Venezuela's deepening power crisis fuels public anger as outages cripple essential services

Onasis Munoz is thirty-four years old and depends on a dialysis machine three times a week to do what his kidneys can no longer do—filter waste and excess fluid from his blood. One afternoon at a clinic in Valencia, the machine's hum stopped abruptly. The fluorescent lights flickered and died. The room went dark.

This was not the first time. For years, power cuts had been a periodic fact of life in Venezuela's Carabobo state, arriving every couple of days. But in recent months, the pattern has shifted. Munoz now experiences outages nearly every day, each lasting around seven hours. The clinic's emergency batteries have been exhausted. Its backup generator no longer functions. When he returns home afterward, there is often no electricity there either. The heat is oppressive. Air conditioning is impossible. Mosquitoes fill the darkness. "I arrive home, exhausted, as if I had run a marathon," he said. "There's no relief."

Across Venezuela, this experience has become the norm rather than the exception. According to a study by ANOVA Policy Research, a consultancy firm, 62.8 percent of Venezuelan households—nearly two out of every three families—experienced daily electricity cuts in 2026, compared with 37.1 percent in 2024. Only 6.9 percent reported receiving a continuous supply of electricity. The frustration has moved beyond individual homes and clinics into the streets. Residents have organized "cacerolazos," the traditional Venezuelan protest in which people bang pots and pans. Some have blocked roadways and set tires on fire. The anger is visible and audible.

Patricia Cueva, a lawyer from Maracaibo in oil-rich Zulia state, articulated the paradox that fuels much of the public rage: "We are desperate. We cannot understand how a country so rich in resources can be practically left in the dark. We cannot rest. We cannot work. Our children cry." The question points to a deeper contradiction at the heart of Venezuela's crisis. The country sits on the world's largest proven oil reserves. Yet its people are living without reliable electricity.

The Rodriguez administration, which took power after the United States conducted a military operation to abduct and imprison former President Nicolas Maduro, has blamed the crisis on El Niño, the climate phenomenon that has brought extreme heat and drought. Since roughly 90 percent of Venezuela's electricity comes from hydropower, such conditions do strain the system. But energy specialist Nelson Hernandez argues that climate alone does not explain what is happening. "Practically the entire crisis stems from the systematic neglect of the infrastructure," he told Al Jazeera, pointing to profound failures in management, lack of strategic planning, and aging technology. He also identified a shift in government policy toward oil extraction as a key factor. Under pressure from US President Donald Trump, the Rodriguez government has implemented reforms allowing greater foreign investment in the oil sector and has eased restrictions on oil exports. The result has been dramatic: oil production rose by almost 30 percent this year, from 924,000 barrels per day in January to 1.201 million in August, according to OPEC.

Hernandez estimates that the oil industry requires around 1,600 megawatts or more for extraction, pumping, transportation, and refining. As Venezuela prioritizes oil production, the electricity system cannot meet both that demand and the needs of homes and businesses. "Because electricity supplies to oil fields cannot be rationed without jeopardising oil production, the burden of adjustment and the power cuts fall directly on the residential and commercial sectors," Hernandez explained. For those with money, backup generators provide some relief. For most Venezuelans, there is no such option. Manuel Reyes, who owns a bakery in Naguanagua, Carabobo state, has adapted by staying open until after midnight on days when electricity is available, trying to produce enough to sell before the next outage arrives.

The toll extends beyond economics. Residents across several states reported that prolonged power cuts were affecting their mental health. Mileidy Blanco, who lives in Maracay in Aragua state, wakes at 4 a.m. to prepare her family's food before the electricity fails. But she has become increasingly worried about her six-year-old daughter, who has begun showing signs of stress. Recently, the power went out at the girl's school, then at home, then at her dance class. "She broke down; she couldn't take it anymore. She started crying, asking how long the lights were going to be out and how long this would last," Blanco said. A psychologist advised her to keep the child occupied during outages with board games and trips to the park. Instead, Blanco has noticed her daughter reaching for pots and pans when the lights go out, joining the cacerolazo protests that echo through the streets—demonstrations that show no sign of stopping.

The Rodriguez government says it is working to stabilize the system, with plans to add 1,300 megawatts of generation capacity by the final quarter of the year. It has also implemented legal measures requiring energy companies to invest in their own electrical infrastructure to reduce strain on the public grid. But energy experts say lasting solutions require major investments to repair aging power plants and to build more locally generated and renewable power sources. For now, Venezuela remains caught between two competing demands: the oil production that generates foreign currency and the electricity that its people need to live.