We can expect a decision very soon from the High Court of Ireland on last summer’s Irish Data Protection Commission (“IDPC”) decision that placed serious impediments in the transfer data across the Atlantic. That decision, coupled with the July 2020 Court of Justice of the European Union (“CJEU”) decision to invalidate the Privacy Shield agreement between the European Union and the United States, has placed the future of transatlantic trade in jeopardy.
In 2015, the EU Schrems decision invalidated the previously longstanding “safe harbor” agreement between the EU and U.S. to ensure data transfers between the two zones complied with EU privacy requirements. The CJEU later invalidated the Privacy Shield agreement that was created in response to Schrems. In its decision, the court reasoned that U.S. foreign intelligence laws like FISA Section 702 and Executive Order 12333—which give the U.S. government broad latitude to surveil data and offer foreign persons few rights to challenge such surveillance—rendered U.S. firms unable to guarantee the privacy protections of EU citizens’ data.
The IDPC’s decision employed the same logic: if U.S. surveillance laws give the government unreviewable power to spy on foreign citizens’ data, then standard contractual clauses—an alternative mechanism for firms for transferring data—are incapable of satisfying the requirements of EU law.
The implications that flow from this are troubling, to say the least. In the worst case, laws like the CLOUD Act could leave a wide swath of U.S. firms practically incapable doing business in the EU. In the slightly less bad case, firms could be forced to completely localize their data and disrupt the economies of scale that flow from being able to process global data in a unified manner. In any case, the costs for compliance will be massive.
But even if the Irish court upholds the IDPC’s decision, there could still be a path forward for the U.S. and EU to preserve transatlantic digital trade. EU Commissioner for Justice Didier Reynders and U.S. Commerce Secretary Gina Raimondo recently issued a joint statement asserting they are “intensifying” negotiations to develop an enhanced successor to the EU-US Privacy Shield agreement. One can hope the talks are both fast and intense.
It seems unlikely that the Irish High Court would simply overturn the IDPC’s ruling. Instead, the IDCP’s decision will likely be upheld, possibly with recommended modifications. But even in that case, there is a process that buys the U.S. and EU a bit more time before any transatlantic trade involving consumer data grinds to a halt.
After considering replies to its draft decision, the IDPC would issue final recommendations on the extent of the data-transfer suspensions it deems necessary. It would then need to harmonize its recommendations with the other EU data-protection authorities. Theoretically, that could occur in a matter of days, but practically speaking, it would more likely occur over weeks or months. Assuming we get a decision from the Irish High Court before the end of April, it puts the likely deadline for suspension of transatlantic data transfers somewhere between June and September.
That’s not great, but it is not an impossible hurdle to overcome and there are temporary fixes the Biden administration could put in place. Two major concerns need to be addressed.
U.S. data collection on EU citizens needs to be proportional to the necessities of intelligence gathering. Currently, the U.S. intelligence agencies have wide latitude to collect a large amount of data.
The ombudsperson the Privacy Shield agreement created to be responsible for administering foreign citizen data requests was not sufficiently insulated from the political process, creating the need for adequate redress by EU citizens.
As Alex Joel recently noted, the Biden administration has ample powers to effect many of these changes through executive action. After all, EO 12333 was itself a creation of the executive branch. Other changes necessary to shape foreign surveillance to be in accord with EU requirements could likewise arise from the executive branch.
Nonetheless, Congress should not take that as a cue for complacency. It is possible that even if the Biden administration acts, the CJEU could find some or all of the measures insufficient. As the Biden team works to put changes in place through executive order, Congress should pursue surveillance reform through legislation.
Theoretically, the above fixes should be possible; there is not much partisan rancor about transatlantic trade as a general matter. But time is short, and this should be a top priority on policymakers’ radars.
(note: edited to clarify that the Irish High Court is not reviewing SCC’s directly and that the CLOUD Act would not impose legal barriers for firms, but practical ones).
In order to understand the lack of apparent basis for the European Commission’s claims that AstraZeneca is in breach of its contractual obligations to supply it with vaccine doses, it is necessary to understand the difference between stock and flow.
If I have 1,000 widgets in my warehouse, and agree to sell 700 of them to Ursula, and 600 of them to Boris, I will be unable to perform both contracts. They’re inconsistent with one another, and if I choose to perform my contract with Boris, Ursula will be understandably aggrieved. Is this what AstraZeneca have done? No.
At the time of the contracts AstraZenca entered into with the Commission and the United Kingdom no vaccine doses existed. What AstraZeneca promised was to use best reasonable efforts to acquire approval for and production of vaccines, and to deliver what it succeeded in making.
The United Kingdom was involved from an early stage (January/February) in the roll out of what was to become the Oxford/AstraZeneca vaccine. It was a third party beneficiary of the original licensing agreement of 17 May between Oxford and AstraZeneca, and provided the initial funding of £65 million (quickly greatly increased). Approval for use was given on 30 December, with the first dose given outside a trial on 4 January.
What each counterparty is entitled to is the doses that AstraZeneca succeeds, using best reasonable efforts, in producing under its contract. A metaphor is that each is buying a place in a production queue [Flow]. Neither was buying doses current in existence [Stock].
The metaphor of the queue is however somewhat misleading. It implies that the Commission is having to wait behind the United Kingdom. This is wrong. In fact, the Commission (and other parties) are benefitting from the earlier development and ramp up of production that occurred because of the United Kingdom’s contractual arrangements. Far from being prejudiced by the United Kingdom’s actions, the Commission and others have benefitted from it.
The Commission’s argument is not, and never has been, as some have supposed, that AstraZeneca has failed in its best reasonable efforts obligation to manufacture doses. Such an argument does the Commission no good. It would leave it with a claim for damages before a Belgian court in several years’ time. It is also seems unlikely that a claim that AstraZeneca have been dilatory in rolling out a vaccine in a fraction of the time anyone had achieved before this year, and which other suppliers failed altogether to do, has much prospect for success.
What it (and the Member States) want are doses today.
So, the argument instead is that AstraZeneca has succeeded and that there are doses in existence that the Commission is entitled to. This is based in part upon the frustration in seeing deliveries of vaccine doses to the United Kingdom from factories that the Commission’s contract says that AstraZeneca can deliver doses to it from.
Their position appears untenable. The Commission is entitled to those doses that its supplier succeeds, using best reasonable efforts, in producing under its contract with it. It is not entitled to doses that are only in existence because of earlier contractual arrangements with an entirely different counterparty.
In practice, which doses are being produced under which contract will be obvious from the fact that most production is being done by subcontractors (AstraZeneca is a relatively small producer). The shortfall in production under the Commission’s contract appears to have been caused by a failure of a sub-contractor in Belgium.
It is because the Commission’s arguments under its contract are so obviously weak that we are now seeing calls for export bans. If there really were any contractual entitlement to what has been produced, and AstraZeneca were in breach of contract in failing to deliver, then the usual civil recourse would be the obvious and easy path for the Commission. The nuclear option is being relied upon because of the lack of any such contractual right.
Conversely there is no equivalence between the United Kingdom requiring that doses that it is contractually entitled to are delivered to it, and the Commission’s proposed export ban.
Two common objections to the above have been put forward that it is helpful to rule out. First the Commission’s contract is governed by Belgian law. However, there is no rule specific to any jurisdiction in play here. All that needs to be known is pacta sunt servanda, a principle applicable across Europe.
Second is that the UK’s supply contract was only actually formalised in August. The earlier agreement was however months before, as was the funding that has resulted in the doses that there are for anybody.
In the wake of its departure from the European Union, the United Kingdom will have the opportunity to enter into new free trade agreements (FTAs) with its international trading partners that lower existing tariff and non-tariff barriers. Achieving major welfare-enhancing reductions in trade restrictions will not be easy. Trade negotiations pose significant political sensitivities, such as those arising from the high levels of protection historically granted certain industry sectors, particularly agriculture.
Nevertheless, the political economy of protectionism suggests that, given deepening globalization and the sudden change in U.K. trade relations wrought by Brexit, the outlook for substantial liberalization of U.K. trade has become much brighter. Below, I address some of the key challenges facing U.K. trade negotiators as they seek welfare-enhancing improvements in trade relations and offer a proposal to deal with novel trade distortions in the least protectionist manner.
Two New Challenges Affecting Trade Liberalization
In addition to traditional trade issues, such as tariff levels and industry sector-specific details, U.K, trade negotiators—indeed, trade negotiators from all nations—will have to confront two relatively new and major challenges that are creating several frictions.
First, behind-the-border anticompetitive market distortions (ACMDs) have largely replaced tariffs as the preferred means of protection in many areas. As I explained in a previous post on this site (citing an article by trade-law scholar Shanker Singham and me), existing trade and competition law have not been designed to address the ACMD problem:
[I]nternational trade agreements simply do not reach a variety of anticompetitive welfare-reducing government measures that create de facto trade barriers by favoring domestic interests over foreign competitors. Moreover, many of these restraints are not in place to discriminate against foreign entities, but rather exist to promote certain favored firms. We dub these restrictions “anticompetitive market distortions” or “ACMDs,” in that they involve government actions that empower certain private interests to obtain or retain artificial competitive advantages over their rivals, be they foreign or domestic. ACMDs are often a manifestation of cronyism, by which politically-connected enterprises successfully pressure government to shield them from effective competition, to the detriment of overall economic growth and welfare. …
As we emphasize in our article, existing international trade rules have been able to reach ACMDs, which include: (1) governmental restraints that distort markets and lessen competition; and (2) anticompetitive private arrangements that are backed by government actions, have substantial effects on trade outside the jurisdiction that imposes the restrictions, and are not readily susceptible to domestic competition law challenge. Among the most pernicious ACMDs are those that artificially alter the cost-base as between competing firms. Such cost changes will have large and immediate effects on market shares, and therefore on international trade flows.
Second, in recent years, the trade remit has expanded to include “nontraditional” issues such as labor, the environment, and now climate change. These concerns have generated support for novel tariffs that could help promote protectionism and harmful trade distortions. As explained in a recent article by the Special Trade Commission advisory group (former senior trade and antitrust officials who have provided independent policy advice to the U.K. government):
[The rise of nontraditional trade issues] has renewed calls for border tax adjustments or dual tariffs on an ex-ante basis. This is in sharp tension with the W[orld Trade Organization’s] long-standing principle of technological neutrality, and focus on outcomes as opposed to discriminating on the basis of the manner of production of the product. The problem is that it is too easy to hide protectionist impulses into concerns about the manner of production, and once a different tariff applies, it will be very difficult to remove. The result will be to significantly damage the liberalisation process itself leading to severe harm to the global economy at a critical time as we recover from Covid-19. The potentially damaging effects of ex ante tariffs will be visited most significantly in developing countries.
Dealing with New Trade Challenges in the Least Protectionist Manner
A broad approach to U.K. trade liberalization that also addresses the two new trade challenges is advanced in a March 2 report by the U.K. government’s Trade and Agricultural Commission (TAC, an independent advisory agency established in 2020). Although addressed primarily to agricultural trade, the TAC report enunciates principles applicable to U.K. trade policy in general, considering the impact of ACMDs and nontraditional issues. Key aspects of the TAC report are summarized in an article by Shanker Singham (the scholar who organized and convened the Special Trade Commission and who also served as a TAC commissioner):
The heart of the TAC report’s import policy contains an innovative proposal that attempts to simultaneously promote a trade liberalising agenda in agriculture, while at the same time protecting the UK’s high standards in food production and ensuring the UK fully complies with WTO rules on animal and plant health, as well as technical regulations that apply to food trade.
This proposal includes a mechanism to deal with some of the most difficult issues in agricultural trade which relate to animal welfare, environment and labour rules. The heart of this mechanism is the potential for the application of a tariff in cases where an aggrieved party can show that a trading partner is violating agreed standards in an FTA.
The result of the mechanism is a tariff based on the scale of the distortion which operates like a trade remedy. The mechanism can also be used offensively where a country is preventing market access by the UK as a result of the market distortion, or defensively where a distortion in a foreign market leads to excess exports from that market. …
[T]he tariff would be calibrated to the scale of the distortion and would apply only to the product category in which the distortion is occurring. The advantage of this over a more conventional trade remedy is that it is based on cost as opposed to price and is designed to remove the effects of the distorting activity. It would not be applied on a retaliatory basis in other unrelated sectors.
In exchange for this mechanism, the UK commits to trade liberalisation and, within a reasonable timeframe, zero tariffs and zero quotas. This in turn will make the UK’s advocacy of higher standards in international organisations much more credible, another core TAC proposal.
The TAC report also notes that behind the border barriers and anti-competitive market distortions (“ACMDs”) have the capacity to damage UK exports and therefore suggests a similar mechanism or set of disciplines could be used offensively. Certainly, where the ACMD is being used to protect a particular domestic industry, using the ACMD mechanism to apply a tariff for the exports of that industry would help, but this may not apply where the purpose is protective, and the industry does not export much.
I would argue that in this case, it would be important to ensure that UK FTAs include disciplines on these ACMDs which if breached could lead to dispute settlement and the potential for retaliatory tariffs for sectors in the UK’s FTA partner that do export. This is certainly normal WTO-sanctioned practice, and could be used here to encourage compliance. It is clear from the experience in dealing with countries that engage in ACMDs for trade or competition advantage that unless there are robust disciplines, mere hortatory language would accomplish little or nothing.
But this sort of mechanism with its concomitant commitment to freer trade has much wider potential application than just UK agricultural trade policy. It could also be used to solve a number of long standing trade disputes such as the US-China dispute, and indeed the most vexed questions in trade involving environment and climate change in ways that do not undermine the international trading system itself.
This is because the mechanism is based on an ex post tariff as opposed to an ex ante one which contains within it the potential for protectionism, and is prone to abuse. Because the tariff is actually calibrated to the cost advantage which is secured as a result of the violation of agreed international standards, it is much more likely that it will be simply limited to removing this cost advantage as opposed to becoming a punitive measure that curbs ordinary trade flows.
It is precisely this type of problem solving and innovative thinking that the international trading system needs as it faces a range of challenges that threaten liberalisation itself and the hard-won gains of the post war GATT/WTO system itself. The TAC report represents UK leadership that has been sought after since the decision to leave the EU. It has much to commend it.
Assessment and Conclusion
Even when administered by committed free traders, real-world trade liberalization is an exercise in welfare optimization, subject to constraints imposed by the actions of organized interest groups expressed through the political process. The rise of new coalitions (such as organizations committed to specified environmental goals, including limiting global warming) and the proliferation of ADMCs further complicates the trade negotiation calculus.
Fortunately, recognizing the “reform moment” created by Brexit, free trade-oriented experts (in particular, the TAC, supported by the Special Trade Commission) have recommended that the United Kingdom pursue a bold move toward zero tariffs and quotas. Narrow exceptions to this policy would involve after-the-fact tariffications to offset (1) the distortive effects of ACMDs and (2) derogation from rules embodying nontraditional concerns, such as environmental commitments. Such tariffications would be limited and cost-based, and, as such, welfare-superior to ex ante tariffs calibrated to price.
While the details need to be worked out, the general outlines of this approach represent a thoughtful and commendable market-oriented effort to secure substantial U.K. trade liberalization, subject to unavoidable constraints. More generally, one would hope that other jurisdictions (including the United States) take favorable note of this development as they generate their own trade negotiation policies. Stay tuned.
[TOTM: The following is part of a digital symposium by TOTM guests and authors on the law, economics, and policy of the antitrust lawsuits against Google. The entire series of posts is available here.]
The U.S. Department of Justice’s (DOJ) antitrust case against Google, which was filed in October 2020, will be a tough slog. It is an alleged monopolization (Sherman Act, Sec. 2) case; and monopolization cases are always a tough slog.
In this brief essay I will lay out some of the issues in the case and raise an intriguing possibility.
What is the case about?
The case is about exclusivity and exclusion in the distribution of search engine services; that Google paid substantial sums to Apple and to the manufacturers of Android-based mobile phones and tablets and also to wireless carriers and web-browser proprietors—in essence, to distributors—to install the Google search engine as the exclusive pre-set (installed), default search program. The suit alleges that Google thereby made it more difficult for other search-engine providers (e.g., Bing; DuckDuckGo) to obtain distribution for their search-engine services and thus to attract search-engine users and to sell the online advertising that is associated with search-engine use and that provides the revenue to support the search “platform” in this “two-sided market” context.
Exclusion can be seen as a form of “raising rivals’ costs.” Equivalently, exclusion can be seen as a form of non-price predation. Under either interpretation, the exclusionary action impedes competition.
It’s important to note that these allegations are different from those that motivated an investigation by the Federal Trade Commission (which the FTC dropped in 2013) and the cases by the European Union against Google. Those cases focused on alleged self-preferencing; that Google was unduly favoring its own products and services (e.g., travel services) in its delivery of search results to users of its search engine. In those cases, the impairment of competition (arguably) happens with respect to those competing products and services, not with respect to search itself.
What is the relevant market?
For a monopolization allegation to have any meaning, there needs to be the exercise of market power (which would have adverse consequences for the buyers of the product). And in turn, that exercise of market power needs to occur in a relevant market: one in which market power can be exercised.
Here is one of the important places where the DOJ’s case is likely to turn into a slog: the delineation of a relevant market for alleged monopolization cases remains as a largely unsolved problem for antitrust economics. This is in sharp contrast to the issue of delineating relevant markets for the antitrust analysis of proposed mergers. For this latter category, the paradigm of the “hypothetical monopolist” and the possibility that this hypothetical monopolist could prospectively impose a “small but significant non-transitory increase in price” (SSNIP) has carried the day for the purposes of market delineation.
But no such paradigm exists for monopolization cases, in which the usual allegation is that the defendant already possesses market power and has used the exclusionary actions to buttress that market power. To see the difficulties, it is useful to recall the basic monopoly diagram from Microeconomics 101. A monopolist faces a negatively sloped demand curve for its product (at higher prices, less is bought; at lower prices, more is bought) and sets a profit-maximizing price at the level of output where its marginal revenue (MR) equals its marginal costs (MC). Its price is thereby higher than an otherwise similar competitive industry’s price for that product (to the detriment of buyers) and the monopolist earns higher profits than would the competitive industry.
But unless there are reliable benchmarks as to what the competitive price and profits would otherwise be, any information as to the defendant’s price and profits has little value with respect to whether the defendant already has market power. Also, a claim that a firm does not have market power because it faces rivals and thus isn’t able profitably to raise its price from its current level (because it would lose too many sales to those rivals) similarly has no value. Recall the monopolist from Micro 101. It doesn’t set a higher price than the one where MR=MC, because it would thereby lose too many sales to other sellers of other things.
Thus, any firm—regardless of whether it truly has market power (like the Micro 101 monopolist) or is just another competitor in a sea of competitors—should have already set its price at its profit-maximizing level and should find it unprofitable to raise its price from that level. And thus the claim, “Look at all of the firms that I compete with! I don’t have market power!” similarly has no informational value.
Let us now bring this problem back to the Google monopolization allegation: What is the relevant market? In the first instance, it has to be “the provision of answers to user search queries.” After all, this is the “space” in which the exclusion occurred. But there are categories of search: e.g., search for products/services, versus more general information searches (“What is the current time in Delaware?” “Who was the 21st President of the United States?”). Do those separate categories themselves constitute relevant markets?
Further, what would the exercise of market power in a (delineated relevant) market look like? Higher-than-competitive prices for advertising that targets search-results recipients is one obvious answer (but see below). In addition, because this is a two-sided market, the competitive “price” (or prices) might involve payments by the search engine to the search users (in return for their exposure to the lucrative attached advertising). And product quality might exhibit less variety than a competitive market would provide; and/or the monopolistic average level of quality would be lower than in a competitive market: e.g., more abuse of user data, and/or deterioration of the delivered information itself, via more self-preferencing by the search engine and more advertising-driven preferencing of results.
In addition, a natural focus for a relevant market is the advertising that accompanies the search results. But now we are at the heart of the difficulty of delineating a relevant market in a monopolization context. If the relevant market is “advertising on search engine results pages,” it seems highly likely that Google has market power. If the relevant market instead is all online U.S. advertising (of which Google’s revenue share accounted for 32% in 2019), then the case is weaker; and if the relevant market is all advertising in the United States (which is about twice the size of online advertising), the case is weaker still. Unless there is some competitive benchmark, there is no easy way to delineate the relevant market.
What exactly has Google been paying for, and why?
As many critics of the DOJ’s case have pointed out, it is extremely easy for users to switch their default search engine. If internet search were a normal good or service, this ease of switching would leave little room for the exercise of market power. But in that case, why is Google willing to pay $8-$12 billion annually for the exclusive default setting on Apple devices and large sums to the manufacturers of Android-based devices (and to wireless carriers and browser proprietors)? Why doesn’t Google instead run ads in prominent places that remind users how superior Google’s search results are and how easy it is for users (if they haven’t already done so) to switch to the Google search engine and make Google the user’s default choice?
Suppose that user inertia is important. Further suppose that users generally have difficulty in making comparisons with respect to the quality of delivered search results. If this is true, then being the default search engine on Apple and Android-based devices and on other distribution vehicles would be valuable. In this context, the inertia of their customers is a valuable “asset” of the distributors that the distributors may not be able to take advantage of, but that Google can (by providing search services and selling advertising). The question of whether Google’s taking advantage of this user inertia means that Google exercises market power takes us back to the issue of delineating the relevant market.
There is a further wrinkle to all of this. It is a well-understood concept in antitrust economics that an incumbent monopolist will be willing to pay more for the exclusive use of an essential input than a challenger would pay for access to the input. The basic idea is straightforward. By maintaining exclusive use of the input, the incumbent monopolist preserves its (large) monopoly profits. If the challenger enters, the incumbent will then earn only its share of the (much lower, more competitive) duopoly profits. Similarly, the challenger can expect only the lower duopoly profits. Accordingly, the incumbent should be willing to outbid (and thereby exclude) the challenger and preserve the incumbent’s exclusive use of the input, so as to protect those monopoly profits.
To bring this to the Google monopolization context, if Google does possess market power in some aspect of search—say, because online search-linked advertising is a relevant market—then Google will be willing to outbid Microsoft (which owns Bing) for the “asset” of default access to Apple’s (inertial) device owners. That Microsoft is a large and profitable company and could afford to match (or exceed) Google’s payments to Apple is irrelevant. If the duopoly profits for online search-linked advertising would be substantially lower than Google’s current profits, then Microsoft would not find it worthwhile to try to outbid Google for that default access asset.
Alternatively, this scenario could be wholly consistent with an absence of market power. If search users (who can easily switch) consider Bing to be a lower-quality search service, then large payments by Microsoft to outbid Google for those exclusive default rights would be largely wasted, since the “acquired” default search users would quickly switch to Google (unless Microsoft provided additional incentives for the users not to switch).
But this alternative scenario returns us to the original puzzle: Why is Google making such large payments to the distributors for those exclusive default rights?
An intriguing possibility
Consider the following possibility. Suppose that Google was paying that $8-$12 billion annually to Apple in return for the understanding that Apple would not develop its own search engine for Apple’s device users. This possibility was not raised in the DOJ’s complaint, nor is it raised in the subsequent suits by the state attorneys general.
But let’s explore the implications by going to an extreme. Suppose that Google and Apple had a formal agreement that—in return for the $8-$12 billion per year—Apple would not develop its own search engine. In this event, this agreement not to compete would likely be seen as a violation of Section 1 of the Sherman Act (which does not require a market delineation exercise) and Apple would join Google as a co-conspirator. The case would take on the flavor of the FTC’s prosecution of “pay-for-delay” agreements between the manufacturers of patented pharmaceuticals and the generic drug manufacturers that challenge those patents and then receive payments from the former in return for dropping the patent challenge and delaying the entry of the generic substitute.
As of this writing, there is no evidence of such an agreement and it seems quite unlikely that there would have been a formal agreement. But the DOJ will be able to engage in discovery and take depositions. It will be interesting to find out what the relevant executives at Google—and at Apple—thought was being achieved by those payments.
What would be a suitable remedy/relief?
The DOJ’s complaint is vague with respect to the remedy that it seeks. This is unsurprising. The DOJ may well want to wait to see how the case develops and then amend its complaint.
However, even if Google’s actions have constituted monopolization, it is difficult to conceive of a suitable and effective remedy. One apparently straightforward remedy would be to require simply that Google not be able to purchase exclusivity with respect to the pre-set default settings. In essence, the device manufacturers and others would always be able to sell parallel default rights to other search engines: on the basis, say, that the default rights for some categories of customers—or even a percentage of general customers (randomly selected)—could be sold to other search-engine providers.
But now the Gilbert-Newbery insight comes back into play. Suppose that a device manufacturer knows (or believes) that Google will pay much more if—even in the absence of any exclusivity agreement—Google ends up being the pre-set search engine for all (or nearly all) of the manufacturer’s device sales, as compared with what the manufacturer would receive if those default rights were sold to multiple search-engine providers (including, but not solely, Google). Can that manufacturer (recall that the distributors are not defendants in the case) be prevented from making this sale to Google and thus (de facto) continuing Google’s exclusivity?
Even a requirement that Google not be allowed to make any payment to the distributors for a default position may not improve the competitive environment. Google may be able to find other ways of making indirect payments to distributors in return for attaining default rights, e.g., by offering them lower rates on their online advertising.
Further, if the ultimate goal is an efficient outcome in search, it is unclear how far restrictions on Google’s bidding behavior should go. If Google were forbidden from purchasing any default installation rights for its search engine, would (inert) consumers be better off? Similarly, if a distributor were to decide independently that its customers were better served by installing the Google search engine as the default, would that not be allowed? But if it is allowed, how could one be sure that Google wasn’t indirectly paying for this “independent” decision (e.g., through favorable advertising rates)?
It’s important to remember that this (alleged) monopolization is different from the Standard Oil case of 1911 or even the (landline) AT&T case of 1984. In those cases, there were physical assets that could be separated and spun off to separate companies. For Google, physical assets aren’t important. Although it is conceivable that some of Google’s intellectual property—such as Gmail, YouTube, or Android—could be spun off to separate companies, doing so would do little to cure the (arguably) fundamental problem of the inert device users.
In addition, if there were an agreement between Google and Apple for the latter not to develop a search engine, then large fines for both parties would surely be warranted. But what next? Apple can’t be forced to develop a search engine. This differentiates such an arrangement from the “pay-for-delay” arrangements for pharmaceuticals, where the generic manufacturers can readily produce a near-identical substitute for the patented drug and are otherwise eager to do so.
At the end of the day, forbidding Google from paying for exclusivity may well be worth trying as a remedy. But as the discussion above indicates, it is unlikely to be a panacea and is likely to require considerable monitoring for effective enforcement.
The DOJ’s case against Google will be a slog. There are unresolved issues—such as how to delineate a relevant market in a monopolization case—that will be central to the case. Even if the DOJ is successful in showing that Google violated Section 2 of the Sherman Act in monopolizing search and/or search-linked advertising, an effective remedy seems problematic. But there also remains the intriguing question of why Google was willing to pay such large sums for those exclusive default installation rights?
The developments in the case will surely be interesting.
 The DOJ’s suit was joined by 11 states. More states subsequently filed two separate antitrust lawsuits against Google in December.
 There is also a related argument: That Google thereby gained greater volume, which allowed it to learn more about its search users and their behavior, and which thereby allowed it to provide better answers to users (and thus a higher-quality offering to its users) and better-targeted (higher-value) advertising to its advertisers. Conversely, Google’s search-engine rivals were deprived of that volume, with the mirror-image negative consequences for the rivals. This is just another version of the standard “learning-by-doing” and the related “learning curve” (or “experience curve”) concepts that have been well understood in economics for decades.
 See, for example, Steven C. Salop and David T. Scheffman, “Raising Rivals’ Costs: Recent Advances in the Theory of Industrial Structure,” American Economic Review, Vol. 73, No. 2 (May 1983), pp. 267-271; and Thomas G. Krattenmaker and Steven C. Salop, “Anticompetitive Exclusion: Raising Rivals’ Costs To Achieve Power Over Price,” Yale Law Journal, Vol. 96, No. 2 (December 1986), pp. 209-293.
 For a discussion, see Richard J. Gilbert, “The U.S. Federal Trade Commission Investigation of Google Search,” in John E. Kwoka, Jr., and Lawrence J. White, eds. The Antitrust Revolution: Economics, Competition, and Policy, 7th edn. Oxford University Press, 2019, pp. 489-513.
 For a more complete version of the argument that follows, see Lawrence J. White, “Market Power and Market Definition in Monopolization Cases: A Paradigm Is Missing,” in Wayne D. Collins, ed., Issues in Competition Law and Policy. American Bar Association, 2008, pp. 913-924.
 The forgetting of this important point is often termed “the cellophane fallacy”, since this is what the U.S. Supreme Court did in a 1956 antitrust case in which the DOJ alleged that du Pont had monopolized the cellophane market (and du Pont, in its defense claimed that the relevant market was much wider: all flexible wrapping materials); see U.S. v. du Pont, 351 U.S. 377 (1956). For an argument that profit data and other indicia argued for cellophane as the relevant market, see George W. Stocking and Willard F. Mueller, “The Cellophane Case and the New Competition,” American Economic Review, Vol. 45, No. 1 (March 1955), pp. 29-63.
 In the context of differentiated services, one would expect prices (positive or negative) to vary according to the quality of the service that is offered. It is worth noting that Bing offers “rewards” to frequent searchers; see https://www.microsoft.com/en-us/bing/defaults-rewards. It is unclear whether this pricing structure of payment to Bing’s customers represents what a more competitive framework in search might yield, or whether the payment just indicates that search users consider Bing to be a lower-quality service.
 As an additional consequence of the impairment of competition in this type of search market, there might be less technological improvement in the search process itself – to the detriment of users.
 And, again, if we return to the du Pont cellophane case: Was the relevant market cellophane? Or all flexible wrapping materials?
 This insight is formalized in Richard J. Gilbert and David M.G. Newbery, “Preemptive Patenting and the Persistence of Monopoly,” American Economic Review, Vol. 72, No. 3 (June 1982), pp. 514-526.
 To my knowledge, Randal C. Picker was the first to suggest this possibility; see https://www.competitionpolicyinternational.com/a-first-look-at-u-s-v-google/. Whether Apple would be interested in trying to develop its own search engine – given the fiasco a decade ago when Apple tried to develop its own maps app to replace the Google maps app – is an open question. In addition, the Gilbert-Newbery insight applies here as well: Apple would be less inclined to invest the substantial resources that would be needed to develop a search engine when it is thereby in a duopoly market. But Google might be willing to pay “insurance” to reinforce any doubts that Apple might have.
 The U.S. Supreme Court, in FTC v. Actavis, 570 U.S. 136 (2013), decided that such agreements could be anti-competitive and should be judged under the “rule of reason”. For a discussion of the case and its implications, see, for example, Joseph Farrell and Mark Chicu, “Pharmaceutical Patents and Pay-for-Delay: Actavis (2013),” in John E. Kwoka, Jr., and Lawrence J. White, eds. The Antitrust Revolution: Economics, Competition, and Policy, 7th edn. Oxford University Press, 2019, pp. 331-353.
 This is an example of the insight that vertical arrangements – in this case combined with the Gilbert-Newbery effect – can be a way for dominant firms to raise rivals’ costs. See, for example, John Asker and Heski Bar-Isaac. 2014. “Raising Retailers’ Profits: On Vertical Practices and the Exclusion of Rivals.” American Economic Review, Vol. 104, No. 2 (February 2014), pp. 672-686.
 And, again, for the reasons discussed above, Apple might not be eager to make the effort.
The European Commission has unveiled draft legislation (the Digital Services Act, or “DSA”) that would overhaul the rules governing the online lives of its citizens. The draft rules are something of a mixed bag. While online markets present important challenges for law enforcement, the DSA would significantly increase the cost of doing business in Europe and harm the very freedoms European lawmakers seek to protect. The draft’s newly proposed “Know Your Business Customer” (KYBC) obligations, however, will enable smoother operation of the liability regimes that currently apply to online intermediaries.
These reforms come amid a rash of headlines about election meddling, misinformation, terrorist propaganda, child pornography, and other illegal and abhorrent content spread on digital platforms. These developments have galvanized debate about online liability rules.
Existing rules, codified in the e-Commerce Directive, largely absolve “passive” intermediaries that “play a neutral, merely technical and passive role” from liability for content posted by their users so long as they remove it once notified. “Active” intermediaries have more legal exposure. This regime isn’t perfect, but it seems to have served the EU well in many ways.
With its draft regulation, the European Commission is effectively arguing that those rules fail to address the legal challenges posed by the emergence of digital platforms. As the EC’s press release puts it:
The landscape of digital services is significantly different today from 20 years ago, when the eCommerce Directive was adopted. […] Online intermediaries […] can be used as a vehicle for disseminating illegal content, or selling illegal goods or services online. Some very large players have emerged as quasi-public spaces for information sharing and online trade. They have become systemic in nature and pose particular risks for users’ rights, information flows and public participation.
Online platforms initially hoped lawmakers would agree to some form of self-regulation, but those hopes were quickly dashed. Facebook released a white paper this Spring proposing a more moderate path that would expand regulatory oversight to “ensure companies are making decisions about online speech in a way that minimizes harm but also respects the fundamental right to free expression.” The proposed regime would not impose additional liability for harmful content posted by users, a position that Facebook and other internet platforms reiterated during congressional hearings in the United States.
European lawmakers were not moved by these arguments. EU Commissioner for Internal Market and Services Thierry Breton, among other European officials, dismissed Facebook’s proposal within hours of its publication, saying:
It’s not enough. It’s too slow, it’s too low in terms of responsibility and regulation.
Against this backdrop, the draft DSA includes many far-reaching measures: transparency requirements for recommender systems, content moderation decisions, and online advertising; mandated sharing of data with authorities and researchers; and numerous compliance measures that include internal audits and regular communication with authorities. Moreover, the largest online platforms—so-called “gatekeepers”—will have to comply with a separate regulation that gives European authorities new tools to “protect competition” in digital markets (the Digital Markets Act, or “DMA”).
The upshot is that, if passed into law, the draft rules will place tremendous burdens upon online intermediaries. This would be self-defeating.
Excessive regulation or liability would significantly increase their cost of doing business, leading to significantly smaller networks and significantly increased barriers to access for many users. Stronger liability rules would also encourage platforms to play it safe, such as by quickly de-platforming and refusing access to anyone who plausibly engaged in illegal activity. Such an outcome would harm the very freedoms European lawmakers seek to protect.
This could prove particularly troublesome for small businesses that find it harder to compete against large platforms due to rising compliance costs. In effect, the new rules will increase barriers to entry, as has already been seen with the GDPR.
In the commission’s defense, some of the proposed reforms are more appealing. This is notably the case with the KYBC requirements, as well as the decision to leave most enforcement to member states, where services providers have their main establishments. The latter is likely to preserve regulatory competition among EU members to attract large tech firms, potentially limiting regulatory overreach.
Indeed, while the existing regime does, to some extent, curb the spread of online crime, it does little for the victims of cybercrime, who ultimately pay the price. Removing illegal content doesn’t prevent it from reappearing in the future, sometimes on the same platform. Importantly, hosts have no obligation to provide the identity of violators to authorities, or even to know their identity in the first place. The result is an endless game of “whack-a-mole”: illegal content is taken down, but immediately reappears elsewhere. This status quo enables malicious users to upload illegal content, such as that which recently led card networks to cut all ties with Pornhub.
Victims arguably need additional tools. This is what the Commission seeks to achieve with the DSA’s “traceability of traders” requirement, a form of KYBC:
Where an online platform allows consumers to conclude distance contracts with traders, it shall ensure that traders can only use its services to promote messages on or to offer products or services to consumers located in the Union if, prior to the use of its services, the online platform has obtained the following information: […]
Instead of rewriting the underlying liability regime—with the harmful unintended consequences that would likely entail—the draft DSA creates parallel rules that require platforms to better protect victims.
Under the proposed rules, intermediaries would be required to obtain the true identity of commercial clients (as opposed to consumers) and to sever ties with businesses that refuse to comply (rather than just take down their content). Such obligations would be, in effect, a version of the “Know Your Customer” regulations that exist in other industries. Banks, for example, are required to conduct due diligence to ensure scofflaws can’t use legitimate financial services to further criminal enterprises. It seems reasonable to expect analogous due diligence from the Internet firms that power so much of today’s online economy.
Obligations requiring platforms to vet their commercial relationships may seem modest, but they’re likely to enable more effective law enforcement against the actual perpetrators of online harms without diminishing platform’s innovation and the economic opportunity they provide (and that everyone agrees is worth preserving).
There is no silver bullet. Illegal activity will never disappear entirely from the online world, just as it has declined, but not vanished, from other walks of life. But small regulatory changes that offer marginal improvements can have a substantial effect. Modest informational requirements would weed out the most blatant crimes without overly burdening online intermediaries. In short, it would make the Internet a safer place for European citizens.
Unexpectedly, on the day that the white copy of the upcoming repeal of the 2015 Open Internet Order was published, a mobile operator in Portugal with about 7.5 million subscribers is garnering a lot of attention. Curiously, it’s not because Portugal is a beautiful country (Iker Casillas’ Instagram feed is dope) nor because Portuguese is a beautiful romance language.
Rather it’s because old-fashioned misinformation is being peddled to perpetuate doomsday images that Portuguese ISPs have carved the Internet into pieces — and if the repeal of the 2015 Open Internet Order passes, the same butchery is coming to an AT&T store near you.
Much ado about data
This tempest in the teacup is about mobile data plans, specifically the ability of mobile subscribers to supplement their data plan (typically ranging from 200 MB to 3 GB per month) with additional 10 GB data packages containing specific bundles of apps – messaging apps, social apps, video apps, music apps, and email and cloud apps. Each additional 10 GB data package costs EUR 6.99 per month and Meo (the mobile operator) also offers its own zero rated apps. Similar plans have been offered in Portugal since at least 2012.
These data packages are a clear win for mobile subscribers, especially pre-paid subscribers who tend to be at a lower income level than post-paid subscribers. They allow consumers to customize their plan beyond their mobile broadband subscription, enabling them to consume data in ways that are better attuned to their preferences. Without access to these data packages, consuming an additional 10 GB of data would cost each user an additional EUR 26 per month and require her to enter into a two year contract.
These discounted data packages also facilitate product differentiation among mobile operators that offer a variety of plans. Keeping with the Portugal example, Vodafone Portugal offers 20 GB of additional data for certain apps (Facebook, Instagram, SnapChat, and Skype, among others) with the purchase of a 3 GB mobile data plan. Consumers can pick which operator offers the best plan for them.
In addition, data packages like the ones in question here tend to increase the overall consumption of content, reduce users’ cost of obtaining information, and allow for consumers to experiment with new, less familiar apps. In short, they are overwhelmingly pro-consumer.
Even if Portugal actually didn’t have net neutrality rules, this would be the furthest thing from the apocalypse critics make it out to be.
Net Neutrality in Portugal
But, contrary to activists’ misinformation, Portugal does have net neutrality rules. The EU implemented its net neutrality framework in November 2015 as a regulation, meaning that the regulation became the law of the EU when it was enacted, and national governments, including Portugal, did not need to transpose it into national legislation.
While the regulation was automatically enacted in Portugal, the regulation and the 2016 EC guidelines left the decision of whether to allow sponsored data and zero rating plans (the Regulation likely classifies data packages at issue here to be zero rated plans because they give users a lot of data for a low price) in the hands of national regulators. While Portugal is still formulating the standard it will use to evaluate sponsored data and zero rating under the EU’s framework, there is little reason to think that this common practice would be disallowed in Portugal.
On average, in fact, despite its strong net neutrality regulation, the EU appears to be softening its stance toward zero rating. This was evident in a recent EC competition policy authority (DG-Comp) study concluding that there is little reason to believe that such data practices raise concerns.
The activists’ willful misunderstanding of clearly pro-consumer data plans and purposeful mischaracterization of Portugal as not having net neutrality rules are inflammatory and deceitful. Even more puzzling for activists (but great for consumers) is their position given there is nothing in the 2015 Open Internet Order that would prevent these types of data packages from being offered in the US so long as ISPs are transparent with consumers.
A key issue raised by the United Kingdom’s (UK) withdrawal from the European Union (EU) – popularly referred to as Brexit – is its implications for competition and economic welfare. The competition issue is rather complex. Various potentially significant UK competition policy reforms flowing from Brexit that immediately suggest themselves are briefly summarized below. (These are merely examples – further evaluation may point to additional significant competition policy changes that Brexit is likely to inspire.)
First, UK competition policy will no longer be subject to European Commission (EC) competition law strictures, but will be guided instead solely by UK institutions, led by the UK Competition and Markets Authority (CMA). The CMA is a free market-oriented, well-run agency that incorporates careful economic analysis into its enforcement investigations and industry studies. It is widely deemed to be one of the world’s best competition and consumer protection enforcers, and has first-rate leadership. (Former U.S. Federal Trade Commission Chairman William Kovacic, a very sound antitrust scholar, professor, and head of George Washington University Law School’s Competition Law Center, serves as one of the CMA’s “Non-Executive Directors,” who set the CMA’s policies.) Post-Brexit, the CMA will no longer have to conform its policies to the approaches adopted by the EC’s Directorate General for Competition (DG Comp) and determinations by European courts. Despite its recent increased reliance on an “economic effects-based” analytical approach, DG-Comp still suffers from excessive formalism and an over-reliance on pure theories of harm, rather than hard empiricism. Moreover, EU courts still tend to be overly formalistic and deferential to EC administrative determinations. In short, CMA decision-making in the competition and consumer protection spheres, free from constraining EU influences, should (at least marginally) prove to be more welfare-enhancing within the UK post-Brexit. (For a more detailed discussion of Brexit’s implication for EU and UK competition law, see here.) There is a countervailing risk that Brexit might marginally worsen EU competition policy by eliminating UK pro-free market influence on EU policies, but the likelihood and scope of such a marginal effect is not readily measurable.
Fourth, Brexit will free the UK economy from one-size-fits-all supervisory regulatory frameworks in such areas as the environment, broadband policy (“digital Europe”), labor, food and consumer products, among others. This regulatory freedom, properly handled, could prove a major force for economic flexibility, reductions in regulatory burdens, and enhanced efficiency.
Fifth, Brexit will enable the UK to enter into true free trade pacts with the United States and other nations that avoid the counterproductive bells and whistles of EU industrial policy. For example, a “zero tariffs” agreement with the United States that featured reciprocal mutual recognition of health, safety, and other regulatory standards would avoid heavy-handed regulatory harmonization features of the Transatlantic Trade and Investment Policy agreement being negotiated between the EU and the United States. (As I explained in a previous Truth on the Market post, “a TTIP focus on ‘harmonizing’ regulations could actually lower economic freedom (and welfare) by ‘regulating upward’ through acceptance of [a] more intrusive approach, and by precluding future competition among alternative regulatory models that could lead to welfare-enhancing regulatory improvements.”)
In sum, while Brexit’s implications for other economic factors, such as macroeconomic stability, remain to be seen, Brexit will likely prove to have an economic welfare-enhancing influence on key aspects of competition policy.
P.S. Notably, a recent excellent study by Iain Murray and Rory Broomfield of Brexit’s implications for various UK industry sectors (commissioned by the London-based Institute of Economic Affairs) concluded “that in almost every area we have examined the benefit: cost trade-off [of Brexit] is positive. . . . Overall, the UK will benefit substantially from a reduction in regulation, a better fisheries management system, a market-based immigration system, a free market in agriculture, a globally-focused free trade policy, control over extradition, and a shale gas-based energy policy.”
Nearly all economists from across the political spectrum agree: free trade is good. Yet free trade agreements are not always the same thing as free trade. Whether we’re talking about the Trans-Pacific Partnership or the European Union’s Digital Single Market (DSM) initiative, the question is always whether the agreement in question is reducing barriers to trade, or actually enacting barriers to trade into law.
It’s becoming more and more clear that there should be real concerns about the direction the EU is heading with its DSM. As the EU moves forward with the 16 different action proposals that make up this ambitious strategy, we should all pay special attention to the actual rules that come out of it, such as the recent Data Protection Regulation. Are EU regulators simply trying to hogtie innovators in the the wild, wild, west, as some have suggested? Let’s break it down. Here are The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly.
The Data Protection Regulation, as proposed by the Ministers of Justice Council and to be taken up in trilogue negotiations with the Parliament and Council this month, will set up a single set of rules for companies to follow throughout the EU. Rather than having to deal with the disparate rules of 28 different countries, companies will have to follow only the EU-wide Data Protection Regulation. It’s hard to determine whether the EU is right about its lofty estimate of this benefit (€2.3 billion a year), but no doubt it’s positive. This is what free trade is about: making commerce “regular” by reducing barriers to trade between states and nations.
Additionally, the Data Protection Regulation would create a “one-stop shop” for consumers and businesses alike. Regardless of where companies are located or process personal information, consumers would be able to go to their own national authority, in their own language, to help them. Similarly, companies would need to deal with only one supervisory authority.
Further, there will be benefits to smaller businesses. For instance, the Data Protection Regulation will exempt businesses smaller than a certain threshold from the obligation to appoint a data protection officer if data processing is not a part of their core business activity. On top of that, businesses will not have to notify every supervisory authority about each instance of collection and processing, and will have the ability to charge consumers fees for certain requests to access data. These changes will allow businesses, especially smaller ones, to save considerable money and human capital. Finally, smaller entities won’t have to carry out an impact assessment before engaging in processing unless there is a specific risk. These rules are designed to increase flexibility on the margin.
If this were all the rules were about, then they would be a boon to the major American tech companies that have expressed concern about the DSM. These companies would be able to deal with EU citizens under one set of rules and consumers would be able to take advantage of the many benefits of free flowing information in the digital economy.
Unfortunately, the substance of the Data Protection Regulation isn’t limited simply to preempting 28 bad privacy rules with an economically sensible standard for Internet companies that rely on data collection and targeted advertising for their business model. Instead, the Data Protection Regulation would set up new rules that will impose significant costs on the Internet ecosphere.
For instance, giving citizens a “right to be forgotten” sounds good, but it will considerably impact companies built on providing information to the world. There are real costs to administering such a rule, and these costs will not ultimately be borne by search engines, social networks, and advertisers, but by consumers who ultimately will have to find either a different way to pay for the popular online services they want or go without them. For instance, Google has had to hire a large “team of lawyers, engineers and paralegals who have so far evaluated over half a million URLs that were requested to be delisted from search results by European citizens.”
Privacy rights need to be balanced with not only economic efficiency, but also with the right to free expression that most European countries hold (though not necessarily with a robust First Amendment like that in the United States). Stories about the right to be forgotten conflicting with the ability of journalists to report on issues of public concern make clear that there is a potential problem there. The Data Protection Regulation does attempt to balance the right to be forgotten with the right to report, but it’s not likely that a similar rule would survive First Amendment scrutiny in the United States. American companies accustomed to such protections will need to be wary operating under the EU’s standard.
Similarly, mandating rules on data minimization and data portability may sound like good design ideas in light of data security and privacy concerns, but there are real costs to consumers and innovation in forcing companies to adopt particular business models.
Mandated data minimization limits the ability of companies to innovate and lessens the opportunity for consumers to benefit from unexpected uses of information. Overly strict requirements on data minimization could slow down the incredible growth of the economy from the Big Data revolution, which has provided a plethora of benefits to consumers from new uses of information, often in ways unfathomable even a short time ago. As an article in Harvard Magazine recently noted,
The story [of data analytics] follows a similar pattern in every field… The leaders are qualitative experts in their field. Then a statistical researcher who doesn’t know the details of the field comes in and, using modern data analysis, adds tremendous insight and value.
And mandated data portability is an overbroad per se remedy for possible exclusionary conduct that could also benefit consumers greatly. The rule will apply to businesses regardless of market power, meaning that it will also impair small companies with no ability to actually hurt consumers by restricting their ability to take data elsewhere. Aside from this, multi-homing is ubiquitous in the Internet economy, anyway. This appears to be another remedy in search of a problem.
The bad news is that these rules will likely deter innovation and reduce consumer welfare for EU citizens.
Finally, the Data Protection Regulation suffers from an ugly defect: it may actually be ratifying a form of protectionism into the rules. Both the intent and likely effect of the rules appears to be to “level the playing field” by knocking down American Internet companies.
For instance, the EU has long allowed flexibility for US companies operating in Europe under the US-EU Safe Harbor. But EU officials are aiming at reducing this flexibility. As the Wall Street Journal has reported:
For months, European government officials and regulators have clashed with the likes of Google, Amazon.com and Facebook over everything from taxes to privacy…. “American companies come from outside and act as if it was a lawless environment to which they are coming,” [Commissioner Reding] told the Journal. “There are conflicts not only about competition rules but also simply about obeying the rules.” In many past tussles with European officialdom, American executives have countered that they bring innovation, and follow all local laws and regulations… A recent EU report found that European citizens’ personal data, sent to the U.S. under Safe Harbor, may be processed by U.S. authorities in a way incompatible with the grounds on which they were originally collected in the EU. Europeans allege this harms European tech companies, which must play by stricter rules about what they can do with citizens’ data for advertising, targeting products and searches. Ms. Reding said Safe Harbor offered a “unilateral advantage” to American companies.
Thus, while “when in Rome…” is generally good advice, the Data Protection Regulation appears to be aimed primarily at removing the “advantages” of American Internet companies—at which rent-seekers and regulators throughout the continent have takenaim. As mentioned above, supporters often name American companies outright in the reasons for why the DSM’s Data Protection Regulation are needed. But opponents have noted that new regulation aimed at American companies is not needed in order to police abuses:
Speaking at an event in London, [EU Antitrust Chief] Ms. Vestager said it would be “tricky” to design EU regulation targeting the various large Internet firms like Facebook, Amazon.com Inc. and eBay Inc. because it was hard to establish what they had in common besides “facilitating something”… New EU regulation aimed at reining in large Internet companies would take years to create and would then address historic rather than future problems, Ms. Vestager said. “We need to think about what it is we want to achieve that can’t be achieved by enforcing competition law,” Ms. Vestager said.
Moreover, of the 15 largest Internet companies, 11 are American and 4 are Chinese. None is European. So any rules applying to the Internet ecosphere are inevitably going to disproportionately affect these important, US companies most of all. But if Europe wants to compete more effectively, it should foster a regulatory regime friendly to Internet business, rather than extend inefficient privacy rules to American companies under the guise of free trade.
Near the end of the The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, Blondie and Tuco have this exchange that seems apropos to the situation we’re in:
Blondie: [watching the soldiers fighting on the bridge] I have a feeling it’s really gonna be a good, long battle.
Tuco: Blondie, the money’s on the other side of the river.
Blondie: Oh? Where?
Tuco: Amigo, I said on the other side, and that’s enough. But while the Confederates are there we can’t get across.
Blondie: What would happen if somebody were to blow up that bridge?
The EU’s DSM proposals are going to be a good, long battle. But key players in the EU recognize that the tech money — along with the services and ongoing innovation that benefit EU citizens — is really on the other side of the river. If they blow up the bridge of trade between the EU and the US, though, we will all be worse off — but Europeans most of all.