I lost everything. There are people still inside, I imagine.
Twice in the span of a single minute, the earth beneath Venezuela's northern coast broke open, leaving 235 dead, thousands missing, and a nation already worn thin by years of crisis now confronting one of its worst natural disasters in living memory. The coastal city of La Guaira bore the heaviest grief, where neighbors dug through rubble with bare hands while promised machinery never arrived. In the aftermath, the world has begun to move toward Venezuela — with aid, with waivers, with pledges — yet the distance between what is promised and what is present remains, as it so often does, the cruelest measure of catastrophe.
- Two earthquakes struck sixty seconds apart on June 24, their shallow depth and compounding force collapsing buildings across Venezuela's northern coast and killing at least 235 people.
- Thousands remain unaccounted for in the rubble of La Guaira, where families are digging by hand and posting handwritten missing-persons lists while heavy rescue machinery has yet to arrive.
- The closure of the main airport in La Guaira and shortages of equipment are slowing international aid even as Mexico, Brazil, the U.S., Spain, and others mobilize search teams, medical supplies, and drones.
- Tens of thousands spent the night outdoors in parks and parking lots, too afraid to re-enter damaged buildings, while power, cellphone service, and natural gas failed across parts of Caracas.
- Acting President Delcy Rodríguez declared a state of emergency and announced a $200 million reconstruction fund, but on the ground, most of the digging is still being done by ordinary citizens.
On Wednesday evening, Venezuela was struck by two powerful earthquakes in rapid succession — a 7.2-magnitude tremor followed sixty seconds later by a 7.5, their epicenters barely sixteen kilometers apart along the Caribbean coast. The shallow depth of both quakes amplified their destruction, and by Thursday morning 235 people were confirmed dead, more than 4,300 injured, and thousands more unaccounted for beneath collapsed buildings.
La Guaira, the coastal city north of Caracas, suffered the worst of it. Residents tore at concrete and twisted steel with their bare hands, waiting for heavy machinery that officials had promised but not delivered. A mother searched for her missing eight-year-old son. A woman was pulled from beneath a cement slab, only her foot visible until rescuers freed her. Two young children, aged three and ten, were carried away wrapped in blankets as their mother collapsed in grief. Cristian Carreño stared at his tilted, charred apartment building and said simply: there are people still inside who couldn't get out.
In Caracas, thousands slept in parks and open spaces rather than risk returning to damaged buildings. Power and cellphone service failed in parts of the capital. The subway shut down, natural gas was cut, and the main airport — located in La Guaira — was damaged and closed, complicating the delivery of international aid for days.
The international response moved quickly in principle. The United States temporarily waived sanctions to allow relief transactions, and Mexico, Brazil, Spain, Portugal, Qatar, and Canada all pledged assistance. U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio promised a large and fast government response, while acknowledging the airport closure as a serious obstacle. Acting President Delcy Rodríguez declared a state of emergency, announced a $200 million reconstruction fund, and appealed to businesses to release heavy construction equipment.
Yet the gap between promise and presence remained wide. Outside Caracas, few official rescue teams were visible. Ordinary Venezuelans were doing most of the digging. A retired schoolteacher climbed through wreckage in La Guaira and found a trapped woman signaling for help, powerless to reach her in time. Families posted photographs of the missing. The United Nations urged the government to lift social media restrictions so people could access life-saving information — and by Thursday, access to X, blocked since August 2024, had been quietly restored.
Venezuela was already a country strained by more than a decade of economic collapse and political turbulence. Now it faced a disaster of historic scale, among the strongest earthquakes to strike the region in over a century, with the full toll still unknown as rescue teams continued to work through the rubble.
On Wednesday evening, the ground beneath Venezuela convulsed twice in quick succession. A 7.2-magnitude earthquake struck first, west of Morón on the Caribbean coast, about 170 kilometers from Caracas. Sixty seconds later, a more powerful 7.5-magnitude quake followed, its epicenter just 16 kilometers away. The one-two punch, amplified by the shallow depth of both tremors, turned buildings into rubble across the northern coast. By Thursday morning, the official death toll had reached 235, with at least 4,300 people injured and thousands more unaccounted for.
Health Minister Carlos Alvarado described the scale of the catastrophe in clinical terms: around 235 patients had arrived at health facilities without vital signs, or had died upon arrival. But numbers alone could not capture what was happening in the streets. In La Guaira, the coastal region north of Caracas that bore the heaviest blow, residents clawed through concrete and twisted steel with their bare hands. Dayana Delgado, a mother of three, stood in the debris asking neighbors where the heavy machinery was—the equipment government officials had promised but never delivered. Her eight-year-old son was missing. She did not know if he was trapped or sheltering somewhere, alive or dead.
The images were stark and human. A woman trapped beneath a cement slab, only her bare foot visible, was pulled free by rescue crews. A mother collapsed in grief as the bodies of her three-year-old and ten-year-old children, wrapped in blankets, were carried away. Others stood in the rubble screaming the names of missing loved ones. Cristian Carreño stared at his apartment building, now tilted precariously to one side, charred and skeletal. "I lost everything," he said. "There are people still inside, I imagine, that couldn't get out. It's incredibly devastating."
In Caracas and surrounding cities, thousands spent the night in parks, parking lots, and open spaces, too afraid to return to buildings that might collapse. María Cristina Díaz, a 41-year-old janitor, huddled with her mother and daughter in the cold, unable to sleep. Parts of the capital lost power and cellphone service. The subway was shut down. Natural gas was cut off. The country's main airport, located in La Guaira, was damaged and closed, a logistical blow that would complicate aid efforts for days to come.
Geophysicist Marcos Ferreira from Brazil's Geological Survey explained why the damage was so severe. The two earthquakes, arriving just a minute apart, created a compounding effect—like two voices screaming at once, amplifying the vibration and multiplying the hazard. Venezuela sits near multiple fault lines, straddling the South American and Caribbean tectonic plates, but strong earthquakes remain relatively rare for the region. This was among the strongest in more than a century.
By Thursday, the international response was mobilizing. The U.S. Treasury waived certain sanctions until late October to allow earthquake relief transactions that would otherwise be prohibited. Mexico, Qatar, Brazil, Spain, Portugal, and Canada all pledged assistance. Search and rescue teams, medical personnel, canine units, medical supplies, water purifiers, and drones were already en route or landing. U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio announced a "whole-of-government response" that would be "big, fast, and effective," though he acknowledged the airport closure created real obstacles.
Acting President Delcy Rodríguez, who had taken office in January after the capture of former president Nicolás Maduro in a surprise military operation, declared a state of emergency and announced a $200 million reconstruction fund for damaged hospitals and homes. She appealed to businesses to make heavy construction equipment available. She called La Guaira a "disaster zone." The first rescuers from the Dominican Republic were about to land, she said, with more expected in the coming hours.
Yet on the ground, the reality was grimmer. Few government search teams were visible outside Caracas. Neighbors were doing much of the digging. Retired schoolteacher Juan Alberto Mendaño climbed through wreckage in La Guaira, past a dead body, when he spotted a woman trapped and signaling for help. "May God rescue her as quickly as possible," he said. "When we heard the scream, there was nothing we could do." Families posted missing-person flyers with photographs. Others shared handwritten lists of names. Venezuelans abroad struggled to reach relatives. The U.N. had called on the government to lift social media restrictions so people could access life-saving information, and by Thursday, access to X—blocked since August 2024—had been restored.
Venezuela was already reeling from more than a decade of economic collapse and political upheaval. Now it faced a natural disaster of historic proportions, with rescue operations hampered by equipment shortages, a closed airport, and a government struggling to respond. The death toll was expected to rise as rescue teams continued to pull bodies from the rubble and the full scope of missing persons became clear.
Notable Quotes
I lost everything. There are people still inside, I imagine, that couldn't get out. It's incredibly devastating.— Cristian Carreño, resident of La Guaira
It is as if I am screaming and then someone starts screaming, too. That amplifies the vibration and adds to the potential hazard.— Marcos Ferreira, geophysicist at Brazil's Geological Survey, explaining the compounding effect of the two quakes
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why did two earthquakes a minute apart cause so much more damage than one would have?
The second quake didn't give the ground time to settle. It was like hitting a bell that was already vibrating—the waves amplified each other. Both were shallow, too, which meant the energy transferred directly to the surface instead of dissipating deeper down.
La Guaira has been through this before, hasn't it?
Yes. In 1999, a mudslide there killed thousands. It's a coastal region that sits on unstable ground. But earthquakes are different—they come with no warning, and this time the airport was damaged, which meant rescue equipment couldn't arrive quickly.
The government promised heavy machinery but neighbors were doing the digging instead. What does that tell us?
It tells us that even in a disaster, the state's capacity to respond matters enormously. When people can't rely on official rescue teams, they become their own rescuers. That's brave, but it's also a sign of institutional failure.
Why did the U.S. waive sanctions for this?
Sanctions are designed to restrict transactions, but earthquake relief is humanitarian. Even adversaries recognize that some moments transcend politics. Though it's worth noting the waiver was temporary—just until late October.
What happens to a country that's already economically broken when something like this hits?
It compounds everything. Venezuela was already struggling to provide basic services. Now hospitals are damaged, infrastructure is destroyed, and the government has to find $200 million for reconstruction while the economy is in free fall. Recovery becomes exponentially harder.