Running from history doesn't work

If money talks, then the Euro tells us there's no escaping the past.

Why a big redesign?

Here’s Christine Lagarde, president of the European Central Bank (ECB):

“They are a tangible and visible symbol that we stand together in Europe, particularly in times of crisis…. After 20 years, it’s time to review the look of our banknotes to make them more relatable to Europeans of all ages and backgrounds.”

And here’s Fabio Panetta, an ECB executive board member:

“We want to develop euro banknotes that European citizens can identify with and will be proud to use as their money.”

So, the current design isn’t “relatable.” Lots of folks can’t “identify” with whatever the Euro’s design has been attempting to communicate. People aren’t especially proud of the Euro’s vision.

But this doesn't come as a great surprise — to me, anyway.

Back in 2004, when I was a staffer at National Geographic, I wrote a very short piece about the (then) new design of the Euro.

Gone were the images from the old national currencies — Marconi on the Italian lira, the Brothers Grimm on the German mark, Cézanne on the French franc — because all those guys were too… national. Too parochial. Too specific. Too tribal. And that wouldn’t work for a transnational economic union that was trying desperately to distance itself from the battles and bloodshed of Europe’s not-so-distant past.

So instead of Marconi, Cézanne & friends, the new banknotes offered a gallery of generic bridges, windows, and portals intended to evoke certain historic eras without saying anything specific about what exactly happened in those eras. The less said about the past, the better… or so the European bankers had hoped.

In short: the 2004 Euro design attempted to transcend history. To leave the past behind. Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow. But less than 20 years later, the verdict seems to be: It didn't work.

So why is anyone surprised that the current Euro isn’t “relatable”? That no one can “identify” with generic windows and portals and bridges to nowhere?

Or to give this a sharper Towers of Babel point: Europeans aren’t lacking stories. They’re drowning in them (as we all are). But they do lack a story that’s good enough to deliver what the old nationalisms once did — pride, purpose, community, meaning, and a sense of self.

I've been arguing that our hunger for story is killing us. But I'm also saying: Our hunger for story can help save us, but only if we're living inside a story that attempts to embrace us all, and that recognizes the divine spark in each one of us. Best I can tell, there are not many stories like that.