Information networks that connect Venezuelans in uncertain times

Early In the morning hours of Saturday, January 3, the roar of bombs falling from the sky announced US military attack on Venezuelaawakened the sleeping residents of La Carlota in Caracas, a neighborhood adjacent to the air base that was the target of Operation Absolute Dissolution.

Marina Ji’s first thought when the floors, walls and windows of her second-floor apartment shook was that it was an earthquake. Her cat bolted and hid for hours, while the neighbors’ dogs began barking incessantly. But the continuing strange hum of engines (military planes flying low over the city, I later learned), along with the sight of a group of students in T-shirts and shorts running from the army headquarters, were signs that this was not an earthquake.

Marina could not rely on the typical media that is easily accessible in most other countries to learn more. She did not bother to turn on the television or radio in search of information about the attacks that began simultaneously on 11 military facilities in Caracas and three other states. The government-run television station Venezolana de Televisión (VTV) was broadcasting a report on the Minister of Culture’s visit to Russia while the attack was taking place. However, her cell phone still had signal and she began receiving dozens of messages on WhatsApp: “They are bombing Caracas!”

In the darkest moments of that confusing morning, there was no team of independent reporters who could go out and record what was happening on the streets. After years of harassment, censorship, and imprisonment of journalists by the government, there were only empty newsrooms, wasted resources, and a complete lack of security, making it impossible to keep the public informed as the crisis unfolded.

The fears felt by journalists are shared by many Venezuelans: fears of arbitrary arrest, imprisonment without cause, torture, and extortion. These fears are what have prompted citizens in Venezuela to adopt certain digital safeguards to survive. They’ve learned to restrict chats, move sensitive material to hidden folders, and automatically delete any “compromising” messages. Whenever possible, they leave their cell phones at home. If they have to take their phones with them, before going out, they delete all photos, stickers and memes that could be interpreted as disruptive. However, this state of collective paranoia also allowed Venezuelans to stay informed and not surrender to the dictatorship.

It is, to a large extent, ordinary citizens who have created this information network. Shortly after the bombs fell on January 3, the first videos began to circulate, recorded by people who witnessed the explosions from their windows and balconies, or from the beach, where some were still celebrating the New Year. Even hikers camping at the summit of Cerro Avila, in Waraira Rebano National Park, were able to capture panoramic shots of bombs exploding over the Caracas Valley. Shortly thereafter, international networks confirmed the news.

In the interior of the country, communication is more complex. In San Rafael de Mocochies, a sleepy village in the Andes of Mérida state, a group of hikers tried to keep up with the frenetic pace of events with spotty internet access 10,300 feet above sea level. They learned the news from phone calls via operators such as Movistar (Telefónica) and Digitel, not from the instant messaging app WhatsApp. They also overcame the challenges of the information desert they were in by using a portable Starlink satellite Internet antenna that a traveler carried in their luggage. During the crisis, the service developed by SpaceX was provided free of charge to Venezuelans.