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Over the last decade, as the youngest generation skips punctuation and chooses emojis over words, Supreme Court justices have also embraced a more casual writing style. They’re not cutting out apostrophes, using abbreviations willy-nilly, or dropping smiley-faces in opinions—yet. But the justices are relaxing their grammar, shortening words and sentences, and striving to make their writing more accessible.
To help writers modernize their style, even as writing style evolves, I spent five years studying every U.S. Supreme Court opinion starting in 2018, spanning more than 10,000 pages. I analyzed how the justices treat the most important and interesting points of grammar and writing style. And I uncovered a fascinating reality: writing evolves so rapidly that even the Supreme Court justices sometimes disagree on when to ignore writing tradition and where to hold true to traditional rules.
Many have vaulted toward informality and use contractions, despite Justice Antonin Scalia’s complaint that they are “intellectually abominable.”2
Some justices write Congress’ to show the possessive; others write Congress’s. Some use because interchangeably with since; some wouldn’t dare.
I compiled the findings in my book, The Supreme Guide to Writing (Oxford University Press 2024), where I settled debates on more than 30 points of legal grammar and style by following the Court’s own example: adopting the majority rule. For instance, when at least five of the nine justices use contractions (as they do now), that majority rule prevails. My goal is to give lawyers clear, practical guidelines, so they can avoid costly mistakes—like a $5 million comma debacle in Maine. In that case, lawmakers followed the instruction in the legislative drafting manual to avoid the serial comma—a decision that made a law about overtime so confusing that it led to years of litigation.3
$5 million What a missing serial comma in a state law listing overtime exemptions cost a Maine dairy company.3
The following two chapters are excerpts from The Supreme Guide to Writing. They show how to make your writing clearer and concise—by following the lead of the nine esteemed justices sitting on the U.S. Supreme Court.
Writing style choices can stir debate, and one of the more famous disputes was between two greats: William Faulkner and Ernest Hemingway. Faulkner accused Hemingway of lacking courage because he never used words “that might send the reader to the dictionary.” Hemingway’s retort: “Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words? He thinks I don’t know the ten-dollar words. I know them all right. But there are older and simpler and better words, and those are the ones I use.”2
The justices habitually follow Hemingway’s lead. As Justice Thomas once advised, “the genius is not to write a five-cent idea in a ten-dollar sentence. It’s to put a ten-dollar idea in a five-cent sentence.”3
The goal is to achieve clarity and simplicity without losing meaning. “That doesn’t mean that there’s no law in it,” Thomas continued. “But there are simple ways to put important things in language that’s accessible.”4
One way the justices create these five-cent sentences is by starting them with short, punchy conjunctions. All nine sprinkle their opinions with sentences opening with and, but, or, so, and yet. And they opt for these short sentence starters significantly more than longer conjunctions, such as however and nevertheless. Take, for example, Justice Kagan’s simple quips:
To help prove this point, here she uses three in a row:
Even so, the myth that writers should avoid using these tiny conjunctions to start sentences persists.11 The criticism for so is particularly intense. Some writers argue that so should be shunned—that it’s akin to using well, um, and like, that it’s a crutch puffing up language and undermining the writer’s credibility.12 In speech, so can indicate a verbal tic as much as a transition or connection.
But in Supreme Court opinions, it works, and shows up frequently, here in the first opinions of Justices Gorsuch, Kavanaugh, and Barrett:
In fact, in five recent years, the justices began 1,221 sentences with so—a noteworthy jump from just a few years ago.16
sentences the justices began with so in five recent years16
Lawyers get a bad rap for choosing the esoteric over the easy. First-year law students love to write words like hitherto and thereunto to try to sound more lawyerly, but more experienced legal writers know to opt for unruffled language. That was evident in one of the early cases challenging the 2021 Texas abortion law, where parts of a judicial clerk’s draft order were accidentally published, revealing a “whereby” and other wordy phrases cut from the judge’s final version.17
Consider a common word like however versus its punchier counterpart, but. The justices used but seven times more than however in five recent years, with but appearing on every page, on average. They start sentences with but at least 1,000 times a term, while however has reached that same starting line only 72 times in five years.
But appeared seven times as often as however in five recent years.
And here’s more proof: The justices used yet 856 times, compared to nevertheless (188 times) and nonetheless (216 times) in more than 10,000 pages. And they used the ever-popular so hundreds more times18 than accordingly (349 times), consequently (98), moreover (438), and whereby (13 times with 6 of them in quotes). The takeaway: opt for the easy word nearly every chance you get.
And the ever-popular so ran hundreds more times than each of the last four.
| Choose this | Not that |
|---|---|
| And | Additionally, In addition, Furthermore, Moreover |
| But | However, Nonetheless, Nevertheless |
| Or | Alternatively, Conversely, Otherwise |
| So | Accordingly, Consequently, Subsequently |
| Yet | Hitherto, In spite of that, Thus far |
In Shakespeare’s time, the average sentence ran nearly 50 words.2 So it’s curious that the era’s most famous writer is known for his short quips: “To be or not to be.” “All that glitters is not gold.” And: “A horse, a horse! My kingdom for a horse!”3
The same thinking guides the justices’ writing. While they drop some Faulkner-esque sentences in their opinions, most are short—averaging around 18 words.4 What’s more, the vast majority of their words are short, not unlike Shakespeare’s, averaging six letters or fewer.5
Justice Kagan’s clever opening in a dissent about a confession typifies that casual tone. The sentences here average just 15 words. Her words average a mere five letters. With each line, Kagan speeds the reader along, showing that good legal writing is simple but not simplistic.
Imagine a criminal case involving two defendants—John and Mary. John and Mary are arrested for robbing Bill. Before trial, John confesses to the robbery in an interview with police. But John does more than admit his own involvement; he also points a finger at Mary. John says to the police: “Mary and I went out Saturday night and robbed Bill.” Mary, on the other hand, never confesses to the robbery. She maintains that she wasn’t involved—in fact, that she never left her home on the night in question. The government tries John and Mary together. At trial, it introduces a copy of John’s confession into evidence, and has it read to the jury by the interviewing officer. But John elects not to take the stand, leaving Mary’s attorney without an opportunity to cross-examine him about his confession.6
Kagan says her seemingly effortless, conversational style “takes a ton of work” and time: “Mostly I think writing is really hard,” she told Harvard Law School students in 2017:
Skim any opinion, and there’s no shortage of short sentences shaped by short words. Judges have been known to use seemingly made-up words now and again. (Justice Scalia not only employed “jiggery-pokery,” but also “argle-bargle”8 and “tutti-frutti.”9) But the justices typically opt for a simple, punchy word, over a complex counterpart. The justices take pains not just to prune longer words and sentences from their opinions but also to add variety. Chief Justice Roberts shows just that with this gem: “Bust followed boom.”10 To further illustrate, here are a few of the pithier lines from each of the six authors in a landmark 2023 affirmative action case.11
Jill Barton is a professor and the director of legal writing at the University of Miami School of Law. She has authored three books on legal writing and regularly conducts writing programs for law firms, legal organizations, and the judiciary.
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Professor of legal writing at the University of Miami School of Law and author of "The Supreme Guide to Writing."
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