During oral argument last month in Mullin v. Doe, attorney Geoffrey Pipoly said something I won’t repeat to my kids. The remark came when Pipoly, who represents Haitian nationals challenging the Trump administration’s effort to revoke their deportation protections, highlighted President Donald Trump’s past comments on Haiti. The president, Pipoly said, has shown “bare dislike of Haitians” and called Haiti a “shithole country.”
Pipoly was not randomly swearing, of course. He was repeating Trump’s own words. Still, I was intrigued by his decision to say them, especially after Justice Sonia Sotomayor had chosen to say “s-hole country” earlier in the argument when referencing the same quote.
For the rest of the discussion – and for days after it ended – I wondered about the courtroom protocol on swearing and how much of what happens before the justices can be explained by formal courtroom rules. Earlier this week, I finally had time to dig deeper, and discovered the court’s Guide for Counsel, which outlines dos and don’ts for the attorneys who argue before the Supreme Court.
While the guide is meant for people who participate in oral arguments – not those who merely observe them – I found that it serves both audiences well. What’s more, it explains what the court is hoping to accomplish during an argument and gives a sense of how the court sees itself as an institution.
So here’s a brief overview of what I learned from the court’s Guide for Counsel about swearing, taking selfies, and the types of answers the justices like best.
On addressing the justices
Under the present practice, “Mr.” is only used in addressing the Chief Justice. Others are referred to as “Justice Thomas,” “Justice Kagan,” or “Your Honor.” Do not use the title “Judge.” (Guide for Counsel, pg. 5)
Allow me to begin with an obvious point: a Supreme Court argument is not a casual affair. The justices wear black robes, the attorneys are to wear “conservative business dress in traditional dark colors,” and no one is to be referred to by their first name.
In fact, as the Guide for Counsel makes clear, attorneys should only use a few specific titles to refer to the justices: Mr. Chief Justice for Chief Justice John Roberts and “Your Honor” or “Justice [Last Name]” for the rest.
Longtime court followers may recall that it was once common for attorneys to mix up Justices Sandra Day O’Connor and Ruth Bader Ginsburg, the first two women on the court. The guide includes some advice for attorneys who risk making such an error: “If you are in doubt about the name of a Justice who is addressing you, it is better to use ‘Your Honor’ than to address the Justice by another Justice’s name.”
As you might imagine, these formal titles sometimes trip up attorneys, but in my memory, the justices rarely dwell on such mistakes. For example, during the Mullin argument, Pipoly stumbled at the beginning of a response to Roberts, saying “Justice – Chief Justice – Mr. Chief Justice. My apologies.” “Whatever,” Roberts replied.
On navigating interruptions
Never interrupt a Justice who is addressing you. … If you are speaking and a Justice interrupts you, cease talking immediately and listen. (Guide for Counsel, pg. 9)
Roberts is less accepting of other norm violations, including when attorneys fail to heed the court’s guidance on interruptions. While justices can – and regularly do – cut off counsel mid-answer, attorneys are not to interject when a justice is speaking.
Instead, according to the guide, an attorney is to give their “full time and attention” to a justice raising a question (“do not look down at your notes, and do not look at your watch or at the clock located high on the wall behind the Justices”) and is not to begin responding until the justice is finished speaking. The attorney also must “cease talking immediately and listen” when a justice interrupts them, even if that means leaving a sentence unfinished.
Roberts appeared to enforce this rule during the oral argument in January in Trump v. Cook, a case on whether Trump can fire Lisa Cook, a member of the Federal Reserve’s Board of Governors, while Cook’s challenge to her removal plays out. After U.S. Solicitor General D. John Sauer spoke over Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson, Roberts cut in to say “Counsel – please allow the justice ...,” prompting Sauer to say “I’m sorry.” (But don’t take this apology to mean that Sauer is done interrupting – he’s become known for being slow to cede the floor despite Roberts’ strict enforcement of this provision.)
On answering questions
Make every effort to answer questions directly. If at all possible, say “yes” or “no,” and then expand upon your answer if you wish. If you do not know the answer, say so. (Guide for Counsel, pg. 11)
Perhaps because interruptions are common, the guide advises attorneys to offer clear, direct answers, to respond with “yes” or “no” whenever possible, and to “[b]e prepared to skip over much of your planned argument and stress your strongest points.” It also instructs them not to “stonewall” when a justice “makes a point that is adverse to” their position, and to, instead, “concede the point” or explain why it does not lose them the case.
I can think of several times during recent arguments when justices called out an attorney for failing to directly answer a question, often because they launched into a lengthy preamble rather than facing the question head on. For example, in Chatrie v. United States, a case on whether geofence warrants violate the Fourth Amendment, Justice Neil Gorsuch expressed frustration when an attorney failed to offer a clear “yes” or “no.” “I just want an answer to my hypotheticals,” Gorsuch said.
As to the final part of the quote I included above, attorneys do seem to be willing (at least occasionally) to admit when they can’t answer a question. As I read through this term’s transcripts while working on this article, I found several instances when an attorney said some variation of “I don’t know.” Perhaps most notably, in the birthright citizenship case, Trump v. Barbara, Sauer acknowledged his uncertainty when Gorsuch asked if tribal members are birthright citizens. “I’m not sure,” Sauer said. “I have to think that through.”
On cracking jokes
Attempts at humor usually fall flat. The same is true of attempts at familiarity. (Guide for Counsel, pg. 10)
In addition to advising attorneys to stick to direct answers, the Guide for Counsel recommends against getting too cute. Attorneys, the guide explains, shouldn’t try to crack jokes or win points with the justices by treating them like old buddies.
As subscribers to our SCOTUStoday newsletter already know, that doesn’t mean that Supreme Court oral arguments are humorless affairs. In the newsletter, we regularly highlight funny moments from the courtroom. But most of them feature jokes from the justices, not attorneys.
When an attorney does get a laugh, it’s typically not because they chased one, but, instead, because they acknowledged losing their train of thought or said something unexpected. The biggest exception is Lisa Blatt, a prominent Supreme Court advocate who is known for pushing the envelope with her argument style. Blatt appears to relish opportunities to make a funny observation, such as in T.M. v. University of Maryland Medical System Corp., a case on the relationship between state and federal courts, when she predicted what the court wouldn’t do.
“... [S]o no, you’re not going to overrule [the Rooker-Feldman doctrine]. I mean, sorry, I don’t think you’re going to do that,” she said. “Not in an April case. Not happening.” Justice Samuel Alito elicited further laughter with his response: “Don’t – don’t dare my colleagues.”
Paul Clement also stands out for being willing to engage in more casual banter. During the Cook argument, for example, he used the phrase “full Taft” three times to refer to President William Howard Taft’s approach to removing officials.
Comments like these may make portions of the argument more memorable to the justices, but that certainly doesn’t mean all attorneys should ignore the guide’s advice on humor. To go “full Blatt” or “full Clement” – if you’re not Blatt or Clement – is to risk annoying or even insulting them.
On celebrating the occasion
The quill pens at counsel table are gifts to you—a souvenir of your having argued before the highest Court in the land. Take them with you. (Guide for Counsel, pg. 4)
An opportunity to argue before the Supreme Court is a big deal, but attorneys are a bit limited in how they can mark the occasion. As the Guide for Counsel notes, they can’t invite everyone they know to watch them in action (“The Marshal, depending on available space, will endeavor to accommodate as many of your guests as possible—not exceeding six spaces per side.”) and they also can’t take a selfie or pose for pictures at the podium (“No personal computers, cellular phones, cameras, or other electronic/wireless devices are allowed in the Courtroom”).
But attorneys do get to bring home a unique souvenir: quill pens. These items, featuring white goose feathers, sit on the counsel table and serve as a callback “to the early 1800s, when Chief Justice John Marshall provided lawyers with quill pens and inkwells to take notes.” In 2017, the ABA Journal investigated what modern attorneys do with these pens and noted that Blatt, at least at that time, displayed all of hers in her office; others framed theirs and passed them down to their kids.
So what about swearing?
Avoid emotional oration and loud, impassioned pleas. (Guide for Counsel, pg. 10)
Let us end where we began: with swearing. I discovered the Supreme Court’s Guide for Counsel when trying to determine whether attorneys can curse during oral arguments, but it didn’t actually answer my question. The resource says nothing about using profanity, although it does advise against being too “emotional” or “impassioned.”
To perhaps state the obvious, I think it’s fair to conclude that attorneys shouldn’t typically involve swear words in their argument, but that they can curse when repeating a direct quote – as Pipoly did – or when swear words are core to the case, such as in trademark disputes or cases on FCC regulations.
One case of particular note: In 1971’s Cohen v. California, Chief Justice Warren Burger discouraged swearing in a comment to the attorney arguing on behalf of a man who was convicted for “disturbing the peace by wearing a jacket that said ‘Fuck the Draft.’” “I might suggest to you that, as in most cases, the Court’s thoroughly familiar with the factual setting of this case, and it won’t be necessary for you, I’m sure, to dwell on the facts,” Burger said. But the attorney, Melville Nimmer, repeated the phrase anyway – and ultimately prevailed in the case. As Justice John Marshall Harlan II wrote in the majority opinion, “while the particular four-letter word being litigated here is perhaps more distasteful than most others of its genre, it is nevertheless often true that one man's vulgarity is another's lyric.”