Archives For Sherman Act

Although not always front page news, International Trade Commission (“ITC”) decisions can have major impacts on trade policy and antitrust law. Scott Kieff, a former ITC Commissioner, recently published a thoughtful analysis of Certain Carbon and Alloy Steel Products — a potentially important ITC investigation that implicates the intersection of these two policy areas. Scott was on the ITC when the investigation was initiated in 2016, but left in 2017 before the decision was finally issued in March of this year.

Perhaps most important, the case highlights an uncomfortable truth:

Sometimes (often?) Congress writes really bad laws and promotes really bad policies, but administrative agencies can do more harm to the integrity of our legal system by abusing their authority in an effort to override those bad policies.

In this case, that “uncomfortable truth” plays out in the context of the ITC majority’s effort to override Section 337 of the Tariff Act of 1930 by limiting the ability of the ITC to investigate alleged violations of the Act rooted in antitrust.

While we’re all for limiting the ability of competitors to use antitrust claims in order to impede competition (as one of us has noted: “Erecting barriers to entry and raising rivals’ costs through regulation are time-honored American political traditions”), it is inappropriate to make an end-run around valid and unambiguous legislation in order to do so — no matter how desirable the end result. (As the other of us has noted: “Attempts to [effect preferred policies] through any means possible are rational actions at an individual level, but writ large they may undermine the legal fabric of our system and should be resisted.”)

Brief background

Under Section 337, the ITC is empowered to, among other things, remedy

Unfair methods of competition and unfair acts in the importation of articles… into the United States… the threat or effect of which is to destroy or substantially injure an industry in the United States… or to restrain or monopolize trade and commerce in the United States.

In Certain Carbon and Alloy Steel Products, the ITC undertook an investigation — at the behest of U.S. Steel Corporation — into alleged violations of Section 337 by the Chinese steel industry. The complaint was based upon a number of claims, including allegations of price fixing.

As ALJ Lord succinctly summarizes in her Initial Determination:

For many years, the United States steel industry has complained of unfair trade practices by manufacturers of Chinese steel. While such practices have resulted in the imposition of high tariffs on certain Chinese steel products, U.S. Steel seeks additional remedies. The complaint by U.S. Steel in this case attempts to use section 337 of the Tariff Act of 1930 to block all Chinese carbon and alloy steel from coming into the United States. One of the grounds that U.S. Steel relies on is the allegation that the Chinese steel industry violates U.S. antitrust laws.

The ALJ dismissed the antitrust claims (alleging violations of the Sherman Act), however, concluding that they failed to allege antitrust injury as required by US courts deciding Sherman Act cases brought by private parties under the Clayton Act’s remedial provisions:

Under federal antitrust law, it is firmly established that a private complainant must show antitrust standing [by demonstrating antitrust injury]. U.S. Steel has not alleged that it has antitrust standing or the facts necessary to establish antitrust standing and erroneously contends it need not have antitrust standing to allege the unfair trade practice of restraining trade….

In its decision earlier this year, a majority of ITC commissioners agreed, and upheld the ALJ’s Initial Determination.

In comments filed with the ITC following the ALJ’s Initial Determination, we argued that the ALJ erred in her analysis:

Because antitrust injury is not an express requirement imposed by Congress, because ITC processes differ substantially from those of Article III courts, and because Section 337 is designed to serve different aims than private antitrust litigation, the Commission should reinstate the price fixing claims and allow the case to proceed.

Unfortunately, in upholding the Initial Determination, the Commission compounded this error, and also failed to properly understand the goals of the Tariff Act, and, by extension, its own role as arbiter of “unfair” trade practices.

A tale of two statutes

The case appears to turn on an arcane issue of adjudicative process in antitrust claims brought under the antitrust laws in federal court, on the one hand, versus antitrust claims brought under the Section 337 of the Tariff Act at the ITC, on the other. But it is actually about much more: the very purposes and structures of those laws.

The ALJ notes that

[The Chinese steel manufacturers contend that] under antitrust law as currently applied in federal courts, it has become very difficult for a private party like U.S. Steel to bring an antitrust suit against its competitors. Steel accepts this but says the law under section 337 should be different than in federal courts.

And as the ALJ further notes, this highlights the differences between the two regimes:

The dispute between U.S. Steel and the Chinese steel industry shows the conflict between section 337, which is intended to protect American industry from unfair competition, and U.S. antitrust laws, which are intended to promote competition for the benefit of consumers, even if such competition harms competitors.

Nevertheless, the ALJ (and the Commission) holds that antitrust laws must be applied in the same way in federal court as under Section 337 at the ITC.

It is this conclusion that is in error.

Judging from his article, it’s clear that Kieff agrees and would have dissented from the Commission’s decision. As he writes:

Unlike the focus in Section 16 of the Clayton Act on harm to the plaintiff, the provisions in the ITC’s statute — Section 337 — explicitly require the ITC to deal directly with harms to the industry or the market (rather than to the particular plaintiff)…. Where the statute protects the market rather than the individual complainant, the antitrust injury doctrine’s own internal logic does not compel the imposition of a burden to show harm to the particular private actor bringing the complaint. (Emphasis added)

Somewhat similar to the antitrust laws, the overall purpose of Section 337 focuses on broader, competitive harm — injury to “an industry in the United States” — not specific competitors. But unlike the Clayton Act, the Tariff Act does not accomplish this by providing a remedy for private parties alleging injury to themselves as a proxy for this broader, competitive harm.

As Kieff writes:

One stark difference between the two statutory regimes relates to the explicit goals that the statutes state for themselves…. [T]he Clayton Act explicitly states it is to remedy harm to only the plaintiff itself. This difference has particular significance for [the Commission’s decision in Certain Carbon and Alloy Steel Products] because the Supreme Court’s source of the private antitrust injury doctrine, its decision in Brunswick, explicitly tied the doctrine to this particular goal.

More particularly, much of the Court’s discussion in Brunswick focuses on the role the [antitrust injury] doctrine plays in mitigating the risk of unjustly enriching the plaintiff with damages awards beyond the amount of the particular antitrust harm that plaintiff actually suffered. The doctrine makes sense in the context of the Clayton Act proceedings in federal court because it keeps the cause of action focused on that statute’s stated goal of protecting a particular litigant only in so far as that party itself is a proxy for the harm to the market.

By contrast, since the goal of the ITC’s statute is to remedy for harm to the industry or to trade and commerce… there is no need to closely tie such broader harms to the market to the precise amounts of harms suffered by the particular complainant. (Emphasis and paragraph breaks added)

The mechanism by which the Clayton Act works is decidedly to remedy injury to competitors (including with treble damages). But because its larger goal is the promotion of competition, it cabins that remedy in order to ensure that it functions as an appropriate proxy for broader harms, and not simply a tool by which competitors may bludgeon each other. As Kieff writes:

The remedy provisions of the Clayton Act benefit much more than just the private plaintiff. They are designed to benefit the public, echoing the view that the private plaintiff is serving, indirectly, as a proxy for the market as a whole.

The larger purpose of Section 337 is somewhat different, and its remedial mechanism is decidedly different:

By contrast, the provisions in Section 337[] are much more direct in that they protect against injury to the industry or to trade and commerce more broadly. Harm to the particular complainant is essentially only relevant in so far as it shows harm to the industry or to trade and commerce more broadly. In turn, the remedies the ITC’s statute provides are more modest and direct in stopping any such broader harm that is determined to exist through a complete investigation.

The distinction between antitrust laws and trade laws is firmly established in the case law. And, in particular, trade laws not only focus on effects on industry rather than consumers or competition, per se, but they also contemplate a different kind of economic injury:

The “injury to industry” causation standard… focuses explicitly upon conditions in the U.S. industry…. In effect, Congress has made a judgment that causally related injury to the domestic industry may be severe enough to justify relief from less than fair value imports even if from another viewpoint the economy could be said to be better served by providing no relief. (Emphasis added)

Importantly, under Section 337 such harms to industry would ultimately have to be shown before a remedy would be imposed. In other words, demonstration of injury to competition is a constituent part of a case under Section 337. By contrast, such a demonstration is brought into an action under the antitrust laws by the antitrust injury doctrine as a function of establishing that the plaintiff has standing to sue as a proxy for broader harm to the market.

Finally, it should be noted, as ITC Commissioner Broadbent points out in her dissent from the Commission’s majority opinion, that U.S. Steel alleged in its complaint a violation of the Sherman Act, not the Clayton Act. Although its ability to enforce the Sherman Act arises from the remedial provisions of the Clayton Act, the substantive analysis of its claims is a Sherman Act matter. And the Sherman Act does not contain any explicit antitrust injury requirement. This is a crucial distinction because, as Commissioner Broadbent notes (quoting the Federal Circuit’s Tianrui case):

The “antitrust injury” standing requirement stems, not from the substantive antitrust statutes like the Sherman Act, but rather from the Supreme Court’s interpretation of the injury elements that must be proven under sections 4 and 16 of the Clayton Act.

* * *

Absent [] express Congressional limitation, restricting the Commission’s consideration of unfair methods of competition and unfair acts in international trade “would be inconsistent with the congressional purpose of protecting domestic commerce from unfair competition in importation….”

* * *

Where, as here, no such express limitation in the Sherman Act has been shown, I find no legal justification for imposing the insurmountable hurdle of demonstrating antitrust injury upon a typical U.S. company that is grappling with imports that benefit from the international unfair methods of competition that have been alleged in this case.

Section 337 is not a stand-in for other federal laws, even where it protects against similar conduct, and its aims diverge in important ways from those of other federal laws. It is, in other words, a trade protection provision, first and foremost, not an antitrust law, patent law, or even precisely a consumer protection statute.

The ITC hamstrings Itself

Kieff lays out a number of compelling points in his paper, including an argument that the ITC was statutorily designed as a convenient forum with broad powers in order to enable trade harms to be remedied without resort to expensive and protracted litigation in federal district court.

But, perhaps even more important, he points to a contradiction in the ITC’s decision that is directly related to its statutory design.

Under the Tariff Act, the Commission is entitled to self-initiate a Section 337 investigation identical to the one in Certain Alloy and Carbon Steel Products. And, as in this case, private parties are also entitled to file complaints with the Commission that can serve as the trigger for an investigation. In both instances, the ITC itself decides whether there is sufficient basis for proceeding, and, although an investigation unfolds much like litigation in federal court, it is, in fact, an investigation (and decision) undertaken by the ITC itself.

Although the Commission is statutorily mandated to initiate an investigation once a complaint is properly filed, this is subject to a provision requiring the Commission to “examine the complaint for sufficiency and compliance with the applicable sections of this Chapter.” Thus, the Commission conducts a preliminary investigation to determine if the complaint provides a sound basis for institution of an investigation, not unlike an assessment of standing and evaluation of the sufficiency of a complaint in federal court — all of which happens before an official investigation is initiated.

Yet despite the fact that, before an investigation begins, the ITC either 1) decides for itself that there is sufficient basis to initiate its own action, or else 2) evaluates the sufficiency of a private complaint to determine if the Commission should initiate an action, the logic of the decision in Certain Alloy and Carbon Steel Products would apply different standards in each case. Writes Kieff:

There appears to be broad consensus that the ITC can self-initiate an antitrust case under Section 337 and in such a proceeding would not be required to apply the antitrust injury doctrine to itself or to anyone else…. [I]t seems odd to make [this] legal distinction… After all, if it turned out there really were harm to a domestic industry or trade and commerce in this case, it would be strange for the ITC to have to dismiss this action and deprive itself of the benefit of the advance work and ongoing work of the private party [just because it was brought to the ITC’s attention by a private party complaint], only to either sit idle or expend the resources to — flying solo that time — reinitiate and proceed to completion.

Odd indeed, because, in the end, what is instituted is an investigation undertaken by the ITC — whether it originates from a private party or from its own initiative. The role of a complaining party before the ITC is quite distinct from that of a plaintiff in an Article III court.

In trade these days, it always comes down to China

We are hesitant to offer justifications for Congress’ decision to grant the ITC a sweeping administrative authority to prohibit the “unfair” importation of articles into the US, but there could be good reasons that Congress enacted the Tariff Act as a protectionist statute.

In a recent Law360 article, Kieff noted that analyzing anticompetitive behavior in the trade context is more complicated than in the domestic context. To take the current example: By limiting the complainant’s ability to initiate an ITC action based on a claim that foreign competitors are conspiring to keep prices artificially low, the ITC majority decision may be short-sighted insofar as keeping prices low might actually be part of a larger industrial and military policy for the Chinese government:

The overlooked problem is that, as the ITC petitioners claim, the Chinese government is using its control over many Chinese steel producers to accomplish full-spectrum coordination on both price and quantity. Mere allegations of course would have to be proven; but it’s not hard to imagine that such coordination could afford the Chinese government effective surveillance and control over  almost the entire worldwide supply chain for steel products.

This access would help the Chinese government run significant intelligence operations…. China is allegedly gaining immense access to practically every bid and ask up and down the supply chain across the global steel market in general, and our domestic market in particular. That much real-time visibility across steel markets can in turn give visibility into defense, critical infrastructure and finance.

Thus, by taking it upon itself to artificially narrow its scope of authority, the ITC could be undermining a valid congressional concern: that trade distortions not be used as a way to allow a foreign government to gain a more pervasive advantage over diplomatic and military operations.

No one seriously doubts that China is, at the very least, a supportive partner to much of its industry in a way that gives that industry some potential advantage over competitors operating in countries that receive relatively less assistance from national governments.

In certain industries — notably semiconductors and patent-intensive industries more broadly — the Chinese government regularly imposes onerous conditions (including mandatory IP licensing and joint ventures with Chinese firms, invasive audits, and obligatory software and hardware “backdoors”) on foreign tech companies doing business in China. It has long been an open secret that these efforts, ostensibly undertaken for the sake of national security, are actually aimed at protecting or bolstering China’s domestic industry.

And China could certainly leverage these partnerships to obtain information on a significant share of important industries and their participants throughout the world. After all, we are well familiar with this business model: cheap or highly subsidized access to a desired good or service in exchange for user data is the basic description of modern tech platform companies.

Only Congress can fix Congress

Stepping back from the ITC context, a key inquiry when examining antitrust through a trade lens is the extent to which countries will use antitrust as a non-tariff barrier to restrain trade. It is certainly the case that a sort of “mutually assured destruction” can arise where every country chooses to enforce its own ambiguously worded competition statute in a way that can favor its domestic producers to the detriment of importers. In the face of that concern, the impetus to try to apply procedural constraints on open-ended competition laws operating in the trade context is understandable.

And as a general matter, it also makes sense to be concerned when producers like U.S. Steel try to use our domestic antitrust laws to disadvantage Chinese competitors or keep them out of the market entirely.

But in this instance the analysis is more complicated. Like it or not, what amounts to injury in the international trade context, even with respect to anticompetitive conduct, is different than what’s contemplated under the antitrust laws. When the Tariff Act of 1922 was passed (which later became Section 337) the Senate Finance Committee Report that accompanied it described the scope of its unfair methods of competition authority as “broad enough to prevent every type and form of unfair practice” involving international trade. At the same time, Congress pretty clearly gave the ITC the discretion to proceed on a much less-constrained basis than that on which Article III courts operate.

If these are problems, Congress needs to fix them, not the ITC acting sua sponte.

Moreover, as Kieff’s paper (and our own comments in the Certain Alloy and Carbon Steel Products investigation) make clear, there are also a number of relevant, practical distinctions between enforcement of the antitrust laws in a federal court in a case brought by a private plaintiff and an investigation of alleged anticompetitive conduct by the ITC under Section 337. Every one of these cuts against importing an antitrust injury requirement from federal court into ITC adjudication.

Instead, understandable as its motivation may be, the ITC majority’s approach in Certain Alloy and Carbon Steel Products requires disregarding Congressional intent, and that’s simply not a tenable interpretive approach for administrative agencies to take.

Protectionism is a terrible idea, but if that’s how Congress wrote the Tariff Act, the ITC is legally obligated to enforce the protectionist law it is given.

Following is the (slightly expanded and edited) text of my remarks from the panel, Antitrust and the Tech Industry: What Is at Stake?, hosted last Thursday by CCIA. Bruce Hoffman (keynote), Bill Kovacic, Nicolas Petit, and Christine Caffarra also spoke. If we’re lucky Bruce will post his remarks on the FTC website; they were very good.

(NB: Some of these comments were adapted (or lifted outright) from a forthcoming Cato Policy Report cover story co-authored with Gus Hurwitz, so Gus shares some of the credit/blame.)

 

The urge to treat antitrust as a legal Swiss Army knife capable of correcting all manner of social and economic ills is apparently difficult for some to resist. Conflating size with market power, and market power with political power, many recent calls for regulation of industry — and the tech industry in particular — are framed in antitrust terms. Take Senator Elizabeth Warren, for example:

[T]oday, in America, competition is dying. Consolidation and concentration are on the rise in sector after sector. Concentration threatens our markets, threatens our economy, and threatens our democracy.

And she is not alone. A growing chorus of advocates are now calling for invasive, “public-utility-style” regulation or even the dissolution of some of the world’s most innovative companies essentially because they are “too big.”

According to critics, these firms impose all manner of alleged harms — from fake news, to the demise of local retail, to low wages, to the veritable destruction of democracy — because of their size. What is needed, they say, is industrial policy that shackles large companies or effectively mandates smaller firms in order to keep their economic and political power in check.

But consider the relationship between firm size and political power and democracy.

Say you’re successful in reducing the size of today’s largest tech firms and in deterring the creation of new, very-large firms: What effect might we expect this to have on their political power and influence?

For the critics, the effect is obvious: A re-balancing of wealth and thus the reduction of political influence away from Silicon Valley oligarchs and toward the middle class — the “rudder that steers American democracy on an even keel.”

But consider a few (and this is by no means all) countervailing points:

To begin, at the margin, if you limit firm growth as a means of competing with rivals, you make correspondingly more important competition through political influence. Erecting barriers to entry and raising rivals’ costs through regulation are time-honored American political traditions, and rent-seeking by smaller firms could both be more prevalent, and, paradoxically, ultimately lead to increased concentration.

Next, by imbuing antitrust with an ill-defined set of vague political objectives, you also make antitrust into a sort of “meta-legislation.” As a result, the return on influencing a handful of government appointments with authority over antitrust becomes huge — increasing the ability and the incentive to do so.

And finally, if the underlying basis for antitrust enforcement is extended beyond economic welfare effects, how long can we expect to resist calls to restrain enforcement precisely to further those goals? All of a sudden the effort and ability to get exemptions will be massively increased as the persuasiveness of the claimed justifications for those exemptions, which already encompass non-economic goals, will be greatly enhanced. We might even find, again, that we end up with even more concentration because the exceptions could subsume the rules.

All of which of course highlights the fundamental, underlying problem: If you make antitrust more political, you’ll get less democratic, more politically determined, results — precisely the opposite of what proponents claim to want.

Then there’s democracy, and calls to break up tech in order to save it. Calls to do so are often made with reference to the original intent of the Sherman Act and Louis Brandeis and his “curse of bigness.” But intentional or not, these are rallying cries for the assertion, not the restraint, of political power.

The Sherman Act’s origin was ambivalent: although it was intended to proscribe business practices that harmed consumers, it was also intended to allow politically-preferred firms to maintain high prices in the face of competition from politically-disfavored businesses.

The years leading up to the adoption of the Sherman Act in 1890 were characterized by dramatic growth in the efficiency-enhancing, high-tech industries of the day. For many, the purpose of the Sherman Act was to stem this growth: to prevent low prices — and, yes, large firms — from “driving out of business the small dealers and worthy men whose lives have been spent therein,” in the words of Trans-Missouri Freight, one of the early Supreme Court decisions applying the Act.

Left to the courts, however, the Sherman Act didn’t quite do the trick. By 1911 (in Standard Oil and American Tobacco) — and reflecting consumers’ preferences for low prices over smaller firms — only “unreasonable” conduct was actionable under the Act. As one of the prime intellectual engineers behind the Clayton Antitrust Act and the Federal Trade Commission in 1914, Brandeis played a significant role in the (partial) legislative and administrative overriding of the judiciary’s excessive support for economic efficiency.

Brandeis was motivated by the belief that firms could become large only by illegitimate means and by deceiving consumers. But Brandeis was no advocate for consumer sovereignty. In fact, consumers, in Brandeis’ view, needed to be saved from themselves because they were, at root, “servile, self-indulgent, indolent, ignorant.”

There’s a lot that today we (many of us, at least) would find anti-democratic in the underpinnings of progressivism in US history: anti-consumerism; racism; elitism; a belief in centrally planned, technocratic oversight of the economy; promotion of social engineering, including through eugenics; etc. The aim of limiting economic power was manifestly about stemming the threat it posed to powerful people’s conception of what political power could do: to mold and shape the country in their image — what economist Thomas Sowell calls “the vision of the anointed.”

That may sound great when it’s your vision being implemented, but today’s populist antitrust resurgence comes while Trump is in the White House. It’s baffling to me that so many would expand and then hand over the means to design the economy and society in their image to antitrust enforcers in the executive branch and presidentially appointed technocrats.

Throughout US history, it is the courts that have often been the bulwark against excessive politicization of the economy, and it was the courts that shepherded the evolution of antitrust away from its politicized roots toward rigorous, economically grounded policy. And it was progressives like Brandeis who worked to take antitrust away from the courts. Now, with efforts like Senator Klobuchar’s merger bill, the “New Brandeisians” want to rein in the courts again — to get them out of the way of efforts to implement their “big is bad” vision.

But the evidence that big is actually bad, least of all on those non-economic dimensions, is thin and contested.

While Zuckerberg is grilled in Congress over perceived, endemic privacy problems, politician after politician and news article after news article rushes to assert that the real problem is Facebook’s size. Yet there is no convincing analysis (maybe no analysis of any sort) that connects its size with the problem, or that evaluates whether the asserted problem would actually be cured by breaking up Facebook.

Barry Lynn claims that the origins of antitrust are in the checks and balances of the Constitution, extended to economic power. But if that’s right, then the consumer welfare standard and the courts are the only things actually restraining the disruption of that order. If there may be gains to be had from tweaking the minutiae of the process of antitrust enforcement and adjudication, by all means we should have a careful, lengthy discussion about those tweaks.

But throwing the whole apparatus under the bus for the sake of an unsubstantiated, neo-Brandeisian conception of what the economy should look like is a terrible idea.

In a recent post at the (appallingly misnamed) ProMarket blog (the blog of the Stigler Center at the University of Chicago Booth School of Business — George Stigler is rolling in his grave…), Marshall Steinbaum keeps alive the hipster-antitrust assertion that lax antitrust enforcement — this time in the labor market — is to blame for… well, most? all? of what’s wrong with “the labor market and the broader macroeconomic conditions” in the country.

In this entry, Steinbaum takes particular aim at the US enforcement agencies, which he claims do not consider monopsony power in merger review (and other antitrust enforcement actions) because their current consumer welfare framework somehow doesn’t recognize monopsony as a possible harm.

This will probably come as news to the agencies themselves, whose Horizontal Merger Guidelines devote an entire (albeit brief) section (section 12) to monopsony, noting that:

Mergers of competing buyers can enhance market power on the buying side of the market, just as mergers of competing sellers can enhance market power on the selling side of the market. Buyer market power is sometimes called “monopsony power.”

* * *

Market power on the buying side of the market is not a significant concern if suppliers have numerous attractive outlets for their goods or services. However, when that is not the case, the Agencies may conclude that the merger of competing buyers is likely to lessen competition in a manner harmful to sellers.

Steinbaum fails to mention the HMGs, but he does point to a US submission to the OECD to make his point. In that document, the agencies state that

The U.S. Federal Trade Commission (“FTC”) and the Antitrust Division of the Department of Justice (“DOJ”) [] do not consider employment or other non-competition factors in their antitrust analysis. The antitrust agencies have learned that, while such considerations “may be appropriate policy objectives and worthy goals overall… integrating their consideration into a competition analysis… can lead to poor outcomes to the detriment of both businesses and consumers.” Instead, the antitrust agencies focus on ensuring robust competition that benefits consumers and leave other policies such as employment to other parts of government that may be specifically charged with or better placed to consider such objectives.

Steinbaum, of course, cites only the first sentence. And he uses it as a launching-off point to attack the notion that antitrust is an improper tool for labor market regulation. But if he had just read a little bit further in the (very short) document he cites, Steinbaum might have discovered that the US antitrust agencies have, in fact, challenged the exercise of collusive monopsony power in labor markets. As footnote 19 of the OECD submission notes:

Although employment is not a relevant policy goal in antitrust analysis, anticompetitive conduct affecting terms of employment can violate the Sherman Act. See, e.g., DOJ settlement with eBay Inc. that prevents the company from entering into or maintaining agreements with other companies that restrain employee recruiting or hiring; FTC settlement with ski equipment manufacturers settling charges that companies illegally agreed not to compete for one another’s ski endorsers or employees. (Emphasis added).

And, ironically, while asserting that labor market collusion doesn’t matter to the agencies, Steinbaum himself points to “the Justice Department’s 2010 lawsuit against Silicon Valley employers for colluding not to hire one another’s programmers.”

Steinbaum instead opts for a willful misreading of the first sentence of the OECD submission. But what the OECD document refers to, of course, are situations where two firms merge, no market power is created (either in input or output markets), but people are laid off because the merged firm does not need all of, say, the IT and human resources employees previously employed in the pre-merger world.

Does Steinbaum really think this is grounds for challenging the merger on antitrust grounds?

Actually, his post suggests that he does indeed think so, although he doesn’t come right out and say it. What he does say — as he must in order to bring antitrust enforcement to bear on the low- and unskilled labor markets (e.g., burger flippers; retail cashiers; Uber drivers) he purports to care most about — is that:

Employers can have that control [over employees, as opposed to independent contractors] without first establishing themselves as a monopoly—in fact, reclassification [of workers as independent contractors] is increasingly standard operating procedure in many industries, which means that treating it as a violation of Section 2 of the Sherman Act should not require that outright monopolization must first be shown. (Emphasis added).

Honestly, I don’t have any idea what he means. Somehow, because firms hire independent contractors where at one time long ago they might have hired employees… they engage in Sherman Act violations, even if they don’t have market power? Huh?

I get why he needs to try to make this move: As I intimated above, there is probably not a single firm in the world that hires low- or unskilled workers that has anything approaching monopsony power in those labor markets. Even Uber, the example he uses, has nothing like monopsony power, unless perhaps you define the market (completely improperly) as “drivers already working for Uber.” Even then Uber doesn’t have monopsony power: There can be no (or, at best, virtually no) markets in the world where an Uber driver has no other potential employment opportunities but working for Uber.

Moreover, how on earth is hiring independent contractors evidence of anticompetitive behavior? ”Reclassification” is not, in fact, “standard operating procedure.” It is the case that in many industries firms (unilaterally) often decide to contract out the hiring of low- and unskilled workers over whom they do not need to exercise direct oversight to specialized firms, thus not employing those workers directly. That isn’t “reclassification” of existing workers who have no choice but to accept their employer’s terms; it’s a long-term evolution of the economy toward specialization, enabled in part by technology.

And if we’re really concerned about what “employee” and “independent contractor” mean for workers and employment regulation, we should reconsider those outdated categories. Firms are faced with a binary choice: hire workers or independent contractors. Neither really fits many of today’s employment arrangements very well, but that’s the choice firms are given. That they sometimes choose “independent worker” over “employee” is hardly evidence of anticompetitive conduct meriting antitrust enforcement.

The point is: The notion that any of this is evidence of monopsony power, or that the antitrust enforcement agencies don’t care about monopsony power — because, Bork! — is absurd.

Even more absurd is the notion that the antitrust laws should be used to effect Steinbaum’s preferred market regulations — independent of proof of actual anticompetitive effect. I get that it’s hard to convince Congress to pass the precise laws you want all the time. But simply routing around Congress and using the antitrust statutes as a sort of meta-legislation to enact whatever happens to be Marshall Steinbaum’s preferred regulation du jour is ridiculous.

Which is a point the OECD submission made (again, if only Steinbaum had read beyond the first sentence…):

[T]wo difficulties with expanding the scope of antitrust analysis to include employment concerns warrant discussion. First, a full accounting of employment effects would require consideration of short-term effects, such as likely layoffs by the merged firm, but also long-term effects, which could include employment gains elsewhere in the industry or in the economy arising from efficiencies generated by the merger. Measuring these effects would [be extremely difficult.]. Second, unless a clear policy spelling out how the antitrust agency would assess the appropriate weight to give employment effects in relation to the proposed conduct or transaction’s procompetitive and anticompetitive effects could be developed, [such enforcement would be deeply problematic, and essentially arbitrary].

To be sure, the agencies don’t recognize enough that they already face the problem of reconciling multidimensional effects — e.g., short-, medium-, and long-term price effects, innovation effects, product quality effects, etc. But there is no reason to exacerbate the problem by asking them to also consider employment effects. Especially not in Steinbaum’s world in which certain employment effects are problematic even without evidence of market power or even actual anticompetitive harm, just because he says so.

Consider how this might play out:

Suppose that Pepsi, Coca-Cola, Dr. Pepper… and every other soft drink company in the world attempted to merge, creating a monopoly soft drink manufacturer. In what possible employment market would even this merger create a monopsony in which anticompetitive harm could be tied to the merger? In the market for “people who know soft drink secret formulas?” Yet Steinbaum would have the Sherman Act enforced against such a merger not because it might create a product market monopoly, but because the existence of a product market monopoly means the firm must be able to bad things in other markets, as well. For Steinbaum and all the other scolds who see concentration as the source of all evil, the dearth of evidence to support such a claim is no barrier (on which, see, e.g., this recent, content-less NYT article (that, naturally, quotes Steinbaum) on how “big business may be to blame” for the slowing rate of startups).

The point is, monopoly power in a product market does not necessarily have any relationship to monopsony power in the labor market. Simply asserting that it does — and lambasting the enforcement agencies for not just accepting that assertion — is farcical.

The real question, however, is what has happened to the University of Chicago that it continues to provide a platform for such nonsense?

James Cooper is Director, Research and Policy at the Law & Economics Center at George Mason University School of Law

The FTC has long been on a quest to find the elusive species of conduct that Section 5 alone can tackle.  A series of early Supreme Court cases interpreting the FTC Act – the most recent and widely cited of which is more than forty years old (FTC v. Sperry & Hutchinson Co., 405 U.S. 233 (1972)) –appeared to grant the FTC wide ranging powers to condemn methods of competition as “unfair.”[1]  A series of judicial setbacks in the 1980s and early 1990s, however, scaled back Section 5’s domain.[2]

Since 1992, the FTC has continued to define Section 5’s reach internally – through settlements primarily involving two classes of conduct: so-called “invitations to collude” (ITC);[3] and breaches of agreements to disclose or to license standard-essential patents (SEPs).[4] Similar in spirit to ITCs, the Commission has also alleged pure Section 5 violations in cases involving sharing of competitively sensitive information.[5]

In addition to these lines of cases, the FTC has used Section 5 in two additional matters: the “CD MAP” cases, involving the parallel adoption by major record companies of “minimum advertised price” restrictions; and the suit against Intel for engaging in exclusionary conduct, including deception and certain pricing practices.

Absent external appellate review, however, it remains unclear whether Congress intended for these classes of conduct to be illegal as “unfair methods of competition.”  Because settlement with the FTC will be preferable to litigation in a wide array of circumstances, what is considered illegal under Section 5 largely has become whatever at least three Commissioners can agree on.  Accordingly, there is still a relatively large zone in which the FTC can develop this quasi Section 5 common law with little fear of triggering litigation, and the concomitant specter of judicial scrutiny.

The recent Google investigation provides some evidence as to just how large this zone of discretion may be.  Although the Commission eventually decided to close its investigation into Google’s search practices – and was able to extract informal concessions from Google related to “scraping” and failures to facilitate “multihoming” – that the Commission would entertain a case premised on such conduct hints at a willingness to make arguments that clear Sherman Act precedent involving duties to aid rivals does not apply to the Section 5 actions, or that misappropriation can serve as the basis for a Section 5 theory.  The Commission’s settlement with Google concerning breaches of commitments to license SEPs on FRAND terms, moreover, continued its application of antitrust and consumer protection law to contractual disputes between sophisticated businesses.

Parsing the statements in Google suggest at least four directions in which at least one commissioner was willing to expand Section 5 beyond the Sherman Act:  duties to aid rivals, misappropriation, failure to disclose the relationship between data collection and market power, and breach of an agreement to license SEPs on FRAND terms.  Further, in two instances, at least one commissioner additionally was willing to declare the same conduct an unfair act or practice.  This is far from a coherent framework for Section 5.

The FTC’s discretion under Section 5 potentially comes at a steep price.  First, it creates uncertainty.  If businesses are unsure about where the line between legal an illegal behavior is drawn, they rationally will take too much care to avoid violating the law, which in antitrust can mean competing less aggressively.  Second, the more discretion the FTC enjoys to condemn a practice as an unfair method of competition, the more competition will be channeled from the marketplace to 600 Pennsylvania Avenue.  Although this may be a good development for economists and attorneys, it is bad for consumers.

The FTC could go a long way toward solving this problem if it were to take a cue from the history of its consumer protection program.  The FTC’s overreach in the 1970s earned it the moniker “national nanny,” nearly shut the agency down.  As part of a program to instill public – and more importantly Congressional – trust, the FTC adopted a series of binding policy statements that made consumer harm the touchstone of its authority to challenge “unfair or deceptive acts or practices” (UDAP authority).

A similar effort at self-restraint that limits the FTC’s UMC authority could help reduce uncertainty and rent seeking.  Both Commissioners Ohlhausen and Wright should be commended on their impressive efforts to start this discussion.  In my first post, however, I’d like to discuss a more dramatic path that neither has addressed: confining Section 5 to the Sherman Act.

In many ways the search for Section 5’s domain beyond the Sherman Act is a solution in search of a problem.  There is certainly no consensus that the Sherman Act – even after some recent limitations imposed by cases like Twombly, Trinko, and Credit Suisse – is no longer fit for the task of policing anticompetitive conduct.  It may well be that the FTC is trying to sell a product that nobody needs.  Consequently, the costs of abandoning an expansive Section 5 may be small; with the exceptions of ITCs and information sharing involving small firms, the rest of the FTC’s Section 5 portfolio also can be reached under existing Sherman Act theories (albeit with more difficulty), or handled through other bodies of law or self-regulation.

For example, under the D.C. Circuit’s decision in Rambus, Section 2 is available for cases involving deception at the time of the standard adoption that materially affected the choice of standard.[6] Accordingly, a Section 2 case could be made out if the Commission could show that the defendant either concealed an SEP or if a FRAND commitment was made in bad faith and affected the choice of standard.  Even if deception cannot be show, breaches of FRAND commitments involving SEPs that result in hold-up necessarily involve legal review; the court (or ITC) must decide whether to grant the SEP holder’s request for an injunction (or an exclusion order), and the alleged infringer has opportunities to raise a variety of contract and patent law objections.  Likewise, bundling, predatory pricing, and deception claims like those in Intel are clearly cognizable under Sherman Section 2 (which is why Intel was pled both ways).

Confining Section 5 to the Sherman Act would also have the advantage reduce arbitrage opportunities between the FTC and the Antitrust Division.  As Commissioner Ohlhausen has noted, if the same conduct results in different legal treatment depending on which agency wins clearance – as it arguably would have in the Google investigation – these routine bureaucratic procedures could have substantial influence on ultimate liability.

Although this conduct is reachable under the Sherman Act, many of the cases would be difficult to win.  To the extent that these Sherman Act rules reasonably sort anticompetitive from procompetitive or benign conduct, however, forcing the Commission to satisfy Sherman Act standards would assure that its actions promote consumer welfare.

The only types of conduct that clearly slip out of the FTC’s reach when Section 5 is confined to the Sherman Act are ITCs and information sharing involving firms with low market shares.  The costs of letting this conduct go, however, are likely minimal.  Although most would agree that this conduct is  worth stopping, the FTC has pursued less than ten of these cases in the past 20 years.  Even including deterrence effects, removing ITCs and information sharing cases from the FTC portfolio is unlikely to cause a great deal of consumer harm.  Most managers are probably aware that price fixing is illegal, and it is doubtful that anybody proposes a cartel or shares information without hoping that the other party will get on board.  At the same time, these Section 5 cases are obscure – lurking in a series of consent orders on the FTC’s web site.  The sophisticated antitrust bar likely is familiar with this strain of Section 5 activity, but outside of the clients counseled by top tier law firms, it is not obvious that many businesses are aware of there existence.  Without awareness, there can be no deterrence.  Further, if either of these acts leads to a conspiracy or significant market power, it will be reachable under the Sherman Act.

Finally, removing the FTC’s Section 5 authority will not diminish its role as an antitrust norm creator.  Indeed, over its near 100-year history, however, the FTC has not used Section 5 to implement any important antitrust norms.[7]  That is not to say that the FTC has lacked influence over the development of antitrust jurisprudence – to the contrary, it clearly has, but within the confines of the Sherman Act.  For example, the FTC has made major positive contribution in the fields of joint conduct,[8] state action,[9] Noerr-Pennington,[10] the treatment of professional regulation,[11] and most recently in the context of pharmaceutical reverse settlements.[12]

Of course, if Section 5 is to offer nothing beyond the Sherman Act, that begs the question of whether the FTC is needed at all? In this manner, the quest for a species of harmful conduct that is reachable only through Section 5 is an existential one.  Does it make sense to have two agencies enforcing the same law?[13]  Probably not.  The FTC’s comparative advantage over DOJ lays in its research capability, and of course its consumer protection mission.  Accordingly, stripped of a unique antirust enforcement authority, one possible reorganization would be to house enforcement in DOJ, with the FTC providing competition and consumer protection policy R&D that would feed into case selection designed to improve these bodies of law.

However attractive it may be from a policy standpoint, jettisoning Section 5 beyond the Sherman Act is a political non-starter; Congress would never permit the FTC to abrogate its UMC power.  Indeed, recall the nasty fight that erupted when the FTC and DOJ attempted to reach a clearance agreement in 2002.  Accordingly, a more realistic path for the Commission to take would be to spell out the circumstances under which it would consider a stand alone Section 5 case.[14]  I will turn to this in my next posting.


[1] See, e.g., FTC v. Sperry & Hutchinson Co., 405 U.S. 233 (1972); William E. Kovacic & Marc Winerman, Competition Policy and the Application of Section 5 of the Federal Trade Commission Act, 76 Antitrust L.J. 929, 930-31 (2010).

[2] FTC v. Boise Cascade, 637 F.2d 573, 581 (9th Cir. 1980); Official Airline Guides, Inc. v. FTC, 630 F.2d 920 (2d. Cir. 1980); E.I DuPont de Nemours & Co. v. FTC, 729 F.2d 128 (2d Cir. 1984).  The FTC’s last judicially decided Section 5 action was in 1992. FTC v. Abbott Labs, 853 F. Supp. 526 (D.D.C. 1992).

[3] In re U-Haul Int’l, Inc. (June 9, 2010); In re Valassis Communications, Inc. (April 19, 2006); In re Stone Container Corp. (June 3, 1998); In re Precision Moulding Co. (Sept. 3, 1996); In re YKK(USA) (July 1, 1993); In re A.E. Clevite, Inc. (June 8, 1993); In re Quality Trailer Prods. Corp. (Nov. 5, 1992).

[4] In re Dell Computer (1996); In re Negotiated Data Systems, Inc. (2008); In re Robert Bosch GmbH (2012); In re Google, Inc. (2013).

[5] In re Bosely (2013); In re Nat’l Ass’n of Music Merchants (2009).

[6] Rambus Inc. v. FTC, 522 F.3d 456 (D.C. Cir. 2008); see also Broadcom Corp. v. Qualcomm Inc., 501 F.3d 297 (3rd Cir. 2007); Microsoft, 253 F.3d 3, 76 (D.C. Cir. 2001); Conwood Co. v. U.S. Tobacco Co., 290 F.3d 768 (6th Cir. 2002).

[7] See Kovaic & Winerman, supra note__, at 941 (“The FTC’s record of appellate litigation involving applications of Section 5 that go beyond prevailing antitrust norms is uninspiring.”).

[8] See Polygram Holding, Ltd. v. FTC, 416 F.3d 29 (D.C. Cir. 2005).

[9] See FTC v. Ticor Ins. Co, 504 U.S. 621 (1992); North Carolina Board of Dental Examiners v. FTC, No. 12-1172 (4th Cir. May 31, 2013).

[10] See FTC v. Phoebe Putney Healthcare System, Inc. (Feb. 13, 2013); FTC v. Superior Court Trial Lawyers Ass’n, 493 U.S. 411 (1990).

[11] See FTC v. Indiana Federation of Dentists, 476 U.S. 447 (1986); FTC v. California Dental Association, 526 U.S. 756 (1999).

[12] FTC v. Actavis, Inc., Slip Op. No. 12-416 (June 16, 2013).

[13] See Kovacic & Winerman

[14] Commissioners Ohlhausen and Wright have recently begun this discussion.  See __.

I will be speaking at a lunch debate in DC hosted by TechFreedom on Friday, September 28, 2012, to discuss the FTC’s antitrust investigation of Google. Details below.

TechFreedom will host a livestreamed, parliamentary-style lunch debate on Friday September 28, 2012, to discuss the FTC’s antitrust investigation of Google.   As the company has evolved, expanding outward from its core search engine product, it has come into competition with a range of other firms and established business models. This has, in turn, caused antitrust regulators to investigate Google’s conduct, essentially questioning whether the company’s success obligates it to treat competitors neutrally. James Cooper, Director of Research and Policy for the Law and Economics Center at George Mason University School of Law, will moderate a panel of four distinguished commenters to discuss the question, “Should the FTC Sue Google Over Search?”  

Arguing “Yes” will be:

Arguing “No” will be:

When:
Friday, September 28, 2012
12:00 p.m. – 2:00 p.m.

Where:
The Monocle Restaurant
107 D Street Northeast
Washington, DC 20002

RSVP here. The event will be livestreamed here and you can follow the conversation on Twitter at #GoogleFTC.

For those viewing by livestream, we will watch for questions posted to Twitter at the #GoogleFTC hashtag and endeavor, as possible, to incorporate them into the debate.

Questions?
Email contact@techfreedom.org

In the past weeks, the chatter surrounding a possible FTC antitrust case against Google has risen in volume, thanks largely to the FTC’s hiring of litigator Beth Wilkinson.  The question remains, however, what this aggressive move portends and, more importantly, why the FTC is taking it.

It is worth noting at the outset that, as far as I know, Wilkinson has no antitrust experience; she is a litigator.  Now, there’s nothing wrong with an agency enlisting a hired gun to help litigate its cases, but when the hired gun is not hired for her substantive expertise but rather her ability to persuade, it perhaps suggests something about the strength of the agency’s case.

It’s reading tea leaves (a time-honored, if flawed, DC practice), but Wilkinson’s hiring suggests to me that the FTC views its case as one that will require some serious rhetorical handling in order to win.  While on its Sherman Act Section 2 merits that would be true anyway, it also suggests to me that the FTC intends to use the case as an opportunity to push – and seek court approval for – the ambitious plans of some of the Commissioners to expand the agency’s powers under Section 5 of the FTC Act.  This would be a costly mistake for consumers.

Last year, in an interview with Global Competition Review, FTC Chairman Leibowitz was asked whether the agency was “investigating the online search market.”  He declined to answer directly but instead offered this suggestive comment:

What I can say is that one of the commission’s priorities is to find a pure Section Five case under unfair methods of competition.  Everyone acknowledges that Congress gave us much more jurisdiction than just antitrust.  And I go back to this because at some point if and when, say, a large technology company acknowledges an investigation by the FTC, we can use both our unfair or deceptive acts or practice authority and our unfair methods of competition authority to investigate the same or similar unfair competitive behavior . . . .

Commissioner Rosch has likewise suggested that Section 5 could and should be expanded, precisely to reach activity that would be unreachable under current Section 2 standards.  The effort to expand the FTC’s antitrust enforcement under Section 5, and to write out the jurisprudential standards of Section 2, is a troubling one.

Following Sherman Act jurisprudence, traditionally the FTC has understood (and courts have demanded) that antitrust enforcement under Section 5 (as a technical matter, the FTC does not directly enforce Section 2 of the Sherman Act but instead enforces the Act via its Section 5 authority) requires demonstrable consumer harm to apply.  But this latest effort reveals an agency pursuing an interpretation of Section 5 that would give it unprecedented and largely-unchecked authority.  In particular, the definition of “unfair” competition wouldn’t be confined to the traditional antitrust measures—reduction in output or an output-reducing increase in price—but could expand to, well, just about whatever the agency deems improper.

Most problematically, Commissioner Rosch has suggested that Section Five could address conduct that has the effect of “reducing consumer choice” without requiring any evidence that conduct actually reduces consumer welfare—a theory that only a vanishingly few commentators (essentially one law professor and one FTC lawyer have written the entire body of scholarship on this topic) support.  Troublingly, “reducing consumer choice” seems to be a euphemism for “harm to competitors, not competition,” where the reduction in choice is the reduction of choice of competitors who may be put out of business by a competitor’s conduct.

Under Section 2 standards, the FTC would have a tough time winning its case.  This is because the agency doesn’t seem to have a theory of harm that reaches consumers—and none of Google’s competitors that have been stoking the flames has offered one.  Instead, all of the propounded theories turn on harm to competitors.  But the U.S. has a long tradition of resisting enforcement based on harm to competitors without a showing of harm to consumers.  If all that were required were harm to competitors, then all pro-competitive conduct would be actionable under the antitrust laws; for what is the aim and effect of competition if not the besting of one’s competitors?  The competitive process is by definition one that can “reduce consumer choice.”  This is why the great economist Joseph Schumpeter famously called the competitive process one of “creative destruction.”

In fact, the theoretical case against Google depends entirely on the ways it may have harmed certain competitors rather than on any evidence of harm to consumer welfare.  For example, Google’s implementation and placement within its organic search results of its own shopping results is alleged to make it difficult for competing product-specific search sites (like Nextag or Amazon, for example) to reach Google’s users.  Leaving aside the weakness of the factual allegation (I challenge you to perform a search for a product on Google that doesn’t offer up a mix of retailers, manufacturers, review sites and multiple product search engine results on the first page), it is hard to see how consumers are harmed here.

On the one hand, users have easy access to competing sites directly from their browser’s address bar and, increasingly importantly, to more persuasive product reviews from friends and colleagues via social media.  In this way even the basic factual predicate is faulty, and it’s not even clear that consumer choice itself is reduced if Nextag is absent from Google searches, as the site can be reached by, among other things, links from reviews, links from friends on social media, other general search engines, and every browser address bar.

On the other hand, users are by no means foreclosed from access to actual products (and there is no evidence that I know of that consumer prices or supply are in any way affected) if any particular product search engine doesn’t appear in the top results.  Placement of Google’s own product search results in fact streamlines consumers’ access, and Google’s comprehensive and effective search engine ensures that its shopping results are probably better than anyone else’s anyway.  The same is true for travel searches, maps, and the range of other complained-of results.  Flight information and reservations, location information and maps are widely available online and off through myriad sources other than Google.

The bottom line is that harm to competitors is at least as consistent with pro-competitive as with anti-competitive conduct, and simply counting the number of firms offering competing choices to consumers that happen to appear in the top few Google search results is no way to infer actual consumer harm.

One of the most important shifts in antitrust over the past 30 years has been the move away from indirect and unreliable proxies of consumer harm toward a more direct, effects-based analysis.  Like the now archaic focus on market concentration in the structure-conduct-performance framework at the core of “old” merger analysis, the consumer choice framework substitutes an indirect and deeply flawed proxy for consumer welfare for assessment of economically relevant economic effects.  By focusing on the number of choices, the analysis shifts attention to the wrong question.

The fundamental question from an antitrust perspective is whether consumer choice is a better predictor of consumer outcomes than current tools allow.   There doesn’t appear to be anything in economic theory to suggest that it would be.  Instead, it reduces competitive analysis to a single attribute of market structure and appears susceptible to interpretations that would sacrifice a meaningful measure of consumer welfare (incorporating assessment of price, quality, variety, innovation and other amenities) on economically unsound grounds.  It is also not the law.

Commissioner Rosch has suggested that the Supreme Court in its 2007 Leegin decision provided a green light for consumer-choice-reducing antitrust theories without a showing of traditional (output-reducing) harm.  But as Josh pointed out, the Ninth Circuit has held (in last year’s Brantley v. NBC Universal decision, which Thom has also blogged about here and here) that Leegin more accurately holds precisely the opposite, and coupled with the Court’s 2006 Independent Ink decision, seems clearly to restrict, rather than authorize, a consumer choice claim:

The Supreme Court has noted that both [reduced choice and increased prices] are “fully consistent with a free, competitive market,” [citing Independent Ink] and are therefore insufficient to establish an injury to competition. Thus even vertical agreements that prohibit retail price reductions and result in higher consumer prices . . . are not unlawful absent a further showing of anticompetitive conduct [citing Leegin].

Modern antitrust analysis, both in scholarship and in the courts, quite properly rejects the reductive and unsupported sort of theories that would undergird a Section 5 case against Google.  That the FTC might have a better chance of winning a Section 5 case, unmoored from the economically sound limitations of Section 2 jurisprudence, is no reason for it to pursue such a case.  Quite the opposite:  When consumer welfare is disregarded for the sake of the agency’s power, it ceases to further its mandate.  No doubt Beth Wilkinson could help make the rhetorical argument for a Section 5 case against Google based on a tenuous consumer choice theory.  But economic substance, not self-aggrandizement by rhetoric, should guide the agency.  Competition and consumers are dramatically ill-served by the latter.

Full disclosure: I worked briefly with Beth Wilkinson at Latham and Watkins.  Further full disclosure: The International Center for Law and Economics, of which I am the Executive Director, has received support to make research grants from Google, among many other companies and individuals.

[Cross-posted at Forbes]