On December 12, 2025, the U.S. State Department found itself at the center of a typographic tempest that few could have predicted. Secretary of State Marco Rubio issued a directive mandating that all official papers return to Times New Roman, 14-point font, abandoning Calibri—the sans serif font adopted under the previous administration. What might sound like a minor design tweak quickly spiraled into a full-blown cultural flashpoint, reflecting the deep divisions and symbolism that now permeate even the most seemingly innocuous corners of American life.
Secretary Rubio’s order, as reported by Newsday and the Associated Press, was more than a matter of aesthetics. Rubio criticized the Calibri era as a “wasteful use of resources for DEI purposes,” referring to diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives. In a cable obtained by The New York Times, Rubio wrote, “Although switching to Calibri was not among the department’s most illegal, immoral, radical or wasteful instances of DEI it was nonetheless cosmetic.” For Rubio and his supporters, the font change signaled a return to what they see as the gravitas and tradition befitting official government correspondence.
Yet, for many designers, accessibility advocates, and even some State Department staff, the move felt like a step backward. The decision to use Calibri in the first place was rooted in a Biden-era accessibility policy aimed at making documents easier to read, particularly for those with visual disabilities. According to Newsday, the department’s chief diversity officer had explained in 2023 that the switch was intended to make paperwork “more inclusive.” Calibri, with its clean lines and lack of decorative flourishes, was designed in the early 2000s for on-screen readability—an important consideration in a digital-first world.
Designer Jon Contino, whose portfolio includes work for Nike and major sports leagues, was among those dismayed by Rubio’s directive. Speaking to Newsday, Contino argued that Times New Roman, a font crafted in the 1930s for the Times of London, was a relic of the print era. “Times New Roman is a print product with more of a nostalgic value,” he said. “Calibri made a lot of sense because it was designed for a screen.” Contino pointed out that for people with visual impairments, the extra marks and serifs in fonts like Times New Roman can create confusion. “If you have any visual impairment, these extraneous marks like serifs add confusion to what your eye is interpreting. The reason you use a font like Calibri is because it sheds those extra marks. You’re left with the core structure of the character design—a K is very clearly a K, a Q is a Q.”
Rubio, however, was unconvinced by these arguments. In his view, the shift to Calibri was little more than a cosmetic gesture, emblematic of what he sees as misplaced priorities. The State Department, in a statement to the press, defended the return to Times New Roman by emphasizing the importance of consistency, credibility, and formality. “Consistent formatting strengthens credibility and supports a unified Department identity,” a spokesperson said. “Serif typefaces remain the standard in courts, legislatures, and across federal agencies where the permanence and authority of the written record are paramount. Aligning the Department’s practice with this standard ensures our communications reflect the same dignity, consistency, and formality expected in official government correspondence.” The spokesperson added, “Times New Roman specifically, and serif fonts generally, are more formal and professional.”
But does formality trump readability? That’s a question that has sparked heated debate among typographers and scientists alike. According to Aaron Johnson, a psychology professor at Concordia University in Montreal who studies the impact of fonts on readers, the answer is clear: sans serif fonts like Calibri are easier on the eyes and the brain, especially for those with reading difficulties. “Calibri is less complex and easier for the eye and the brain to process. It doesn’t have as much clutter as Times New Roman. It also produces less strain. If you read Times New Roman on a computer, it’s more demanding. It takes more of what we’d call cognitive workload to process the text,” Johnson told Newsday. His research, which leverages eye tracking and EEG brain scans, shows that sans serif fonts not only improve readability but also increase comprehension—an especially important consideration for the roughly one in six American adults with reading difficulties.
Lucas de Groot, the Dutch designer behind Calibri, was blunt in his assessment of the State Department’s move. In an emailed statement cited by Newsday, de Groot called the switch “hilarious and sad,” arguing that Calibri “performs exceptionally well at small sizes and on standard office monitors, whereas serif fonts like Times New Roman create more visual disturbance.” Speaking by phone, de Groot suggested that if the department insisted on a serif font, there were better options available—albeit not free. “Of course, it’s not free. They would probably have to buy some licenses. I don’t know if they have to watch every single cent. Probably not.”
The debate has spilled over into broader discussions about design, accessibility, and the culture wars that seem to touch every facet of American life in 2025. As TechRadar observed, fonts like Calibri, Inter, and Circular are praised for their readability, inclusivity, and open-source ethos. These fonts, with their rounded terminals and tall lowercase letters, are designed to be friendly and accessible to all, regardless of language or ability. Their open-source licenses make them free to use and adapt—a fact that has, perhaps ironically, led some culture warriors to label them as “woke.”
“Fonts don’t pick sides, but they do shape how information feels and how people connect with ideas,” wrote a TechRadar columnist. Yet in 2025, even the shapes of letters have become battlegrounds in the ongoing struggle over identity, values, and what it means to be inclusive. The so-called “font feud” at the State Department is just the latest example of how design choices—once the domain of typographers and graphic designers—now carry heavy political and cultural freight.
So where does all this leave the average reader, or the millions of Americans who interact with government documents every day? For some, the return to Times New Roman is a comforting nod to tradition and authority. For others, it’s a frustrating reversal of progress toward greater accessibility and inclusion. And for those who spend their days thinking about fonts, it’s a reminder that even the most basic design decisions can have far-reaching consequences.
As the dust settles, one thing is clear: in today’s America, no detail is too small to escape the gravitational pull of politics and culture. Whether you’re a fan of Calibri’s clean lines or Times New Roman’s classic serifs, the real story is how much meaning we now read into every letter.
