Are We Having Font Yet?

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My writing is ugly.

I don't mean that my ideas or my wordsmithing (I finally got to use that word) are offensive or repulsive, Heaven forbid. What makes my writing ugly is something called Verdana. No, not a veranda — a roofed porch that wraps around the ground floor of a building. That would actually be nice. But I'm on the fifth floor.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's back up a bit.

I don't do politics. OK, I vote religiously (take that any way you like), but I leave punditry to the experts — real or otherwise. Sometimes, though, politicians do something so laughable — almost like humans — that I roll on the page laughing.

If you're not confused by now, give me a chance. We'll get there.

Where was I? Oh yes, I was going to tell you about Verdana. It's a font or typeface. That refers to the style of the letters as they appear in print or on the screen. Even printing professionals and designers use the terms font and typeface interchangeably, so if you don't know the difference, you're in good company. Writing on a computer has its own advantages and disadvantages. One of the advantages is the wide choice of fonts. One of the disadvantages is the wide choice of fonts. Right. The advantage is also a disadvantage. Just because you could do something doesn't mean you should do it.

At some point, people took to visually expressing tone of voice in writing with emoticons — "smileys" representing facial expressions in type, like :) or emoji — graphically slick smileys, like 😊. Even before that, some people dressed up their writing with typefaces ranging from the formal to the whimsical. Sometimes, though, they went over the edge to something reminiscent of undulating 1960s concert posters. Just reading them was mind-bending.

So what's Verdana, already?

OK, I'll tell you. But first let me tell you about ser- ifs. (No, that's not what Litvaks in the West call the sheriffs.)

Serifs are the letters with long strokes at the bot- tom, like skinny legs on skis (e.g., Times New Roman). Most books and newspapers — including Hamodia — use serif fonts.

In the other corner stands sans serif type (e.g., Calibri). Sans means without. So you'd think sans serif type hasn't got a leg to stand on. But ever since the German Bauhaus school took over the world of design in the 1920s, sans serif typefaces became a symbol of modernity.

I've had pitched battles with brilliant graphic artists about typography. No, I'm not being sarcastic.

In fact, the more brilliant and creative the designer, the more likely I am to have an issue. I come from a tradition based on the word, not on images. What really rankles me is when some graphic genius takes my carefully crafted words, the result of hours of sweating over a hot keyboard, and makes them unreadable by using reverse type, or all caps, or some exquisite typeface that is lovely to look at, but impossible to decipher.

I come out of the David Ogilvy school of advertising. And, as Ogilvy said, "I do not regard advertising as entertainment or an art form, but as a medium of information." And I go by the rule that if they can't read it, they won't buy it.

The keys are readability — how easily a message can be read; and legibility — how quickly each let- ter or word can be perceived and decoded. Now here's where the choice gets less clear.

Research shows that serif fonts are easier to read — but only in print. It turns out that on screens, sans serif fonts are easier to read. The fine edges of serifs tend to go fuzzy on screens.

So that brings me back to Verdana font. Like Calibri, it's sans serif. Verdana was designed for Microsoft by Matthew Carter in 1996 to be particularly readable on computer screens. Special attention was given to the heights and widths of the letters to make them more legible. So, to make it easier on my eyes when I write, I write in Ver- dana. The problem is that it offends my aesthetic sense. Because the font is utilitarian… and ugly. OK, but why am I telling you all of this? And what does it have to do with politics?

In case you missed the news, while prices keep going up and bombs keep coming down, politicians have been fighting over fonts. While you weren't looking, Secretary of State Marco Rubio announced that Calibri font will no longer be acceptable in White House communications. Instead, they will be returning to Times New Roman.

Returning? Who made the switch to Calibri and why?

Smile, if you like. (I have to admit I laughed.) But this is serious. Freedom of speech, it turns out, doesn't extend to which typeface you use.

Remember typewriters? For years, Courier New — a typeface that mimicked typewriting — was the standard in White House communications. Then, in 2004, it was replaced by Times New Roman. I guess because Times looked more formal, like newspapers and books.

That lasted until 2023, when then-Secretary of State Antony Blinken issued a directive to switch from Times New Roman to Calibri. The move was to make White House communications more "accessible" as part of a diversity, equity, inclusion and accessibility (DEIA) initiative.

Rubio announced in a memo: "To restore decorum and professionalism to the Department's written work products and abolish yet another waste- ful DEIA program, the Department is returning to Times New Roman as its standard typeface."

Politicians and poets seem to agree: William Carlos Williams wrote, "It is not what you say that matters but the manner in which you say it; there lies the secret of the ages.

Smile, if you like. (I have to admit I laughed.) But this is serious.

Freedom of speech, it turns out, doesn't extend to which typeface you use.

(COMMENT, BELOW)

Mordechai Schiller is an award-winning columnist and headline writer at Hamodia, the Daily Newspaper of Torah Jewry, where this first appeared. His column has won two awards -- so far -- from the American Jewish Press Association.

Previously:
• Why Smart People Do Dumb Things
• There is nothing so sad as a stupid Jew
• Asking For It