The ground has not stopped trembling in the Venezuelan coastal town of Higuerote, but the state’s response has. Three days after a 7.3 magnitude earthquake reduced swathes of this fishing community to rubble, aftershocks continue to rattle survivors, forcing them to sleep in the open under tarpaulins salvaged from the wreckage. Yet as the earth shifts beneath them, the government’s presence has all but vanished.
Local aid workers describe a scene of increasing desperation. With hospitals damaged and roads blocked by landslides, the injured are being treated in makeshift clinics with dwindling supplies of antibiotics and painkillers. Power outages compound the misery, plunging the area into darkness at night and hindering search efforts. Vulnerable groups, children and the elderly, are most at risk. We have reports of families queuing for hours for a single bottle of water, the heat and humidity accelerating dehydration.
What is absent is even more striking than the devastation. The national government has yet to deploy significant military or medical resources to the affected zone, leaving municipal authorities and volunteers to shoulder the burden. Fuel shortages have hampered the few official convoys, and there are growing accusations that aid intended for the region has been redirected to political rallies. This fits a troubling pattern: in past disasters, the regime has prioritised allegiance over relief, using access to supplies as a political tool.
Meanwhile, digital connectivity has become a lifeline. Survivors are using WhatsApp groups and Twitter to coordinate rescues, share locations of those trapped, and broadcast appeals for supplies. While the state is absent, a peer-to-peer network of solidarity has emerged. But this reliance on social media also creates a digital divide. The elderly are often left out, unable to navigate the platforms that offer a virtual escape.
The lack of a coordinated official response underscores the broader collapse of infrastructure that plagues Venezuela. Hospitals are woefully understocked; power grids are fragile; the communication networks are patchy. This is a nation already weakened by years of mismanagement and sanctions, now struck by a natural disaster that it cannot handle alone. International offers of aid have been made, but logistical barriers and political mistrust keep them from reaching those in need.
As the aftershocks continue, each tremor reignites fear. There is a palpable sense that survivors are being forced to fend for themselves. The government’s silence is deafening. If the regime cannot provide basic protection and relief to its own people, what role does it serve? This crisis is not just a geological event; it is a profound test of governance. And by all accounts, the state is failing.
We will continue to monitor the situation closely. For now, our thoughts are with the resilient people of Higuerote. They have shown incredible strength, but no community should have to face such devastation alone.
