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Later next month, the U.S. Supreme Court will hear oral arguments in Gonzalez v. Google LLC, a case that has drawn significant attention and many bad takes regarding how Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act should be interpreted. Enacted in the mid-1990s, when the Internet as we know it was still in its infancy, Section 230 has grown into a law that offers online platforms a fairly comprehensive shield against liability for the content that third parties post to their services. But the law has also come increasingly under fire, from both the political left and the right. 

At issue in Gonzalez is whether Section 230(c)(1) immunizes Google from a set of claims brought under the Antiterrorism Act of 1990 (ATA). The petitioners are relatives of Nohemi Gonzalez, an American citizen murdered in a 2015 terrorist attack in Paris. They allege that Google, through YouTube, is liable under the ATA for providing assistance to ISIS for four main reasons. They allege that: 

  1. Google allowed ISIS to use YouTube to disseminate videos and messages, thereby recruiting and radicalizing terrorists responsible for the murder.
  2. Google failed to take adequate steps to take down videos and accounts and keep them down.
  3. Google recommends videos of others, both through subscriptions and algorithms.
  4. Google monetizes this content through its AdSense service, with ISIS-affiliated users receiving revenue. 

The 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals dismissed all of the non-revenue-sharing claims as barred by Section 230(c)(1), but allowed the revenue-sharing claim to go forward. 

Highlights of DOJ’s Brief

In an amicus brief, the U.S. Justice Department (DOJ) ultimately asks the Court to vacate the 9th Circuit’s judgment regarding those claims that are based on YouTube’s alleged targeted recommendations of ISIS content. But the DOJ also rejects much of the petitioner’s brief, arguing that Section 230 does rightfully apply to the rest of the claims. 

The crux of the DOJ’s brief concerns when and how design choices can be outside of Section 230 immunity. The lodestar 9th Circuit case that the DOJ brief applies is 2008’s Fair Housing Council of San Fernando Valley v. Roommates.com.

As the DOJ notes, radical theories advanced by the plaintiffs and other amici would go too far in restricting Section 230 immunity based on a platform’s decisions on whether or not to block or remove user content (see, e.g., its discussion on pp. 17-21 of the merits and demerits of Justice Clarence Thomas’s Malwarebytes concurrence).  

At the same time, the DOJ’s brief notes that there is room for a reasonable interpretation of Section 230 that allows for liability to attach when online platforms behave unreasonably in their promotion of users’ content. Applying essentially the 9th Circuit’s Roommates.com standard, the DOJ argues that YouTube’s choice to amplify certain terrorist content through its recommendations algorithm is a design choice, rather than simply the hosting of third-party content, thereby removing it from the scope of  Section 230 immunity.  

While there is much to be said in favor of this approach, it’s important to point out that, although directionally correct, it’s not at all clear that a Roommates.com analysis should ultimately come down as the DOJ recommends in Gonzalez. More broadly, the way the DOJ structures its analysis has important implications for how we should think about the scope of Section 230 reform that attempts to balance accountability for intermediaries with avoiding undue collateral censorship.

Charting a Middle Course on Immunity

The important point on which the DOJ relies from Roommates.com is that intermediaries can be held accountable when their own conduct creates violations of the law, even if it involves third–party content. As the DOJ brief puts it:

Section 230(c)(1) protects an online platform from claims premised on its dissemination of third-party speech, but the statute does not immunize a platform’s other conduct, even if that conduct involves the solicitation or presentation of third-party content. The Ninth Circuit’s Roommates.com decision illustrates the point in the context of a website offering a roommate-matching service… As a condition of using the service, Roommates.com “require[d] each subscriber to disclose his sex, sexual orientation and whether he would bring children to a household,” and to “describe his preferences in roommates with respect to the same three criteria.” Ibid. The plaintiffs alleged that asking those questions violated housing-discrimination laws, and the court of appeals agreed that Section 230(c)(1) did not shield Roommates.com from liability for its “own acts” of “posting the questionnaire and requiring answers to it.” Id. at 1165.

Imposing liability in such circumstances does not treat online platforms as the publishers or speakers of content provided by others. Nor does it obligate them to monitor their platforms to detect objectionable postings, or compel them to choose between “suppressing controversial speech or sustaining prohibitive liability.”… Illustrating that distinction, the Roommates.com court held that although Section 230(c)(1) did not apply to the website’s discriminatory questions, it did shield the website from liability for any discriminatory third-party content that users unilaterally chose to post on the site’s “generic” “Additional Comments” section…

The DOJ proceeds from this basis to analyze what it would take for Google (via YouTube) to no longer benefit from Section 230 immunity by virtue of its own editorial actions, as opposed to its actions as a publisher (which 230 would still protect). For instance, are the algorithmic suggestions of videos simply neutral tools that allow for users to get more of the content they desire, akin to search results? Or are the algorithmic suggestions of new videos a design choice that makes it akin to Roommates?

The DOJ argues that taking steps to better display pre-existing content is not content development or creation, in and of itself. Similarly, it would be a mistake to make intermediaries liable for creating tools that can then be deployed by users:

Interactive websites invariably provide tools that enable users to create, and other users to find and engage with, information. A chatroom might supply topic headings to organize posts; a photo-sharing site might offer a feature for users to signal that they like or dislike a post; a classifieds website might enable users to add photos or maps to their listings. If such features rendered the website a co-developer of all users’ content, Section 230(c)(1) would be a dead letter.

At a high level, this is correct. Unfortunately, the DOJ argument then moves onto thinner ice. The DOJ believes that the 230 liability shield in Gonzalez depends on whether an automated “recommendation” rises to the level of development or creation, as the design of filtering criteria in Roommates.com did. Toward this end, the brief notes that:

The distinction between a recommendation and the recommended content is particularly clear when the recommendation is explicit. If YouTube had placed a selected ISIS video on a user’s homepage alongside a message stating, “You should watch this,” that message would fall outside Section 230(c)(1). Encouraging a user to watch a selected video is conduct distinct from the video’s publication (i.e., hosting). And while YouTube would be the “publisher” of the recommendation message itself, that message would not be “information provided by another information content provider.” 47 U.S.C. 230(c)(1).

An Absence of Immunity Does Not Mean a Presence of Liability

Importantly, the DOJ brief emphasizes throughout that remanding the ATA claims is not the end of the analysis—i.e., it does not mean that the plaintiffs can prove the elements. Moreover, other background law—notably, the First Amendment—can limit the application of liability to intermediaries, as well. As we put it in our paper on Section 230 reform:

It is important to again note that our reasonableness proposal doesn’t change the fact that the underlying elements in any cause of action still need to be proven. It is those underlying laws, whether civil or criminal, that would possibly hold intermediaries liable without Section 230 immunity. Thus, for example, those who complain that FOSTA/SESTA harmed sex workers by foreclosing a safe way for them to transact (illegal) business should really be focused on the underlying laws that make sex work illegal, not the exception to Section 230 immunity that FOSTA/SESTA represents. By the same token, those who assert that Section 230 improperly immunizes “conservative bias” or “misinformation” fail to recognize that, because neither of those is actually illegal (nor could they be under First Amendment law), Section 230 offers no additional immunity from liability for such conduct: There is no underlying liability from which to provide immunity in the first place.

There’s a strong likelihood that, on remand, the court will find there is no violation of the ATA at all. Section 230 immunity need not be stretched beyond all reasonable limits to protect intermediaries from hypothetical harms when underlying laws often don’t apply. 

Conclusion

To date, the contours of Section 230 reform largely have been determined by how courts interpret the statute. There is an emerging consensus that some courts have gone too far in extending Section 230 immunity to intermediaries. The DOJ’s brief is directionally correct, but the Court should not adopt it wholesale. More needs to be done to ensure that the particular facts of Gonzalez are not used to completely gut Section 230 more generally.  

Twitter has seen a lot of ups and downs since Elon Musk closed on his acquisition of the company in late October and almost immediately set about his initiatives to “reform” the platform’s operations.

One of the stories that has gotten somewhat lost in the ensuing chaos is that, in the short time under Musk, Twitter has made significant inroads—on at least some margins—against the visibility of child sexual abuse material (CSAM) by removing major hashtags that were used to share it, creating a direct reporting option, and removing major purveyors. On the other hand, due to the large reductions in Twitter’s workforce—both voluntary and involuntary—there are now very few human reviewers left to deal with the issue.

Section 230 immunity currently protects online intermediaries from most civil suits for CSAM (a narrow carveout is made under Section 1595 of the Trafficking Victims Protection Act). While the federal government could bring criminal charges if it believes online intermediaries are violating federal CSAM laws, and certain narrow state criminal claims could be brought consistent with federal law, private litigants are largely left without the ability to find redress on their own in the courts.

This, among other reasons, is why there has been a push to amend Section 230 immunity. Our proposal (along with co-author Geoffrey Manne) suggests online intermediaries should have a reasonable duty of care to remove illegal content. But this still requires thinking carefully about what a reasonable duty of care entails.

For instance, one of the big splash moves made by Twitter after Musk’s acquisition was to remove major CSAM distribution hashtags. While this did limit visibility of CSAM for a time, some experts say it doesn’t really solve the problem, as new hashtags will arise. So, would a reasonableness standard require the periodic removal of major hashtags? Perhaps it would. It appears to have been a relatively low-cost way to reduce access to such material, and could theoretically be incorporated into a larger program that uses automated discovery to find and remove future hashtags.

Of course it won’t be perfect, and will be subject to something of a Whac-A-Mole dynamic. But the relevant question isn’t whether it’s a perfect solution, but whether it yields significant benefit relative to its cost, such that it should be regarded as a legally reasonable measure that platforms should broadly implement.

On the flip side, Twitter has lost such a large amount of its workforce that it potentially no longer has enough staff to do the important review of CSAM. As long as Twitter allows adult nudity, and algorithms are unable to effectively distinguish between different types of nudity, human reviewers remain essential. A reasonableness standard might also require sufficient staff and funding dedicated to reviewing posts for CSAM. 

But what does it mean for a platform to behave “reasonably”?

Platforms Should Behave ‘Reasonably’

Rethinking platforms’ safe harbor from liability as governed by a “reasonableness” standard offers a way to more effectively navigate the complexities of these tradeoffs without resorting to the binary of immunity or total liability that typically characterizes discussions of Section 230 reform.

It could be the case that, given the reality that machines can’t distinguish between “good” and “bad” nudity, it is patently unreasonable for an open platform to allow any nudity at all if it is run with the level of staffing that Musk seems to prefer for Twitter.

Consider the situation that MindGeek faced a couple of years ago. It was pressured by financial providers, including PayPal and Visa, to clean up the CSAM and nonconsenual pornography that appeared on its websites. In response, they removed more than 80% of suspected illicit content and required greater authentication for posting.

Notwithstanding efforts to clean up the service, a lawsuit was filed against MindGeek and Visa by victims who asserted that the credit-card company was a knowing conspirator for processing payments to MindGeek’s sites when they were purveying child pornography. Notably, Section 230 issues were dismissed early on in the case, but the remaining claims—rooted in the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act (RICO) and the Trafficking Victims Protection Act (TVPA)—contained elements that support evaluating the conduct of online intermediaries, including payment providers who support online services, through a reasonableness lens.

In our amicus, we stressed the broader policy implications of failing to appropriately demarcate the bounds of liability. In short, we stressed that deterrence is best encouraged by placing responsibility for control on the party most closely able to monitor the situation—i.e., MindGeek, and not Visa. Underlying this, we believe that an appropriately tuned reasonableness standard should be able to foreclose these sorts of inquiries at early stages of litigation if there is good evidence that an intermediary behaved reasonably under the circumstances.

In this case, we believed the court should have taken seriously the fact that a payment processor needs to balance a number of competing demands— legally, economically, and morally—in a way that enables them to serve their necessary prosocial roles. Here, Visa had to balance its role, on the one hand, as a neutral intermediary responsible for handling millions of daily transactions, with its interests to ensure that it did not facilitate illegal behavior. But it also was operating, essentially, under a veil of ignorance: all of the information it had was derived from news reports, as it was not directly involved in, nor did it have special insight into, the operation of MindGeek’s businesses.

As we stressed in our intermediary-liability paper, there is indeed a valid concern that changes to intermediary-liability policy not invite a flood of ruinous litigation. Instead, there needs to be some ability to determine at the early stages of litigation whether a defendant behaved reasonably under the circumstances. In the MindGeek case, we believed that Visa did.

In essence, much of this approach to intermediary liability boils down to finding socially and economically efficient dividing lines that can broadly demarcate when liability should attach. For example, if Visa is liable as a co-conspirator in MindGeek’s allegedly illegal enterprise for providing a payment network that MindGeek uses by virtue of its relationship with yet other intermediaries (i.e., the banks that actually accept and process the credit-card payments), why isn’t the U.S. Post Office also liable for providing package-delivery services that allow MindGeek to operate? Or its maintenance contractor for cleaning and maintaining its offices?

Twitter implicitly engaged in this sort of analysis when it considered becoming an OnlyFans competitor. Despite having considerable resources—both algorithmic and human—Twitter’s internal team determined they could not “accurately detect child sexual exploitation and non-consensual nudity at scale.” As a result, they abandoned the project. Similarly, Tumblr tried to make many changes, including taking down CSAM hashtags, before finally giving up and removing all pornographic material in order to remain in the App Store for iOS. At root, these firms demonstrated the ability to weigh costs and benefits in ways entirely consistent with a reasonableness analysis. 

Thinking about the MindGeek situation again, it could also be the case that MindGeek did not behave reasonably. Some of MindGeek’s sites encouraged the upload of user-generated pornography. If MindGeek experienced the same limitations in detecting “good” and “bad” pornography (which is likely), it could be that the company behaved recklessly for many years, and only tightened its verification procedures once it was caught. If true, that is behavior that should not be protected by the law with a liability shield, as it is patently unreasonable.

Apple is sometimes derided as an unfair gatekeeper of speech through its App Store. But, ironically, Apple itself has made complex tradeoffs between data security and privacy—through use of encryption, on the one hand, and checking devices for CSAM material, on the other. Prioritizing encryption over scanning devices (especially photos and messages) for CSAM is a choice that could allow for more CSAM to proliferate. But the choice is, again, a difficult one: how much moderation is needed and how do you balance such costs against other values important to users, such as privacy for the vast majority of nonoffending users?

As always, these issues are complex and involve tradeoffs. But it is obvious that more can and needs to be done by online intermediaries to remove CSAM.

But What Is ‘Reasonable’? And How Do We Get There?

The million-dollar legal question is what counts as “reasonable?” We are not unaware of the fact that, particularly when dealing with online platforms that deal with millions of users a day, there is a great deal of surface area exposed to litigation by potentially illicit user-generated conduct. Thus, it is not the case, at least for the foreseeable future, that we need to throw open gates of a full-blown common-law process to determine questions of intermediary liability. What is needed, instead, is a phased-in approach that gets courts in the business of parsing these hard questions and building up a body of principles that, on the one hand, encourage platforms to do more to control illicit content on their services, and on the other, discourages unmeritorious lawsuits by the plaintiffs’ bar.

One of our proposals for Section 230 reform is for a multistakeholder body, overseen by an expert agency like the Federal Trade Commission or National Institute of Standards and Technology, to create certified moderation policies. This would involve online intermediaries working together with a convening federal expert agency to develop a set of best practices for removing CSAM, including thinking through the cost-benefit analysis of more moderation—human or algorithmic—or even wholesale removal of nudity and pornographic content.

Compliance with these standards should, in most cases, operate to foreclose litigation against online service providers at an early stage. If such best practices are followed, a defendant could point to its moderation policies as a “certified answer” to any complaint alleging a cause of action arising out of user-generated content. Compliant practices will merit dismissal of the case, effecting a safe harbor similar to the one currently in place in Section 230.

In litigation, after a defendant answers a complaint with its certified moderation policies, the burden would shift to the plaintiff to adduce sufficient evidence to show that the certified standards were not actually adhered to. Such evidence should be more than mere res ipsa loquitur; it must be sufficient to demonstrate that the online service provider should have been aware of a harm or potential harm, that it had the opportunity to cure or prevent it, and that it failed to do so. Such a claim would need to meet a heightened pleading requirement, as for fraud, requiring particularity. And, periodically, the body overseeing the development of this process would incorporate changes to the best practices standards based on the cases being brought in front of courts.

Online service providers don’t need to be perfect in their content-moderation decisions, but they should behave reasonably. A properly designed duty-of-care standard should be flexible and account for a platform’s scale, the nature and size of its user base, and the costs of compliance, among other considerations. What is appropriate for YouTube, Facebook, or Twitter may not be the same as what’s appropriate for a startup social-media site, a web-infrastructure provider, or an e-commerce platform.

Indeed, this sort of flexibility is a benefit of adopting a “reasonableness” standard, such as is found in common-law negligence. Allowing courts to apply the flexible common-law duty of reasonable care would also enable jurisprudence to evolve with the changing nature of online intermediaries, the problems they pose, and the moderating technologies that become available.

Conclusion

Twitter and other online intermediaries continue to struggle with the best approach to removing CSAM, nonconsensual pornography, and a whole host of other illicit content. There are no easy answers, but there are strong ethical reasons, as well as legal and market pressures, to do more. Section 230 reform is just one part of a complete regulatory framework, but it is an important part of getting intermediary liability incentives right. A reasonableness approach that would hold online platforms accountable in a cost-beneficial way is likely to be a key part of a positive reform agenda for Section 230.

Capping months of inter-chamber legislative wrangling, President Joe Biden on Nov. 15 signed the $1 trillion Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act (also known as the bipartisan infrastructure framework, or BIF), which sets aside $65 billion of federal funding for broadband projects. While there is much to praise about the package’s focus on broadband deployment and adoption, whether that money will be well-spent  depends substantially on how the law is implemented and whether the National Telecommunications and Information Administration (NTIA) adopts adequate safeguards to avoid waste, fraud, and abuse. 

The primary aim of the bill’s broadband provisions is to connect the truly unconnected—what the bill refers to as the “unserved” (those lacking a connection of at least 25/3 Mbps) and “underserved” (lacking a connection of at least 100/20 Mbps). In seeking to realize this goal, it’s important to bear in mind that dynamic analysis demonstrates that the broadband market is overwhelmingly healthy, even in locales with relatively few market participants. According to the Federal Communications Commission’s (FCC) latest Broadband Progress Report, approximately 5% of U.S. consumers have no options for at least 25/3 Mbps broadband, and slightly more than 8% have no options for at least 100/10 Mbps).  

Reaching the truly unserved portions of the country will require targeting subsidies toward areas that are currently uneconomic to reach. Without properly targeted subsidies, there is a risk of dampening incentives for private investment and slowing broadband buildout. These tradeoffs must be considered. As we wrote previously in our Broadband Principles issue brief:

  • To move forward successfully on broadband infrastructure spending, Congress must take seriously the roles of both the government and the private sector in reaching the unserved.
  • Current U.S. broadband infrastructure is robust, as demonstrated by the way it met the unprecedented surge in demand for bandwidth during the recent COVID-19 pandemic.
  • To the extent it is necessary at all, public investment in broadband infrastructure should focus on providing Internet access to those who don’t have it, rather than subsidizing competition in areas that already do.
  • Highly prescriptive mandates—like requiring a particular technology or requiring symmetrical speeds— will be costly and likely to skew infrastructure spending away from those in unserved areas.
  • There may be very limited cases where municipal broadband is an effective and efficient solution to a complete absence of broadband infrastructure, but policymakers must narrowly tailor any such proposals to avoid displacing private investment or undermining competition.
  • Consumer-directed subsidies should incentivize broadband buildout and, where necessary, guarantee the availability of minimum levels of service reasonably comparable to those in competitive markets.
  • Firms that take government funding should be subject to reasonable obligations. Competitive markets should be subject to lighter-touch obligations.

The Good

The BIF’s broadband provisions ended up in a largely positive place, at least as written. There are two primary ways it seeks to achieve its goals of promoting adoption and deploying broadband to unserved/underserved areas. First, it makes permanent the Emergency Broadband Benefit program that had been created to provide temporary aid to households who struggled to afford Internet service during the COVID-19 pandemic, though it does lower the monthly user subsidy from $50 to $30. The renamed Affordable Connectivity Program can be used to pay for broadband on its own, or as part of a bundle of other services (e.g., a package that includes telephone, texting, and the rental fee on equipment).

Relatedly, the bill also subsidizes the cost of equipment by extending a one-time reimbursement of up to $100 to broadband providers when a consumer takes advantage of the provider’s discounted sale of connected devices, such as laptops, desktops, or tablet computers capable of Wi-Fi and video conferencing. 

The decision to make the emergency broadband benefit a permanent program broadly comports with recommendations we have made to employ user subsidies (such as connectivity vouchers) to encourage broadband adoption.

The second and arguably more important of the bill’s broadband provisions is its creation of the $42 billion Broadband Equity, Access and Deployment (BEAD) Program. Under the direction of the NTIA, BEAD will direct grants to state governments to help the states expand access to and use of high-speed broadband.  

On the bright side, BEAD does appear to be designed to connect the country’s truly unserved regions—which, as noted above, account for about 8% of the nation’s households. The law explicitly requires prioritizing unserved areas before underserved areas. Even where the text references underserved areas as an additional priority, it does so in a way that won’t necessarily distort private investment.  The bill also creates preferences for projects in persistent and high-poverty areas. Thus, the targeted areas are very likely to fall on the “have-not” side of the digital divide.

On its face, the subsidy and grant approach taken in the bill is, all things considered, commendable. As we note in our broadband report, care must be taken to avoid interventions that distort private investment incentives, particularly in a successful industry like broadband. The goal, after all, is more broadband deployment. If policy interventions only replicate private options (usually at higher cost) or, worse, drive private providers from a market, broadband deployment will be slowed or reversed. The approach taken in this bill attempts to line up private incentives with regulatory goals.

As we discuss below, however, the devil is in the details. In particular, BEAD’s structure could theoretically allow enough discretion in execution that a large amount of waste, fraud, and abuse could end up frustrating the program’s goals.

The Bad

While the bill largely keeps the right focus of building out broadband in unserved areas, there are reasons to question some of its preferences and solutions. For instance, the state subgrant process puts for-profit and government-run broadband solutions on an equal playing field for the purposes of receiving funds, even though the two types of entities exist in very different institutional environments with very different incentives. 

There is also a requirement that projects provide broadband of at least 100/20 Mbps speed, even though the bill defines “unserved”as lacking at least 25/3 Mbps. While this is not terribly objectionable, the preference for 100/20 could have downstream effects on the hardest-to-connect areas. It may only be economically feasible to connect some very remote areas with a 25/3 Mbps connection. Requiring higher speeds in such areas may, despite the best intentions, slow deployment and push providers to prioritize areas that are relatively easier to connect.

For comparison, the FCC’s Connect America Fund and Rural Digital Opportunity Fund programs do place greater weight in bidding for providers that can deploy higher-speed connections. But in areas where a lower speed tier is cost-justified, a provider can still bid and win. This sort of approach would have been preferable in the infrastructure bill. 

But the bill’s largest infirmity is not in its terms or aims, but in the potential for mischief in its implementation. In particular, the BEAD grant program lacks the safeguards that have traditionally been applied to this sort of funding at the FCC. 

Typically, an aid program of this sort would be administered by the FCC under rulemaking bound by the Administrative Procedure Act (APA). As cumbersome as that process may sometimes be, APA rulemaking provides a high degree of transparency that results in fairly reliable public accountability. BEAD, by contrast, eschews this process, and instead permits NTIA to work directly with governors and other relevant state officials to dole out the money.  The funds will almost certainly be distributed more quickly, but with significantly less accountability and oversight. 

A large amount of the implementation detail will be driven at the state level. By definition, this will make it more difficult to monitor how well the program’s aims are being met. It also creates a process with far more opportunities for highly interested parties to lobby state officials to direct funding to their individual pet projects. None of this is to say that BEAD funding will necessarily be misdirected, but NTIA will need to be very careful in how it proceeds.

Conclusion: The Opportunity

Although the BIF’s broadband funds are slated to be distributed next year, we may soon be able to see whether there are warning signs that the legitimate goal of broadband deployment is being derailed for political favoritism. BEAD initially grants a flat $100 million to each state; it is only additional monies over that initial amount that need to be sought through the grant program. Thus, it is highly likely that some states will begin to enact legislation and related regulations in the coming year based on that guaranteed money. This early regulatory and legislative activity could provide insight into the pitfalls the full BEAD grantmaking program will face.

The larger point, however, is that the program needs safeguards. Where Congress declined to adopt them, NTIA would do well to implement them. Obviously, this will be something short of full APA rulemaking, but the NTIA will need to make accountability and reliability a top priority to ensure that the digital divide is substantially closed.

With the passing of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, many have already noted her impact on the law as an advocate for gender equality and women’s rights, her importance as a role model for women, and her civility. Indeed, a key piece of her legacy is that she was a jurist in the classic sense of the word: she believed in using coherent legal reasoning to reach a result. And that meant Justice Ginsburg’s decisions sometimes cut against partisan political expectations. 

This is clearly demonstrated in our little corner of the law: RBG frequently voted in the majority on antitrust cases in a manner that—to populist leftwing observers—would be surprising. Moreover, she authored an important case on price discrimination that likewise cuts against the expectation of populist antitrust critics and demonstrates her nuanced jurisprudence.

RBG’s record on the Court shows a respect for the evolving nature of antitrust law

In the absence of written opinions of her own, it is difficult to discern what was actually in Justice Ginsburg’s mind as she encountered antitrust issues. But, her voting record represents at least a willingness to approach antitrust in an apolitical manner. 

Over the last several decades, Justice Ginsburg joined the Supreme Court majority in many cases dealing with a wide variety of antitrust issues, including the duty to deal doctrine, vertical restraints, joint ventures, and mergers. In many of these cases, RBG aligned herself with judgments of the type that the antitrust populists criticize.

The following are major consumer welfare standard cases that helped shape the current state of antitrust law in which she joined the majority or issued a concurrence: 

  • Verizon Commc’ns Inc. v. Law Offices of Curtis Trinko, LLP, 540 U.S. 398 (2004) (unanimous opinion heightening the standard for finding a duty to deal)
  • Pacific Bell Tel. Co v. linkLine Commc’ns, Inc.,  555 U.S. 438 (2009) (Justice Ginsburg joined the concurrence finding there was no “price squeeze” but suggesting the predatory pricing claim should be remanded)
  • Weyerhaeuser Co. v. Ross-Simmons Hardwood Lumber Co., Inc., 549 U.S. 312 (2007) (unanimous opinion finding predatory buying claims are still subject to the dangerous probability of recoupment test from Brooke Group)
  • Apple, Inc. v. Robert Pepper, 139 S.Ct. 1514 (2019) (part of majority written by Justice Kavanaugh finding that iPhone owners were direct purchasers under Illinois Brick that may sue Apple for alleged monopolization)
  • State Oil Co. v. Khan, 522 U.S. 3 (1997) (unanimous opinion overturning per se treatment of vertical maximum price fixing under Albrecht and applying rule of reason standard)
  • Texaco Inc. v. Dagher, 547 U.S. 1 (2006) (unanimous opinion finding it is not per se illegal under §1 of the Sherman Act for a lawful, economically integrated joint venture to set the prices at which it sells its products)
  • Illinois Tool Works Inc. v. Independent Ink, Inc., 547 U.S. 28 (2006) (unanimous opinion finding a patent does not necessarily confer market power upon the patentee, in all cases involving a tying arrangement, the plaintiff must prove that the defendant has market power in the tying product)
  • U.S. v. Baker Hughes, Inc., 908 F. 2d 981 (D.C. Cir. 1990) (unanimous opinion written by then-Judge Clarence Thomas while both were on the D.C. Circuit of Appeals finding against the government’s argument that the defendant in a Section 7 merger challenge can rebut a prima facie case only by a clear showing that entry into the market by competitors would be quick and effective)

Even where she joined the dissent in antitrust cases, she did so within the ambit of the consumer welfare standard. Thus, while she was part of the dissent in cases like Leegin Creative Leather Products, Inc. v. PSKS, Inc., 551 U.S. 877 (2007), Bell Atlantic Corp v. Twombly, 550 U.S. 544 (2007), and Ohio v. American Express Co., 138 S.Ct. 2274 (2018), she still left a legacy of supporting modern antitrust jurisprudence. In those cases, RBG simply  had a different vision for how best to optimize consumer welfare. 

Justice Ginsburg’s Volvo Opinion

The 2006 decision Volvo Trucks North America, Inc. v. Reeder-Simco GMC, Inc. was one of the few antitrust decisions authored by RBG and shows her appreciation for the consumer welfare standard. In particular, Justice Ginsburg affirmed the notion that antitrust law is designed to protect competition not competitors—a lesson that, as of late, needs to be refreshed. 

Volvo, a 7-2 decision, dealt with the Robinson-Patman Act’s prohibition on price discimination. Reeder-Simco, a retail car dealer that sold Volvos, alleged that Volvo Inc. was violating the Robinson-Patman Act by selling cars to them at different prices than to other Volvo dealers.

The Robinson-Patman Act is frequently cited by antitrust populists as a way to return antitrust law to its former glory. A main argument of Lina Khan’s Amazon’s Antitrust Paradox was that the Chicago School had distorted the law on vertical restraints generally, and price discrimination in particular. One source of this distortion in Khan’s opinion has been the Supreme Court’s mishandling of the Robinson-Patman Act.

Yet, in Volvo we see Justice Ginsburg wrestling with the Robinson-Patman Act in a way to give effect to the law as written, which may run counter to some of the contemporary populist impulse to revise the Court’s interpretation of antitrust laws. Justice Ginsburg, citing Brown & Williamson, first noted that: 

Mindful of the purposes of the Act and of the antitrust laws generally, we have explained that Robinson-Patman does not “ban all price differences charged to different purchasers of commodities of like grade and quality.”

Instead, the Robinson-Patman Act was aimed at a particular class of harms that Congress believed existed when large chain-stores were able to exert something like monopsony buying power. Moreover, Justice Ginsburg noted, the Act “proscribes ‘price discrimination only to the extent that it threatens to injure competition’[.]”

Under the Act, plaintiffs needed to demonstrate evidence of Volvo Inc. systematically treating plaintiffs as “disfavored” purchasers as against another set of “favored” purchasers. Instead, all plaintiffs could produce was anecdotal and inconsistent evidence of Volvo Inc. disfavoring them. Thus, the plaintiffs— and theoretically other similarly situated Volvo dealers— were in fact harmed in a sense by Volvo Inc. Yet, Justice Ginsburg was unwilling to rewrite the Act on Congress’s behalf to incorporate new harms later discovered (a fact which would not earn her accolades in populist circles these days). 

Instead, Justice Ginsburg wrote that:

Interbrand competition, our opinions affirm, is the “primary concern of antitrust law.”… The Robinson-Patman Act signals no large departure from that main concern. Even if the Act’s text could be construed in the manner urged by [plaintiffs], we would resist interpretation geared more to the protection of existing competitors than to the stimulation of competition. In the case before us, there is no evidence that any favored purchaser possesses market power, the allegedly favored purchasers are dealers with little resemblance to large independent department stores or chain operations, and the supplier’s selective price discounting fosters competition among suppliers of different brands… By declining to extend Robinson-Patman’s governance to such cases, we continue to construe the Act “consistently with broader policies of the antitrust laws.” Brooke Group, 509 U.S., at 220… (cautioning against Robinson-Patman constructions that “extend beyond the prohibitions of the Act and, in doing so, help give rise to a price uniformity and rigidity in open conflict with the purposes of other antitrust legislation”).

Thus, interested in the soundness of her jurisprudence in the face of a well-developed body of antitrust law, Justice Ginsburg chose to continue to develop that body of law rather than engage in judicial policymaking in favor of a sympathetic plaintiff. 

It must surely be tempting for a justice on the Court to adopt less principled approaches to the law in any given case, and it is equally as impressive that Justice Ginsburg consistently stuck to her principles. We can only hope her successor takes note of Justice Ginsburg’s example.