş hale getiriliyor. Yeşil doku ile iç içe geçmiş bu yollar, adeta bir “yeşil koridor” işlevi görerek kent içinde hem ekolojik fayda sağlıyor hem de görsel olarak cazip bir rota sunuyor.

Tasarımcılar son yıllarda yaratıcı fikirleri bisiklet altyapısına entegre etmeye başladılar. Bunun çarpıcı bir örneği, Hollanda’da Eindhoven kenti yakınlarında hayata geçirilen “Van Gogh Yolu” olarak bilinen bisiklet yoludur. Bu 600 metre uzunluğundaki parkur, ünlü ressam Van Gogh’un Yıldızlı Gece tablosundan esinlenerek zemine yerleştirilen binlerce fosforlu taşla geceleri parıldıyor. Gündüzleri güneş ışığıyla şarj olan bu taşlar, gece karanlığında yıldızlı bir gökyüzü etkisi yaratarak bisikletçilere büyülü bir deneyim sunuyor. Bu proje, sanat, kültür ve bisiklet tasarımının buluştuğu noktada, estetik ile güvenliği harmanlayarak turizme de katkı sağlayan bir çekim merkezi haline geldi[9][10].

Benzer şekilde, yenilenebilir enerji entegrasyonu da bisiklet yolu tasarımında gündeme geliyor. Örneğin Hollanda, yol yüzeyine entegre güneş panelleriyle enerji üreten bisiklet yolları konusunda öncü ülkelerden biri. 2016’da Amsterdam yakınlarında başlayan ilk deneme sonrası, 2023’te ülkenin Kuzey Brabant ve Kuzey Hollanda bölgelerinde toplam 2000 metrekarelik iki yeni güneş enerjili bisiklet yolu devreye alındı[11]. Özel fotovoltaik panellerle donatılan bu yolların yılda yaklaşık 160 MWh elektrik üretmesi bekleniyor[12]. Bu miktar, küçük bir yerleşimin yıllık tüketimini karşılayabilecek düzeyde temiz enerji anlamına geliyor. Güneş panelli bisiklet yolları, sürdürülebilir altyapı kavramını bir adım ileri taşıyarak ulaşım altyapısını enerji üretiminin de parçası haline getiriyor. Her ne kadar ekonomik fizibilitesi tartışılıyor olsa da bu projeler, geleceğin şehirlerinde altyapının çok amaçlı kullanımına dair önemli bir inovasyon olarak görülüyor.

Tasarımdaki yenilikler sadece teknoloji ile sınırlı değil. Güvenlik ve konforu artırmaya yönelik küçük dokunuşlar da fark yaratabiliyor. Örneğin birçok Avrupa kentinde bisiklet yollarında gece görünürlüğü artırmak için LED aydınlatmalı şeritler veya reflektif yol çizgileri uygulanıyor. Bazı şehirler yağışlı iklime çözüm olarak bisiklet yollarını kısmen kapalı (üstü örtülü) inşa etmeyi deniyor. Kopenhag’da kışın kar bisiklet yollarından öncelikli olarak temizleniyor ve böylece dört mevsim kullanım teşvik ediliyor. Tüm bu çabalar, bisikletliyi merkeze alan bir tasarım felsefesinin ürünü: Amaç, bisikletle ulaşımı her yönüyle kolay, güvenli ve çekici hale getirmek.

Tüm bu bilgilere dayanarak dünyada bisiklet yolu standartları artık salt teknik bir konu olmaktan çıktı diyebiliriz; tasarım estetiği, sürdürülebilirlik ve yenilikçilik bu standartların ayrılmaz parçaları haline geldi. Bu yaklaşım, bisiklet kullanım oranlarını yükseltmenin yanı sıra şehirlerin marka değerini de artırıyor. Bir kenti bisiklet dostu yapan unsurlar, o kenti aynı zamanda yaşanabilir ve modern kılıyor.

Türkiye’de Bisiklet Yolları: Mevzuat ve Mevcut Durum

Türkiye’de de son yıllarda bisiklet altyapısına yönelik farkındalık ve yatırımlar artmaya başladı. Özellikle 2010’ların ikinci yarısından itibaren hem ulusal düzeyde yönetmelikler çıkarıldı hem de yerel yönetimler bazı adımlar attı. En önemli gelişmelerden biri, 2019 yılında yayımlanan Bisiklet Yolları Yönetmeliği oldu. Bu yönetmelik, imar planlarında yeni yapılacak yerleşim alanlarında ulaşım amaçlı bisiklet yolları ve park istasyonlarının ayrılmasını zorunlu hale getirdi[13][14]. Ayrıca teknik standartlar belirleyerek bisiklet yollarının nasıl projelendirileceği konusunu netleştirdi. Örneğin yönetmelikte, bisiklet şerit ve yollarının asgari genişlikleri, emniyet mesafeleri, zemin özellikleri ayrıntılı olarak tanımlandı. Tek yönlü bir bisiklet şeridinin genelde en az 1,5 m genişlikte olması, çift yönlü ayrılmış bisiklet yolunun en az 3 m olması kuralı Türkiye’nin de standartları arasına girmiş durumda (yerel fiziki kısıtlar varsa bu değerler istisnai olarak biraz düşebiliyor)[3]. Yine yönetmelik gereği, bisiklet yolu yüzeyinin kaymaz malzemeden yapılması, kavşaklara yaklaşırken mavi boyayla belirginleştirilmesi ve yol üzerinde 3 metre yüksekliğe kadar hiçbir engel (ağaç dalı, tabela vb.) bulunmaması şart koşuluyor[6][15]. Bu düzenlemeler kâğıt üzerinde oldukça kapsamlı görünüyor.

Mevzuat cephesindeki bu iyileşmelere rağmen, Türkiye’de bisiklet yolu uygulamalarının yaygınlığı ve kalitesi halen istenen seviyede değil. WRI Türkiye tarafından düzenlenen bir çalıştayda ortaya konan tabloya göre, ülke genelinde en az 34 şehirde halihazırda bisiklet yolu bulunmakla birlikte, bunların büyük kısmı kısıtlı mesafelerde ve öncelikle rekreasyon amaçlı planlanmış durumda[16]. Yani birçok kentte bisiklet yolları şehir içi ulaşım bütünlüğü sağlamaktan uzak, daha çok park, sahil bandı gibi alanlarda gezinti veya spor amaçlı güzergâhlar niteliğinde. Henüz gerçek anlamda “bisiklet dostu şehir ağı” kurabilen bir kentimiz yok denebilir[16]. Ancak olumlu gelişmeler de yok değil: İstanbul, İzmir, Konya, Kayseri gibi büyükşehirler son yıllarda ulaşım amaçlı entegre bisiklet planları hazırlamaya ve uygulamaya başladı[17]. Özellikle İstanbul ve İzmir’de toplu taşıma entegrasyonu (metro istasyonlarında bisiklet park yerleri, vapurlarda bisiklet erişimi gibi) konularında adımlar atılıyor. İstanbul, 2021 sonu itibarıyla yaklaşık 314 km bisiklet yolunu hizmete almıştı ve 2023’e kadar hedefini 1050 km olarak açıklamıştı[18][19]. İzmir ve Ankara gibi kentler de yeni bisiklet yolu projelerini gündemlerine aldı. Bu planlar hayata geçerse, önümüzdeki yıllarda şehir içi bisiklet ağlarımızın kayda değer biçimde genişlediğini görebiliriz.

Türkiye’de parlayan bir örnek olarak öne çıkan şehir ise Konya. Coğrafi yapısının düz oluşu ve bisiklet kültürünün eskiye dayanması sayesinde Konya, yıllar içinde ülkenin en geniş bisiklet yolu ağına sahip şehri haline geldi. 2020 yılı itibarıyla Konya’da 550 km’yi aşkın bisiklet yolu ağı bulunduğu ve bu uzunlukla Konya’nın, New York’tan sonra dünya çapında en uzun bisiklet yolu ağına sahip ikinci şehir olduğu ifade ediliyor[20][21]. Her ne kadar şehirlerin alanı ve nüfusu kıyaslandığında bu iddia tartışmalı olsa da rakamlar Konya’nın bisiklet altyapısında ulaştığı boyutu göstermesi açısından çarpıcı. Konya’da belediyenin verilerine göre hane başına yaklaşık 2 bisiklet düşüyor ve bisiklet bir spor aracı olmanın ötesinde gündelik ulaşım aracı olarak da yoğun biçimde kullanılıyor[22][23]. Şehirde ana arterlerden kampüslere kadar uzanan yaygın bisiklet yolları, diğer illere de model olarak sunuluyor. Konya örneği, kararlı bir vizyon ve süreklilik ile Türkiye’de de bisiklet dostu bir şehir modelinin mümkün olabileceğini kanıtlar nitelikte.

Konya, Türkiye’nin en uzun bisiklet yolu ağına sahip şehri olarak dikkat çekiyor. Şehir genelinde yüzlerce kilometreye yayılan bu bisiklet yolları, özellikle düz arazisi sayesinde günlük ulaşımda yoğun olarak kullanılıyor. Ayırıcı bariyerlerle trafikten korunan ve ağaçlarla gölgelenen güzergâhlar, şehirde bisiklet kullanımını teşvik eden önemli bir etken.

Bununla birlikte, Türkiye genelinde bisiklet yollarının hayata geçirilmesinde bazı zorluklar ve eksikler de göze çarpıyor. İlk olarak, mevcut araç trafiği kültürü içinde bisikletlinin yeri tam olarak içselleştirilebilmiş değil. Birçok şehirde sürücüler bisiklet yollarına park etmek, araç yolunda giden bisikletliye yeterli mesafeyi bırakmamak gibi davranışlar sergileyebiliyor. Bu da yapılan altyapının verimli kullanımını engelliyor ve bisiklet kullanıcılarının güvenliğini tehlikeye atıyor. İkinci olarak, denetim ve uygulama boyutunda eksikler var: 2015’te çıkarılan bisiklet yolları yönetmeliği yıllarca etkin uygulanmadı ve pek çok belediye bu kurallara uymasa da yaptırım görmedi[24][25]. 2019’daki yeni yasal düzenleme umut verici olsa da, özellikle mevcut yapılaşmış alanlarda uygulanması için güçlü bir mekanizma henüz oluşmadı[13][14]. Yasa yeni gelişen bölgeleri kapsarken, asıl ihtiyaç olan kent merkezlerindeki dönüşüm için bağlayıcı bir zorunluluk getirilmemiş olması eleştiriliyor[13][26]. Bu durum, şehirlerin bisiklet ağı bütünlüğünü sağlamasını zorlaştırabilir[27]. Örneğin halihazırda kurulmuş mahallelerde bisiklet yolu eklemek, park alanı veya yol genişliği yetersizliği gibi nedenlerle zor olabiliyor.

Bir diğer önemli boyut da kültürel dönüşüm ve eğitim ihtiyacı. Bisikletin bir ulaşım aracı olarak benimsenmesi için altyapı kadar, toplumun farklı kesimlerinin bu konuda bilinçlendirilmesi gerekiyor. Okullarda bisiklet eğitiminin verilmesi, sürücü kurslarında motorlu taşıt sürücülerine “bisikletlilere saygı” bilincinin aşılanması, kamu spotları ve kampanyalarla bisiklet kullanımının teşvik edilmesi gibi adımlar kritik öneme sahip. Nitekim uzmanlar, yalnızca yol yaparak değil; eğitim, kültür ve teşvik politikalarıyla desteklenmedikçe bisikletin yaygınlaşmasının zor olduğuna dikkat çekiyor[28][29]. Türkiye’de son dönemde başlatılan “Herkes İçin Bisiklet” projesi ve 2030 Bisikletli Ulaşım Strateji Belgesi bu alanda ulusal bir vizyon oluşturmayı amaçlıyor[30][31]. Strateji belgesinde bisikletin yalnızca ulaşım değil, ekonomi, sağlık ve iklim politikalarının da bir parçası haline getirilmesi hedefleniyor[32][33]. Örneğin 2030’a kadar tüm büyükşehirlerde güvenli bisikletli ulaşım ağları oluşturmak, bisiklet-paylaşım sistemlerini yaygınlaştırmak ve bisiklet kullanım oranını %50 artırmak gibi somut hedefler ortaya konmuş durumda[34][35]. Bu hedefler, hayata geçirildiği takdirde Türkiye’nin bisiklet yolculuğunda epey mesafe alacağını söyleyebiliriz.

Özetle, Türkiye bisiklet yolu standartları konusunda geç de olsa bir atılım sürecine girmiş bulunuyor. Mevzuat altyapısı oluşturuldu, bazı şehirlerde önemli uygulamalar başladı ve ulusal stratejilerle gelecek vizyonu çiziliyor. Ancak katedilmesi gereken mesafe uzun: Hem fiziksel altyapının yaygınlaştırılması hem de toplum genelinde bisiklet kültürünün yerleşmesi için tutarlı ve kararlı adımlara ihtiyaç var.

Gelecek İçin Pedal Çevirme Zamanı

Dünya örnekleri gösteriyor ki, bisiklet yollarına yapılan yatırım sadece bir ulaşım projesi değil, aynı zamanda daha sağlıklı, yaşanabilir ve sürdürülebilir şehirler inşa etmenin anahtarlarından biri. Kopenhag’ın liman üstüne kurduğu zarif bisiklet köprüleri, Amsterdam’ın her mahalleye ulaşan kırmızı asfaltlı bisiklet şeritleri veya Eindhoven’da parıldayan Van Gogh bisiklet yolu… Tüm bu örnekler, vizyoner bir yaklaşımın ve iyi planlamanın ürünü. Sonuçta şehirler, insan odaklı tasarım prensibiyle hareket ettiklerinde bisiklet, kentsel yaşamın doğal ve sevilen bir parçası haline gelebiliyor.

Türkiye, bisiklet yolu standartlarını yakalama ve kendi şehirlerini bisiklet dostu yapma yolunda önemli bir fırsatın eşiğinde. Yasal düzenlemelerin uygulanması, bütçelerin bu alana ayrılması ve en önemlisi talep eden bir halk ve kararlı yerel yönetimler sayesinde şehirlerimizde de bisiklet devrimi mümkün. Her yeni bisiklet yolu, belki birkaç arabayı yoldan çekerek trafiği azaltacak, belki birkaç çocuğun güvenle okula pedal çevirmesini sağlayacak, belki de hava kirliliğini bir nebze düşürecek. Küçük adımların birikerek büyük dönüşümler yaratabileceğini unutmamalıyız.

Hal böyle olunca tüm paydaşlara görev düşüyor: Planlamacılar ve tasarımcılar dünya standartlarında, estetik ve güvenli bisiklet yolları tasarlamalı; belediyeler bu projeleri önceliklendirip hayata geçirmeli; merkezi idare etkin denetim ve destek mekanizmaları kurmalı; ve biz bireyler de fırsat buldukça otomobil yerine bisiklete binmeyi denemeliyiz. Daha yaşanabilir, temiz ve sağlıklı şehirler için belki de yapmamız gereken en basit şey pedal çevirmek. Şimdi, hem kendi geleceğimiz hem de kentlerimizin geleceği için pedallara asılma zamanı! Unutmayalım, iyi tasarlanmış bir bisiklet yolu yalnızca iki nokta arasını birleştirmekle kalmaz; aynı zamanda insanları birbirine, mahalleleri şehre ve toplumu sürdürülebilir bir geleceğe bağlar. Haydi, geleceğin Türkiye’sini hep birlikte pedal gücüyle inşa edelim.

Kaynaklar:

1. Wired – The 20 Most Bike-Friendly Cities on the Planet (Kopenhag’daki bisiklet kullanım oranı ve altyapı yatırımları)[1][7]
2. EU Danube Cycle Plans – Infrastructure Design Standards (Bisiklet yolu genişlik ve güvenlik mesafesi tavsiyeleri)[3][4]
3. ULI Americas – Building a Truly Bike-Friendly City (Amsterdam’ın bisiklet yolu uzunluğu, 767 km’lik ağ bilgisi)[2]
4. T.C. Çevre, Şehircilik ve İklim Değişikliği Bakanlığı – Bisiklet Yolları Yönetmeliği (2019) (Türkiye’de bisiklet yolu teknik standartları ve planlama esasları)[6][15]
5. WRI Türkiye – Bisiklet Yolları Kanunu Bisikletlilerin Yaşamını Kolaylaştıracak (Türkiye’de yasal düzenlemeler ve uygulamadaki aksaklıklar üzerine değerlendirme)[13][29]
6. WRI Türkiye – Kent İçi Bisikletli Ulaşım Strateji Planı Hazır (Türkiye’de büyükşehirlerde bisiklet yolu uzunlukları ve 2030 hedefleri)[18][36]
7. WRI Türkiye – Bisikletli Ulaşım Çalıştayı (34 şehirde bisiklet yolu olması ancak çoğunun rekreasyon amaçlı ve ağ bütünlüğünün eksik olduğu bilgisi)[16]
8. Anadolu Ajansı – “Dünyada bisiklet yolu en uzun ikinci şehir Konya” haberi (Konya’nın 550 km bisiklet yolu ağıyla öne çıkması)[20][21]
9. Anadolu Ajansı – “Bisiklet şehri”nde 2023 hedefi; bin kilometre bisiklet yolu (Konya’da bisiklet kullanım istatistikleri ve hedefleri)[22][23]
10. PV Magazine – Solar bike paths go online in Netherlands (Hollanda’da güneş panelli bisiklet yolu projeleri ve yıllık enerji üretimi)[12][11]

What is the outfit? What kind of our needs does it meet? First of all, it is necessary to explain this. To summarize, the outfit is a cover that protects us from external factors, which can vary according to time and place, and is ripped off when it comes. What is important for us is a piece that sometimes has aesthetic value, sometimes sees our need, or it is reasonable to have both.. This also means that sometimes the outfit that fits on us can be out of fashion. When we think that it is not suitable for the era, we can discard the old one, exchange it for a new one, or go to narrow it down to a plentiful tailor. Alright; the outfit may mean that, but ‘what does this have to do with urban planning?’

The Outfit of The City

In Urban Planning, the role of the city planner is to sew an outfit for the city. Each city may have a number of needs specific to its own body, aesthetic requirements, problematic areas of the city or the situation in which the city is located may not keep up with the era. So what does the city planner do in this case? Even if these problems or problems are not within the scope of these situations (aesthetics of the city, the areas of equipment it needs…) He/She must first determine the result of his analysis. Just as a doctor should make the right diagnosis for his patient, no matter how important it is for the treatment process, cities should also be subject to such diagnoses while the City Planner is trying to determine it with his analysis. It is possible that there will be long-term, medium-term and short-term planning decisions when choosing the right outfit for the city, that is, when making planning decisions. Again, we can evaluate this by the following parameters when choosing the clothes I mentioned at the beginning:

• A coat is an essential need, we need it in the long run
• Or trousers are a piece that should be in everyone’s wardrobe. These are the essential needs that must be.
• On the other hand, pieces such as scarves and brooches that complement the outfit have aesthetic meaning, although they are not essential.

Such concepts are also relevant for the urban planner. If we need to express this through a more concrete concept: One of the most necessary requirements of our cities today is to be compatible with nature. In order for humanity to ensure a sustainable life cycle, it must cause minimal damage to the environment in which it lives. In addition, in the public spaces of the city (square, park, recreation…), people need to be in touch with each other. These areas should also carry aesthetic function to the city.

The exclusivity of a wardrobe is identical to the parts found there. If we give an example of this: having fabric pants when there are jeans in the wardrobe, having a skirt when there are fabric pants, having a summer outfit next to a winter outfit gives a more exclusive impression. When we think about it for our cities, it shows that the more different public spaces there are in the city, the more exclusive wardrobe that city has, if we can maintain or build it. We can summarize this with the following: preservation of historical sites, diversity in transportation, identification and renovation of a decrepit place, just like dismantling the outfit…

• Just as we want the contents of our wardrobe to be exclusive and original, our cities need such places to have an exclusive wardrobe. These spaces can be increased:
  • Squares
  • Green Spaces
  • Reinforcement Areas(worship area, educational area, trade…)
  • Administrative Organizations

Although some theories are not on it: to say that man is just a world of technology, I can express that the requirement of four rooms and a hall in four walls of space remains a little surreal. Because even any of our shares on social media today reveal the importance of the place we are in. If we explain this with a simple example, it reflects the quality and aesthetics of a space with a shared video or photo. So, while this is the role of the city planner, what kind of requirements do we have as residents of the city? Is there a park where the child plays games? Do we have problems accessing the family health center or hospital? Can we feel that the historical places are integrated with the city? Are there enough transportation opportunities or are we stuck in traffic?

Why should our needs consist of only one room? Don’t we need places where we can run and dance on the street? Why should these public spaces, which we call outdoor spaces, become spaces that only require us to get home as soon as possible? When we think of the city as such, the outfit that is sewn in accordance with the city makes that city meaningful. The role of the city planner is to sew the right outfit for the city. I wonder what outfit do we want to see our cities in? What is the harmony we are looking for in this outfit? The answers to these questions are parallel to the answers to the question of how the city should be dressed.

Mankind: Out of Breath From Running

About 13.5 billion years ago, according to known world history, the universe was created by an “explosion of absence” called the Big Bang. It was so trapped in matter that at some point the whole universe emerged. We don’t know before the explosion, but it waited patiently, probably to get stuck. It waited so long… and from that day on, the whole universe started spinning like it was in a hurry.

As for mankind, it’s too young for the world. For an estimate He is only 2.5 million years old. But his rush never ended, either. From the moment he came into the world, he always worked hard to become a “master of species,” moving forward quickly. He destroyed his rivals and evolved before anyone else. 70 thousand years ago, he carried out the cognitive revolution.

The sweat that poured out of the forehead of a human being who chased a deer with his spear in the African savannas meant that he could feed himself to survive. He spent years running around as a hunter-gatherer. The sweat on his forehead never cooled down…

Then he wanted to stop and rest, mankind. It was enough that he was homeless. Chasing after prey… He discovered agriculture. The worry of feeding her was over. He said “Maybe I could stop and rest”. He founded an agricultural society about 12 thousand years ago. He would form crowded families because he was no longer worried about hunger. But he wasn’t enough too for mankind. Before mankind could even sit down, he found himself running through power battles. His own species had begun to fight in itself after he declared his victory in all the species in the world. This time, mankind found himself throwing his spear at his own kind. He was running and wiping his sweat. “Let these wars be over, and you’ll see I’ll be at peace” he was saying..

Endless wars have dragged people into the race to be faster. Wanting to be more successful in this race between species, mankind has been able to build tools to make its work easier. The man who invented the wheel about 3500 years ago and tamed the horse, thought this time his run would be over. But it hadn’t been, with horse and wheel increasing the distances and severity of the battles. Overwhelmed by wars, famine, and starvation, mankind galloped its horse to another continent, and in the drip of sweat poured from its forehead, he was still dreaming of the peace it would find in its new home…

As the evolving, advancing human race progressed, the competition grew more and more. He dealt with internal upheavals, betrayals and injustices before he could face the civilization he had just founded and say “well, what a relief!”. In the Great Sumerian civilization, the mankind who ran to the palace gate with his sword thought, “Let’s take this king down, then we will find peace…”

“Let us shake the king’s confidence in his place; Let him relinquish the throne! The princes heeded his words and rushed to the palace gate; They attacked the throne room like water rushing into its forbidden entrance. The king escaped to the tower of the palace; Alalu went after him. There was a collision at the tower and Lahma fell from the tower and died. No more Lahma, Alalu shouted. He declared with enthusiasm and joy; The king is dead! Alalu, who rushed to the throne room, was installed on the throne himself. Without his right or parliamentary order, he declared himself king, “he added.

Sumerian Inscriptions ¹

Fortunately, in our last 500 years, we have carried out the Scientific Revolution, and we thought we would be at peace. Our dreams were decorated by utopias that people no longer had to run. Science was moving faster than ever, and the world was big enough for mankind… But again, it didn’t. The sweat on his forehead never cooled as man ran from war to war for the sake of absolute power, such as the French Revolution, the Century Wars, the World Wars.

Civilizations have been established, civilizations have been destroyed by mankind.. Cities built for the sake of more power, instead of improving people’s quality of life, had created vital problems such as health and safety. A drop of sweat falling from his forehead reminded him of deer hunting in Africa as he split the crowd on the streets of Istanbul with his bag in his hand and quickly ran to his job, where he was late. He couldn’t help asking himself… “if 12 thousand years ago I was more peaceful or I was running less..”

Industrial Revolution and Forgotten Human Beings

Rapidly increasing populations and industrialisation in the 20. century led to rapid urbanization; cities were built in the form of broad roads, vertical structures and plans sliced into baklava, in keeping with the purpose of their periods. The main tasks of the cities built during this period are to relieve transport and vehicle traffic to serve the industrial revolution.

People who live under the same roof in huge buildings take to unsafe streets only when they need them, and thus hardly know each other except for the few people they meet in the elevator. Like the stories in George Orwell‘s dystopia, we go into the same apartment buildings every day and do the same thing. Poor kids know only the way to the mall outside of their school, which can be seen through the windows of vehicles…

We see that people living in this post-modern urban approach have become unhappy and cities have become huge factories without identification. Capitalism imposes on us the ideality of the same in architecture and the ugliness of the different.

Unfortunately, the 20th century was a century when the labor force of all mankind was shown as a hero without a cape, while the industrial revolution and capitalism were shown as heroes without a cape. The streets were for the happiness of the vehicles, not the neighbourhood people. As mankind moved with more rushed steps and consumption crazes than ever before, it couldn’t even stop and realize what it was doing to our world…

Slowing Cities

Mankind has always had the ideal of slow life… But he never make it happen. Unfortunately, as our cities modernize, our pace increases and we become a consumption society. Studies in recent years show that older people population are increasing in Turkey, and after a while, older people will make up the majority of our cities. The increase in elderly populations in Turkey appears to be a reason to slow our cities.

Reducing traffic rates in our cities and creating more walkable, clean, safe and habitable urban places has become a must for our future.The increasing traffic of commuters around the world today has become a threat to our cities. 20. urban planning in the 20. century is actually for motor vehicles to move more comfortably. With rapid population growth today, the amount of green spaces left in urban areas is drastically decreasing.

According to mathematical modeling used in a recent study, if everyone chooses to use their vehicle as the fastest way to get where they want to get to, they never get anywhere at any time ². In developed countries, building the road way is no longer civilization. Many developed countries are reducing vehicle routes and increasing the amount of green space to support healthy living, encouraging people to walk or use motor-free vehicles.

It is clear that vehicle traffic has a negative impact on the health of both man and the world. It was revealed through scientific studies that many diseases such as obesity, stress, heart condition are increasing in people who forget to walk, remain sedentary. The damage to our world is also evident because of fossil fuels.

While developed countries boasted of their vast streets until the past years, today they are trying to narrow down their streets and slow down the speed of vehicles. Imagine living in one of the apartments in the following photos I took in Russia and Latvia in 2011. The entire connection of the streets to the people has unfortunately been destroyed. We can say that in many countries in the world now, these streets are being narrowed down, they are dealing with reducing individual vehicle use and pedestrianization of the streets.

Unlike cold countries like Russia and the Baltics, as we go down to Mediterranean countries like Italy, Greece, Turkey, we see streets/streets becoming narrower and erratic, and yet the streets still belong to the people.

We know that in some cities around the world, motor vehicle use is prohibited, only nature and health-friendly vehicles such as bikes, scooters are allowed. But these were not very large cities as a population. In the near future, there are restrictions on vehicle use in 13 major megacities in the world (Oslo, Madrid, Chengdu, Hamburg, Copenhagen, Paris, London, Brussels, Berlin, Mexico City, Bogota, San Francisco and New York). Madrid has banned vehicle traffic on a massive 500 hectare site in the city centre as of 2020. Only taxis, public transport, zero-release cargo vehicles and local vehicles living in the area will be use³.

21. century, the understanding of urbanism is built on slowing down cities and improving human and world health, making the streets safer. In order to slow vehicle traffic in cities and make streets safe for pedestrians, it is proposed that carriageways be narrowed to one vehicle, zigzagged without speeding, and their speed reduced to 30 km/h. For more information on street designs, you can read the Global Street Design Guideprepared by NACTO

In this article, I wanted to draw attention of mankind, who exhausted by its 2.5-million-year run, and emphasize that slower cities are possible for today. When we’re in a hurry, we mostly forget to enjoy life, so let’s stop and relax. Streets where we are not sure of their safety, where we cannot leave our children with peace of mind, certainly cannot be designed for the human being. Not only us, but the universe in which we live is exhausted by the inexhaustible ambition of man…

Imagine you are about to start a project. Actually, you may not even need to imagine it. If you are a student like me, you already have a project to submit almost every term. As a landscape architect, getting to know the site is one of our first priorities in the planning and design process.

In this article, I prepared a list of websites where you can produce map-based analyses while preparing a poster or a presentation board. I think they can be especially helpful for your site analyses during the planning phase. Overall, I researched nine websites that I personally liked for map-making and analysis. Let’s take a look together.

Helpful Websites for Weather Analyses

1. VENTUSKY

With the Ventusky website, you can explore weather analyses for the world and for your study area. The data it offers includes monthly changes such as temperature shifts, wind direction, and air pollution. These changes are shown on the map through graphics and color transitions. This makes climatic data feel more compelling, because it is not only a numerical or chart-based explanation, but a colorful spatial narrative.

2. METEOBLUE

Meteoblue offers a wider range for weather-related analyses. In general, it has similar content to Ventusky, but Meteoblue also provides additional layers and sections for agriculture, outdoor sports, and aviation. Visually, it feels more developed and detailed. The free features are enough for me, but if you want more, a Premium option unlocks the full set of tools.

Websites Where You Can Do Map-Based Analyses

1. OPENSTREETMAP

OpenStreetMap gives you the opportunity to work directly on the map. What I like most is its ability to show the same area in different map styles. You can also combine certain map features and layers. In addition, you can adjust brightness, contrast, saturation, and sharpness on the map you create. The only downside, in my view, is scale. In drawing and site studies, around 1/5000 scale you can still read roads, streets, and parcels clearly. But when you move into larger scales, the amount of available detail may start to decrease.

2. NASA POWER (LaRC)

Basically, this is a map-based analysis system developed by NASA. The interface is similar to Google Earth, so it is easy to understand and navigate. Compared to Google Earth, one of its biggest advantages is that you can draw directly on the map. It also presents temporal change and meteorological data on the map. Especially for planning projects, it can be very helpful to define how your site changes over time.

3. MAPBOX

The biggest feature of Mapbox is that it allows you to create your own map. Through ready-made templates, you can decide the colors, textures, typography, and map properties yourself. By producing maps unique to you, you can place a distinctive visual identity into your projects. This can add a very characteristic tone to your presentation boards. Mapbox is my favorite, but it offers users the option to download up to 100 maps, and anything beyond that becomes paid.

4. CADMAPPER

Cadmapper lets you export site data in formats such as AutoCAD, SketchUp, Illustrator, Rhino, and DXF. It can also provide 3D buildings, landforms, topography, and contour lines. In other words, you can bring maps into your project in different formats depending on your workflow. The platform offers up to 1 km² for free. Larger extents and some advanced features are paid, and the fee increases as the map area grows.

5. CONTOUR MAP GENERATOR

Contour Map Generator provides extensive information related to terrain contour lines. It also models your area based on elevation data. However, most of its features are accessible only with a paid plan. This makes it less attractive in practice, especially for students.

6. PUDDING

The last website we will look at is Pudding. This site visualizes global population distribution on a map. It is especially useful for expressing population in a graphic and spatial way. It also provides a temporal change map for population over time. For population analysis, it can add a different visual layer to your presentation boards.

As a senior landscape architecture student, these were the map analysis websites that caught my attention while preparing planning boards. I think they can be especially useful during the planning stage. That is why I wanted to share them with you.

If there are other websites you would recommend that I did not include here, I would love to hear your suggestions in the comments.

Map Analysis Website Tutorial Videos

The Ideal Republican Village Project appears to be one of the rare planning documents of the early Republic era that tried to express the idea of “development starting from the village” not only through slogans, but through space itself. Atatürk’s phrase “the peasant is the master of the nation” is not a dry maxim here; it becomes the core of a whole that stretches from schooling to health, from production to green infrastructure. In today’s terms, the plan invites us to see the countryside not merely as an agricultural production zone, but as a living system designed together with education, culture, and social life.

In this article, I examine the Ideal Republican Village Project by reading its circular spatial logic, grouping its 43 different institutions and units into thematic clusters, and, most importantly, by taking seriously the question of “what it tells us today.” Throughout the text, admiration is not hidden; yet the claims are weighed with as calm a mind as possible. Because the strength of this plan is not in exaggeration, but in detail, organization, and, in a sense, in intelligence.

Atatürk’s Love of Nature was something he cared about deeply.

Atatürk’s Bold Vision: What is the Ideal Republican Village Project?

It is known that the Ideal Republican Village Project reached us largely through the accounts of Afet İnan. She states that the plan was given to her by Thrace’s Inspector-General, General Kazım Dirik, and that the plan caught Atatürk’s attention; he wanted it to be improved and implemented. There is a distinction that is often confused here: who exactly drew the plan may be debated; however, the project’s ambition to “transform the countryside” and Atatürk’s view of the village as the center of development form the main backbone of the narrative.

In the 1970s, the plan came to the agenda again. The letters Afet İnan sent to ministries and provincial governors meant that the plan was being “remembered again” amid the rural development searches of that period. Its failure to be implemented can be read not only as the loss of a single project, but perhaps as losing the habit of long-term thinking that the project represented. Because the Ideal Republican Village Project is not a list of buildings; it is a woven organization of life.

The spatial logic: a circular backbone, a center, and rings

The most striking feature of the plan is its circular settlement scheme. There is a small core at the center, surrounded by expanding rings. At first glance it is compared to a dartboard, yet when you read it more carefully, you sense an architecture of graded publicness. The center is designed as the zone where denser public uses gather; moving outward, the relationship with housing, production, agriculture, and natural areas broadens.

The roads extending from the center to the periphery describe not only movement but also hierarchy. In other words, the scheme answers the question “where is the village square?” not with a single dot, but with a layered system. Concepts we discuss today in planning literature—nodes, accessibility, public cores, green belts—seem to have seeped intuitively into the plan. For this reason, rather than simply looking at a drawing, it feels more accurate to read an intention.

What do 43 units mean: not a village, but a small blueprint of civilization

Many people are surprised to see a total of 43 institutions and areas mentioned in the plan. This is because in Turkey, the “village” has long been imagined mainly through houses and fields. The Ideal Republican Village Project, however, treats the village as a cultural field, an educational ground, a production order, and an environmental governance issue. What matters here is not the individual buildings, but the system they form by completing one another.

It is possible to read these units as a long list, yet it is clearer to divide them into thematic clusters. The following headings make the plan’s world of ideas more visible: education and culture, health and care, production and cooperatives, infrastructure and safety, green space and recreation, agriculture and livestock. Seen this way, the plan’s search for a rural life model centered on “people and nature” becomes easier to understand.

An education and culture backbone

Units such as the school and practice garden, teachers’ house, reading room, and conference hall show the project’s most ambitious face. There is an approach that does not reduce rural development to “let’s build roads and bring water,” but also aims for intellectual transformation. The practice garden detail is particularly meaningful: it seems designed so that education does not remain theory, but touches the soil and connects to production. This even echoes today’s debates on applied learning.

Health, care, and the order of everyday life

Units such as the midwife and health officer, infirmary, and animal health officer read the concept of health not only through humans, but through a wider web of life. In the village, health is handled together with infectious disease, hygiene, food safety, animal health, and environmental conditions. This perspective can be seen as a rural counterpart to what is described today as “One Health.” In addition, spaces like the bath and washing area recall the social rhythm of cleanliness.

The language of production and cooperatives

Cooperatives, village shops, the marketplace and grain depot, the seed-cleaning building, dairy, mills, and the factory form the economic leg of the plan. What stands out is that production is not limited to fields. Alongside agriculture, processing, storage, distribution, and a kind of local industry are envisioned. It feels like an attempt to break the chain of “income comes from the village, but value is created in the city.” The added-value logic sought in rural development today appears here as an early intuition.

A generous green infrastructure and open-space system

Elements such as the village park, children’s garden, grove, pool, and fountains are the plan’s breathing side. Mentioning the children’s garden together with the center means that childhood is not pushed to the edge of public life, but placed at its heart. The grove, meanwhile, is not only an aesthetic green feature; it may also carry functions such as microclimate regulation, wind-breaking, fuel supply, and shading. In short, the Ideal Republican Village Project treats nature not as decoration, but as part of the system.

Infrastructure, safety, and continuity

Details such as the telephone exchange, village fire brigade, fire service, and toilets reveal the plan’s “everyday realism.” This list shows that the countryside is not romanticized. A village is the sum of infrastructure decisions, and those decisions provide safety and continuity. Moreover, aspects like the location of cemeteries and the manure area suggest that settlement hygiene and environmental health were also considered within the plan. Such details bring the project closer to an “implementable framework” rather than a mere dream.

Institutions, buildings, and areas: a more readable classification

The list below preserves the 43 units mentioned in the plan, but I reorganized them into internal groups to make the reading easier. This makes it more visible what kind of life the Ideal Republican Village Project aimed to build. As you read, you notice that a village is not formed only by houses, but by relationships between institutions, public spaces, and production cycles. This also suggests that Atatürk imagined modernization not only in form, but in organization.

• Education and culture: school and practice garden, teachers’ house, people’s room, reading room, conference hall, agriculture and meatworks museum, youth club, radio-equipped village casino
• Administration and social life: village hall, guest room, social institutions, cooperatives, village shops, inn-hotel
• Health and care: midwife and health officer, infirmary, animal health officer, bath, village washing area
• Infrastructure and safety: telephone exchange, village fire brigade, fire service, toilets, fountains, pool
• Open space and sport: children’s garden, village park, sports area, playground, fairground
• Production and agriculture: head of agriculture, mills, dairy, seed-cleaning building, factory, marketplace and grain depot, insemination station
• Livestock and support units: breeding stations for poultry, rabbits, and bees; breeding barn; canary/pen area, scientific fold, manure area, clover and fodder beet fields
• Natural areas and environment: grove, modern cemetery, animal cemetery, lime/stone/brick/tile quarries

Landscape readings: why the plan’s “environmental” side feels strong

What makes the Ideal Republican Village Project especially interesting from a landscape perspective is that it treats nature not as ornament, but as infrastructure. The idea of a grove, the relationship between fields and settlement, the proximity of water features to the civic core, and the placement of functions such as cemeteries in buffer areas all point to an “ecological logic.” Here, ecology is not just a plant list; it means thinking together about siting, hygiene, wind, water, production, and movement.

The children’s garden detail is also precious. Because the place reserved for children sits at the center of the plan—the heart of public life. This shifts childhood from a quiet backyard activity into social visibility. Moreover, placing elements such as the telephone, fire service, fountains, and toilets around the park and children’s garden suggests that safety, maintenance, and continuity were designed together with play. These small links reveal the plan’s intelligence.

In today’s terms: why this plan still feels current

Many themes we discuss today under concepts such as “resilient cities,” “climate adaptation,” “social infrastructure,” and “local economy” find counterparts here at the rural scale. The Ideal Republican Village Project thinks not only about producing housing, but about educating people, diversifying production, and strengthening public space at the same time. This can also be read as a quality-of-life goal that could reduce migration pressure from villages to cities. In other words, the point is not only “beautifying the village,” but making staying in the village reasonable.

And there is another thing: the plan does not proceed with the logic of “let’s build one facility and the problem is solved.” On the contrary, it builds a whole with small pieces that feed one another. School, cooperative, market, dairy, mills, health units, open spaces… They gain meaning not alone, but together. Atatürk’s admirable side becomes visible right there: not a fragmentary mind, but a system-building intelligence. That kind of intelligence is not always present even in today’s project world.

The claim of similarity to The Venus Project: intriguing, but a topic that needs caution

The circular scheme of the Ideal Republican Village Project is sometimes linked to modern utopian plans such as The Venus Project. Here, two things should be separated. First, the circular-plan idea has appeared in many settlement proposals throughout history, from the Garden City tradition to various utopian archives. Second, it is difficult to prove a direct “copy” claim. For this reason, it is more solid to interpret the similarity as the re-emergence of a similar spatial imagination in different periods.

Still, one fact remains: when you pick up this plan today, it feels surprisingly contemporary. Thinking about technology, environment, production, and social life within the same frame is not an ordinary reflex for Turkey in the 1930s. Admiration begins exactly there. Because this admiration is not directed only at a person, but at a country’s capacity for long-term thinking. The Ideal Republican Village Project is a concrete trace of that capacity.

Why it was not implemented: a few possible explanations

The fact that the Ideal Republican Village Project was not implemented cannot be reduced to a single reason. Issues such as financing, administrative continuity, shifting priorities of the era, and the immaturity of institutional mechanisms needed to carry rural development should be considered together. Moreover, such holistic projects go beyond being “the job of one ministry”; they require multi-actor coordination from education to health, from public works to agriculture. Without coordination, even the best plan remains on paper.

There is a hard lesson here: big ideas move not only with big minds, but also with great patience. Atatürk’s vision may have set a starting line; but sustaining that line requires a comparable state capacity and stability. When we discuss this plan again today, perhaps its most valuable side is this: it reminds us how vital what we call “implementation capacity” truly is. And admiration deepens with that reminder.

Atatürk Forest Farm was a place he cared for deeply.

Frequently asked questions

Did Atatürk draw the Ideal Republican Village Project?

Claims that directly attribute the drawing of the plan to Atatürk are very common. However, as Afet İnan conveys, the plan does not include the architect’s name; the stronger narrative is that Atatürk took an interest in the project and wanted it to be developed. For this reason, instead of saying “Atatürk drew it,” it is more cautious and more accurate to say “a plan that Atatürk emphasized, supported, and placed within his rural development vision.”

Is this plan connected to the Village Institutes?

It may be difficult to establish a direct implementation link, but they carry the spirit of the same era. Thinking about education, production, and social transformation together creates a strong kinship between the two. Elements such as the school and practice garden can be read as the spatial counterpart of the idea of “applied education” in the countryside. So the connection may be established not through institutions, but through the climate of ideas.

Could the Ideal Republican Village Project be implemented today?

Copying and implementing it exactly today would be difficult, because population, economy, and technology have changed. Yet the plan’s logic still feels applicable: walkable access to services, strong social infrastructure, a local production chain, a green belt, and a child-centered civic core. These principles can be reinterpreted with current regulations and current needs. In that sense, the project can be evaluated not as a rigid “template,” but as a package of design principles.

References and further reading

The links below were selected for readers who want to follow the topic on a more solid footing. This is a compilation and interpretation; it tries to avoid leaning on a single source.

• Afet İnan, The Principle of Statism and the First Industrial Plan of the Republic of Turkey (1933) (TTK Publications)
• DergiPark: https://dergipark.org.tr/tr/download/article-file/401869
• DergiPark: https://dergipark.org.tr/en/download/article-file/357409
• Teyit analysis: https://teyit.org/analiz/ideal-cumhuriyet-koyu-projesini-ataturk-cizdi-iddiasi