After the tremor, the question we can no longer postpone

After the tremor, the question we can no longer postpone | Photo: Lallaoke

Published on 27 June 2026 at 02:00 GMT

By Editorial

Article detail:

There are moments in a country’s history when the earth seems to speak with brutal clarity. It does not do so through speeches, promises or political programmes. It does so by shaking the foundations on which daily life depends. It does so by reminding us, in the most painful way, that no society can consider itself secure unless it has first placed people at the centre of its priorities.

The earthquakes that have shaken Venezuela are not only a natural tragedy. They are also a moral warning. They are an urgent call to face what is too often postponed: the fragility of infrastructure, the vulnerability of families, the weakness of public services, the need for real reconstruction, and the obligation to ask honestly what is being done with a country’s wealth when its people continue to live with so many unmet needs.

These lines are not written with the intention of blaming for the sake of blaming. Nor are they written from the comfort of someone who claims to have all the answers. They are written from a simple conviction: when a country rich in natural resources suffers, when its people need protection, housing, hospitals, schools, safe roads, stable energy and opportunities, the debate can no longer revolve around the interests of a few. It must revolve around the lives of many.

The open question for the future is unavoidable: what must happen now so that this tragedy does not become just another episode of pain, but the starting point for a fairer reconstruction?

Venezuela is not a country poor in resources. Quite the opposite. It is one of the territories with the greatest natural wealth on the planet. Its oil reserves are among the largest in the world. It also has significant natural gas reserves, as well as minerals such as iron ore, gold, bauxite, diamonds and other strategic resources. In economic terms, its potential is immense. In human terms, that potential should translate into wellbeing, security, employment, education, health, housing and dignity.

And yet, this is where the great contradiction of our time appears: many countries rich in natural resources are not necessarily countries rich for their people.

That is the paradox we must dare to discuss. Because oil, gas, gold and minerals have no moral value in themselves. Their value depends on how they are used. They can serve to build hospitals or feed corruption. They can finance schools or sustain networks of privilege. They can rebuild homes or reinforce closed structures of power. They can drive a productive economy or remain trapped in an extractive logic that leaves little for communities and much for those who control access to wealth.

After a catastrophe, it is not enough to speak of humanitarian aid. Immediate assistance is, of course, essential. People must be rescued, treated, healed, fed, housed and protected. But after the emergency comes a deeper question: will what existed before simply be rebuilt, or will it be rebuilt better?

To rebuild better means to review priorities. It means accepting that national wealth cannot be measured only by the reserves beneath the ground, but by the quality of life of those who live above it. It means that natural resources must be at the service of society, not society at the service of natural resources.

For too long, the world has treated many resource-rich countries as mere deposits of energy, minerals or geopolitical influence. The underground is examined before the people are seen. The barrel, the tonne, the concession, the export, the alliance and the contract are calculated. But the most basic truth is forgotten: a nation is not rebuilt with statistics, but with justice, trust and institutions capable of serving the common interest.

Venezuela has the potential to be far more than an oil power trapped in permanent crisis. It has the potential to become an example of national reconstruction, economic diversification and responsible use of its resources. But that path requires a collective and courageous decision: to replace the logic of concentrated benefit with the logic of shared benefit.

This does not mean denying the economic importance of oil or gas. That would be naïve. In today’s world, energy resources still carry enormous weight. But precisely for that reason, one essential question must be asked: what are they being used for? To enrich closed structures or to rebuild a country? To maintain dependencies or to create opportunities? To prolong conflicts or to finance stability, education and development?

The tragedy of these earthquakes should force us to put priorities clearly on the table. People first. First, the families who have lost their homes. First, the hospitals that need to function. First, the schools that must reopen. First, the roads, bridges, electricity, drinking water and communications. First, the protection of the most vulnerable. First, life.

And then, with the same clarity, there must be a serious conversation about the economic model. Because reconstruction cannot simply mean raising walls. It must mean rebuilding trust. It must mean transparency. It must mean productive investment. It must mean that every barrel, every cubic metre of gas, every mineral extracted and every contract signed is linked to a higher purpose: the wellbeing of society.

It must be said with respect, but also with firmness: enough of using countries’ natural resources for the benefit of a few. Enough of turning collective wealth into private privilege. Enough of allowing the underground to matter more than human dignity. Enough of natural abundance coexisting with social scarcity.

And this reflection must also extend beyond Venezuela. Because this is not an isolated problem. It is a global question. The whole world must review how it understands wealth, energy and power. For decades, we have accepted too easily that natural resources can become instruments of domination, pressure or conflict. We have accepted that oil feeds not only engines, industries and economies, but also wars, weapons and missiles.

But weapons and missiles are also earthquakes. They do not emerge from a geological fault, but they destroy homes. They do not come from the movement of tectonic plates, but they break families, cities and futures. They are another kind of tremor, created by human decisions, financed by human interests and too often justified by speeches that forget the victims.

That is why, when we speak of reconstruction, we are not speaking only about one country. We are speaking about a different way of understanding the world. We are speaking about placing the economy at the service of life. We are speaking about using abundant resources to repair, protect and build, not to destroy. We are speaking about a responsibility that belongs not only to governments, but also to companies, international organisations, investors, the media and citizens.

Venezuela has a historic opportunity, even if it has been born out of pain. That opportunity does not consist only of restoring damaged buildings. It consists of restoring an idea of country. A country in which natural wealth is not a curse, but a tool for justice. A country capable of transforming its energy and mineral reserves into safe housing, equipped hospitals, decent schools, stable employment, modern infrastructure and social protection.

To achieve this, money alone will not be enough. Strong institutions, transparency, planning, international cooperation and a vision of the future that does not end with the urgency of the moment will be needed. It will be necessary to prevent reconstruction from becoming another space for opaque business. It will be necessary to ensure that tragedy does not open the door to new forms of dependency, speculation or abuse. It will be necessary for aid to reach the people, and for the country’s resources to be managed with a clear purpose: reconstruction for all.

A society cannot be asked to have hope if it is not offered a credible horizon. And that horizon must begin with something as basic as this: the wealth of a country must belong, first and foremost, to its people.

Perhaps this is the moment to bring a firm hand down on the table. Not out of empty anger, but out of responsibility. Not through a useless shout, but through a clear voice. A voice that says reconstruction cannot be partial, that the future cannot remain in the hands of a few, and that natural resources can no longer be treated as spoils.

The world needs to change the way it looks at countries rich in resources. They are not warehouses of raw materials. They are societies with history, culture, families, young people, older people, workers, entrepreneurs, teachers, doctors, journalists, farmers, students and communities that deserve to live with dignity.

The earth has shaken. Now our conscience should shake too.

The question is not only how Venezuela will be rebuilt after this tragedy. The real question is whether we will finally be capable of understanding that no country can call itself rich while its people are still waiting for common wealth to become a dignified life.

And that question, open to the future, can no longer be postponed.