A journey through Lebanon’s currency story — room by room.
For thousands of years, the story of Lebanon was written not only in
books, but in coins.
Coins that traveled with Phoenician merchants across the Mediterranean.
Coins struck by Roman emperors in Berytus. Coins carried in the pockets
of our grandparents during the Golden Lira years. Coins that vanished
when the Lira collapsed. Coins that survived only as
memory.
The FRANGAIN Museum is a digital sanctuary — a place
where Lebanon’s monetary past is preserved, honored, and retold.
Here, every room is a chapter. Every coin is a witness. Every detail is
a fragment of who we were, who we became, and what we lost.
And in the final room,
the story rises again — in FRANGAIN.
“Where money first learned to travel.”
Before Lebanon had borders, it had horizons.
On these coasts, the Phoenicians mastered the art of trade. Their silver coins — stamped with anchors, ships, and sacred symbols — traveled farther than any coin before them.
They crossed seas. They passed through foreign markets. They carried the identity of a civilization that lived through commerce.
These were not just coins.
They were ambassadors.
In this room, you witness the world’s first global traders — and the earliest heartbeat of Lebanon’s monetary story.
“When Empire met the Mountains.”
Under Rome, Lebanon became a world of temples, marketplaces, and imperial minting houses.
Beirut, Tyre, and Sidon produced coins with emperors, eagles, thunderbolts, and ancient divinities.
A coin here wasn’t only payment — it was propaganda, art, and storytelling.
These coins moved through theatres, busy streets, port markets… through hands that shaped both daily life and empire.
Rome imposed its rule — but Lebanon kept its identity.
“Copper, silver, and the quiet centuries.”
The Ottoman era brought a slower, steadier form of monetary life. Coins were small, humble, engraved in elegant Arabic calligraphy.
Majidi silver pieces. Kurush. Para.
These coins lived in the hands of farmers, fishermen, textile workers, caravan traders, and villagers from Tripoli to Tyre.
This room whispers rather than shouts.
It reminds us that a currency is not only what is minted — it is the rhythm of everyday survival.
“Between two worlds: the Franc and the Lira.”
Under the French Mandate, Lebanon stepped into a new monetary chapter. It was the era of bilingual notes, mixed influences, and a currency searching for its identity.
Here emerged the Lebanese–Syrian Pound — shared across borders for a time.
Banknotes carried Arabic and French. Coins featured cedar trees for the very first time.
This room feels like a transition — a moment where Lebanon moved from occupation toward a national monetary future.
Two languages.
Two worlds.
One currency learning to become
Lebanese.
“The Lebanese Lira in its finest days.”
From the 1940s to the 1970s, the Lebanese Lira reached its most dignified era — strong, trusted, stable, and respected across the region.
Banknotes from this era were pieces of art:
• geometric patterns
•
cedar trees
• vivid colors
• portraits of Lebanon’s beauty
Children received their first Lira. Families managed budgets with confidence. Shops wrote prices proudly in Lira.
This was the Lira at its most beautiful — not only a means of payment, but a symbol of national aspiration.
“The coins that became part of who we are.”
This room is the heart of the Museum — where memory becomes personal, where currency meets childhood.
Real Lebanese coins that truly existed:
• 5 Piastres — خمسة قروش
• 10 Piastres — عشرة قروش
• 25 Piastres — ربع ليرة
• 50 Piastres — نصف ليرة
• 1 Lira — ليرة واحدة
Children bought candy with خمسة قروش. Families paid groceries with عشرة قروش. Prices often rounded using ربع ليرة and نصف ليرة. The one Lira was the proud everyday coin.
Banknotes of daily life (never coins):
• 5 Liras
•
10 Liras
• 25 Liras
•
50 Liras
These were folded in wallets, notebooks, shirt pockets, and envelopes from grandparents.
Transitions of later years:
• 100 Liras → became a coin
• 250 Liras → became a coin
• 500 Liras → became a coin
These changes mirrored Lebanon’s evolving economy, inflation, resilience, and struggle.
And the cultural treasure: “فرنك” It was not a coin — it was a memory.
This room is where FRANGAIN was born — not from a coin, but from a word that refused to disappear.
“When a currency breaks, memory becomes the museum.”
Lebanon faced not one collapse — but two.
1️⃣ The First Collapse — Early 1980s
Around 1983–1984, inflation began to devour the Lira. Prices rose. Salaries shrank. Families struggled. It was Lebanon’s first encounter with losing trust in its own currency.
2️⃣ The Second Collapse — 2019 → Today
Decades later, a deeper collapse arrived:
• Banks froze people’s savings
• The Lira lost more than 90%
of its value
• Prices soared beyond imagination
• The
financial system cracked
• A nation entered one of the worst
crises in modern history
This room is heavy. But it is necessary. Because the Museum is not only about what we had — it is about what we lost, and what we must remember.
“Tomorrow’s memory begins here.”
This room is the bridge between the Lebanon that was… and the Lebanon that can rise again.
FRANGAIN is not a replacement for the Lira. It is not political. It is not speculation.
It is a symbol.
A digital revival of the Frang — the slang, the memory, the cultural heartbeat of Lebanese daily life.
A project at the intersection of:
• heritage
• technology
• identity
• storytelling
• emotional preservation
Here, in the final room of the Museum, visitors understand that FRANGAIN is:
The Coin Remembers — our heart.
The Guardian of Memory — our shield.
A tribute to what Lebanon was… and a promise of what it can still become.
