The recent font switch in the State Department is a stark example of the extremes of diversity and inclusion initiatives under the Biden administration. Secretary of State Marco Rubio’s decision to revert from Calibri back to Times New Roman highlights a growing pushback against what many view as unnecessary wokeness in government practices.
Under the previous administration, former Secretary of State Antony J. Blinken implemented a shift to Calibri, a sans-serif font, based on recommendations aimed at improving accessibility for those with reading challenges. The logic was simple: Calibri’s simpler shapes and wider spacing could assist individuals with dyslexia, low vision, and those reliant on assistive technologies. This shift was widely praised by advocates for accessibility. Yet, it seemed that these rational considerations were overshadowed by the emphasis on diversity and inclusion.
Fast forward to Rubio’s order to switch back, and the media’s response has been revealing. Outlets like The New York Times and Reuters lampooned Rubio for this decision, framing it as a “font coup” or a victory in a so-called battle against wokeness. Yet, Rubio sees it differently. In a memo titled “Return to Tradition,” he argues forcefully against the need for such changes, stating that moving away from Calibri had no real benefit and only degraded the official correspondence of the department. “Switching to Calibri achieved nothing except the degradation of the department’s official correspondence,” he asserted.
Rubio points out that serif typefaces like Times New Roman are associated with tradition and serious communication. His position rests not only on aesthetic preferences but also on a critique of how the previous decision failed to achieve its intended goals. In his words, there was no significant drop in the number of accessibility-related remediation cases as a result of the typeface change. Thus, the push for change in the name of wokeness did not deliver on its promised benefits.
Interestingly, the media’s coverage sheds light on an ongoing narrative where actions rooted in traditional values are mocked, while the approaches of the previous administration are upheld, despite their questionable efficacy. Rubio’s critique is that attempts to prioritize inclusivity through superficial means can overlook practical implications. As he noted, “it was also wasteful in other ways,” highlighting the transition involved changing not just the font but also the size, which could frustrate diplomats familiar with the former standards.
The larger picture reveals a conflict between tradition and modernity, where even something as straightforward as a typeface could symbolize a deeper chasm in administrative philosophies. In the wake of this incident, questions arise about the priorities of the media landscape and its portrayal of governmental shifts. The portrayal of Rubio’s move as a loss for progressives ignores the valid arguments regarding functionality and communication standards in favor of sensationalism.
Ultimately, the typeface debate may seem trivial on the surface, but it underscores a significant tension within American governance and the ongoing culture wars. It invites a closer examination of how decisions motivated by ideals of inclusion can have tangible effects—both positive and negative—on the operations of important governmental institutions. As these discussions continue, they will certainly shape perceptions of leadership and effectiveness moving forward.
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