Run your finger along a coin and you’re touching the aftermath of a centuries‑old emergency. When money was made of precious metal, every coin was both currency and temptation. Clipping away tiny slivers seemed harmless in isolation, but together those shavings hollowed out a nation’s wealth. By the time England realized how much silver had vanished, trust in its money was already cracking.
Isaac Newton’s answer was not a speech or a slogan, but a line of grooves. Reeded edges turned the coin itself into a witness: any attempt to steal left a scar everyone could see. That idea never went away. Today, those same ridges help machines recognize coins, help blind people feel denominations, and quietly remind us that good systems don’t expect perfection from people. They are built to survive our flaws—and to protect what we share.
