GET TO KNOW OTHER SUPREME COURT JUSTICES: The Wit and Warmth of Antonin Scalia

n the solemn chambers of the United States Supreme Court, where weighty constitutional questions and life-altering decisions are debated, humor may seem out of place. But for nearly three decades, Justice Antonin Scalia brought not just intellectual rigor to the bench, but also an unmistakable—and often uproarious—sense of humor. Though known for his fierce originalism and passionate dissents, Scalia was also widely recognized as the justice with perhaps the sharpest wit and most vibrant personality to ever grace the Court.

Born in Trenton, New Jersey in 1936, Scalia rose through the ranks of academia and government before being appointed to the Supreme Court by President Ronald Reagan in 1986. From day one, he made waves—not just with his bold conservative jurisprudence, but with his unapologetic, colorful language and a gift for rhetorical flair.

Scalia didn’t just write legal opinions—he wrote them like he was trying to make you laugh, argue with him, or both. His dissents often read like biting comedy sketches, packed with metaphors, sarcasm, and the occasional pop culture reference. One of his most famous quips came in Morrison v. Olson (1988), where he dissented alone against the constitutionality of the independent counsel law. He wrote: “This wolf comes as a wolf.” It was vintage Scalia: pithy, ominous, and memorable.

In King v. Burwell (2015), a major case involving the Affordable Care Act, Scalia mocked the majority’s logic by writing that their interpretation of the law made it resemble “a law rewritten by Humpty Dumpty.” He went on to suggest the statute should now be called “SCOTUScare.” It wasn’t just legal commentary—it was a mic drop.

Even during oral arguments, Scalia was known for keeping the courtroom on its toes. His questions were laced with sarcasm, and his verbal jabs often drew laughs from lawyers and spectators alike. He once interrupted a government attorney mid-argument to say, “I don’t want to run your case, counsel, but...” before telling him exactly what he was doing wrong—in the most entertaining way possible.

Yet Scalia’s humor was never just for show. It was also strategic. He believed that engaging writing—and yes, a well-placed joke—made judicial opinions more accessible, more readable, and more persuasive. He wanted his dissents to be remembered, studied, and debated. And they were.

Behind the bench, Scalia was just as quick-witted. He was famous for his booming laugh, his love of opera, and his fondness for teasing his colleagues—including those with whom he profoundly disagreed. Perhaps no friendship better illustrates this than his deep bond with Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Politically, they were opposites. Personally, they were best friends. They went to the opera together, celebrated New Year’s Eve, and joked constantly. Scalia once said Ginsburg was “a joy to work with,” adding that her opinions were “always logical—though sometimes wrong.”

Even his ideological opponents admitted: Scalia was fun to be around. He also poked fun at himself. In an interview, when asked why his writing was so fiery, Scalia grinned and said, “I write the way I talk. I’m an excitable guy.”

Of course, his humor didn’t make him universally beloved. Critics saw him as acerbic or abrasive, especially in contentious cases involving civil rights or social issues. But even those who disagreed with his views often couldn’t help but admire the force of his personality and the joy he took in debate.
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When Justice Scalia died in 2016, the Court lost not just one of its most influential legal minds, but also its liveliest spirit. His legacy, full of constitutional interpretation and controversial decisions, is also laced with laughter. In a place known for gravity, Antonin Scalia never forgot that wit, wisely used, could speak truth too.