“My mother had to leave Famagusta overnight when she was nineteen years old,” a Greek Cypriot journalist, Paris Demetriades, told me, “she has not seen her home since”. In Cyprus, it is common to come across such stories while looking for information about Varosha, the closed-off neighborhood in the city known as Gazimağusa in Turkish and Famagusta in Greek – these are two names for the same place, reflecting the island’s two main cultures and languages. Since 1974, Varosha has been used as a bargaining chip in negotiations on the Cyprus Question by Turkish Cypriots and Turkey.
In recent years, as global attention shifts between conflicts and diplomatic realignments, Turkey has been carefully recalibrating its international role. Turkey often presents itself as a mediator or a key regional player, but it also uses areas under its control — like the self-declared Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (TRNC), which relies heavily on Turkey for economic and military support, as well as parts of northern Syria and northern Iraq — to strengthen its position in regional negotiations.
Today, the sight of Varosha is pretty similar to that of Chernobyl. Abandoned houses and buildings, vegetation growing wild, cats, stray dogs, silence are the norm. There is not a single living soul except for the few guards who try to prevent anyone from sneaking into the abandoned buildings – without much success, as several videos of the insides of hotels and stores have appeared online.
From the early 1960s until July 20, ’74, Varosha was a luxury tourism district. Many Hollywood stars liked to go on vacation there and enjoy the sea. Then, Turkey implemented the Attila I and Attila II plans and occupied a third of the Cypriot territories.
The closure of Famagusta was not foreseen in the Attila I and II military plans. However, since the Greek Cypriot army was mostly concentrated in the center of the island to defend Nicosia and all the civilians had fled from the coast, the Anatolian army found the city of Gazimagusa largely deserted, except for the old town where Turkish Cypriots had been confined for years. Turkey then decided to close the Varosha neighborhood and use it to negotiate with the south of the island.
The negotiations never came to fruition and in the meantime the buildings were looted by soldiers. These talks aimed at reuniting the island, allowing Greek Cypriot refugees to return to the north, and securing political rights and protection for the Turkish Cypriot community. The situation remained rather static until 2020, when following some declarations by Erdogan and Ersin Tatar, i.e., the de facto President of the TRNC, parts of Varosha were reopened to the public.
Today, the neighborhood functions as a site of dark tourism, drawing primarily Turkish visitors, many of whom explore the area on rental bicycles available at the entrance. For Greek Cypriot visitors, however, the experience can evoke powerful and often painful memories tied to the area’s complex past.
“Seeing Varosha was the biggest shock of my life,” the journalist continued to tell me. The sight of the so-called “ghost town” brought him back to those stories he had heard since childhood about his mother’s escape from Famagusta, and about his family’s life before ’74. The neighborhood has fallen into visible disrepair, serves as a focal point in ongoing political negotiations, and has recently attracted attention as a site of dark tourism—a development closely tied to decisions by Turkey and the authorities of Northern Cyprus.
As early as 2020, the European Parliament asked the TRNC authorities to reconsider its decision to reopen Varosha to the public, arguing that such a reopening was a major obstacle to the resumption of dialogues for a solution to the Cyprus Question. Indeed, one of the most hotly debated issues in the negotiations between the Republic of Cyprus and Northern Cyprus is that concerning the abandoned properties in the northern part of the island.
Greek Cypriots left them in ’74 and to date their houses are inhabited by other families. The European Parliament, various rulings of the European Court of Human Rights and of the Court of Justice of the European Union, and the UN Resolution 550 have emphasized the importance of the damage suffered by Greek Cypriots as a result of the Turkish intervention in ’74. The TRNC and Turkey, however, seem to mock it all. In fact, as confirmed by journalist Andria Kades, a business man whose name is unknown, is allegedly in talks with the “interior ministry” of Northern Cyprus to buy some former hotels in Varosha. The TRNC then, with the full support of Turkey, would violate the rules of international law by illegally selling properties owned by Greek Cypriots or foreign citizens.
To further illustrate Turkey’s assertive posture in foreign affairs, one could point to the clash that occurred in August 2023 in Pyla, one of only four villages located within the United Nations Buffer Zone, between UN forces and Turkish Cypriot authorities. The confrontation erupted when Turkish Cypriot authorities began constructing a road without UN authorization, prompting UN peacekeepers to intervene. A physical altercation ensued, resulting in injuries to several peacekeepers.
The same goes for the events concerning the Ercan airport located in the North of Cyprus. Enlarged out of proportion by a Turkish company with funds from Turkey equivalent to nearly half a billion euros, it has no reason to be so large other than to demonstrate the strength of those who built it, according to journalist Tom Cleaver. Since it is not an internationally recognized airport, only flights from Turkey can land there, and the number of its passengers is risible compared to its size. But after all, as journalist Esra Aygin repeated to me, it is typical of a certain Eastern mentality to legitimize one’s power with “gilded, flashy and intimidating buildings.”
While international actors continue to call for renewed negotiations, the situation in Varosha seems condemned to stagnation. Despite repeated condemnations, there is little indication that the neighborhood will be returned to its rightful owners anytime soon, making it a lasting symbol of unresolved conflict and political deadlock.