The dead person rule

Although George Washington famously wore his Virginia militia uniform to the Second Continental Congress as a way of saying, “Pick me,” he at least had the decency to act surprised when he was selected to serve as commander in chief of the Continental Army.

President Trump makes no such pretense.

His instinct for personal branding was well established long before his entry into politics, with his name appearing on everything from steaks to skyscrapers. It should surprise no one, then, that he now finds himself at the center of an effort to place his portrait on a proposed $250 bill.

The effort began when Rep. Joe Wilson of South Carolina introduced the “Donald J. Trump $250 Bill Act.” The legislation would direct the Treasury Department to issue a new denomination in conjunction with the nation’s 250th anniversary in 2026. It would also require an exception to the long-standing prohibition against depicting living persons on American currency.

There are traditions, and in some cases written laws, that govern the naming of public buildings, civic spaces and national symbols. What is often called the “Dead Person Rule” rests on a couple of sound principles.

First, naming public property after a living politician risks creating the appearance of a taxpayer-funded campaign advertisement. Second, the deceased are far less likely to become tomorrow’s scandal. For that reason, many naming policies require a waiting period ranging from a few years to several decades after a person’s death before public honors may be bestowed.

In some cases, the restrictions are codified in law, though not always for the reasons people assume.

Under federal law, paper currency and government securities may not bear the portrait of a living person. The rule is commonly justified as a safeguard against self-glorification at public expense. While that is true enough, the law also traces its origins to one of the more amusing episodes in American bureaucracy.

In 1866, Congress intended to honor explorer William Clark on a five-cent fractional currency note. Somehow, Spencer M. Clark, superintendent of the National Currency Bureau, interpreted that instruction in a remarkably self-serving manner and placed his own portrait on the bill. Congress was furious and soon barred the depiction of living persons on U.S. currency.

Supporters of the Trump bill argue that the measure is primarily intended to commemorate the nation’s semiquincentennial and that Trump happens to be the president who will occupy the White House during the anniversary year.

Perhaps. Yet a measure of presidential modesty would still be refreshing.

Americans have occasionally made exceptions. Norris Dam in Tennessee was named after Nebraska Sen. George Norris while he was still alive and serving in office. The distinction is that Norris did not seek the honor. It was bestowed upon him by others in recognition of a lifetime of work on public power policy.

That is generally how commemorations are supposed to work. Honor is most meaningful when it comes from posterity rather than from contemporaries eager to flatter the powerful.

Personally, I would welcome anything that gives the numismatic industry a shot in the arm as we enter the age of digital payments and electronic currency.

Rare coins and paper money will always attract serious collectors, but the feeder system of collectors, however, has largely disappeared. The children filling blue Whitman folders with pennies found in circulation have gone the way of the View-Master.

If a new $250 bill sparks a new generation of collectors, that would be something worth celebrating. Whether it should feature the portrait of a living president is another matter entirely.