It goes something like this. The Maduro regime wants to throttle the private sector but spend money like it hasn't. Then it wants to print what it needs, but keep prices the same like it hasn't. And finally, it wants to keep its stores stocked, but, going back to step one, keep the private sector in check like it hasn't. This is where its currency system comes in. The government, you see, has set up a three-tiered exchange rate to try to control everything — prices, profits, and production — in the economy. The idea, if you want to call it that, is that it can keep prices low by pretending its currency is really stronger than it is. And then it can decide who gets to make money, and how much, by doling out dollars to importers at this artificially low rate, provided they charge what the government says.
This might sound complicated, but it really isn't. Venezuela's government wants to wish away the inflation it's created, so it tells stores what prices they're allowed to sell at. These bureaucrat-approved prices, however, are too low to be profitable, which is why the government has to give companies subsidies to make them worthwhile. Now when these price controls work, the result is shortages, and when they don't, it's even worse ones. Think about it like this: Companies that don't get cheap dollars at the official exchange rate would lose money selling at the official prices, so they leave their stores empty. But the ones that are lucky, or connected, enough to get cheap dollars might prefer to sell them for a quick, and maybe bigger profit, in the black currency market than to use them for what they're supposed to. So, as I've put it before, it's not profitable for the unsubsidized companies to stock their shelves, and not profitable enough for the subsidized ones to do so, either.
And, remember, this was a problem even when Venezuela had dollars. Now it doesn't. Not when 95 percent of its exports come from oil, and its price has fallen by half. (It's actually a little worse than that, since Venezuela's crude is so heavy that it sells at a $5 a barrel discount to the rest of the world's). Without as many petrodollars, Venezuela has had to cut back on imports so much that its shortages, which had already hit 30 percent of all goods before the central bank stopped keeping track last year, have gone from being a fact of life to the fact of life. Things are so bad that there isn't a bank run — who wants to save their worthless currency? — but rather, as Jonathan Wheatley puts it, a supermarket run. People have lined up for days to try to buy whatever they can, which isn't much, from grocery stores that are even more empty than usual. The government has been forced to send the military in to these supermarkets to maintain some semblance of order, before it came up with an innovative new strategy for shortening the lines: kicking people out of them. Now they're rationing spots in line, based on the last digit of people's national ID cards.