The Continental Currency Collapse: How Liberty Lost Its Value
At the height of the American Revolution, the Continental Congress faced a familiar problem. It had ambition, ideals, and volunteers- but very little money. With no power to levy taxes and no central bank to draw from, it turned to a different solution. Paper. It began printing its own currency, backed not by gold or silver, but by confidence. They called it Continental money. At first, it was accepted with pride. By the end of the war, it was used to wallpaper privies. The story of the Continental currency is not just an economic failure. It is a lesson in trust. Trust in institutions. Trust in value. And trust in the promise that liberty could fund itself. Between 1775 and 1780, Congress issued hundreds of millions in notes.
They bore patriotic imagery, Latin mottos, and the signatures of appointed agents. They passed from hand to hand as symbols of shared cause. But without any mechanism to limit supply or enforce value, the money quickly flooded the markets. Inflation soared. Prices doubled, then tripled. A pair of shoes might cost ten dollars one month and one hundred the next. Merchants refused to accept the notes. Farmers demanded payment in hard coin. Even soldiers, who were paid in Continentals, began trading them for food at ruinous exchange rates.
The phrase “not worth a Continental” became a punchline for everything that looked good on paper but failed in practice. The British understood the weakness. They printed counterfeit Continentals and scattered them into circulation, further eroding confidence. The value of liberty, at least in monetary terms, collapsed before the war was even won. In the mural, this moment appears in clutter. A desk drawer left open. Scattered papers marked “Ten Dollars.” A soldier walking away from a supply tent with empty hands.
A shopkeeper turning a sign in the window to read “Coin Only.” The imagery is not about poverty. It is about the slow erosion of belief. By 1781, the currency had become so devalued that Congress ceased issuing it. People who had accepted the notes in good faith were left with drawers full of nothing. Veterans found their pensions worthless. Widows held debt that no one would redeem. The idea that patriotism could substitute for payment dissolved into public bitterness.
This collapse did more than ruin individual savings. It exposed the need for a stronger national framework. It helped push forward the creation of the Bank of North America and later inspired the financial reforms of Alexander Hamilton. But those solutions came after the damage. In the critical early years of the republic, many Americans learned that fighting for freedom did not always come with fiscal return. The Continental currency was an experiment in shared belief. Its failure did not come from a printing press. It came from the gap between principle and infrastructure. A nation can survive hardship. It can survive inflation.
But it struggles to survive when people stop believing that tomorrow will honor what yesterday promised. In that sense, the currency collapse was not just a financial event. It was a psychological one. A test of how long people will trade effort for symbolism. The Founders would later argue that it was a necessary failure, a growing pain. But for the farmers, merchants, and soldiers who paid real costs for those fading bills, it felt more like a breach than a lesson. And it left behind a warning. That liberty, without structure, is a fragile thing. Especially when printed in ink no one trusts.
