The crack of concrete and the groan of twisting steel echoed through the streets of Caracas on Wednesday, a sombre symphony of disaster that has left a city holding its breath. At the site of the collapsed residential tower in the Los Dos Caminos district, rescue workers have issued a desperate plea for silence. ‘No one move!’ shouted a coordinator, his voice cutting through the dust as he gestured for the crowd to pause. Even the idle chatter of onlookers, the distant hum of traffic, any vibration could shift the precarious rubble pile that entombs an unknown number of souls.
This is not a scene from a dystopian blockbuster. This is the analogue reality of a society where infrastructure decays faster than hope. The 25-storey building, once a symbol of mid-century modern ambition, crumbled on Monday night as residents slept. At least 12 are confirmed dead, but the true toll remains uncertain. Dozens are missing. And here lies the irony: in a world where we can track a parcel from Shanghai to São Paulo with millimetre precision, we struggle to locate a neighbour beneath the debris.
Technology is often hailed as the saviour of humanity, but in moments like these, it reveals its sharp edges. The use of acoustic listening devices, thermal imaging drones, and ground-penetrating radar is standard in elite rescue operations globally. Yet in Venezuela, a country gripped by economic collapse and blackouts, such tools are rare luxuries. Instead, rescuers rely on human ears, trained to distinguish a whisper from a creak. ‘Silence is our most powerful sensor,’ explained one firefighter, his helmet smudged with grime. ‘Every second of quiet gives us a chance to hear them.’
This reliance on human cognition over machine precision underscores a deeper truth: technology is not a monolith. It is a spectrum from the high to the low. In Caracas, the low-tech approach is a grim necessity. But it also poses a question for the global community. Why do we invest billions in autonomous vehicles and algorithmic trading, yet fail to fund sensor networks for structural health monitoring in vulnerable cities?
The ethical implications are staggering. Imagine a world where every concrete slab, every steel beam, is laced with inexpensive passive RFID tags that pulse a location signal when stressed. Or where satellite-based Interferometric Synthetic Aperture Radar (InSAR) scans entire cities weekly, flagging deformations before they become fatal. This is not science fiction. It is entirely feasible with current technology. Yet we choose not to implement it at scale, often citing cost or privacy concerns. Privacy concerns? A dead body cannot file a complaint.
I think of the ‘Black Mirror’ echoes here. The episode ‘Men Against Fire’ explored how technology dehumanises the enemy. In the collapse zone, the absence of technology dehumanises the victim. Without acoustic sensors, rescuers must shout for quiet, relying on the kindness of a restless crowd. The human spirit is noble, but it is not enough.
Digital sovereignty becomes a key issue. Venezuela, like many nations, lacks the capacity to produce or maintain advanced rescue equipment due to geopolitical isolation and sanctions. This is a digital cold war fought with tangible consequences. When we discuss tech sovereignty, we often think about data control or AI regulation. But true sovereignty includes the ability to keep your citizens alive when the concrete falls.
The quantum computing revolution promises to simulate complex structural failures in real time, but that is a distant horizon. The quantum future is a luxury the collapsing building cannot afford. We need low-entropy solutions now.
In the immediate term, the rescuers continue their work. They have detected faint tapping from a void deep within the pile. The crowd holds its collective breath. ‘We are coming for you,’ a rescuer whispers into the rubble. It is a prayer, not a protocol.
For a tech optimist like myself, the lesson is humbling. We must stop designing technology for the top 1% of scenarios and start designing for the bottom 99%. The collapse in Venezuela is a UX (user experience) failure of global society. The user is the trapped victim. The interface is silence. And the product is a miracle we did not engineer.
