The rich and poor once shared the paradise of Caraballeda on Venezuela’s Caribbean coast. Their residences, which included apartments with direct marina access alongside hundreds housed in public housing towers, were situated along the same curving street, offering views of white sandy beaches and clear waters.
The yacht owners and public transit riders who used this road exemplified the social integration the government aimed to achieve. Many of them, enjoying a holiday or resting at home on June 24, met the same fate when the ground shook so violently that their homes collapsed in seconds.
Now, approximately 17,000 survivors share the uncommon status of being homeless in Venezuela. As the official death toll surpasses 3,500, many must rely on a government criticized for its response to the tragedy and which has previously politicized housing to determine where they will live—if they will have a new home at all.
Housing remains a constant concern even during crises.
Since the second half of the 20th century, housing has generally been a primary aspiration for Venezuelan adults. An oil boom allowed the government to fund housing complexes, enabled the poor to build brick and cement shacks known as “ranchos” locally, and permitted the wealthy to purchase secondary and tertiary homes.
Even when the country's economy deteriorated in 2013, most Venezuelans retained shelter, whether through receiving a home from the self-described socialist government, buying one at a steep discount from cash-strapped migrants, building ranchos on top of each other, or occupying abandoned properties.
Those residing in housing constructed by the ruling party over 27 years—currently led by acting President Delcy Rodríguez—do not hold property deeds, but these homes allowed them to save and keep entire families off the streets.
“It was their home, their house. It was an immense joy when they were assigned these houses here,” said Carlos Ortega regarding the 12 apartments in Caraballeda that his relatives were given more than a decade ago after years of financial hardship following a mudslide.
“Imagine, they were given a home after losing everything, but now they’ve lost everything, even their lives.”
Only one of Ortega’s siblings survived the collapse of the public housing towers; his son, who lived in a ninth-floor apartment and was working at a convenience store when the earthquakes struck, remains missing over a week after the disaster. Ortega hoped to find him at a hospital, shelter, or one of the tent camps that have occupied public spaces and private parking lots.
Not far from where he took a break from clearing rubble that buried his family, people were assessing flattened homes next to a yacht club and some towed Jet Skis. There, rescuers were being given cookies and other food on a plastic tray while standing on the debris where the wife of a military general hoped her husband and children would be found.
Government Efforts to Integrate Different Socioeconomic Classes
Ronal Rodríguez, a researcher at the Venezuela Observatory at Colombia’s Universidad del Rosario, explained that Venezuelan governments had attempted to prevent socioeconomic segregation even before Hugo Chávez became president in 1999 by building housing projects within or near areas considered exclusive. He noted this strategy also provided a political advantage by diversifying the voter base in wealthier neighborhoods that typically support the opposition.
However, homes built under Chávez’s “Grand Housing Mission,” which his successor, Nicolás Maduro, continued until the U.S. military deposed him in January, came with a condition: residents never received deeds.
“What Chavismo tries to do is maintain political dependence,” Rodríguez stated regarding Chávez’s political movement. “That is, if at any point you turn against me and stop supporting me, then I’ll take away the roof I’ve given you.”
This situation renders these residents vulnerable to government decisions once more, especially as survivors have voiced concerns about insufficient government support in search and rescue operations.
The administration of Rodríguez, whose response to the catastrophe has been criticized by residents across the spectrum, has not yet provided timelines for long-term housing recovery efforts.
The full extent of the damage remains uncertain, but satellite imagery analyzed by Microsoft’s AI for Good Lab indicated that at least 10,000 structures, or about one-third, were damaged in Catia La Mar, a city west of Caraballeda in La Guaira state. Older buildings, substandard construction, and geography left many Venezuelan neighborhoods susceptible to strong earthquakes.
Picking Up the Pieces
Benito Mantilla, 68, currently resides in a tent set up in a pharmacy parking lot in Catia La Mar after his privately owned home sustained damage. His wife traveled to the Dominican Republic last week, but he chose to remain and seek employment about 40 minutes away in the capital, Caracas, as the earthquakes also damaged his and his brother’s car repair shop.
Another woman living in the parking lot still hopes the government will soon provide her with a home. She mentioned that her daughter is involved with local organizers for the ruling party.
Meanwhile, Caryudedi González, who purchased her own home at age 21, hoped her working-class home, half of which fell into a ravine, could be repaired.
“In many countries, it’s very difficult to own a home, and here, we work so hard to have what’s ours,” said González, 44.