Ricardo Cusanno is running as a candidate for the National Assembly representing Caracas on May 25, backed by the alliance of Un Nuevo Tiempo (A New Time, UNT) and Unión y Cambio (Union and Change, UNICA). Photo: Social media.
Guacamaya, May 20, 2025. Ricardo Cusanno is a businessman in the hotel and tourism sector. He comes from a family of Italian immigrants who arrived and built their lives in Venezuela. He has served as president of Fedecámaras, the country’s main business association, and of the Venezuelan Red Cross.
His tenure is remembered, among other things, for facilitating the first rapprochement with the Venezuelan government in nearly two decades, after years of intense tensions between the business sector and Chavismo—especially following the April 11, 2002 coup d’état, known as the “Carmonazo,” led by Pedro Carmona Estanga, who was also president of Fedecámaras.
Later, Hugo Chávez’s government embarked on a process of expropriations and confrontations with the private sector. It was almost twenty years later, during Ricardo Cusanno’s leadership, that the business association and the Venezuelan government resumed more fluid dialogue. He also stood out for promoting the study of various peace processes, such as those in Colombia, Tunisia, and Northern Ireland.
Cusanno was also part of the Foro Cívico (Civic Forum), an autonomous space for coordination and action made up of individuals and organizations from various sectors, which declares its commitment to “the transformation of the Venezuelan conflict.” Later, through a ruling by the Supreme Court of Justice, he was appointed as a member of the Restructuring Board of the International Red Cross in Venezuela.
His figure has been under media scrutiny due to his stance in favor of dialogue with Maduro’s government and his opposition to sectoral sanctions imposed against the country. And undoubtedly, because of his role in Fedecámaras, the Civic Forum, and the Red Cross—positions that have earned him criticism from some sectors of the opposition.
Now, he has decided to formally enter politics and is running as a candidate for the National Assembly, supported by the Un Nuevo Tiempo (UNT) and Unión y Cambio (UNICA) parties.
To discuss his candidacy and other topics, Ricardo received us in his office amid a short, atypical campaign marked by various irregularities. There are only a few days left before the May 25 elections.
Question: Ricardo, you’ve always been linked to the business world and civil society—as president of Fedecámaras, then as a member of the Civic Forum, and later as part of the Restructuring Board of the Red Cross. Why enter politics now, and why run for the National Assembly?
Answer: The answer is very simple. It’s the very trajectory of business leadership, then in the Civic Forum, and later in a managerial role in a century-old humanitarian institution like the Red Cross, that always kept alive in me the idea that the Venezuelan political conflict was a very binary one in the way political actors framed it. And the consequences were suffered by a silent majority: the citizens.
The real consequences ranged from misguided public policies or the imposition of a political model that Venezuelans did not choose—and did not choose because the Constitution establishes a different political model—to an alternative that calls for deepening the crisis through sanctions, promoting violent protests that only worsen conditions, family contexts, and national unity.
That’s why, especially during my time at Fedecámaras, I dedicated myself to studying peace processes, like those in Colombia, Tunisia, and Northern Ireland’s Good Friday Agreement.
So, based on that experience—to round out the answer—when you see yourself as a businessman who once had hundreds of workers and now barely has dozens, and you have three young children and decide to stay in the country, you ask yourself: “What do you do?” Either you turn a blind eye and simply keep trying to generate income for a better quality of life, or you genuinely seek to help resolve the conflict in a way that isn’t utopian but probable, viable, and sustainable over time.
Under those three scenarios, under those realities, an opportunity arose to enter politics. An opportunity that wasn’t easy either. Don’t think I was invited with a red carpet. Traditional politics—which I can criticize for some things, but also respect, because they are the natural vehicles for doing politics—has always kept at a distance the possibility that actors from organized society (and I say organized, not civil, because “civil” is automatically contextualized as opposition) could participate.
Organized society includes Chavistas and non-Chavistas, opponents and non-opponents, more right-wing or less right-wing, among others. It’s people from the academic, business, labor, student worlds, etc. And they’ve struggled to understand that they can also engage in partisan politics. That politics doesn’t automatically grant you knowledge of everything.
We’ve often seen, over the last few years—and I’d even say over the last few centuries in Venezuela—a certain arrogance in politics, believing that being a politician means you know about economics, about constructing the social context to design salaries, and so on, about thousands of things.
So, well, it was an opportunity, a small window. And it’s my way of continuing to protest safely. But more than protesting against something, it’s about proposing solutions. The campaign we’re running—for me, it would have been extremely easy to simply narrate the economic deterioration of the last 10 or 12 years. However, I understood that by talking about 12 years, you automatically imply that the problem of sanctions began after the crisis started.
That’s why I decided to enter politics: to seek viable solutions, to seek agreements—and I repeat this everywhere—between, for, and by Venezuelans. I can’t conceive of our decisions being made by foreign governments. Of course, they can be guarantors or supporters in integration processes, as Europeans or Latin Americans have been, helping us consolidate a political agreement. But the agreement must be between us.
So, why the National Assembly?
For me, it would have been relatively easier to aim for an executive management role, because in the end, that’s about linking management with solutions like water, electricity, potholes. But the natural space for argumentation, for doing politics to generate agreements, consensus, debating ideas, and designing legal frameworks—laws, legal environments that incentivize rather than restrict—is the National Assembly. And I believe that’s where the space, the tool, and the opportunity lie to build a Venezuelan solution to this conflict, which is already a couple of decades old.
“In 2005, a completely different model of the country was designed, contrary to what the Constitution, in one way or another, laid out, when we abandoned the spaces.”
Q: What does it mean to run in these regional and legislative elections on May 25, after July 28?
A: Look, the first thing it means to me is that you’re giving democracy a chance to build its own solutions to the conflicts that the very lack of democracy, or the deterioration of democracy and institutions, has generated. That, in my view, is the smartest way.
But also, after what’s happened in recent months and years… experiences aren’t just for gaining gray hair. In 2005, a completely different model of the country was designed, contrary to what the Constitution, in one way or another, laid out, when we abandoned the spaces.
In 2020, I firmly pushed from Fedecámaras, in national and international advocacy spaces, for us to participate in the elections. We abandoned them, and again, we had a space—I wouldn’t say confiscated, because it was a space where we let the opportunity to participate slip away. And I’ll be even harsher: when in 2015 the opposition won—that is, when we won absolutely everything in the National Assembly—we arrived with the same vision of crushing the adversary. And that’s no way to reach a solution.
That’s why I believe this was the only way forward. And let me tell you, in 2017, the same thing happened: they called for a constituent assembly, and we didn’t go. And in the end, that constituent assembly didn’t do what a constituent assembly should really do. But participation is always positive—if you know why you’re doing it.
In Venezuela, there have been many successful electoral alliances, but very few political alliances to think in the medium and long term.
Q: The CNE seems to have eliminated the QR code from the voting records, which was introduced when Enrique Márquez and Roberto Picón were rectors—both of whom were also questioned by opposition sectors at the time. What’s your take on the situation, and how is the opposition organizing to defend the vote on May 25?
A: Look, Venezuela had a democracy and an electoral system that was, let’s say, almost perfect and internationally recognized, back when these cell phones didn’t even exist. That’s why the campaign we’re running is about going back to the streets and talking to people.
If the technology that was once present and beneficial for the credibility of the system in the past—in the recent past—isn’t there today, then we have to return to the old system. We have to seek ways to protect and build vote-counting mechanisms for the interests of a candidacy “the old-fashioned way,” with witnesses. It’s not easy; there are fears.
In the end, people are also afraid. Because people aren’t just afraid of what might come from the adversary or the system—they’re also unsure what leadership will do in the event of a conflict. And there’s also fear that leaders might lose their minds again, lose their sanity, and escalate any difference or conflict to an existential level that, in the end, costs the freedoms or lives of others—not those who call for it.
So, in the face of adversity, in the face of arbitrariness, we must maintain institutional composure. Because otherwise, we’d be pouring gasoline on the fire of confrontation.
Q: In 2023, you were appointed by the Supreme Court of Justice (TSJ) as president of the restructuring board of the Venezuelan Red Cross. At the time, this drew criticism from several opposition sectors. What reflection did that situation and that role—related to a deeply complex issue like the humanitarian crisis—leave you with?
A: Yes, you know, the biggest reflection—and this is almost a joke—is that insults hurt at first, but then they just pass, right?
When you know the objective for which you take on responsibilities and make decisions that may clash with the majority’s context, the biggest lesson is that time, if you act in good faith, proves you right.
Because when you take over a century-old institution to redesign it, to speak one-on-one with over 3,000 people, to build managerial mechanisms for eight hospitals and 33 outpatient clinics, to sit down with more than 3,000 people to draft a statute governing the future of a humanitarian organization at that level… and then have 800 certified voters—for the first time in over 40 years—voters with requirements, stakeholders, with a sense of belonging, who elect their own leaders… the truth is, I care very little about what others think.
I feel very satisfied with the managerial achievement and, above all, with having strengthened the capacities of an internationally recognized organization as a tool for aid in health and humanitarian crises for society.
Q: La Gran Aldea, a media outlet linked to factions of the Venezuelan opposition, published an article about you calling you the “opposition deputy who pledges not to oppose.” How do you respond to these accusations? Additionally, some are calling for sanctions against candidates participating in the May 25 elections. Aren’t you afraid they might sanction you?
A: Look, as a family man, fears always exist—for your children, your wife, your family. And as a businessman too—for the jobs you create, your partners, those who trust in you. But I’ve been characterized, over the last few years, by not making decisions—how should I put it?—easy decisions. Like, for example, despite deep political differences, sitting back down with the government from Fedecámaras and calling for dialogue at a time when no one was talking about negotiation or engagement. In the end, time proved us right.
Directed attacks don’t keep me up at night, especially when they come from spaces questioned in their transparency—let’s say, in their funding—and questioned in the leadership behind them, which has contributed absolutely nothing to the people we meet on the streets asking for better pensions or for conditions to improve so their families can return.
“Through Fedecámaras, we participated in the process that later led to the new CNE, where Roberto Picón and Enrique Márquez came in […] We were condemned for that, but then that CNE paved the way for the 2021 elections.”
Q: When you were president of Fedecámaras, Delcy Rodríguez, Venezuela’s vice president, attended the Annual Assembly, becoming the first high-ranking government official to do so in nearly two decades. Some viewed this with rejection, while others saw it as an important step toward dialogue in the country. How was that process of building and improving relations with the government, considering the long history of antagonism between the administration and the private sector, marked by events like April 11 and the expropriations?
A: It was, above all, a reconnection based on respect, recognizing each other as natural actors in society—in this case, Venezuelan society. That wasn’t accidental. Obviously, my statement on December 10, 2019—being the first institutional actor to speak out against sanctions—was made from the presidency of Fedecámaras. And after we had lived through the blackout of March that same year, a series of things began happening in the country, particularly economically. Some wrongly called it the “Nutella economy.” Yes, there were some—let’s call them—Nutella entrepreneurs, but the truth is something different was happening in society economically.
This forced engagement with the public sector because, remember, here not a grain of rice moves without state permission. Then came the pandemic in March 2020—a silent enemy none of us knew, forcing us to organize. That’s when a communication relationship began.
In 2020, amid the pandemic, we worked hard to participate in the elections. Through Fedecámaras, we took part in the process that later led to the new CNE, where Roberto Picón and Enrique Márquez came in, with a former Fedecámaras president as an alternate rector. We were condemned for that, but then that CNE paved the way for the 2021 elections, which, from the opposition’s perspective, generated gains in terms of reclaiming spaces and organization.
So, there was communication. Before our meeting—where the vice president, along with three ministers and several pro-government deputies, attended the closing assembly of 2021—the Commission for Dialogue, Peace, and Reconciliation had gone to Fedecámaras, including Jorge Rodríguez, Nicolás Maduro Guerra, and ten deputies.
So, there was a process—let’s say—of dismantling at least the distrust, recognizing each other as actors, and arguing, despite deep ideological and action differences, about the economic sector at the time. There was a chance to stop talking through Twitter and microphones, and it was a nearly two-year process.
Q: There was also much talk about the visit to Miraflores during the pandemic. What reflection did that interaction with the government leave you with? Is there any particular anecdote or episode that stood out? Do you think that space for dialogue has been useful for the country and for resolving the conflict?
A: Yes, look, the first meeting in Miraflores was on March 16, 2020, three days after the pandemic was declared. The first anecdote and reflection is that I didn’t eat anyone, and no one ate me.
So, there we were, face to face, and we said: Well, it seems we’re human beings, and even though political differences are stark, there are opportunities to reach agreements and build something in favor of the people. Maybe that’s the first thing I always remember, because when you talk to actors, to people, you realize this is a relatively small country, and there are always connections in one way or another, right? Because someone studied somewhere, because there was shared student leadership at some point, among other things.
My family’s business is a hotel in downtown Caracas, right in the middle of the executive and legislative power centers. When I was 15 or 20, I was in university and worked with my dad as a waiter or at reception. Often, I’d run into opposition leaders or figures who are now in government, officials who simply attended some event or political discussion in one of the halls.
That’s the biggest anecdote: knowing that when human relationships are built on respect, despite ideological differences, there’s a greater chance to move forward toward agreements of another dimension in favor of the country.
“Sanctions deepen the black market, banking intermediation and correspondent accounts are lost. Overcompliance makes operating any business much more expensive, no matter what it is.”
Q: Several economists, like Asdrúbal Oliveros and Jesús Palacios, have warned about the weight of Chevron and other oil companies in the foreign exchange market and how losing their dollars would worsen the economic crisis and Venezuelans’ quality of life. Yet opposition leaders like Julio Borges, María Corina Machado, and Leopoldo López have supported the revocation of oil licenses by the Trump administration. How have sanctions affected the private sector?
A: Look, sanctions have hurt us deeply, starting from the premise that the original sanction was restrictive public policies, especially during the first 20 years of this economic model.
When sanctions came, they darkened the outlook further. They deepened the black market, banking intermediation and correspondent accounts were lost. Overcompliance makes operating any business much more expensive, no matter what it is. I know the case, for example, of a tire seller who, to trade internationally from Venezuela, couldn’t find suppliers willing to sell to him because they didn’t know if those products would end up in the public sector, which could bring them legal consequences.
That complexity translates into the cost of living. Economically, all those obstacles have a cost that ends up making products more expensive.
Obviously, the deepening of sanctions, on top of the economic collapse we’d been experiencing since 2013, drives migration and makes you lose talent trained in Venezuela at all levels—from unskilled labor to the most prepared managers. And in between, all the people who make up the productive process.
So, it’s extremely complex. You end up understanding that a country without credit is a country without possibilities. And Venezuela was isolated from the credit system. Downstream, that affects businesses and credit mechanisms for production and investment. There’s an extremely complex drama tied to sanctions.
Q: Let’s talk about the constitutional reform proposed by the government. What do you plan to do about it? Are you thinking of influencing or stopping it? What opportunities do you see? Should a future constitutional reform emerge from a broad parliamentary agreement?
A: I like how you framed the question because it lets me answer accordingly. You asked in plural—“you all”—and then asked for my response, right? The truth is, I don’t know what others will do, but I know what I’ll do.
About the reform: from what little is known—because there’s only an announcement, no content—if the reform is to deepen controls, change the political system, modify the socio-productive model or territorial distribution, among other things, and what it does is confiscate, deteriorate, or eliminate opportunities—whatever term we use—the chance to live in a Venezuela as we know it, as we want it, then of course I’ll oppose it.
But if we went to Barbados, first to the Dominican Republic, then to Norway; later with the Norwegians to Mexico, and after Mexico to Barbados—I say “we,” though it was some politicians, right? Politicians acting as owners of a solution without owning it. And we went to those spaces seeking agreements, right? And the agreements didn’t happen.
But if agreements were to be reached in an institutional space like the Assembly—which represents the people’s will through voting, in a plural Assembly—and that constitutional reform is what eventually gives us the solutions we want, the guarantees that the political parties sought in the four previous processes, then if the reform serves to provide solutions to the political crisis, welcome it.
If the reform is to polarize the conflict further, then undoubtedly we must oppose it. But we must oppose it with reason, not just because it’s proposed by someone you oppose.
Q: I remember that during your tenure at Fedecámaras, you organized the discussion series “Paths of Negotiation: Lessons Learned,” where peace processes in Colombia, Tunisia, and Northern Ireland were analyzed. What can be taken from those processes for Venezuela’s current context? What can you first take from the Colombian peace process for Venezuela today?
A: First, with Colombia—which we studied not just in Paths of Negotiation but also in our mid-term assembly with former President Juan Manuel Santos, who was with us—the lesson is that it’s useless to promote or push for international consensus only to then invite, let’s call it, a civil war in one way or another, because that leads nowhere. That simply led Colombia to 50 years of internal conflict that, in my view, deepened many of the tragedies Colombians still face, like drug trafficking.
So, that’s what I take from Colombia. Plus, it’s a country very similar to ours: almost the same history, the same Liberator, the same language—maybe the only big difference is that they refuse to accept that we invented the arepa. But that’s the big takeaway from Colombia’s experience.
Q: I want to ask you about the Tunisian National Dialogue Quartet, a coalition of four key civil society organizations in post-Arab Spring Tunisia. At the time, the Quartet intervened to facilitate national dialogue amid the deadlock between the Islamist Ennahda-led government and the secular opposition, preventing a possible civil war. This was part of the discussion series promoted during your time at Fedecámaras. As someone from organized civil society, what lessons can you draw from the Tunisian Quartet’s model for Venezuela in 2025, amid parliamentary elections?
A: First, that leadership—let’s say, non-partisan but from organized civil society—if they can reach consensus, can help create stability amid conflict. They can also contribute to designing mechanisms for institutional strengthening. Some may call it a transition, others institutional strengthening, others reinstitutionalization.
But also, from that specific case, I learn that these aren’t exercises that can last forever. They must have set timeframes, serving to help redesign and rethink. A bit like the restructuring we did in the Red Cross: it’s not about returning to past mistakes but building a new system that rescues the best of traditional political systems, with society’s accompaniment. In that case, it was the Tunisian Quartet, and then it continued.
Notice that, specifically in that case, the situation deteriorated again because traditional politics didn’t understand what these civil society actors had done. They even felt displaced. There was a sense of displacement.
And here we return to the earlier question: political leadership must know how to integrate civil society, and civil society must also know how to integrate itself into politics.
Q: Let’s talk about Northern Ireland. The Northern Ireland conflict was one of the longest and bloodiest ethno-political conflicts in Western Europe in the 20th century. The Northern Ireland Assembly played a key role in demilitarizing the conflict, disarming paramilitaries, reconciliation, and articulating sectors of society, making it a tool for conflict management in a divided society. Even a consultative structure was created between the Assembly and civil society to address sensitive issues like education, historical memory, and judicial reform. Meanwhile, the British Parliament, in 1995 and 1996, presented the “twin-track” strategy—parallel negotiations and disarmament alongside commitments to end violence—articulated with the Irish government, which was key to laying the foundations for peace. In that sense, how could the Venezuelan Parliament regain legitimacy and be part of a negotiated democratic solution to the conflict, promoting dialogue while addressing the country’s multidimensional crisis?
A: As an experience, maybe when you hear Sunday Bloody Sunday, a song born precisely from that conflict, you understand that an agreement of such magnitude, from such a complex conflict, must involve everyone. And in this case, even that song was a way to soften the conflict at the time, right?
Now, understanding that congresses, assemblies, legislatures are plural representations of political thought—they design laws, ratify international agreements—in a plural Assembly in 2025 or 2030, you have five years to design a roadmap to de-escalate Venezuela’s conflict. And in that process, politically, you can establish paths, somewhat like what happened in South Africa at one point.
So, with a political agreement for a given situation—for example, access to international financing or Venezuela’s blocked accounts abroad, among other things—you build the viability of using that money for the people. Then you can tackle, amid a multidimensional crisis, issues like health and education.
Later, within that same political agreement, in an institution elected by citizens, you can design mechanisms for financing to solve public service crises. And so on, like in a video game, level by level.
In parallel, you draft legislation that builds trust and guarantees so actors stay within the bounds of reason and don’t try to impose their vision through another branch of power or return to the irrationality of sanctions or inviting invasions.
I believe the Assembly can be that epicenter of a virtuous circle with a defined and designed roadmap. And it shouldn’t be just the Assembly designing it—it should be the receiver of interest groups, or understanding circles, that can nourish such an agreement. A pact of this kind, a political pact. And if after that comes a constitutional redesign, well, welcome it.
“Here, when they said, ‘Venezuela is fixed,’ it was a lie. But you couldn’t deny there was growth. And when they said everyone in Venezuela was starving, that there was mass death and 95% lived on minimum wage, that was also a lie.”
Q: Celso Amorim, advisor to President Lula on International Affairs, once told El País that “In Venezuela, we need a solution accepted by both sides, even if it’s ideal for neither.” He also recently told BBC Brazil regarding Venezuela: “We will help with dialogue whenever possible.” Do you agree with that approach? What message do you have for international actors interested in supporting a negotiated resolution to Venezuela’s conflict? How could that intention and efforts align with the new National Assembly you hope to join?
A: Yes, look, first, I completely agree. The solution, when you have a negotiation, means everyone gives up something. All of us will have to concede something. Some Venezuelans will have to accept wounds that are still fresh or stop reopening scars. Other actors will have to concede on transitional justice spaces. Others must understand that, in the end, the agreement will imply—and does imply—coexistence in the same territory.
It’s unviable to think some will disappear in favor of others. I fully agree with what Lula’s advisor said.
In fact, it’s somewhat what we tried to do in the Civic Forum and, in another dimension, in the Red Cross. The message we tried to send to world governments and foreign ministries was that in Venezuela’s conflict, neither side’s narrative was entirely true—because there’s a majority in society that wants an agreement.
Here, when they said, “Venezuela is fixed,” it was a lie. But you couldn’t deny there was growth. And when they said everyone in Venezuela was starving, that there was mass death and 95% lived on minimum wage, that was also a lie. Because there was something unmeasured in Venezuela: the Informal GDP. An informal economy that kept people afloat. Otherwise, at one point, we’d have been collecting corpses with shovels, right?
So, what to tell the international community?
First: isolating Venezuela is a huge mistake. The best example is what happened with Chevron’s license. When Chevron returned to operate, everything was transparent, complying with international stock market regulations. The money’s location and destination were known.
When you isolate, you foster gray—if not dark—spaces, and you take opportunities away from the country.
Isolation removed Venezuela from Western thought and its commercial, political, and cultural relations—which, by the way, is what people want and feel comfortable with.
I’m not saying we shouldn’t have relations with China or Russia. Of course, all are welcome, but on equal, transparent terms. Naturally, people will always look to the U.S. East Coast, the U.S. banking system, because it’s part of our historical essence, but above all, because it’s our tool to seize opportunities.
Forcing international governments to isolate us is a huge mistake. Among other things, because when you’re isolated, you behave as you please. But when you’re invited to spaces where you must behave, you follow the table’s rules. You can’t eat with your hands, no matter how traditional that is at home, right? When invited to a plural table, you follow its rules.
And I believe that has hurt Venezuela deeply: isolation. Also following messianic leaders who proposed resolving the conflict through pressure and deepening Venezuelans’ crisis.
When foreign governments listened to that and helped deepen the crisis by isolating the country, they generated social conflicts in their own nations with the migration wave. Then they had to assume social, educational, and health costs. Later came xenophobia. Social crises fueled, yes, by Venezuela’s reality, but which those same governments helped worsen by isolating us.
So, the big message is this: reengagement, even if you dislike those holding power symbols, is the best way to build a viable, healthy, and dynamic democracy for Venezuelans.
Q: Frederik de Klerk, former South African president and Nobel Peace laureate, a key figure in the transition alongside Nelson Mandela, said in a 2019 El País interview regarding Venezuela’s conflict: “Venezuela’s leaders need to negotiate without too many preconditions,” recommending dialogue without excessive conditions to avoid tragedy becoming catastrophe. Do you think preconditions have been, among other factors, an obstacle to reaching sustainable agreements respected by all?
A: I completely agree with that view. When you over-condition, you’re practically saying you don’t want dialogue. Often, that’s the trust-building step to open yourself to discussion. It’s not about doing it blindly, but with the will for it to work. Preconditioning hasn’t helped the country in any case.
Personally, my experience tells me that with Fedecámaras, when we preconditioned, it wasn’t useful. When we took the risk of moving forward, things were achieved. Even if not all problems are solved, at least now there’s dialogue to seek solutions.
Similarly, in the Civic Forum, when we went to Miraflores in 2022. That’s why I fully agree with that statement. I think continuing to precondition elections is a mistake, especially when there’s a majority popular sentiment. I’m not saying that sentiment is against a model or political option, but it’s simply the majority’s will.
When you talk to people, when you campaign offering your political proposal—whether they’re Chavistas, opposition, Maduro supporters, or Maricorinistas—in the end, what people say is: “Let things go well for me,” “Let there be light,” “Let there be water,” “Let there be credit,” “Let Venezuela rejoin the concert of nations,” “Let flights go everywhere,” “Let money stretch,” “Let businesses access loans.” In short, what was normal and what we lost.
