Few events like the earthquakes that hit Venezuela this year, especially Vargas (now known as La Guaira) state, can prove that the human toll of a disaster is largely a political outcome, rather than a merely natural one. 

Research consistently links earthquake mortality to the strength of State institutions, how effective its emergency response system is, how prevalent corruption is and how well it regulates building codes. Corrupt and incompetent States fail before the shaking starts, leaving buildings uninspected and codes unenforced. Then they fail again afterward, unable to mount a coherent response.

At the same time, a disaster can expose not only the vulnerabilities of buildings and communities but also the underlying inequities of society. Historian Rogelio Altez, one of the leading experts in Venezuela’s earthquake response, says that the June double earthquake was an MRI that showed “how there’s a privileged sector that is able to make decisions and another that has no protection and that is crushed, displaced and oppressed.” He added that the ruins of the earthquake are also the ruins of our society, arguing that the disaster reveals the structural vulnerability of the country.

Venezuela has had excellent geologists, geophysicists and engineers. Yet, it’s rare for their findings to fully translate into policy, and even rarer for them to become standard practice.

Altez emphasizes that the State has been “pathetically absent” and its response can only be compared (not in a directly proportional way) with the 1812 earthquake: “For example, because we were dealing with a government, like the First Republic, that was legitimate only for one segment of society, but lacked both resources and a solid institutional framework.” More than 200 years later, Venezuela deals with a State that “lacks institutionality, that has decided to be absent and to make, in each of its actions, a business out of the disaster.”

And this is not because we have been unable to learn from our disasters, or because we lack the proper expertise. We have the knowledge, and to some extent, the rules. What we need is enforcement of policies to prevent disasters and react when they happen in order to save lives and economies. 

Using local knowledge

The overarching first lesson, and it’s one that has become prevalent throughout our coverage of the earthquake, is that technical knowledge has to be embedded in our decision-making processes, from prevention to planning and reconstruction. Venezuela, for decades, has had excellent geologists, geophysicists and engineers. Yet, it’s rare for their findings to fully translate into policy, and even rarer for them to become standard practice.

A key example of this is the process of seismic microzoning, an essential study because a large urban area might include an array of soil and conditions that define how an earthquake would impact each neighborhood. Geophysicist Víctor Rocabado explained that the process “divides the city into zones based on how areas with similar subsoil characteristics are expected to respond. Each zone is then assigned a specific design spectrum that indicates how a building should be designed or adapted to withstand a future earthquake. It’s a sort of seismic code by sector, rather than applying the same generic standard across the entire city.”

What needs to be done, Luraima Salazar says, is to “understand the risk of every zone and act accordingly with fortification and reconstruction and, yes, in some cases, abandonment, but with clear knowledge of the situation.”

Caracas is well known for its thorough microzoning, led by FUNVISIS and Dr. Michael Schmitz, which involved the geological, geotechnical, and geophysical characterization of the subsurface after more than 20 seismic refraction studies to estimate wave velocities across different areas of the city. Yet La Guaira, despite being in close proximity, has not received a process of microzoning to the same extent; as in other cities in the country, La Guaira has no more than high-quality preliminary work. However, Rocabado points out something important: “What’s needed is not the technical starting point, but the sustained investment of time, resources and institutional coordination to carry out preliminary studies to that level of detail and integration.” 

Reconstruction is not merely about rebuilding. As geologist Luiraima Salazar stated: “Seismic hazards are natural, but disasters occur when those hazards encounter vulnerable populations, buildings, and infrastructure. That is why we need to incorporate geological and geoscientific knowledge into territorial planning.” Therefore, preliminary discussions about what to do with the affected areas need to be informed by technical knowledge.

Implementing territory-specific rules

As happened in 1999, some have argued since last June that some parts of Vargas state must be depopulated. The dilemma, according to experts like Salazar, is not whether “to abandon or not to abandon the affected areas.” What needs to be done, she says, is to “understand the risk of every zone and act accordingly with fortification and reconstruction and, yes, in some cases, abandonment, but with clear knowledge of the situation. This process takes time.”

Moreover, Rocabado added that location is rarely the only factor. Instead, it’s a combination of location, construction typology, and quality of execution. “Hazardous conditions are not, in themselves, insurmountable barriers to development. Cities such as Tokyo, Osaka, and Santiago de Chile face seismic conditions similar to, or even more complex than ours, yet they have remained centers of urban and economic development.”

In fact, the reconstruction process in Chile can provide some guidelines. After the 2010 earthquake and tsunami, authorities revised planning instruments in dozens of affected municipalities according to new risk assessments. They didn’t treat entire cities as safe or uninhabitable. The process distinguished between areas where reconstruction could proceed, areas where it required mitigation measures, and exceptionally high-risk areas that might no longer be suitable for permanent occupation. In Constitución, this ultimately meant changing the use of some of the most exposed land, which ended up becoming the Parque Fluvial de Constitución.

These measures also need to be complemented, according to Rocabado, with soil and geological hazard studies as well as regulatory updates that incorporate its findings as binding requirements in building permits and municipal planning. 

Cutting the historical cycle

Producing technical knowledge is only part of the challenge. The other part is making sure that institutions actually use it. Rocabado mentions that “the central problem is the lack of institutional mechanisms to make it binding.” Altez emphasizes that the country has a pattern of ignoring risk management and favoring disaster response. Betina Barrios Ayala argues in the substack Puntal, that there’s a pattern of tragedy, awareness and forgetfulness when Venezuela faces a natural disaster which has persisted for centuries. 

Rocabado proposes, for instance, that for technical knowledge to become effective policy, it needs to be supported by enforcement mechanisms and meaningful penalties for noncompliance. “Proceeding with large-scale construction without first completing at least the studies mentioned above would amount to disregarding the human and material losses the country has just experienced,” he added.

Disaster prevention needs to transcend political parties, governments and ideologies. Altez suggests that it needs to be part of our historical narrative, just like Bolívar and the War of Independence.

For Altez, strengthening risk management requires policies capable of surviving individual administrations. Risk reduction, education and preparedness need to become “State policy, not government policy.” Building that permanence, however, requires extending risk management beyond institutions and into society itself. A key lesson that the earthquakes have taught us is prevention. It might sound repetitive, but we have to collectively accept that Venezuela is at risk of experiencing natural disasters.

Building a culture of prevention and memory

When it comes to earthquakes, Luiraima Salazar emphasized that this needs to happen at all levels: “It should begin in schools and continue in the communities, universities, public institutions, the media and planning organizations.” Víctor Rocabado added that children, starting from a young age, need to constantly practice earthquake drills: “This should not be an isolated incident, but part of school routine so that they grow used to what they should and shouldn’t do in case of an earthquake. This familiarization is more lasting than any campaign directed to adults.”

This doesn’t mean that there should not be any campaign geared towards adults. On the contrary, there needs to be constant reiteration of safety procedures both for earthquakes and any other natural disasters. In addition, the media must pay close attention to how it covers situations like these. Salazar warned that misinformation and poorly contextualized seismic information, including AI-generated content, can distort public understanding during emergencies, making it essential for news organizations to prioritize verified information and expert voices.

Salazar also added: “We cannot remember that Venezuela is a seismic country only when the ground is shaking, or that we are vulnerable to climate events only when tragedies like Vargas in 1999 or Las Tejerías-El Castaño in 2022 occur.” In the past, initiatives such as FUNVISIS’ Aula Sísmica, deployed in the aftermath of the Cariaco earthquake, sought to build greater public awareness of seismic risk. More recently, UCAB has announced its intention to conduct a “learning lab” with renowned architect Shigeru Ban later this month focusing on shelters. Programs like these should not be isolated efforts, but part of a broader and sustained approach to risk education across the country.

Altez goes beyond policy and emphasizes that disaster prevention needs to transcend political parties, governments and ideologies. Instead, it needs to be part of our historical narrative, just like Bolívar and the War of Independence are: “Everyone has a general understanding of it, and that is monumental. Well, we should also build a set of policies that transcend individual governments.”

The challenge, then, is not simply to learn after the disaster, but to make the lessons last. Preparedness has to survive news cycles, administrations and generations. That’s the way we can build a lasting collective memory of the tragedy of June 24.