Coined: The Rich Life of Money and How Its History Has Shaped Us

by Kabir Sehgal

  “Soon everyone will be just zeros and ones on a computer chip. We do this to preserve our identities.”

  He paused and turned his attention on me.

  “The problem with your generation is that you have no heroes—because you haven’t struggled. Do you even know who General MacArthur is?” he asked.

  Willie believes that it is through understanding the symbols, portraits, and legends on money that young people can remember a nation’s heroes and its history. By looking at George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, for example, we are reminded of their deeds and the courage they demonstrated in making difficult decisions. We remember what it means to survive and sacrifice—and these are virtues to which citizens should aspire. He believes money not only reflects these historic figures but can connote a larger narrative of an entire era.

  “Young man, every coin tells a story,” he declared.

  “So tell me one,” I said.

  He obliged.

  Once upon a time, more specifically in 1732, Spain adopted precise guidelines for the design of a new coin that became known as “Dos Mundos” (“Two Worlds”). These coins were meant to replace previously issued odd-shaped silver or gold pieces, called “cobs,” that bore images of the Spanish shield and the Christian cross, with marks indicating ruler, dates, and mints. Cobs were irregular chunks of metal, cut to certain predetermined weights, but were easily clipped, shaved, debased, and counterfeited due to their irregular shapes.

  Dos Mundos were designed for frequent and international usage: consistent weight and purity with a floral edge, a design with flowers on the rims, to protect against debasers shaving the edges. The thoughtful design enabled the coins to withstand counterfeiting, debasement, and the wear and tear of heavy usage, as it became a dominant world currency. Over time, Dos Mundos became one of the most famous coins in history.

  The symbols on the coin show Spain for what it was—a proud and supreme power with an empire that spanned the world and on which the sun never set. The front of the coin features the Spanish ruler’s coat of arms and an “8” that signals its denomination. The silver coin became commonly known for its value, referred to as ocho reales, or “pieces of eight.” It also bears the saying D.G. HISPAN ET IND REX, which is translated to mean “By the grace of God, King of Spain and the Indies.” The back of the coin features the date on which the coin was minted, with the words UTRAQUE UNUM—“both worlds are one”—a claim made by Spanish kings that they effectively ruled the old and the new worlds. It also has a mint mark indicating in which colony the coin was struck. In the center are two hemispheres of the world, which overlap underneath a Spanish crown. The hemispheres, floating on an ocean, are flanked by what’s supposedly two pillars of Hercules, representing the promontories that frame the Strait of Gibraltar. These crowned pillars have a ribbon around them that reads PLUS ULTRA, or “There is more beyond.” In the Philippines, as in other Spanish colonies, these coins were also known as columnarias after the two pillars, and as a result, they have also been referred to as “pillar dollars.” In sum, it is a beautiful coin with perfect symmetry.

  Dos Mundos coins achieved what the drachma and the denarius did a thousand years earlier—they flowed beyond the borders of the seat of power. One reason that they flowed so freely was that they were intended for use across the vast lands that composed the Spanish Empire. There was also a huge quantity of these coins made. From 1732 to 1772, the Mexico Mint produced 478,305,907 of them.29 They were also minted in smaller numbers in other Spanish colonies, including Chile, Colombia, Guatemala, and Peru. These coins even circulated throughout the British colonies in North America. The coins spread across the Pacific Ocean via galleons, the sailing ships measuring up to 160 feet in length. The galleon trade route between Manila and Acapulco, initiated by Spain in the late sixteenth century, took approximately four months by ship, one way, to link East and West. For hundreds of years, Manila, then known as the “Pearl of the Orient,” gathered and exported spices, ivories, porcelain, and silks on these ships. In return, Acapulco sent European and American goods, as well as silver in the form of Dos Mundos coins.

  The galleon trade fueled economic growth in the Philippines. As planned, religious institutions and the Spanish aristocracy gained control of the galleon trade and benefited the most financially from it. Because Dos Mundos were used to buy silk from Chinese merchants for export, they became known as “silk money.” These coins circulated in places like Canton and Macau because of their intrinsic worth and high silver content. In 1772, for fiscal reasons, King Carlos III issued coins with lower silver content and placed his portrait on the Dos Mundos, a precedent that future rulers followed. The several types and grades of coins in circulation caused a degree of monetary confusion such that Chinese merchants occasionally placed a chop mark of a Chinese character on a Dos Mundos coin to denote its authenticity and acceptability.

  Because the galleons were carrying so many valuables, the Spanish sent security vessels to accompany them on their long voyages. However, sometimes the galleons would arrive late, be captured by pirates, or capsize because of treacherous weather. In 1690, a galleon named Nuestra Señora del Pilar, en route to Manila, sank near what is now Guam after striking a reef. It’s thought that the ship was transporting up to two million silver Dos Mundos coins, said to be worth an estimated $1 billion.30 When a ship didn’t reach Manila, it caused suffering in the Philippines, since the entire economy rose and fell on the fate of galleons. The lucrative trade route was eventually halted in the early nineteenth century, during the Mexican War of Independence, as the decline of the Spanish Empire accelerated. Another Filipino coin tells this tale.

  To learn about this later story, I met with another numismatist, Percival “Boyet” Manuel. He became interested in collecting money when he was eight years old. His father was a marine officer who brought money from his travels back home. Now a youthful-looking forty-year-old intellectual, Boyet remains passionate about numismatics. He has become a leading expert on Filipino money and runs a comprehensive website on the topic.

  Dressed in blue jeans and a checkered shirt, he joined me in Manila for a lunch of chicken adobo, french fries with mayonnaise, and carrot juice.

  “Preservation is crucial. We have a fragmented past. Money has helped us forge a national identity,” he said.

  The Philippines is indeed geographically diverse, composed of more than seven thousand islands. The islands were a Spanish colony for more than three hundred years and then were governed by the United States until 1946, when they became an autonomous nation. The influence of other cultures is everywhere. Filipino food is a mash-up of different cuisines—ground beef picadillo from Spain, fried chicken from America, egg rolls from China. You can ride between the many Manila shopping malls in a festively decorated “Jeepney,” vehicles originally adapted from US military jeeps after World War II.

  Even its money has been multicultural. I asked Boyet what money best represents his country. He answered without hesitation: counterstamped coins—they illustrate the decline of the Spanish Empire and the fusion of two cultures. He even took me on a guided tour of the Money Museum at the Philippines Central Bank to see some of these coins.

  During the nineteenth century, many Latin American colonies sought independence from Spain. With the cessation of the galleon trade, Spain still needed money for other parts of its empire, so it did the unthinkable. Spain used the “rebel” coins issued by its Latin American colonies that were in the midst of revolutions. These coins were inscribed with revolutionary mottos “Libre” and “Independencia,” but they also entered and circulated in the Philippines. It was embarrassing that the once-proud Spanish crown that had issued beautiful Dos Mundos was forced to use money from colonies in revolt. This would be like the United Kingdom using US dollars for circulation in another British colony like India—after the United States had declared independence. To picture what these counterstamped coins look like, imagine a US quarter. Now envision the top of
George Washington’s profile, which is on the front of the coin, and it has been struck over with a small oval that bears another image, say, a British crown.

  Spanish officials were also concerned that these coins would stir revolutionary spirits in the Philippines. In 1828, Don Mariano Ricafort, a Spanish official who had jurisdiction over the Philippines, decreed that coins made by “provincias insurectas y gobiernos revolucionarios” would be altered.31 These coins would be stamped over, or “counterstamped,” with slogans like “Habilitado Por El Rey N.S.D. Fern VII,” giving credit to the monarch and sometimes obliterating the revolutionary mottos. They were also stamped with the name Manila to limit the use of these coins to the Philippines, but after five years the die used to make the counterstamp had worn out. Because counterstamps were the indication of legitimacy, sometimes even Dos Mundos were revalidated by counterstamp. In 1834, Spain established a mint in Manila to create local coins. But there weren’t enough trained workers to staff it, nor was there enough precious metal available. Therefore Queen Isabel II’s officials continued the practice of counterstamping coins, which had begun under her predecessor, King Ferdinand VII.

  Counterstamps were made by screw-pressing machines in the shape of ovals that bore the seal of Spanish rulers. For example, an eight-Mexican-reals coin made in 1830 was stamped with a large “F.7.” seal of King Ferdinand VII. An eight-escudos from Colombia made in 1826 was stamped with “Y.II.,” a small seal of Ysabella (Isabella) II, the queen of Spain. In some cases, coins were counterstamped twice with the seals of both rulers so that they would be valid during the reign of each.

  Spain stopped counterstamping coins in 1836 because the process wasn’t regulated properly and counterfeiters had duplicated the die that was used to counterstamp. Many counterfeit coins were introduced into circulation. The government ceased counterstamping to regain control over the coins in circulation. In addition, as Spain recognized the independence of its Latin American colonies, it lost access to vast amounts of silver. Lacking these resources, Spain permitted other foreign coins to circulate in the Philippines, including American and Latin American coins. By 1852, the peso was introduced in the form of banknotes and fractional coinage.

  That Spain had to reuse and counterstamp money from its former colonies highlights what was a deteriorating economic situation made worse by many local factors. First, the Philippines lacked the natural resources to create enough coins locally. Second, there was a plague of smallpox, and an earthquake struck the Philippines during the years when counterstamping colonial and foreign coins was implemented, and so the Spanish needed money to pay for hospitals and medicine. Third, the prolific galleon trade had slowed. Spain recognized that a currency famine could have led to more political instability.

  “Counterstamped coins are examples of two clashing civilizations,” Boyet explains. These coins are tangible manifestations of the relationship between Spain and the Philippines—a country and its colony. They show a foreign culture pressed upon an indigenous one.

  The mash-up of symbols fascinates Boyet, who collects these scarce coins. He is on the lookout for a rare counterstamped coin from Colombia made from gold.

  “It’s more likely that I will be struck by lightning,” he quipped.

  A Galaxy of Money

  It took an astrophysicist for me to see how universal the symbols on our money can be.

  Kavan Ratnatunga left Sri Lanka in 1978 and studied at Australia National University for his PhD in astrophysics. He worked at Princeton’s Institute for Advanced Study (where Albert Einstein worked the last twenty-one years of his life) and the NASA Goddard Space Flight Center. At Johns Hopkins University, he used automated image analysis to study the first quad gravitational lens found with the NASA Hubble Space Telescope (a lensed image is created when the gravitational field of a large entity distorts the image of a more remote entity).32 In 2005, Kavan retired and returned to his native country.

  And that’s where we met, in Colombo, the capital of Sri Lanka, on a sweltering, sticky day. As the president of the Sri Lankan Numismatic Society, Kavan was eager to share his research on indigenous money.

  “I used to map the universe, now I map the galaxy of Lankan33 money,” he said.

  In 1998, he launched his website, which has high-resolution images of more than six hundred Lankan coins, by far the most comprehensive on the Internet. Kavan has become a guru to Lankan monetary officials, who consult with him when they curate their numismatic exhibitions. He also has a degree in museology and is working toward his second PhD, this one in archaeology. This astrophysicist-turned-archaeologist didn’t just come back to earth; he goes beneath it, so to speak, analyzing the metallic makeup of once-buried coins.

  Kavan uses a rigorous scientific approach to study the physical properties of coins. He once procured a hoard of one hundred copper coins made during the tenth-century AD reign of Rajaraja Chola I of Lanka. He measured the weight, thickness, and diameter of each coin and graphed the results. He found a correlation between the weight and the thickness. But there was no correlation between the weight and the diameter. This allowed him to infer that the coins were likely struck from cooling drops of molten metal rather than a cold planchet, a metal disk with which coins are made.34 Determining how a coin was made can reveal clues about the society in which it was created—for example, whether coin makers were using primitive technology or advanced techniques learned from trading partners. This astrophysicist is able to turn a hoard of coins into a forensic treasure chest of historical knowledge.

  “Archaeology isn’t so different from astronomy. In both cases, you are observing the past and can’t experiment,” he declared. “There are also many astronomical symbols on ancient Lankan money.”

  The oldest so-called Puranas coins found in Lanka date back to the third century BC and are made from silver. On the front is the sun, which was the mark of the Magadha Kingdom, which ruled what’s now eastern India. The sun may represent King Bimbisara, a patron of Buddha, or Ashoka, who dispatched his son to Lanka to spread Buddhism.35 There is another coin that blends Kavan’s interests of money and space—a copper one that was issued during the reign of King Mahasena in the third century AD. On the back are four dots inside a circle. Kavan hints that this symbol looks like a quad gravitational lens but it is definitely something else, though it’s too worn-out to determine.36 A more modern coin, one of irregular shape, was made from copper during the ninth century AD and exhibits the influence of the First Pandyan Empire, which lasted from the sixth to tenth centuries AD and stretched from southern India to northern Lanka. On the front is a crescent moon with a bull seated beneath it.37 In the sixteenth century, an even more modern coin, the Venetian gold ducat, which was probably used by the Portuguese who had settled Ceylon (as Sri Lanka was formerly called), was adorned with astronomical symbols, thirteen stars that surround Jesus Christ.

  Kavan kept returning to the astronomical symbols that we put on our money, such as the sun, the moon, and stars. These celestial objects are universal, found on money no matter what era, as evidenced by thousands of years of Lankan money, and no matter what geographical area, as in the thirteen stars on the 1838 Liberty Seated Half Dime in the United States, and the sun on the 1813 one-real coin of the Provincias del Rio de la Plata in Argentina. The reasons for using these symbols vary, from honoring a sun god to equating a king with the divine or symbolizing various colonies.

  Art historian Rudolf Wittkower explains that the recurrence of symbols isn’t a coincidence but an example of cultural diffusion. For example, he considers the symbol of an eagle fighting a snake, which recurs in many cultures over thousands of years. He traces the symbol to an ancient Babylonian legend known as the Etana Epic, in which the gods choose a man named Etana to be king. However, his wife cannot produce an heir, so Etana must obtain a special birth plant found in heaven. Etana discovers a languishing eagle, which he rescues, and it takes him to heaven.38 The conflict between the eagle and the serpent is a s
ubplot of Etana’s story, as the eagle lives atop a tree and the serpent at the bottom. Though they’ve promised Shamash the Sun God that they will live together harmoniously, the eagle eats the serpent’s young. The serpent hides inside a dead bull’s stomach, and when the eagle feeds upon the bull, the serpent captures the bird and banishes him to die. Etana rescues the eagle, and the eagle helps to restore man’s line of succession.39

  Wittkower finds that this symbol first appears in the ancient Near East and, over time, migrated to more distant areas. He reasons that the symbol wasn’t invented anew but was spread from one culture to the next. For instance, the symbol appears on an Indian pendant from 3000 BC but not on jewelry from the regions of Punjab or Sindh, which suggests that it isn’t an indigenous symbol. The eagle and snake images found in India resemble those found in Mesopotamia, and archaeologists have also discovered other links between ancient Mesopotamia and the Indus River civilization.

  Similar eagle and snake symbols have appeared across different geographies over thousands of years: a Babylonian seal from 3000 BC, ancient Greek coins, ancient Roman coins, an Indian seal from the fifth century AD, the emblem of Pope Clement IV during the thirteenth century, the current-day seal of Mexico (which appears on the peso), and the state seal of New Mexico.40 The ribbon in the beak of the eagle on the Great Seal on US money resembles a snake. Indeed, the eagle-and-snake myth took on new meanings and interpretations in different cultures. The eagle found on the Great Seal represents power and freedom. In India and Sri Lanka, the symbols came to represent a bird known as Garuda, who carries in its beak a snake known as Naga.

  Kavan helped me recognize that some monetary symbols aren’t just astronomical but universal. When you spend a dollar, you aren’t just handing over something with an American emblem; you are exchanging something bearing a symbol that has been used by humans in various cultures over thousands of years. Despite the many ways in which countries try to make their money unique, some symbols continue to shine on.