You don't see the state, per se
A week after twin earthquakes of 7.2 and 7.5 magnitude shattered coastal Venezuela, killing nearly two thousand people and leaving tens of thousands unaccounted for, four police officers were arrested on video stealing cash from the rubble they were meant to protect. The incident has become a symbol of something larger: the gap between a state that claims authority and a population that has learned, through necessity, to survive without it. While volunteers armed with shovels and rope do the work of rescue, and international actors weigh geopolitical interests, the people of La Guaira are left to measure the distance between official reassurance and the reality beneath their feet.
- Twin earthquakes have killed nearly 2,000 people, injured over 10,000, and left tens of thousands missing — with satellite data suggesting the true scale of destruction is roughly 60 times what the government has officially acknowledged.
- Police officers filmed looting cash from a collapsed building have shattered what remained of institutional trust, turning a natural disaster into a crisis of legitimacy.
- Civilian volunteers — medical students, teachers, veterinarians — are doing the bulk of rescue work with shovels and rope, while military and police personnel reportedly block access and seize aid shipments at checkpoints.
- The government has restricted public access to the disaster zone, blamed social media for public anger, and urged citizens to trust official channels — even as its own employees describe witnessing the looting firsthand.
- Acting president Delcy Rodríguez is navigating the crisis under US diplomatic backing and American corporate interest in Venezuelan resources, while on the ground the gap between official narrative and lived experience widens by the hour.
Four Venezuelan police officers were arrested after social media videos showed them pulling cash from a safe buried in earthquake rubble in La Guaira state. The officers, part of the country's criminal investigation service, were dismissed and face criminal charges after their force acknowledged they had "deviated from their duties" — a rare admission that has done little to restore public confidence.
The earthquakes that struck on June 24th, measuring 7.2 and 7.5 in magnitude, rank among the worst seismic disasters in Latin American history. Nearly 2,000 are confirmed dead, more than 10,000 injured, and tens of thousands remain unaccounted for. Satellite analysis suggests over 58,000 buildings were damaged or destroyed — a figure that dwarfs the government's official count by a staggering margin.
The looting incident has crystallized a deeper crisis. Volunteers arriving from across Venezuela — medical students, teachers, veterinarians — report doing the bulk of rescue work while authorities restrict access and, according to one government employee, seize aid from supply trucks at checkpoints. "You don't see the state, per se," observed Alexander Delgado, a teacher from Aragua who spent five days shifting rubble by hand. Veterinarian Mijaed Díaz, searching for body bags to contain four recovered cadavers, captured the spirit of the response: "We're used to making do with almost nothing."
In emergency shelters, conditions have grown desperate. One displaced woman described near-violent scrambles over food rations. The government has attributed public anger to social media manipulation, urging citizens to trust official channels — a message that lands poorly against the backdrop of filmed looting and firsthand accounts from its own personnel.
Acting president Delcy Rodríguez, who assumed power after the US extracted Nicolás Maduro in January, is attempting to consolidate authority amid the chaos. Washington has expressed confidence in her leadership, and American companies have signaled interest in Venezuelan oil and gold. But in La Guaira, where volunteers continue to dig through concrete with their bare hands, the distance between official narrative and lived reality grows harder to ignore.
Four Venezuelan police officers were arrested this week after videos circulated on social media showing them extracting cash from a safe buried in the rubble of a collapsed building in La Guaira state. The officers, members of the country's scientific, penal and criminalistic investigation service, were caught on camera helping themselves to dollars amid the wreckage of structures destroyed by twin earthquakes that struck on June 24th. The police force announced their immediate dismissal and the launch of disciplinary proceedings, acknowledging in a statement that the officers had "deviated from their duties" and "acted improperly by appropriating valuables found among the rubble."
The earthquakes—measuring 7.2 and 7.5 in magnitude—rank among the worst seismic disasters in Latin American history. Nearly 2,000 people have been confirmed dead. More than 10,000 are injured. Tens of thousands remain unaccounted for. Preliminary satellite analysis suggests that over 58,000 buildings sustained damage or total destruction, a figure that dwarfs the government's official count of 855 damaged structures and 189 complete collapses. A week after the disaster, rescue operations continue in the scorching Caribbean heat, with volunteers and international teams still searching for survivors in the rubble.
But the looting incident has crystallized a broader crisis of confidence in Venezuela's authorities. Volunteers arriving from across the country—medical students, teachers, veterinarians, ordinary citizens armed with shovels and rope—report that they are doing the bulk of the rescue work while government and military personnel appear more interested in blocking access and commandeering supplies. One government employee stationed at a checkpoint in La Guaira told Reuters that they witnessed police and military personnel seize aid from three trucks carrying supplies, boasting about what they had managed to "score." After initially welcoming civilian rescuers, the government restricted public access to La Guaira on Friday, a decision that enraged people trying to reach survivors.
Fabiano Nadales, a 35-year-old volunteer from Valencia, arrived with a team of medical students and amateur searchers, still hopeful that more people could be pulled alive from the debris. "Miracles happen," he said. "Some people can survive 10 days." Estefania Callejas, a third-year medical student also from Valencia, was among hundreds streaming into the disaster zone on Wednesday, hoping to treat the thousands of wounded. Alexander Delgado, a teacher from Aragua state, spent five days shifting rubble with his team, listening for sounds of life. By the sixth day after the quake, he observed that while Mexican rescue teams and local firefighters were visible, "you don't see the state, per se." His team lacked heavy equipment. Mijaed Díaz, a veterinarian volunteering in the rubble, called for greater presence from public authorities. "But in the end we're used to making do with almost nothing," he said, searching for body bags to contain four cadavers just recovered.
Conditions in the emergency shelters have grown desperate. Daniela Armas, waiting for food at a shelter in La Guaira, described scenes of near-violence over rations. "They give out supplies here, but sometimes people nearly kill each other for food," she told Agence France-Presse. "It's like a cockfight." The government has blamed misinformation and "manipulation strategies on social networks" for the growing public anger, urging citizens to rely on official channels instead. But the video evidence of police looting, combined with eyewitness accounts from volunteers and government employees themselves, suggests the anger is rooted in observable reality.
Acting president Delcy Rodríguez, who assumed power after the United States extracted her predecessor Nicolás Maduro in January, is attempting to consolidate her authority during the crisis. The US embassy's charge d'affaires, John Barrett, expressed confidence in her handling of the disaster, telling Univision that he had "a great deal of confidence" in local authorities. The Trump administration has signaled its backing, and American companies have expressed interest in Venezuelan resources ranging from oil to gold. But on the ground in La Guaira, where volunteers continue to dig through concrete and dust with their bare hands, the disconnect between official narratives and lived experience grows wider each day.
Citas Notables
Miracles happen. Some people can survive 10 days.— Fabiano Nadales, 35-year-old volunteer from Valencia
You see the firefighters and Los Topos. But you don't see the state, per se.— Alexander Delgado, teacher from Aragua state
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does it matter that police were caught looting? Isn't that just individual corruption?
Because it's not individual—it's institutional. The police force had to publicly dismiss officers and acknowledge they'd "deviated from their duties." That admission, combined with reports that military personnel are also blocking aid and commandeering supplies, tells you something about how the system is functioning under pressure.
But the government blamed social media for spreading misinformation. Could that be true?
The videos exist. A government employee witnessed military and police seizing supplies from aid trucks. These aren't rumors—they're documented by people on the ground. The government's response to blame "manipulation strategies" rather than address what people are actually seeing is itself revealing.
What's the real story underneath the looting?
It's about who gets to be seen as legitimate in a crisis. The volunteers—medical students, teachers, veterinarians—are doing the rescue work with shovels and rope. The authorities are restricting access and allegedly taking resources. That reversal of roles is what's breaking public trust.
Why would the US back the acting president if all this is happening?
Because the US has strategic interests in Venezuelan oil and gold. The ambassador vouching for her credibility despite documented problems suggests those interests matter more than accountability for what's happening on the ground.
Is there any hope for finding more survivors?
A three-year-old was pulled alive six days after the quake. Volunteers still believe miracles are possible. But each day that passes, the odds diminish. What's clear is that if survivors are found, it will be because ordinary people kept digging, not because authorities prioritized rescue over control.