This is a publication based on the suggested topic proposed in the Hive Learners community through their discord, which on this occasion is "Social Media and Politics".
"Social media here isn’t a reflection—it’s a distortion."
<< Unknow>>
Bing AI
A screen that separates you from reality
In January, my friend "night sailboat" in Madrid wrote to me: "Your photos of Caracas make me see that everything is calm, I am happy to know that things have improved there." His words filled me with rage.
I wanted to scream: Do you not see the cracks in the filter? The pastel sunsets I post hide the lines of people waiting for bread. The smiling selfies are taken between blackouts, when the Wi-Fi flickers back to life...
The truth is, social media here isn’t a mirror—it’s a funhouse. Politicians, algorithms, and fear warp every reflection until even we, the ones living this nightmare, struggle to recognize reality.
This is not a blog post. It’s a confession. A plea. A message in a bottle tossed into a digital ocean, praying it doesn’t wash ashore where they can find it.
Appearances deceive: The Great Government Circus
Here, social media is a theater, and the government is the director.
Look at the reels or the shorts, search for the hastag #VenezuelaCarnaval, and you’ll see a bunch of people dancing samba in Maturin carnival troupes right in the middle of slums, military personnel handing out CLAP boxes (government food) to people who smile gratefully for the misery they’re being gifted, and 'influencers' claiming that 'there’s no hunger in Venezuela' (Michelo from Argentina) – Jah, those mofos)
These clips are meticulously staged. The dancers? Paid with dollars reserved for propaganda. The food boxes? Empty by the time cameras stop rolling. The slums? Repainted for the shoot, their cracks plastered over like makeup on a bruise.
During the 2024 elections, the regime flooded platforms with hashtags like #VenezuelaTriunfa (“Venezuela Triumphs”).
Pro-government bots, disguised as enthusiastic citizens, shared videos of Maduro promising “economic miracles” while inflation hit 450% and i was diying of hunger on my home.
Meanwhile, opposition candidates’ livestreams froze mid-sentence. Posts about missing ballots vanished from timelines.
The internet didn’t just feel curated—it felt scripted, like a telenovela where the villain always wins.
But the most insidious lie isn’t the propaganda—it’s the silence.
Last month, a neighbor filmed a protest against water shortages. Within hours, her Facebook account was suspended for “violating community standards.”
She wasn’t holding a weapon. She was holding an empty bucket.
Bing AI
The partialized algorithm
Why do we live? Because we want to get ahead, we want to progress.
Human Rights Watch tells us that 79% of Venezuelans self -control in their social networks for fear that the secret police will look for their homes for "hate incitement."
We try not to write "hunger", "protest" or "Sebin" [secret police].
We publish breakfast photos but not our almost empty pantries.
We use emojis instead of text: a tear for mourning, a fist for solidarity.
The algorithms reward this performative optimism. Show joy, and you’re boosted. Show pain, and you’re shadow-banned—or worse.
I learned this the hard way.
Two years ago, I filmed a student protest in Plaza Francia. The video showed teenagers chanting, their voices raw with hope. But as I pressed “upload,” my finger hovered. My moms face flashed in my mind. What if someone recognized the street corner? What if they traced the IP address? I deleted the draft and posted a sunset instead.
The dictator who sees everything looks at us, and also teaches us to monitor all others, this is the way they establish control.
A great machinery watching you
With each click on your mouse you get closer to commit a crime.
Carlos Correa a common citizen, tweet about a water leak in his town. In a few hours the secret police arrived at his house and arrested him for "spreading false information."
His evidence? A viral thread with 10K retweets.
His sentence? Three years in El Helicoide, a prison where inmates whisper that guards monitor their families’ Instagram accounts.
Then there’s Ven App, the government’s “food subsidy platform.” To register, you surrender your location data, contact list, and social media handles.
Last year, a leak revealed that SEBIN cross-references Ven App data with protest locations. If your phone was near a demonstration, your subsidy is canceled. Your name lands on a list. Your children ask why there’s no rice, and you lie: It’s temporary, my love.
The apps that are supposedly encrypted are not safe. The "Pegasus" Software was found in the phones of 6 opposition leaders. What crime did they commit? have a WhatsApp group entitled "Hope for Venezuela"
The resistance warriors
We still have methods to express ourselves.
Accounts like 
The #sosvenezuela label was a worldwide trend, when the censors sleep. Citizen journalists transmit protests on Twitch, disguised gameplays.
When the government blocked Twitter during the 2024 elections, Venezuelans in Miami and Madrid again published tweets, amplifying them in a clamor that no blockade could censor.
But being in this plan tires. We divide in two: the "citizen prepared" for the algorithm, the justice with the truth for the chat encrypted.
Bing AI
Globalization: why the world loves the lie
It is very sad that the entire planet creates lies.
Foreigners watch TikTok videos of “Venezuelan influencers” dancing in favelas and think: How vibrant! They don’t see the hunger behind the glitter.
In 2025, a viral trend called #LivingVzla showed families smiling as they opened CLAP boxes (government food aid). What the clips omitted: the boxes arrive once a month, their meat green with mold and even with bugs and insects.
International media often parrots regime narratives, too.
When the New York Times cited a “government source” claiming inflation had dropped to 12%, we laughed bitterly. Their “source” was a tweet from a bot account named @VzlaEconomyReal, created two days prior.
Our pain has become content. Our resilience is a meme.
Break the Algorithmic Silence
If you’re reading this from a free country, here’s how to help:
Exije Transparency: Force a Meta and Tiktok that publishes the figures of Venezuelan accounts have banned by Venezuelan government request.
Share intelligently: Use reblog/retuit to all stories without labeling activists. Use VPN that copy local IPS, so it will be more complicated to censor.
Support digital refugees: Donate togroups like "Access Now" to provide encryption and encryption tools for Venezuelan journalists.
But please—do not tweet my name. Do not screenshot this post. I wrote it in my secret hideout, on a borrowed pc, using a virtual machine. By the time you read it, I’ll have deleted the history.
The end: A Generation Scrolling in the Dark
My neighboor daughter is eight. She doesn’t understand why I lock my phone or whisper when mentioning “the protests.” Last week, she asked: “ why do you always delete your drafts?”.I look at her and said nothing.
How do I explain that her birthday photos—innocent, joyful—could one day be evidence? That the regime arrests parents for “inciting hatred” with a bedtime story?
Yet, there’s hope.
Young Venezuelans are turning gaming platforms like Discord into protest hubs, hiding plans in Minecraft servers.
Artists pixelate their work to avoid facial recognition. We’ve become experts in invisibility.
They monitor our words, but not our dreams. For now, that is enough.
And thats how is my life on Venezuela.
This is my black cat "manclar", this account is to honor his dead (it happened years ago).
Visit the Neon Strike discord, the game of the future today!
(Discord)
Credits:
Thumbnail image maded using Bing AI and edited with Canva.com
The text dividers were made by me using aseprite
Post translated from spanish to english using Deepseek AI