Nestled in the heart of Turkey’s fertile Çukurova Plain, Adana is a city where layers of history collide. Its story begins over 3,000 years ago, when the Hittites first fortified the region. The Taşköprü (Stone Bridge), built by the Romans in the 4th century, still stands today—a silent witness to the armies, traders, and refugees who crossed it.
By the medieval era, Adana became a critical node on the Silk Road. Armenian merchants, Arab scholars, and Byzantine artisans mingled here, creating a cosmopolitan hub. The Great Mosque of Adana, commissioned by the Ramazanoğlu dynasty in the 16th century, reflects this blend of Seljuk and Mamluk architectural styles.
Under Ottoman rule, Adana thrived as an agricultural center, but the late 19th century brought turmoil. The Adana Massacre of 1909 saw ethnic violence between Armenians and Muslims, a dark chapter that foreshadowed the broader tragedies of World War I. Today, the city’s dwindling Armenian community preserves its heritage in places like the Surp Asdvadzadzin Church, a relic of a once-vibrant culture.
Few realize Adana’s strategic role in Cold War geopolitics. The Incirlik Air Base, established in 1951, became a NATO bulwark against Soviet expansion. During the Cuban Missile Crisis, U.S. Jupiter missiles were stationed here—putting Adana on the frontlines of nuclear brinkmanship. Today, Incirlik remains pivotal, hosting U.S. forces amid tensions in Syria and Russia’s war in Ukraine.
Since 2011, Adana has absorbed waves of Syrian refugees, transforming its social fabric. Over 200,000 Syrians now call the city home, straining resources but also revitalizing neighborhoods like Yüreğir with new businesses. The Sabancı Mosque, one of Turkey’s largest, has become a symbol of coexistence, offering aid to displaced families. Yet, rising rents and unemployment fuel local resentment—a microcosm of Europe’s migration debates.
Adana’s lifeline, the Seyhan River, is drying up. Climate change has slashed rainfall by 30% in a decade, devastating cotton farms. Farmers now protest as water disputes escalate with upstream dams. The Akyatan Lagoon, a critical wetland, faces salinity spikes, threatening migratory birds like flamingos.
Though Adana escaped the worst of Turkey’s 2023 earthquakes, cracks appeared in centuries-old buildings. Engineers warn that unregulated construction—a nationwide scourge—could turn the next quake into a catastrophe. The city’s Roman-era sewers, still in use, highlight the tension between preservation and modernization.
No discussion of Adana is complete without its legendary kebabs. The Adana Kebabı, a spicy minced-meat masterpiece, has become Turkey’s culinary ambassador. Restaurants like Kebapçı Halil Usta attract food pilgrims from Beirut to Berlin. In 2022, the EU’s refusal to grant the kebab “protected status” sparked outrage—a petty feud in a world of bigger crises, yet revealing how culture fuels nationalism.
As Turkey grapples with inflation and political unrest, Adana mirrors these struggles. The Mavi Bulvar (Blue Boulevard) project aims to reinvent the city with eco-parks, but critics call it a vanity scheme. Meanwhile, youth unemployment drives migration to Istanbul or Europe.
Yet, hope lingers in places like the Adana Archaeology Museum, where a 2nd-century Roman sarcophagus sits beside Hittite tablets. This city has survived empires, wars, and disasters—its resilience woven into every stone of the Taşköprü. In an era of global fractures, Adana reminds us that history never truly fades; it adapts.