It’s natural to make this connection — tools are linked to our development as a species. Along with language and abstract thought, they make us human. The concept of a tool is intermeshed with the craft history of type foundries. To say “a typeface is a tool” is like saying it’s engineered, hand-crafted, built. It implies “this font is well made” while evoking the manual, physical processes of the old days.

Yet the contemporary definition of a tool is worryingly broad. Traditionally a tool was understood as “device held in the hand used to carry out a particular function”. The definition has loosened to “a thing used to help perform a job”, which means almost anything can be defined as a tool. Language is malleable, adapting to circumstances over time. Meanings change. But is it accurate to define a typeface in this way?

What job is a typeface performing? A typeface makes spoken language visible — a function performed adequately by most typefaces. This is the root of the perennial question: “Why do we need new typefaces?” Applying the broad definition of a tool, this is another way of saying: “Why do we need new tools for performing the same job?”