Venezuela under the rubble: when documenting is also an act of solidarity
Venezuela under the rubble: when documenting is also an act of solidarity
On June 24th, at 6:04 in the evening local time, the earth shook Venezuela with a force the country hadn’t felt in over a century. Two consecutive earthquakes — magnitude 7.2 and 7.5 — struck the north-central coastal strip of the country within 39 seconds of each other. The epicenter: San Felipe, in Yaracuy state. Ground zero: La Guaira.
What followed was devastating.
More than 1,430 people have lost their lives, over 3,200 have been injured, and more than 68,900 remain missing. Researchers at Oregon State University estimate that approximately 58,870 buildings were likely damaged or destroyed across the affected region. Simón Bolívar International Airport, the country’s main gateway, sustained heavy damage and all flights were canceled. Wikipedia + 2
In La Guaira, the image left by the earthquakes is of a city that was already carrying too much. Venezuelans took the search for missing loved ones into their own hands, citing a scarcity of government rescue teams in the hardest-hit areas. Armed with only gloves, shovels, and pickaxes, residents like Simon Medina dug through the debris searching for family members trapped beneath collapsed buildings. Entire families waited for days in the street — no water, no electricity, no news. CBS NewsCNN
The International Organization for Migration estimates that up to 6.76 million people in Venezuela could be affected by the earthquakes. CBS News
A crisis within the crisis
What makes this tragedy even more complex is the context in which it unfolds. Venezuela has one of the most restricted media landscapes in the world, and that censorship had direct consequences on the disaster response — the lack of information cost lives. More than 200 websites remain blocked in the country, including local and international news outlets, social media platforms, and tools to bypass censorship. The United Nations urged the government to immediately unblock access to social media and news platforms, calling it a life-and-death necessity. Latin Times + 2
In that void, photography and visual journalism are not a luxury. They are a necessity.
Why Ghetto Photo is going
At Ghetto Photo, we believe every story deserves to be told with dignity, honesty, and without political filters. We are not going to La Guaira to practice disaster tourism. We’re going because it is our ethical duty as documentary journalists — and because there are communities on that coastline that the world is not seeing.
We will work alongside volunteers carrying medicine, clothing, and food — traveling by motorcycle when necessary, which is often the only way to reach isolated areas. Our camera doesn’t replace humanitarian aid, but it can do something no supply truck can: give a name, a face, and a story to the people living through this.
To document is also an act of solidarity.
Our principles as an organization
At Ghetto Photo, we are guided by three non-negotiable commitments:
Truth without agenda. We show what exists, not what is convenient. Our work serves no government, party, or sponsor. Only reality.
Dignity above all. The people we photograph are not nameless victims. They are human beings with history, with family, with a name. We treat them as such.
Access as responsibility. Reaching places where media doesn’t go is not a competitive advantage. It is a moral obligation.
How you can help
If you want these stories to reach the world, you can support us directly. Every contribution allows us to stay in the field longer, document more communities, and amplify more voices.
givebutter.com/venezuela-is-not-alone-2026-djxlaj
Venezuela is not alone. And we don’t want to be either.
— Ghetto Photo | ghettophoto.org
Images: Daniel Hernandez
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