Even if they are entombed in the building, we'd pick that up
In the aftermath of twin earthquakes that have claimed at least 1,700 lives in Venezuela, the narrow window of highest survival probability has closed — yet the search continues. International rescue teams, drawing on decades of hard-won experience from Haiti to Nepal to Turkey, deploy an array of technologies that extend human perception into the darkness beneath concrete and steel. Where governments have fallen short, neighbors dig with their own hands, driven by the oldest of human imperatives: the refusal to abandon one another to the rubble.
- The 96-hour survival window has passed, but rescue teams are pressing forward with the same disciplined urgency as the first hours after the quake.
- At least 1,700 people are confirmed dead, and the toll continues to rise as teams work through the most heavily devastated zones.
- Specially trained dogs, micro drones, acoustic listening devices, and thermal imaging cameras are being deployed together to locate survivors entombed beneath layers of concrete.
- In areas where government support has been scarce, local residents have taken rescue into their own hands, digging through collapsed buildings with whatever tools they can find.
- International teams from dozens of countries are working alongside local responders, combining heavy machinery and precision technology to reach those who may still be alive.
The 96-hour window when survivors are most likely to be found alive has closed, but in Venezuela's devastated zones the search continues with undiminished resolve. At least 1,700 people are confirmed dead from the twin earthquakes, and the number is still rising. In many of the hardest-hit areas, residents have been left largely to their own devices, digging through collapsed buildings without meaningful government support. International rescue teams, arriving from countries across the world, work alongside them.
Lee Ivory, deputy national coordinator for UK International Search and Rescue, has worked disaster sites in Haiti, Japan, and Nepal. The teams he coordinates carry an arsenal of detection methods refined through years of experience. Search dogs — trained to detect human scent buried as deep as ten meters — navigate the chaotic terrain of collapsed structures, barking with unmistakable intensity when they locate a potential survivor. Their reward for a real find is the same toy used in training, scented with human smell.
Sound offers another path through the rubble. Rescuers call out in local languages, listening for any response, while seismic and acoustic listening devices — small pods suspended on wires — register the faintest scratching or breathing from someone completely entombed. Technical search cameras, some mounted on long poles, others offering full 360-degree views, allow rescuers to see into spaces no human body can reach — and to speak directly to the people they find, offering reassurance and gathering information about their condition.
Micro drones, small enough to navigate interior voids, and thermal imaging equipment capable of detecting body heat through certain walls, round out the toolkit. When extraction begins, disk cutters, angle grinders, and saws breach concrete and debris, while bulldozers and cranes shift the heaviest slabs. Local teams often coordinate access to the heavy machinery, working in close partnership with international personnel.
The odds have shifted, but the work has not stopped. As long as there is rubble and the possibility of a void beneath it, the teams — and the neighbors digging beside them — continue to search.
The critical window for finding survivors alive has closed. Sunday evening marked the end of the 96-hour period when rescue teams have their best chance of pulling people from the rubble, but in Venezuela's devastated zones, the work continues with the same methodical intensity as day one. At least 1,700 people are confirmed dead from the twin earthquakes, and that number is climbing. In many of the hardest-hit areas, residents have been left largely to their own devices, digging through collapsed buildings without significant help from their government. The international rescue teams that have arrived—dozens of them, from countries around the world—are still searching, still hopeful, still deploying every tool at their disposal.
Lee Ivory, deputy national coordinator for UK International Search and Rescue, has worked disaster sites in Haiti, Japan, and Nepal. He knows what it takes to find a person buried under tons of concrete and steel. The teams he coordinates are armed with an arsenal of detection methods, each one refined through years of experience in the worst moments of human catastrophe. The dogs come first in most people's minds—specially trained animals that can detect a human scent buried as deep as ten meters beneath the rubble. When they find someone, they bark with a sustained, unmistakable intensity that alerts the handlers to a potential survivor. The dogs are trained using toys scented with human smell, and when they locate an actual person in the field, they receive that toy as their reward. But the dogs do more than simply sniff out location. They navigate the chaotic terrain of collapsed buildings, finding paths through the debris and identifying different ways rescuers might reach a trapped person.
Sound is another powerful tool. Rescuers will call out into the rubble, announcing themselves and using local language, listening for any response from the trapped. Teams deploy seismic and acoustic listening devices—small pods or cans suspended on wires, connected to monitoring equipment—that can pick up the faintest sounds. A person scratching against concrete, moving slightly, breathing heavily: all of it registers. The devices can detect these signals even when a victim is completely entombed within a building. Sakthy Selvakumaran, who works with the UK-based charity Search and Rescue Assistance in Disasters and was deployed to Turkey after the 2023 earthquake, explains that cameras are equally essential. Technical search cameras can be inserted into holes and crevices that human rescuers cannot reach. Some models are small pods mounted on long sticks, with cameras at the end. Others provide 360-degree views that can be recorded and reviewed on separate devices. Video cameras allow rescuers to actually speak to people they locate, to reassure them, to gather information about their condition and what might be trapping them.
The UN's humanitarian chief has noted that micro drones—colloquially called "cockroach drones" because of their small, insect-like design—are also in use on the ground in Venezuela. Thermal imaging equipment, carried by some teams, can locate people who are not in a direct line of sight. The body heat of a trapped person warms the rubble around them, and thermal cameras can see through certain types of walls, revealing a heat signature where a person lies buried. When it comes time to actually extract someone, the work becomes more brutal and technical. Disk cutters, saws, handheld angle grinders—tools designed to breach concrete, cut through furniture, filing cabinets, refrigerators, anything that stands between the rescuer and the victim. Some teams bring electrically powered tools; others carry diesel generators to power their equipment. For people trapped under multiple stories of collapsed building, heavy machinery becomes necessary. Bulldozers, diggers, and cranes shift massive slabs of concrete to access those beneath. It is often local teams that coordinate access to this machinery, working alongside the international rescue personnel.
The race against time is not over, though the odds have shifted. The 96-hour window when survival rates are highest has passed. But the teams on the ground continue their systematic, detailed searches as if it were still day one. In the absence of robust government response, residents in many devastated areas have begun their own searches through the rubble, digging with whatever tools they have, driven by the possibility that someone they know might still be alive beneath the concrete. The international rescue teams, with their dogs and drones and listening devices and thermal cameras, work alongside them. The death toll will rise. But as long as there is rubble and the possibility of a void beneath it, there is the possibility of finding someone still breathing.
Notable Quotes
Rescuers continue searches to the same level of detail as on day one, even after the critical 96-hour window has passed— Lee Ivory, deputy national coordinator for UK International Search and Rescue
Search dogs can identify hard-to-navigate paths through rubble and locate different access points to reach victims— Sakthy Selvakumaran, Search and Rescue Assistance in Disasters
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does the 96-hour window matter so much? What changes after that?
Survival rates drop dramatically. After four days without water, without shelter, without medical care, the human body begins to fail. The window doesn't mean rescue stops—it means the odds shift from likely to unlikely. But people can still survive beyond it. The teams know this, which is why they keep searching with the same intensity.
The dogs seem almost magical. How do they actually work?
They're not magic, just incredibly sensitive. A dog's sense of smell is orders of magnitude better than ours. They're trained to recognize human scent, and they learn to associate finding that scent with a reward. When they locate someone buried ten meters down, they bark. That bark is the signal that says: someone is here.
What about the thermal imaging? Can it really see through walls?
Not through all walls, but through some. If a person is trapped and their body is generating heat, that warmth radiates into the rubble around them. A thermal camera picks up that heat signature. It's like seeing a person's presence without seeing the person.
The source mentions residents searching on their own. That sounds desperate.
It is. When government help doesn't arrive and your neighbor is missing, you dig. You use whatever you have. The international teams bring sophisticated equipment, but locals bring knowledge of the buildings, of where people might have been, of the terrain itself.
Do these tools actually save lives, or are they mostly for recovery?
Both. The tools are designed to find people alive. But after the 96-hour window, the distinction blurs. A rescue is still a rescue, even if it's a body being recovered with dignity rather than a person being pulled out breathing. The families need to know.