On December 11, 2025, the U.S. State Department found itself at the center of a surprisingly heated debate—over something as seemingly mundane as the font used in its official documents. But as recent events have shown, even the choice between Times New Roman and Calibri can become a flashpoint for much larger battles about accessibility, professionalism, and the future of diversity and inclusion in government.
According to ABC News, the State Department announced it would revert from Calibri, a sans serif font introduced in 2023, back to the traditional Times New Roman, a serif font that had been the department’s standard for two decades. The change came at the direction of Secretary of State Marco Rubio, who issued a memo titled "Return to Tradition: Times New Roman 14-Point Font Required for All Department Paper" just two days prior, on December 9, 2025. The memo, as reported by Fox News Digital and the New York Post, stated, "To restore decorum and professionalism to the Department’s written work products and abolish yet another wasteful DEIA program, the Department is returning to Times New Roman as its standard typeface."
This decision did not come out of nowhere. It reversed a Biden-era directive from then-Secretary of State Antony Blinken, who in 2023 had ordered a switch to Calibri as part of a broader diversity, equity, inclusion, and accessibility (DEIA) initiative. Blinken’s move was intended to make official documents easier to read—especially for those with certain disabilities. As NPR noted, Calibri is widely considered more reader-friendly and accessible, thanks to its clear, sans serif design.
Rubio, however, saw things differently. He argued that the switch to Calibri was a "wasteful" measure that had "achieved nothing except the degradation of the department’s official correspondence." In his view, the return to Times New Roman would align State Department communications with those of other federal agencies, which predominantly use serif fonts, and would mark a return to what he called "decorum and professionalism."
But the controversy didn’t stop at internal memos and agency style guides. Former Voice of America White House bureau chief Steve Herman took to social media to express his alarm at the directive. In a post on X (formerly Twitter), Herman drew a provocative historical comparison: "The Nazis, in 1941, banned the Fraktur font because it was ‘too Jewish.’" He elaborated on Mastodon, referencing a 1941 Nazi memo by Martin Bormann that declared, "the use of Schwabacher-Jewish letters by authorities will in future cease" in official Nazi communications. Herman’s intent, as he later confirmed, was to highlight the dangers of politicizing something as basic as a typeface—warning that even benign-seeming bureaucratic decisions can carry darker historical echoes.
Rubio’s office did not respond to requests for comment about Herman’s comparison, but the episode quickly drew reactions from across the political spectrum. Some critics argued that the new directive was part of a broader effort by the Trump administration to roll back diversity and inclusion initiatives in government. As ABC News reported, the font change was only the latest in a series of moves aimed at reversing DEI policies implemented under the previous administration.
Meanwhile, supporters of the change argued that the focus on font accessibility had been misplaced, suggesting that there were more substantive ways to address diversity and inclusion than through typography. They pointed out that Times New Roman, with its familiar serifs and long history in official correspondence, projects a sense of tradition and gravitas that Calibri lacks. For many, the return to Times New Roman was less about exclusion and more about preserving the dignity of government documents.
Yet, as NPR’s Michel Martin explored in a recent segment, the debate over fonts is far from trivial. Professor Kristen Shinohara, who leads the Center for Accessibility and Inclusion Research Lab at the Rochester Institute of Technology, explained that the choice between serif and sans serif fonts can have real-world consequences for accessibility. "The main difference is the serif, which is the little flourish that's at the end of the text that can help you to tell the difference between letters like a capital I versus a lowercase L. Times New Roman has that serif and Calibri doesn't," Shinohara said. She added that accessibility depends on a range of factors—not just the presence or absence of serifs, but also font size, color, and spacing between letters and lines.
For people with learning disabilities like dyslexia, or for those with low vision, these nuances can make a significant difference. "Accessibility of a font really depends on legibility. So how can you tell the difference between those letters and how readable it is?" Shinohara explained. She emphasized that while some may have personal attachments to certain fonts, "the broader goal is to make these technologies and user interfaces easier to use." Not following accessibility recommendations, she warned, "can really make content difficult to understand for many people, and this ultimately risks excluding more people from accessing information."
The back-and-forth over fonts, then, is not just a matter of aesthetics or bureaucratic fussiness. It reflects a deeper struggle over the values that should guide public institutions: Should tradition and decorum take precedence, or should accessibility and inclusivity be the driving forces? And who gets to decide where that balance lies?
Rubio’s directive, which calls for Times New Roman in 14-point font for all department papers, is explicit in its intent to "abolish yet another wasteful DEIA program." The language signals a broader skepticism toward diversity and inclusion policies, echoing other recent moves by the Trump administration to pare back such initiatives across federal agencies. For supporters, this is a necessary correction; for critics, it is a step backward.
Meanwhile, the debate continues to ripple beyond the State Department’s walls. As Shinohara pointed out, "changing fonts for accessibility...focuses on making these more accessible for people with disabilities and for people to use in different contexts." And as the public reaction to the memo demonstrates, even the smallest details of government communication can become symbols in the ongoing conversation about who is included—and who is left out—of the official record.
As the dust settles on the State Department’s font change, one thing is clear: In an era when every detail can become politicized, even the humble typeface is no longer just a matter of style—it’s a statement about what kind of government Americans want to see, and who that government is meant to serve.
