Let’s retire the penny
According to a recent piece in The New York Times, there are around 240 billion pennies lying around — about 724 ($7.24) for every person in the US, and enough to hand two pennies to every person born since the beginning of time. Although almost never used for their ostensive purpose, pennies account for one out of every two US coins in circulation today, a majority of which, according to a 2022 report, are “sitting in consumers’ coin jars in their homes.”
Nearly 50 years ago, during the Nixon administration, Treasury Secretary William E. Simon urged lawmakers to “give serious consideration” to abandoning the penny. The Treasury warned of a “a never-ending spiral” of “ever-increasing production” of pennies, as it struggled to keep up with the rapid disappearance of the increasingly useless coin from circulation. The penny should be eradicated, the Treasury concluded, “no later than 1980.” Today, the penny costs more than three cents to produce and is worth less than ever. Getting rid of it ought to be a “no-brainer.” But as we know, it’s not. Why is that?
There doesn’t seem to be any single reason for sparing the penny. The most common reasons cited include distracted, risk-averse lawmakers; profitable private companies in the business of converting coins to bills and vice versa; lobbyists, like Americans for Common Cents, funded by said private companies; and advocates for poor and low-income Americans who rely on the cash economy in ways large and small.
But none of these arguments seem sufficient. Are we just so attached to the way we’ve always done things — even if it’s not necessarily the way we’ve always done things? The penny was, in fact, created a long time ago — in 1792 — but has undergone several changes over its history. Originally featuring an image of Lady Liberty, and later a Native American, Lincoln’s image was only added in 1909, commemorating his 100th birthday. We later changed the composition of pennies in the early 1970s when they were still 98% copper to copper-plated zinc to reduce costs. We even have a history of retiring low-value coins. In 1857, the US withdrew the half-cent coin (hay-penny) from circulation, which was worth approximately 16 cents in 2023 dollars.
Daylight saving time is another artifact of our past that has outlived its utility — a solution that now seems worse than the problem it was intended to address — a habit we just can’t quit. First introduced in 1918 to reduce energy consumption and promote commerce, daylight saving time has actually been modified or suspended at various times. Only in 1966, following passage of the Uniform Time Act, did the US establish the current practice of switching between standard time and daylight saving time. And in 1974, during the energy crisis, the US even experimented with permanent daylight saving time. Why are we so attached to these relics? Is it nostalgia?
Nostalgia, to be sure, is a powerful salve, and its value is being reconsidered among psychologists. Relatively recent research suggests nostalgia can improve our mood, raising our spirit and vitality. Dubbed a “meaning providing resource,” nostalgia can strengthen our sense of personal continuity by enabling us to access a well of powerful memories that reinforce our identity and bolster our sense of self.
This stabilizing influence buffets us against the disorienting forces of change and disruption. Nostalgic yearning for the past has been shown to be especially potent during periods of personal transition, like break-ups, moves, or retirement, or in response to external threats resulting from conflict or technological progress.
Despite its emotional and psychological benefits, however, nostalgia can also seduce us into retreating into a romanticized past. Sometimes nostalgia may even make us confused about what we really want. During times of political turbulence, for instance, while we may be vocalizing a desire for change, we may instead be pushing back against disruptive changes or challenges to the status quo.
Different from personal nostalgia, which can have a useful therapeutic value, historical nostalgia is often concurrent with an unsettling dissatisfaction with the present and an inability or unwillingness to cope with things as they are. The soothing power of nostalgia is so effective, in part, because our memories of the past heavily favor positive experiences and feelings, which tend to be more crystallized than less positive ones.
We’ve come together to do other challenging things in my lifetime, so what’s changed? I’m not talking about eradicating human slavery or anything really difficult, just basic things that one might expect from a functioning society. We reduced smoking, improved air and water quality, and closed the ozone hole. We reduced highway deaths by improving automobile safety standards, lowering speed limits, increasing use of seatbelts, and raising the drinking age. These achievements universally improved or saved lives across the spectrum of age, race, geography, and income — without tremendous upheaval, cost, or sacrifice.
How can we harness this kind of power again to do big things? Or even not-so-big things, like eliminating the penny or ending daylight saving time, which actually have popular support? Canada retired its penny a decade ago. Going even further, Hong Kong has forecast that cash transactions would account for less than 2% of transactions in 2024. Scandinavia is also virtually cashless. After a recent two-week visit to Sweden and Denmark, we didn’t exchange a single dollar, let alone a penny. Fundamentally, these populations enjoy a high level of trust in institutions and each other, a multi-generational openness to innovation and new technologies, and an optimism for the future. In our country, there are self-interested forces undermining all of these characteristics right now, characteristics that in other countries are consistently attributed to higher levels of happiness and well-being.
In the US, by contrast, nostalgia is on the rise. Culturally, old tech like Polaroids and turntables are in demand again. And politically, movements promising the comfort and prosperity of simpler times are pushing back against ideologies like modern liberalism that we assumed had conquered fascism, populism, and autocracy in the Western world a generation ago. It’s like polio coming back. We are responding to the accelerating pace of change, destabilizing global conflict, and disruptive economic forces with nostalgia, with a yearning for a past that feels deceptively comfortable. But nostalgia can’t ever offer a path forward. It’s actually an impediment to progress.
Nostalgia is the death of hope. — Mark Kennedy, artist
In researching this piece, I came across a quote from UK artist Mark Kennedy. In response to the removal of his mosaic murals from Afflecks Palace in Manchester, England, he said, “Nostalgia is the death of hope.” He only meant to reassure supporters that he wouldn’t let this setback deter him, but I think he had stumbled onto something more profound. Nostalgia is all about the past, while hope is about the future. Hope is the articulation of — and belief in — an imagined future that is better than the present. Nostalgia is useful as a momentary comfort or a temporary relief, but it’s not a place to dwell.
The positivity biases reflected in nostalgia are so dangerous because we are often unaware of them. And because we are unaware of them, we are ignorant as to how we can be manipulated as a result. My hope is that we can awaken the possibility and promise of a future that isn’t just a rehashed version of the past. Let’s imagine a future unburdened by the past. Let’s start small. Let’s retire the useless penny.
