It's like a scene from a war zone… We have never seen this in peacetime.
On June 24, twin earthquakes tore through Venezuela, killing more than 2,295 people and injuring over 11,000 — a nation already hollowed out by more than a decade of economic collapse now confronting a disaster that exceeds its capacity to absorb. The rubble is visible, the grief is immediate, but the deeper peril is quieter: disease gathering in overcrowded shelters without clean water, moving through bodies already weakened, toward a healthcare system that was already failing before the first tremor struck. What unfolds in Venezuela is not merely a natural disaster but a collision between catastrophe and chronic fragility — a test of whether international solidarity can outpace the invisible second wave.
- Twin earthquakes struck Venezuela in rapid succession, killing over 2,295 people and injuring more than 11,000, with thousands now sleeping in overcrowded shelters stripped of clean water and functioning sanitation.
- Medical professionals are watching a second catastrophe form in slow motion — diarrhea and infections already spreading among the displaced, with trauma patients exposed to unsanitary conditions that could ignite wider outbreaks.
- Venezuela's public hospitals arrived at this crisis already gutted: over a third of its physicians had emigrated, operating rooms lacked more than 70 percent of necessary supplies, and laboratories were barely functioning before the earthquakes hit.
- International responders — including 900 US military personnel, 50 aid teams from countries as varied as Ecuador and Israel, and UN coordination — have mobilized rapidly, yet the $300 million offered stands far short of the $6.7 billion in estimated damage.
- The race now is against an invisible clock: disease outbreaks in the shelters remain preventable, but only if overcrowding is reduced, sanitation is restored, and a fractured healthcare system receives support it has not had in years.
On June 24, two earthquakes struck Venezuela in quick succession, killing at least 2,295 people and injuring more than 11,000. Survivors crowded into temporary shelters or slept in the open, with sanitation systems destroyed and clean water unreliable. Rescuers pulled people from the rubble — including a toddler found alive after six days — while medical professionals were already looking past the immediate crisis toward what they feared was coming next.
Eugenio Cova, who leads the trauma unit at a Caracas hospital, described the layered nature of the threat: acute injuries first, then infections spreading through bodies weakened by exposure and crowding. In La Guaira, the hardest-hit region, reports of diarrhea were already emerging from shelter sites. Aid workers called for portable toilets and government intervention, but the infrastructure to prevent disease transmission was simply absent.
Venezuela's healthcare system had been deteriorating since the economic crisis began in 2013. More than 7.7 million Venezuelans had emigrated, including roughly a third of the country's registered physicians. A 2025 survey found emergency supply shortages exceeding 30 percent in hospitals and over 70 percent in operating rooms. Laboratories were closed or barely functioning. The earthquakes, as one paediatrics expert noted, only made visible what had long been true: the government's inability to provide adequate healthcare for its people.
The international response was swift in scale if not in proportion to the need. The United States deployed 900 military personnel, repaired a key airport runway for humanitarian flights, and offered $300 million in assistance — a figure dwarfed by the UN's estimate of $6.7 billion in material damage. Some 50 aid teams arrived from around the world, including from Ecuador and Israel, countries without formal diplomatic ties to Venezuela. A volunteer described the destruction as resembling a war zone — something he had never witnessed in peacetime.
The visible crisis was being addressed. The invisible one — disease spreading through shelters, through broken bodies, through a system already at the edge of collapse — was still weeks away, still preventable, and still largely out of sight.
On June 24, two earthquakes struck Venezuela in succession, leaving at least 2,295 people dead and more than 11,000 injured. By the time aid workers began assessing the damage, thousands of survivors were already crowded into temporary shelters or sleeping outside, with no reliable access to clean water and sanitation systems in ruins. The immediate crisis—the search for survivors, the treatment of crush injuries, the sheer logistics of rescue—was visible and urgent. But medical professionals were already looking past those first desperate days toward a quieter, slower catastrophe they could see forming in the unsanitary conditions where the displaced were sheltering.
Eugenio Cova, who heads the trauma unit at Hospital Jose Gregorio Hernandez in Caracas, described the progression plainly: the country had already endured a period of acute trauma that would continue for weeks. But layered on top of that was something else—infections spreading through crowded shelters, diseases taking root in bodies already weakened by injury and exposure. "The issue we foresee just around the corner is the infections that patients who have been exposed to the disaster for the longest time might bring," Cova said. On the ground in La Guaira, a shelter site in the hardest-hit region, reports were already surfacing of diarrhea and other illnesses spreading among the displaced. Aid workers were asking for portable toilets and government intervention to reduce overcrowding, but the infrastructure to prevent disease transmission simply did not exist.
Venezuela's healthcare system entered this disaster already fractured. For more than a decade, since the country's economic crisis began in 2013, the public hospital system had been starved of water, electricity, medical equipment, and trained personnel. More than 7.7 million Venezuelans had emigrated, including roughly one-third of the country's 60,000 registered physicians. A 2025 survey of public hospitals revealed shortages of more than 30 percent of emergency supplies and more than 70 percent of supplies in operating rooms. Laboratories were either closed or functioning at minimal capacity. Huniades Urbina, a member of Venezuela's paediatrics association board, noted that the earthquakes "once again highlight the Venezuelan government's inability to provide an adequate healthcare system that meets the needs of the Venezuelan people."
International response mobilized quickly. The United States deployed 900 military personnel to support rescue and relief operations, repaired a runway at Venezuela's main international airport to allow humanitarian flights, and positioned naval vessels offshore. An additional 100 State Department personnel arrived to coordinate efforts. About 50 other international aid teams, including from Ecuador and Israel—countries without diplomatic relations with Venezuela—entered the country to assist with search and rescue. The Trump administration offered $300 million in assistance channeled through aid organizations and the United Nations. Yet even as rescuers continued to pull survivors from rubble, including a toddler found alive after six days trapped beneath collapsed structures, the scale of need far outpaced available resources. The UN Development Programme estimated material damage at more than $6.7 billion. Kevin Simm, a volunteer aid worker, told journalists the destruction resembled a war zone—"a scene from a movie." "It's like a scene from a movie or from a war zone… We have never seen this in peacetime," he said.
The immediate humanitarian crisis was visible and being addressed. But the disease outbreak that medical experts feared would follow—spreading through overcrowded shelters, through bodies without access to clean water, through a healthcare system already operating at the edge of collapse—remained largely invisible, still weeks away, still preventable if conditions changed. That was the race against time that no one could quite see.
Citações Notáveis
The issue we foresee just around the corner is the infections that patients who have been exposed to the disaster for the longest time might bring.— Eugenio Cova, head of trauma unit at Hospital Jose Gregorio Hernandez in Caracas
The earthquakes once again highlight the Venezuelan government's inability to provide an adequate healthcare system that meets the needs of the Venezuelan people.— Huniades Urbina, member of Venezuela's paediatrics association board
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does a disease outbreak matter more than the immediate rescue effort? Aren't the deaths already counted?
The deaths are counted. But disease doesn't work on the same timeline as earthquakes. Right now, thousands of people are sleeping in shelters with no toilets, no clean water. In two weeks, three weeks, those conditions become breeding grounds. The trauma unit doctor isn't worried about today—he's worried about what happens when infection sets in.
But Venezuela has doctors. Can't they handle disease outbreaks?
Venezuela lost a third of its physicians to emigration. Before the earthquakes, hospitals were already short 30 percent of emergency supplies, 70 percent of operating room supplies. Laboratories are barely functioning. You're asking a system that was already broken to absorb thousands of new patients with infections on top of their injuries.
So the $300 million in US aid should help?
It's a start. But the UN estimates $6.7 billion in damage. And money doesn't fix what's already gone—the doctors who left, the infrastructure that collapsed. It buys supplies, yes. But it doesn't rebuild a healthcare system in weeks.
The aid workers are asking for portable toilets. That seems fixable.
It is fixable. That's what makes it urgent. These aren't unsolvable problems. They're problems that become catastrophic if they're ignored for another month. A portable toilet costs money and logistics. A disease outbreak in a shelter of thousands costs lives.
What happens if the disease outbreak does occur?
Then you have thousands of injured people, many already weakened, developing infections in a hospital system that can barely function. Some will recover. Some won't. And it will all be preventable—which is the hardest part to live with.