Why my favorite coinage is Byzantine coinage

What do I like about Byzantine coinage?

Most people probably admire the Byzantine solidus, a gold coin that maintained its weight and purity for over 600 years, which is quite remarkable for a coin. The solidus was exported all over the world, including to Europe, which lacked gold coinage at the time, making it the U.S. dollar of its day.

That's neat, but it's not the solidus that impresses me. It's Byzantium's small change that I like.

The availability of small change is vital to day-to-day commercial life. Alas, the minting of low-value coins has often been neglected by the state. Small change isn't sexy. And it has often been unprofitable to produce. But that didn't stop the Byzantines. After a monetary reform carried out by Emperor Anastatius in 498 AD, Byzantium began to issue a number of well-marked and differently-sized bronze coins of low value. Anastatius, who had been an administrator in the department of finance prior to becoming an Emperor, appears to have had a fine eye for monetary details.

Let's start with the follis, worth 40 nummi. (The nummus was the Byzantine unit of account.)

The follis in the above video was minted in 540 AD by Justinian I, some forty years after Anastatius's monetary reform. At 23 grams, it contains an almost comically-large amount of material. For comparison's sake, that's the same heft as four modern quarters. Allocating so much base metal to a single coin illustrates the Byzantine's dogged commitment to producing a usable set of low denomination coins for the population.

The decision to go with the hulking follis was better than the small change strategy that the English would pursue hundreds of years later. English monarchs either neglected small change altogether, forcing the public to hack up silver pennies into smaller chunks by hand. Or, if they did produce low value coins, did so in the form of silver halfpennies and farthings, the smallest English denominations. Which was not a good idea. Silver has a much higher value-to-weight ratio than bronze, so the half-penny and farthing ended up being absurdly tiny, as illustrated in the video below from the Suffolk Detectorist.  

"Weighing only three troy grains each, these were 'lost almost as fast as they were coined,'" writes monetary economist George Selgin of the farthing. And because the two coins were so small, almost no information could be conveyed on their face. No, as far as small change goes, the Byzantine's bronze coins were the way to go.

Anastatius had another theoretical option available to him, one which wouldn't have tied up so much raw material. He could have made a token coin. With a token coin (say like James II's tin halfpennies, which came almost a thousand years later, and which I wrote about here), the value of the coin doesn't rely on the metal in it, but on the ability of the issuer to repurchase it at the stipulated weight. By issuing the follis as a token, the Byzantines could have been able to make it smaller, say half the size, yet still rate it at 40 nummi, thus saving large amounts of bronze for alternative uses.

But the Byzantines appear to have been committed metallists, abiding by the principle that the value of money comes from the value of the metal in it. And so they bequeathed the world the monster-sized follis.

In additions to the follis, Anastatius introduced lower denomination bronze coins, including the half-follis (20 nummi), quarter-follis (10 nummi), and pentanummium (five nummi). They are illustrated below. Later emperors would add a three-quarter follis, or 30 nummi coin, to the mix. At times, a tiny 1 nummus coin was issued too.

Follis (40 nummi), half-follis (20 nummi), quarter-follis (10 nummi), and pentanummium (five nummi). Source: Cointalk

The decision to produce a full array of base coins illustrates Anastatius's sensibility to the transactional needs of the common person, for whom the gold solidus would have been far too valuable to be relevant to their economic lives, almost like a $1,000 bill. Oddly, Anastatius chose not to mint any silver coins. But as the English farthing example illustrates, silver was too valuable to be useful for the lower end of day-to-day commercial life, better destined to act like a modern $50 bill than a humble $1 or $5 bill.

Another neat feature of Byzantine coinage is how Anastatius and his successors used each coin's surface area to convey useful information rather than to aggrandize god & state. The obverse of each coin bore the obligatory image of the Emperor, but the reverse side provides loads of monetary data: the denomination, the date of the Emperor's reign in which the coin was minted, the name of the mint, the number of the workshop of the mint. Compare this to Roman coinage, for instance, which often bore expressive portraits on either side of the coin, but next to no data.

If you're interested in getting a longer description of how to read Byzantine coins, check out Augustus Coins.  

I'm new to Byzantine coinage, but I'm impressed by how much information they managed to pack into such a small area. Here's a great introduction on how to read Byzantine coins: https://t.co/46sVeROIKx

The example below shows how to read a follis issued during Justin II's reign: pic.twitter.com/OSsH930c2g

— John Paul Koning (@jp_koning) March 14, 2022

A particularly unique feature of Anastatius's monetary reform was his decision to inscribe the unit of account directly onto his coins. As you can see, the follis has a big "M" on its reverse side, which is Greek for 40. The half follis has a "K", which means 20, and the quarter follis an "I", which is 10. Finally, the pentanummium displays an "Є", equal to 5. All of these numbers indicate the value of the coin in terms of the Byzantine unit of account, the nummus.

Nowadays, we take this format for granted. The coins in your pocket all include the coin's value on their face, just like Anastatius's coins did. But what you need to realize is that the coinage of most civilizations, both before and after the Byzantines, rarely displayed how many pounds or shekels or dinars that coin was worth. Take a look at Rome's Imperial era coinage. There's plenty of religious symbolism to be found on the sestertius, as, and dupondius. The monarch's face appears, as do dates and names. But there's not a single digit to indicate how many units of account the coin is worth. The same goes for most medieval European coinage. (A lone exception is Roman coinage from the Republican period beginning around 211 BC).

Anastatius's decision to stamp the denomination directly on the coin represents a big improvement in usability. No need for transactors to seek an external source to determine how many nummi a follis was worth. It was right there for everyone to see.

Some of you may be wondering: why did so many civilizations avoid numbering their coins? 

Ernst Weber, an economist, has put forward one possibility. A lack of "value marks" may suggest that coins were intended to circulate at "market determined exchange rates" according to their metal content. Coins might have had varying amounts of metal due to inadequate manufacturing technology, people preferring to weigh them prior to payment so as to assess their market value. In this context of non-fungibility, striking a universal unit of account on each coin would be a nuissance, or at least a waste of time.

According to Weber's theory, Anastatius may have had so much confidence in the ability of his mints to produce durable and homogeneous bronze coins that he dared to affix the nummi unit-of-account onto them.

Another reason for not numbering coins may be that a blank slate gave authorities a degree of flexibility to set monetary policy. If a coin isn't indelibly etched with a value, a monarch can alter a coin's purchasing power, or rating, by mere proclamation. This was known as a crying up or a crying down of a coin's value. For instance, an English king might wake up one day and declare a certain type of already-circulating coin that had been worth £0.10 the day before to be worth £0.09 today, thus decreasing its purchasing power. This sort of abrupt change in value would be awkward to implement if said coin already had £0.10 struck on its face.

A ruler might have good monetary policy reasons for wanting this flexibility. But this same malleability could be abused, too, in order to profit some at the expense of others. Anastatius decided to forfeit this flexibility by freezing his coin's value in time. The Byzantine public no longer had to deal with the uncertainty of coins being suddenly revalued.

Unfortunately, the full array of Byzantium small change introduced by Anastatius would only survive for two or three centuries. As time passed, weights would be reduced and workmanship would become "increasingly slovenly," according to numismatist Philip Grierson. The quarter follis and pentanummia would be discontinued by Constantine V (741–775). The half-follis ceased under Leo IV (775–780).

As for the follis, it would stick around for a few more centuries, but around 850 AD, Theophilus would drop the emblematic M in favor of the unhelpful inscription "Emperor Theofilos, may you conquer," writes Grierson. Thus ended the great period of Byzantine low-value coinage. But during the brief period of time after Anastatius, Byzantine produced one of the best examples we have of good small change, presaging the coins we carry in our pockets today.

An example of tax-driven money during the greenback era

Cartoon from 1864 poking fun at politicians and greenbacks (source and explanation)

During the greenback era, the Union government issued irredeemable paper money to help pay for its war against the Confederates. What many people don't realize is that there were actually two different strains of greenbacks—those printed before March 1862 and those printed after. Although these two strains had only slightly different properties, they were not fungible with each other and would go on to have drastically different values in the marketplace. Looking at the respective properties of each type gives some insights a thorny problem: why do colored bits of paper money have value?

One classic explanation for the value of fiat money is so-called 'tax-backing.' If the government stipulates that taxes must be paid using government-issued chits of paper, then that will be sufficient to give those chits a positive value. Back in 1910 economist Philip Wicksteed was one of the first economists to champion this explanation:

The Government, then, levying taxes upon the community, may say: "I shall take from you, in proportion to your resources, as a tribute to public expenses, the value of so much gold. You may pay it to me in actual metallic gold or you may pay it to me in anything which I choose to accept in lieu of the gold. If you do not give it me I shall take it from you, in gold or any other such articles as I can find, and which would serve my purpose, to the value of the gold. But if you can give me a piece of paper, of my own issue, to the face value of the gold that I am entitled to claim of you, I will accept that in payment." Now, as these demands of the Government are recurrent, there will always be a set of persons to whom the Government paper stamped with a unit weight of gold is actually equivalent to that weight of gold itself, because it will secure immunity from requisitions to the exact extent to which the gold would secure it. - The Common Sense of Political Economy, Book II Ch 7

The idea that a tax obligation can be the basis of money, or what Randall Wray has termed twintopt, is at the core of modern monetary theory, or MMT.

Let's see how the tax backing theory holds up during the greenback period. To set the context, South Carolina had seceded from the Union in December 1860, soon followed by ten other states. Hostilities between the Union and newly-formed Confederate states began in April 1861. To help fund the Union side of the war effort, an initial $50 million issue of greenbacks was authorized in July. This was to be the first government paper money emitted since the Second Bank of the United States had been wound up.

The act ruled that these notes were to be redeemable on demand in gold, a promise that was also inscribed on the face of each note (see below). They thus earned the nickname demand notes. This promise meant that, at the outset at least, their price could not deviate from par since any movement above or below their gold value would be arbitraged away. When redemption was rescinded a few months later on December 30, 1861, demand notes began to trade at a 1-2% discount to their face value in gold.

Greenbacks were introduced in 1861. Note the progression from the first issue—ie 'demand notes'—to the second in 1862—'legal tender notes'. pic.twitter.com/ELnSg3QRtB

— JP Koning (@jp_koning) October 10, 2017

The second vintage of greenbacks, known as legal tender notes, was authorized two months later by the Legal Tender Act of February 25, 1862. This act provided for an issue of $150 million, much larger than the first vintage. One novelty is that the second batch of notes was declared legal tender, which meant that a creditor could not refuse to receive them at par in discharge of a debt. The legal tender property was extended to demand notes in March 1862. The second vintage of notes was also irredeemable, putting them on the same basis as the demand notes, which became irredeemable at the end of 1861.

What distinguished legal tender notes from demand notes? As the tweet above shows, the two vintages had visible differences—unlike demand notes, legal tender note did not have the promise to redeem on demand printed on their face. Demand notes also had an extra promise inscribed on them: "receivable in payment of all public dues". What this meant in practice is that the government accepted demand notes in payment for all taxes, including customs dues, whereas legal tender notes were only receivable in a narrow range of internal revenue taxes—and not for customs dues—which at the time made up the majority of Union tax revenues.

Receivability for customs dues was an important point of departure between demand notes and legal tender notes. Duties were priced in gold and could also be discharged with gold coins. So if an importer was on the hook for $x in custom duties, they could certainly scrounge up $x in gold coin to get rid of the obligation, but $x in demand notes would be sufficient to "secure immunity" from the tax. Not so with legal tender notes.

A given importer might only need a small portion of the demand notes in his possession to pay customs duties. Anything above that amount would be worth less than their face value to him, since gold—not demand notes—was necessary to buy goods internationally. However, if that importer could find other importers who were themselves under obligation to pay customs duties, and who would therefore value his remaining stash of demand notes for their tax receivability, then he might sell them his remaining demand notes at a price quite close to the value of gold coins.

So all that was needed to have irredeemable demand notes trade near the value of gold was a permanent market of tax payers who demanded those notes, and a flow of new notes that did not exceed the rate of drainage provided by the tax outlet. After all, if the supply of notes overwhelmed the amount of tax that needed to be paid, then notes would accumulate in importers pockets with no one willing to bid for them. Once everyone's taxes had all been paid up, demand notes would trade at a discount to gold coins. 

Tax receivability was successful in keeping the value of demand notes close to their gold value. The chart below shows the price of both demand notes and legal tender notes relative to gold through 1862-63.  Demand notes never fell to more than a 10¢ discount relative to gold coin. Calomiris blames this discount on the risk that receivability for customs duties would be revoked by the government before notes had been paid in.

Legal tender notes, however, fell to an ever larger discount relative to both gold coin and demand notes, reaching a 40¢ discount by March 1863. While legal tender notes were receivable for domestic taxes, these taxes did not account for a very large share of government revenues. Nor were these taxes priced in gold. Which meant that, unlike demand notes, legal tender notes were not benchmarked to some real good or price index.

So what, if anything, determined the price of legal tender notes? Here I'll introduce another theory for the value of money; the metallist viewpoint. Rather than tax receivability driving a currency's value, a metallist looks to the currency's intrinsic value. When banknotes are fully redeemable, their intrinsic value is determined by the underlying gold on which the note is a claim, the value of which is set in the market for precious metals in technology and the arts.

In the case of legal tender notes, which were no longer redeemable, the realization of intrinsic value had only been delayed to some future point in time when gold convertibility would be re-adopted. This eventual re-mooring date was in turn a function of the Union government's ability to win the war, among other factors. According to this theory, the steady decline in the gold value of legal tender notes in the chart above can be blamed on the realization by the public that the war would last much longer than most originally thought, pushing the re-mooring date ever further into the future.

While the 1861 issue of demand notes had all been bought back and cancelled by the government by mid-1863, greenbacks remained outstanding even after the war had been won. Their discount to gold continued to widen till July 1864 at which point their price steadily rose. See the chart below. The steady return to par probably can't be explained by the tax-backing theory. Improved odds that the government's fiscal situation would allow it to resume gold convertibility—an event that finally occurred in 1879—is a better explanation. There have been a few interesting accounts written about the value of greenbacks over the full 1862-1879 period, including Wesley Clair Mitchell's A History of the Greenbacks in 1903, but also more recent contributions here (Calomiris), here (Smith & Smith) and here (Willard et al).

In sum, the U.S. government was issuing three non-fungible currencies by 1862. Coins and legal tender notes operated under the principles of a metallic money whereas the third, demand notes, seems to have been a purely tax-driven money as described by Wicksteed. So what about a modern dollar note? Is a Federal Reserve note like an 1861 demand note and mostly tax-driven, or like legal-tender notes and operating on a metallic basis?

I'm not entirely sure, but my guess is that it is a messy combination of both. When it comes to money, I'm not a believer in any one theory. Although the odds of a future return to the old 1972 gold redemption rule of 0.024 ounces per dollar is non-existent, the metallic explanation for the dollar's value continues to be relevant. Instead of redeeming currency with fixed amounts of metal as in days of yore, modern central banks repurchase notes with financial assets held in their vault in a manner that is consistent with hitting an inflation target. This is very much like 1800s-style metallism, except with an ever-shrinking CPI basket in the place of a fixed amount of gold.   


Sources:

Wesley Clair Mitchell, A History of the Greenbacks

PS: I recently started a discussion board here. Feel free to bring up topics not covered on my more recent blog posts, suggest posts, or discuss ideas that appear on my Twitter feed. I don't like Twitter for long-form discussion; I'd much rather divert them to the board.

PPS: Nathan Tankus responds here.

How much are Warren Mosler's business cards worth?

While it somewhat lacked in structure, a good time was had by everyone in the live chat section of the big Warren Mosler vs Bob Murphy debate last night. You can see a replay of the debate here.

One of Mosler's running themes (and which Murphy turned into a running gag) was the idea that he (Mosler) could give his business card a positive price by requiring members of the audience to hand over said card to Mosler's bouncer should they wish to leave the room unmolested. Voilà, modern fiat money. In order to get his fiat cards out into the audience, presumably Mosler would have had to spend them into existence by purchasing stuff from the the audience. Only then would audience members be able to afford to leave the room without being subjected to the bouncer's whims.

In the MMT literature, this is called twintopt.* A state imposes an obligation on its citizenry to pay a tax, and then dictates what good or item (the "twintopt") will be sufficient to discharge that debt. Whatever is made into twintopt, be it US dollars, coupons, or business cards, they will now be valued and circulate. This is the tax-drives-money, or chartal theory of money.

I don't doubt that the theory could be true in practice. For instance, I describe in this post how McDonald's Corporation could give colourful bits of paper coupons a positive value by imposing an obligation on the burger-eating community to pay for all Big Macs with these coupons. No doubt Mosler's business cards could also earn a positive value if he required people to submit cards as an exit fee. Rather than chartalism, I prefer to call this the coupon theory of money in order to underscore that it has nothing to do with the state. Corporations and individuals can issue "chartal" coupon media of exchange just as easily as the State can.

But Mosler's business card analogy doesn't make it as far as US dollars. To see why, let's go the reverse direction and remove twinopt status.

Having been converted by Murphy, let's say that Mosler's bouncer becomes a libertarian and moves to New Hampshire.  With twinopt no longer being enforced, audience members can now leave the room without having to post a business card as payment and the market value of Mosler's cards will quickly fall back to 0. So far the chartal tax-drives-money theory of money is borne out perfectly.

Next let's migrate this idea over to the modern US monetary system. Say that the US government announces that it will no longer accept US paper dollars or US dollar-denominated cheques/deposits as payment for taxes and instead will require Mosler-issued business cards. What happens to the value of the US dollar? According to the taxes-drives-money theory, the US dollar, which no longer serves as twintopt, should rapidly become valueless, just as Mosler's business cards became valueless after the desertion of his bouncer.

Here's what actually happens. Since US paper currency and US-denominated deposits & reserves are now useless for the set of transactions involving the US government, individuals, banks, and corporations will all seek to simultaneously reduce their inventories of these instruments. After all, they're a less effective medium of exchange.

This disinclination to hold dollars will in turn drive prices up. In order to ensure that prices don't rise above their inflation target, the Federal Reserve will suck up and destroy all unwanted currency and reserves. The Fed does so by selling assets. It has gold, bonds, foreign exchange, economics books, and other things in its vaults which it will continuously use to purchase dollars until the urge to divest dollars has been quenched. Thus the run on US dollars set off by their lack of tax acceptability is just as quickly matched by a decreased supply.

Mosler's business cards will probably be fairly liquid thanks to their government prop. The interesting thing is that despite no longer being required to pay taxes, the dollar will continue to have the same value as before.  And while it will be useless in government transactions, the private sector will probably continue to use US paper currency and US dollar reserves among each other as a handy medium of exchange. Something other than taxes drives the value of US money, it would seem.

New-fangled metallism provides an explanation. I say new-fangled because it's not old-fashioned metallic backing per se that helps pin down the dollar. Rather, what does the pinning is the general financial assets that the central bank holds (MBS, bonds, stocks, gold, whatever), combined with the bank's threat to use those assets to ensure price stability. Taxes certainly contribute to the dynamic, but they're not in the driver's seat.

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*Specifically, Understanding Modern Money by L. Randall Wray

Not a big fan of the metallist vs chartalist debate on the origins and nature of money

There is a century's old debate between metallists and chartalists on the origin of money. The metallist view is that the first spark of money emerged through barter and matured when the use of precious metals as money was discovered. The chartalists disagree. According to them, the use of credit preceded the use of precious metals as money.

At its core, the metallist/chartalist debate is a battle over the definition of the word money. In a moneyness world, there is no such thing as money. All we have are numerous media of exchange with varying ranges of liquidity. Whether moneyness first gets attached to credit or precious metals is really not important.

Imagine that a hunter encounters a trapper. The hunter has a deer. The trapper wants the deer but isn't sure what to offer. On the one hand, he can exchange the two rabbits in his belt for the deer. On the other he can offer his credit. In offering to exchange away his credit, the trapper is simply capitalizing his future earning power and bringing it forward for use in trade. Metallists and chartalists put tremendous importance on this first choice of credit versus rabbits, since one or the other will represent the so-called origins of money.

From a moneyness perspective, there are more interesting forces at play. Say that the trapper learns that the hunter will accept either his credit or his rabbits. The trapper next arrives at the realization that both items now have a degree of liquidity, or moneyness. He begins to attach a liquidity premium to both, for not only are the trapper's inventory of rabbits useful to him as food, but they can also be resold to the hunter, thereby providing the trapper with an extra range of liquidity services. The same goes for his credit. The trapper's future earning power is one of his key possessions. Now that it is tradeable, his future earnings power provides an extra margin of liquidity services. Over time the trapper will learn which one of his trade items is more liquid  and will favor that item with a larger liquidity premium. A monetary economy has now emerged in which traded goods are appraised according to their degree of liquidity and carry varying liquidity premiums.

If we split the world into money and non-money, then debates over the what items make it into the money category will often be heated. The origins debate gets especially intense because it tries to define modern money by looking back to its so-called debut. Taking inspiration from gold's barter origins, modern day metallists want a pure real/commodity based money. Modern day chartalist, who advocate state-issued inconvertible paper, look back to money's credit origins to support their view that the essential nature of money is credit.

From a moneyness perspective, the money-or-not debate is distracting. The origins of liquidity and liquidity premia is complex and probably not subject to study. There never was a single dominant instrument that could claim the mantle of money, only multiple goods and forms of credit, each with different degrees of moneyness. As for the metallists and chartalists, a pox on both their houses.

Mises, Smith, and the origins of money

Lord Keynes continues to squabble with the Austrians on the origins of money in two separate posts, one on Adam Smith and the other on Mises's regression theorem.

The combativeness on the blog is unproductive, but I left a few comments anyways.

On Smith:

I don't really disagree with your claims, although I think you have to read the full Wealth of Nations in order to appreciate Adam Smith's theory of money. For instance, you are quoting from book 1 chapter 4, but Smith also has a very interesting (and much more extensive) chapter describing the complex workings of the system of bills of exchange, so he was by no means focused on gold and silver as money (See book 2 chapter 2). In this way he was different from Menger, who never discusses credit. Like Henry Dunning Macleod (who I see someone has already quoted), Smith was comfortable with credit as money.

 The existence of Henry Dunning Macleod, as well as George Berkeley and James Steuart, disconfirms the thesis that classical and neo-classical economists were uniformly metallists. All advocated to various degrees a credit theory of money. Jevons credits Macleod for laying the framework for marginal utility calculus, so he was surely neoclassical.

 The "origins of money" debate is interesting but I don't know how important it is. I think it's perfectly logical to adopt a Mengerian metallist approach and a Macleodean credit approach, modifying each just enough so that they can be amalgamated. Let the anthropologists take care of the chronological order of things.

On Mises:

But there is a severe flaw underlying Mises’s whole intellectual program in producing his Regression Theorem: the truth of the assumption that money only has indirect utility.... The view that money only has utility through its exchange value is also held by neoclassicals... This idea held by Austrians and neoclassicals should be rejected."

 I think you'll find that a number of Austrians already reject this. William Hutt's paper on the Yield from Money Held is a good example.

 http://mises.org/daily/3449

There are plenty of problems with Hoppe's article, but it is a good example of what I am talking about. Hutt was a fellow traveler of the Austrians and his paper is very popular in Austrian circles.

See an earlier post on Menger and the origins of money.

Menger and the origins of money

Lord Keynes at the Social Democracy blog has an interesting post on Carl Menger.called Menger on the Origin of Money.

As I point out in my comments, Lord Keynes is mistaken in trying to recruit Menger to the chartalist side of the metallist vs chartalist debate. Menger always was a pure metallist:

So while Menger believed that the state might adopt metals as money, it could not legislate into existence a worthless item as money. The state could construct a system of coinage and thereby perfect an existing metallic monetary system, but not create a system based on intrinsically worthless materials.