The Volokh Conspiracy
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Journal of Free Speech Law: "Platform Transparency and the First Amendment," by Daphne Keller
The article, which is directly relevant to the Netchoice cases that the Court will consider this Term, is here; here's the Introduction:
Major U.S. platforms can powerfully influence public discourse by removing, promoting, and otherwise moderating users' online speech. Better information about their content moderation would help policymakers enact better laws. It would also serve Internet users' interests as readers, speakers, and participants in democracy.
A recent wave of "platform transparency laws" around the world now require such disclosures. The EU, for example, adopted transparency laws following extensive consultation with experts, and continues to take public comments on implementation issues. The U.S. approach has instead followed an increasingly familiar and depressing pattern: State lawmakers enact hastily-drafted laws, and platforms try to get those laws struck down as First Amendment violations. The Supreme Court recently agreed to hear cases about two such state laws, from Texas and Florida. Its review will encompass only portions of those states' sweeping transparency mandates: the provisions concerning notice and appeal for individual users affected by content moderation. Its ruling on those questions, however, may effectively determine the constitutionality of the states' other transparency mandates.
Judicial analysis of Texas's and Florida's transparency mandates has, to date, been quite superficial. We should hope for better from the Supreme Court. Precedent does not provide clear answers to important constitutional questions about platform transparency, though. Platforms' and states' legal arguments both rely on flawed analogies: Platforms compare themselves to newspapers, and states compare them to food vendors or hospitals. Both analogies give short shrift to the rights and interests of Internet users.
Advocates and courts in platform transparency cases can find plenty of loose analogies, and few or no precise ones. They can also find precedent to support almost any standard of First Amendment review, which leaves them free to be as outcome-oriented as they wish in advancing their preferred policies. With the Supreme Court having granted review in the NetChoice cases, now is the time to think much harder about what those preferred policies should actually be, and what doctrinal framework will best achieve it.
This Article discusses First Amendment concerns with platform transparency laws generally, and the Texas and Florida laws in particular. I will argue that the laws have major problems that were scarcely addressed in the rulings so far—and that there are arguments and framings in favor of transparency that have also been insufficiently considered. I will also identify concrete ways in which the laws might be improved.
[* * *]
The Texas and Florida transparency laws are part of broader "must-carry" legislation enacted by Texas and Florida in 2021. Platforms challenged the laws in two cases, NetChoice v. Moody and NetChoice v. Paxton (collectively called "NetChoice" here). To date, the parties' and courts' attention has mostly focused on the states' must-carry rules, which compel platforms to change their editorial policies. Florida's law, for example, would require platforms to carry all speech—even hate speech or disinformation—as long as it was posted by a political candidate. Texas's law would require platforms' policies on hate speech, disinformation, and other topics to be neutral as to speakers' viewpoint.
The major problem with the Texas and Florida transparency laws is that they will powerfully incentivize platforms to change their editorial rules for online speech. Both platforms and their users will suffer First Amendment harms as a result. Transparency laws—including the provisions under review by the Supreme Court—can be expected to change platforms' speech rules in two very predictable ways. The first is by imposing new documentation burdens, which can affect every step of platforms' industrial-scale editorial operations. Platforms can reduce those burdens by changing their policies. They may take down fewer offensive or harmful posts, or apply blunter rules like simply prohibiting all discussions of racism or prohibiting all nudity regardless of artistic or medical context. They may also simply shut down speech-supporting features like comments on videos.
Even the biggest platforms may have sound economic reasons to forfeit editorial control in these ways. But this state-imposed burden will pose an even bigger problem for the mid-sized platforms caught up in Texas's and Florida's laws, and held to standards designed for incumbent giants like YouTube. Platforms with fewer resources will have more reason to change their editorial policies or even cease competing with incumbents in offering particular features. Texas and Florida lawmakers say that their laws are intended to curb the biggest platforms' concentrated power over online speech. But their laws' poorly-calibrated burdens are likelier to do the opposite—reducing the diversity of forums for online speech, and increasing state influence on the platforms that remain.
The second way that transparency laws will cause platforms to change their speech policies is through state coercion. The NetChoice transparency laws will give the Texas and Florida Attorneys General (AGs) powerful new tools to influence platforms' speech policies. This problem is easy to foresee because it is happening already. Even with their current, more limited authority to investigate "deceptive" representations to consumers, AGs have pressured platforms to align their speech rules with enforcers' political preferences.
Texas AG Ken Paxton brought such an investigation against Twitter in express retaliation for its ouster of former President Trump, for example. He demanded that the platform turn over what one expert called "every document regarding every editorial decision that Twitter has ever prepared"—an expense the company could presumably have avoided by quietly adopting the AG's preferred speech rules. Indiana's AG similarly investigated whether Twitter's posted rules violated consumer protection laws when the company removed his jocular tweet questioning the outcome of the 2020 Presidential election. That inquiry has since led him to subpoena civil rights leaders, including the head of the NAACP, about their conversations with platforms.
An Office of the AG (OAG) investigation in Washington, D.C. provides an example with a different political valence. Because it led to litigation over the OAG's subpoena to Facebook, it also provides an unusual amount of public detail about the real-world dynamic between platforms and enforcers. That case arose from the OAG's concerns about anti-Covid-vaccine posts—speech that may endanger public health, but is also often lawful. The OAG told reporters that its goal was to "make sure Facebook is truly taking all steps possible to minimize vaccine misinformation on its site," presumably by taking down users' posts. The OAG's subpoena demanded that Facebook disclose the identities of users who had posted misinformation. Learning the names of individual speakers was necessary, the OAG said, in order to assess whether the platform had adequately penalized people who repeatedly violated the platform's rules.
Laws like the ones in Texas and Florida will require a massive number of new disclosures, and empower AGs to investigate the truth of each compelled statement. AGs enforcing the laws could easily believe they are acting within their statutory authority, while effectively pressuring platforms to change their speech policies on culture war flashpoint issues ranging from LGBTQ+ rights to hate speech. Rational platforms will likely choose to appease those AGs or other enforcers at least some of the time. Affected Internet users may never know about concessions negotiated by platforms and state enforcers, or be aware of government actors' roles in shaping the information they can see and share online.
Transparency laws don't have to work this way. It is possible to expand platform transparency without simultaneously expanding states' influence over online speech—or, at least without doing so to the dramatic degree that the Texas and Florida have. In this Article, I list many alternative approaches, as well as ways in which the Texas and Florida laws themselves could be amended to reduce their most obvious threats to online speech. None of these improvements will happen, though, if courts do not scrutinize transparency laws more closely. The basic questions of First Amendment analysis—what state interests the laws advance, at what cost to speech, and with what possibilities for better tailoring by legislative drafters—deserve careful attention in the transparency context.
Such attention was sorely lacking in the lower court NetChoice litigation. Both the Fifth and Eleventh Circuits applied what the latter called "relatively permissive" review under Zauderer v. Office of Disciplinary Counsel, a 1985 Supreme Court case about deceptive attorney advertising. Their rulings did not meaningfully examine the ways in which mandatory disclosures about speech and editorial policies might vary from disclosures about the tobacco, sugary beverages, or hospital prices. The Fifth Circuit upheld all of Texas's transparency mandates. The Eleventh Circuit upheld most of Florida's, though it rejected as unconstitutional the user notification provisions at issue before the Supreme Court.
The courts' cursory analysis is understandable given the scant briefing to date—the platforms' brief to the Eleventh Circuit, for example, spent just one of its 67 pages on transparency. But the transparency issues in NetChoice are complex and weighty. Like other questions in NetChoice, they are also truly novel. As one Fifth Circuit judge put it, "[t]hese activities native to the digital age have no clear ancestral home within our First Amendment precedent."
The job of the parties' lawyers, of course, is to make the questions look easy, like something resolved long ago in another context. Platforms attempt to do this by arguing that they are basically like newspapers. They compare transparency mandates to laws requiring the Wall Street Journal to publicly explain every detail of its editorial policies and publication decisions. Such mandates, they argue, are obviously counter to the First Amendment, and prohibited by a case about litigation discovery against newspapers, Herbert v. Lando. Texas and Florida, on the other hand, insist that their rules are basic consumer protection measures, to be reviewed under Zauderer and lower court cases applying its standard of review. Their arguments frame compelled speech about editorial policies as constitutionally indistinguishable from labels on food or warnings in advertisements for commercial services. Both the "platforms are newspapers" and "platforms are ordinary sellers of goods and services" arguments usefully illuminate some aspects of platform transparency laws. But both are also incomplete, whether as analogies for the function of today's platforms or as pointers to relevant case law.
Following this Introduction, Part II of this Article will describe the specific transparency mandates at issue in the NetChoice cases, and briefly outline major relevant precedent. Part III will then describe the concrete ways in which poorly-tailored transparency mandates may cause platforms to change the editorial policies that they apply to Internet users' speech. This burden on speech is fundamentally different from the burdens created by transparency mandates for commercial offerings in areas like food safety. Case law addressing analogous speech-related problems exists, but is scant.
Part IV will explore the potential state interests and First Amendment framings for platform transparency laws, and delve more deeply into the case law. Subpart IV.A begins with the consumer protection interests advanced by the states in NetChoice, and critiques Zauderer as a basis for upholding the Texas and Florida laws. Subpart IV.B then considers precedent involving more complex disclosures from regulated industries like banking or pharmaceutical production. It flags what I believe is a major lurking issue in NetChoice: A ruling on platform transparency issues will likely be relevant for future cases in which businesses seek to "weaponize" the First Amendment as a legal tool against the regulatory state. That issue is far bigger than platform regulation. Its gravitational pull will likely shape the choices of advocates and Justices in NetChoice.
Finally, in Subpart IV.C, I discuss a fundamentally different basis for transparency mandates, as a tool to advance democratic self-governance goals. This foundation is underexplored in case law and academic literature about platform transparency. But it is, I will argue, profoundly important as a basis for future, better transparency laws. It also provides a potential constitutional framing that avoids many of the pitfalls of Zauderer.
Like many First Amendment cases, the outcome of this one will likely turn on the standard of review. Unlike in many First Amendment cases, the right standard of review is highly indeterminate. Advocates and judges can effectively pick the outcome they want, and find an argument to support it. Platforms' arguments in NetChoice would lead to strict scrutiny, effectively killing most possible transparency laws. The states' arguments have led to review so lax as to disregard major constitutional issues.
A better standard of review would lie in between. In principle, it might be found in intermediate scrutiny. Or the exacting scrutiny standard from election law cases might be a fit, in recognition of states' democratic interests in platform transparency laws. That would be a stretch from existing precedent. But so is applying Zauderer, or much of anything else. Perhaps even Zauderer itself could be interpreted as the source of a sufficiently robust standard—though given the analysis in the Fifth and Eleventh Circuits so far, I am skeptical.
Whatever analysis the Supreme Court adopts, it should insist on a clear connection between states' goals and the laws' consequences, and require meaningful tailoring. The First Amendment problems with badly-drafted platform transparency mandates are far too real for hasty analysis and unduly permissive standards of review.
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Looks like JFSL decided to publish an amicus brief.
It's a good start. Transparency laws should be analyzed not as speech restrictions but as honesty-in-commerce requirements.
What if they burden speech?
But that's stupid, because they are not honesty-in-commerce requirements; they're attempts to control the speech of social media platforms. The states passing these laws openly admit that.
Fox News has used the slogan, "Fair and Balanced" for many years. Do you think that liberal states should be able to pass laws requiring that Fox explain on a monthly basis how it decides which stories to cover (and which not to) and what angle to take on those stories that it chooses to cover, so that regulators can decide whether Fox is actually fair and balanced or whether it's misleading consumers in its audience into thinking so?
And should anyone watching Fox be allowed to file a complaint about any particular news segment, contending that it wasn't in fact fair and balanced, and forcing Fox to respond to that complaint, and to compile a database of such complaints and present that compilation to regulators each month?
Of course not, because everyone would realize that this was about harassing Fox News into covering stories differently, not about protecting consumers from anything.
While I agree with the article's criticism of the US approach to these laws (hastily-drafted that get struck down as 1A violations), I strongly disagree with the characterization of the EU approach. Yes, there was "extensive consultation with experts" but those "experts" were pre-selected to favor the government's approach and the results are every bit as poorly drafted - and there's not even a 1A-equivalent to invalidate them. The outcome is a lot less chaotic than the US approach but by every other measure, it's substantially worse. They are crushing innovation, enabling regulatory capture and industry incumbency while doing no real good for the people they claim to be protecting.
There hasn’t been much discussion on this blog about the details of what the Texas and Florida laws actually do. Most of the discussion has been for or against designating social media companies as common careers and imposing related rules on them.
But if I understand the article, it is suggesting that neither law actually did that, and both laws did something else entirely that may render the common carrier debate irrelevant. It would be worth a post explaining what these laws actually did and how their requirements differ from simple common carrier status.
Platforms compare themselves to newspapers, and states compare them to food vendors or hospitals. Both analogies give short shrift to the rights and interests of Internet users.
Exactly. The Press Freedom clause has always been in tension with the Speech Freedom clause. In the case of newspapers, would-be contributors are utterly at the mercy of publishers, who are constitutionally guaranteed a right to decide at pleasure what they will publish and what they will not publish. Doing it that way is a vital part of 1A expressive freedom. It preserves the possibility of publishing, without which would-be contributors would be at a loss.
By contrast, OP author Daphne Keller tries to establish by ipse dixit that press freedom is irrelevant on the internet, because optimizing speech freedom for would-be internet contributors is the whole ball game. What that leaves out is that absent press freedom, internet contributors get no way to publish their contributions.
Contributors mostly don't know that of course, just as Keller appears not to know it. Keller and the contributors are thus alike, as members of the vast crowd of internet utopians who demand remedies which no power on earth can supply.
There will be no sensible discussions on this topic until many more folks have learned to understand what a publisher is, and what publishing activities accomplish. With that understood, they will be positioned to understand that would-be-contributors are almost never publishers. From there the possibility opens that at least some of them will understand that the practical possibility to accomplish internet publishing (or traditional publishing) depends on collaborative activities of different kinds. That would get some of the internet utopianism out of the way, and open the way to more sensible consideration of ways to get the most good for the most people out of internet publishing technology.
“Absent press freedom [for social media companies], internet contributiors get no way to publish their contributions.”
This statement is arguably technically true, if artful, because posting on a common carrier platform arguably may not meet the definition of “publishing.” After all, common carriers don’t have the liability publishers have. But I see two problems with this otherwise very clever gotcha.
First and biggest, I don’t see why social media platform users could possibly care less if lawyers used a term other than “publishing” to describe what a common-carrier social media platform does when it broadcasts a post. it might not technically be “publishing,” but I don’t see why that nominal techicality in lawyerly argot would affect anything an “internet contributor” cares about. Second and a comparably minor quibble, it’s equally arguable that social media companies today aren’t really publishers either. After all, they don’t have the liabilities publishers have, do they? Section 230 and all that. So it seems to me that by many reasonable definitions of “publishing,” today’s social media platform internet contributers don’t “publish” when they post on social media either.
They have exactly the same liability that all other Internet publishers have: liability for their own content, but not liability for user content.
Section 230 is a law by which Congress declared that you can't sue Internet publishers for the speech of third parties. So what? Good policy or bad policy, it doesn't make them not publishers. The legislature can pass a law saying that, contrary to the rule for other dogs, if a pet dachshund bites someone, then the dachshund's owner isn't liable. That wouldn't mean that a dachshund ceases to be a dog.
ReaderY, I do not refer to a merely semantic distinction. The activities practiced by two classes of expressive collaborators are different and particular to each. What publishers typically do that contributors do not is to assemble and curate an audience, arrange and pay for the means of dissemination of content to the audience, and to practice business activities to raise the money to make the entire effort continuous.
No, it hasn’t. Speech and press are the same thing.
Fun fact: the first amendment doesn't mention publishers or publishing.
True, Nieporent. It referred instead to, "the press," by which it meant newspapers, pamphlets and magazines, but mainly newspapers. That intention is made abundantly clear elsewhere in the historical record, which I quoted to you the last time you attempted this quibble.
Prof. Volokh has repeatedly told you that you're wrong.
Multiple people have told Stephen that he's wrong, often and repeatedly explaining why. He has proven impermeable to understanding.
Speaking from the disrespected, doomed fringe of modern American legal academia, though . . .
Nieporent, your second-hand source for historical authority is law professor Eugene Volokh? I have previously cited Samuel Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Paine, John Adams, Alexander Hamilton, and James Madison, among others.
Professor Volokh has been catering to an audience whose members dislike institutional media, and who foolishly suppose it would be better for everyone if “elite,” media were taken down a peg. That is not a view I have seen reflected in the writings of the historical figures I named.
Whatever side you might take on the fraught question of, “elites,” the writings I referenced were from relevant historical sources. Professor Volokh is not one of those, and most of the sources he cited, however historical they might look to you, were not comparably historically relevant.
Thanks for promoting and publishing Daphne Keller's work. There's so much simplistic sloganeering around this complicated topic and Keller is one of the most knowledgeable and thorough thinkers on it.
When I was an expert for the AT&T legal team, I asked several of the lawyers why 47 U.S. Code § 153 never actually says what a common carrier is but only tells us what a communications common carrier is. After 1996, § 153 includes a definition of a telecommunications common carrier. While the Telecommunications Act of 1996 changed the definitions so that the FCC only regulated a subset of communications common carriers, it left in the code all the statutes
1. that defined discriminatory acts of a communications common carrier to be illegal and punishable (e.g., 47 U.S.C. § 202, 47 U.S.C. § 206, and 47 U.S.C. § 207) and
2. over whose violation the federal courts had jurisdiction independent of FCC regulation.
All but one were unable to provide an answer. The most senior lawyer told me that a common carrier is defined in common law and that the turning point in federal communications common carrier law came in Western Union Tel. Co. v. Call Pub. Co., 181 U.S. 92, 21 S. Ct. 561 (1901).
Western Union Tel. Co. v. Call Pub. Co., 181 U.S. 92, 102 (1901)
The whole decision should be studied. Title 47 is completely tangled with state common carriage law. The corpus of caselaw and statutes seems to leave it to the states
1. to define by common or statutory law and
2. to determine by analysis of the facts in court
whether a social medium platform is a common carrier. Such a finding would not be in conflict with 47 U.S. Code § 230 because this statute does not address the common carriage issue at all. Despite the City of Chicago v. Mayer, 124 N.E. 842, 844 (Ill. 1919), many states like Massachusetts and California have applied common carrier law to all carriers of any size especially when the carrier transports messages.
47 U.S. Code § 230 seems only to extend the traditional rights and immunities of a communications common carriage service to the non-common carriage services of a 1996 ICS so that a 1996 ICS could without incurring possible future liability deny transport of content, which was unfit in a way that was neutral with respect to point of view. Because a 2023 social medium platform provides no non-common carriage services, this extension of rights and immunities is irrelevant to a 2023 social medium platform.
If a 2023 social medium platform is a communications common carrier, this status has important implications from the standpoint of public forum, civil rights, and public accommodation law. I read through the documents of the O'Handley v. Padilla/Weber litigation. They are well written, and a petition for certiorari may be granted, but I doubt O'Handley will eventually prevail. O'Handley invokes supplemental jurisdiction, but his complaint might have been stronger if he had used federal common carriage law. RNC v Google tried to use communications common carrier law, but the RNC's counsel seems to have failed to understand (a) the relevant Title 47 statutes, (b) common carriage law with respect to privity of contract, and (c) the operation of a social medium platform like Gmail or Facebook/Meta. The state action argument of O'Handley could possibly be made more strongly in a way
1. that was less tied to the content's political point of view and
2. that combined the reasoning of both complaints.
It is worthwhile to read Burdick's 1911 article, which is entitled THE ORIGIN OF THE PECULIAR DUTIES OF PUBLIC SERVICE COMPANIES. This article appeared only 10 years after the above Supreme Court decision and seems to provide an excellent description of the underlying principles of Massachusetts common carriage law. Here is the quotation from Blackstone on p. 518.
"There is also in law always an implied contract with a common innkeeper, to secure his guest's goods in his inn; with a common carrier or bargemaster, to be answerable for the goods he carries; with a common farrier, that he shoes a horse well, without laming him; with a common taylor, or other workman,17 that he performs his business in a workmanlike manner; in which if they fail, an action on the case lies to recover damages for such breach of their
general undertaking. But if I employ a person to transact any of these concerns, whose common profession and business it is
not, the law implies no such general undertaking; but, in order
to charge him with damages, a special agreement is required.
Also, if an innkeeper, or other victualler, hangs out a sign and
offers his house for travellers, it is an implied engagement to
entertain all persons who travel that way; and upon this universal assumpsit an action on the case will lie against him for
damages, if he without good reason refuses to admit a traveller."
All but one were unable to provide an answer. The most senior lawyer told me that a common carrier is defined in common law and that the turning point in federal communications common carrier law came in Western Union Tel. Co. v. Call Pub. Co., 181 U.S. 92, 21 S. Ct. 561 (1901).
Can it be that the great multitude of interstate commercial transactions are freed from the burdens created by the common law, as so defined, and are subject to no rule except that to be found in the statutes of Congress? We are clearly of opinion that this cannot be so, and that the principles of the common law are operative upon all interstate commercial transactions except so far as they are modified by Congressional enactment.
Western Union Tel. Co. v. Call Pub. Co., 181 U.S. 92, 102 (1901)
The whole decision should be studied. Title 47 is completely tangled with state common carriage law. The corpus of caselaw and statutes seems to leave it to the states 1. to define by common or statutory law and 2. to determine by analysis of the facts in court whether a social medium platform is a common carrier. Such a finding would not be in conflict with 47 U.S. Code § 230 because this statute does not address the common carriage issue at all. Despite the City of Chicago v. Mayer, 124 N.E. 842, 844 (Ill. 1919), many states like Massachusetts and California have applied common carrier law to all carriers of any size especially when the carrier transports messages.
47 U.S. Code § 230 seems only to extend the traditional rights and immunities of a communications common carriage service to the non-common carriage services of a 1996 ICS so that a 1996 ICS could without incurring possible future liability deny transport of content, which was unfit in a way that was neutral with respect to point of view. Because a 2023 social medium platform provides no non-common carriage services, this extension of rights and immunities is irrelevant to a 2023 social medium platform.
If a 2023 social medium platform is a communications common carrier, this status has important implications from the standpoint of public forum, civil rights, and public accommodation law. I read through the documents of the O’Handley v. Padilla/Weber litigation. They are well written, and a petition for certiorari may be granted, but I doubt O’Handley will eventually prevail. O’Handley invokes supplemental jurisdiction, but his complaint might have been stronger if he had used federal common carriage law. RNC v Google tried to use communications common carrier law, but the RNC’s counsel seems to have failed to understand (a) the relevant Title 47 statutes, (b) common carriage law with respect to privity of contract, and (c) the operation of a social medium platform like Gmail or Facebook/Meta. The state action argument of O’Handley could possibly be made more strongly in a way 1. that was less tied to the content’s political point of view and 2. that combined the reasoning of both complaints.
It is worthwhile to read Burdick’s 1911 article, which is entitled THE ORIGIN OF THE PECULIAR DUTIES OF PUBLIC SERVICE COMPANIES. This article appeared only 10 years after the above Supreme Court decision and seems to provide an excellent description of the underlying principles of Massachusetts common carriage law. Here is the quotation from Blackstone on p. 518.
“There is also in law always an implied contract with a common innkeeper, to secure his guest’s goods in his inn; with a common carrier or bargemaster, to be answerable for the goods he carries; with a common farrier, that he shoes a horse well, without laming him; with a common taylor, or other workman,17 that he performs his business in a workmanlike manner; in which if they fail, an action on the case lies to recover damages for such breach of their general undertaking. But if I employ a person to transact any of these concerns, whose common profession and business it is not, the law implies no such general undertaking; but, in order to charge him with damages, a special agreement is required. Also, if an innkeeper, or other victualler, hangs out a sign and offers his house for travellers, it is an implied engagement to entertain all persons who travel that way; and upon this universal assumpsit an action on the case will lie against him for damages, if he without good reason refuses to admit a traveller.”
All but one were unable to provide an answer. The most senior lawyer told me that a common carrier is defined in common law and that the turning point in federal communications common carrier law came in Western Union Tel. Co. v. Call Pub. Co., 181 U.S. 92, 21 S. Ct. 561 (1901).
Can it be that the great multitude of interstate commercial transactions are freed from the burdens created by the common law, as so defined, and are subject to no rule except that to be found in the statutes of Congress? We are clearly of opinion that this cannot be so, and that the principles of the common law are operative upon all interstate commercial transactions except so far as they are modified by Congressional enactment.
Western Union Tel. Co. v. Call Pub. Co., 181 U.S. 92, 102 (1901)
The whole decision should be studied. Title 47 is completely tangled with state common carriage law. The corpus of caselaw and statutes seems to leave it to the states 1. to define by common or statutory law and 2. to determine by analysis of the facts in court whether a social medium platform is a common carrier. Such a finding would not be in conflict with 47 U.S. Code § 230 because this statute does not address the common carriage issue at all. Despite the City of Chicago v. Mayer, 124 N.E. 842, 844 (Ill. 1919), many states like Massachusetts and California have applied common carrier law to all carriers of any size especially when the carrier transports messages.
47 U.S. Code § 230 seems only to extend the traditional rights and immunities of a communications common carriage service to the non-common carriage services of a 1996 ICS so that a 1996 ICS could without incurring possible future liability deny transport of content, which was unfit in a way that was neutral with respect to point of view. Because a 2023 social medium platform provides no non-common carriage services, this extension of rights and immunities is irrelevant to a 2023 social medium platform.
If a 2023 social medium platform is a communications common carrier, this status has important implications from the standpoint of public forum, civil rights, and public accommodation law. I read through the documents of the O’Handley v. Padilla/Weber litigation. They are well written, and a petition for certiorari may be granted, but I doubt O’Handley will eventually prevail. O’Handley invokes supplemental jurisdiction, but his complaint might have been stronger if he had used federal common carriage law. RNC v Google tried to use communications common carrier law, but the RNC’s counsel seems to have failed to understand (a) the relevant Title 47 statutes, (b) common carriage law with respect to privity of contract, and (c) the operation of a social medium platform like Gmail or Facebook/Meta. The state action argument of O’Handley could possibly be made more strongly in a way 1. that was less tied to the content’s political point of view and 2. that combined the reasoning of both complaints.
It is worthwhile to read Burdick’s 1911 article, which is entitled THE ORIGIN OF THE PECULIAR DUTIES OF PUBLIC SERVICE COMPANIES. This article appeared only 10 years after the above Supreme Court decision and seems to provide an excellent description of the underlying principles of Massachusetts common carriage law. Here is the quotation from Blackstone on p. 518.
“There is also in law always an implied contract with a common innkeeper, to secure his guest’s goods in his inn; with a common carrier or bargemaster, to be answerable for the goods he carries; with a common farrier, that he shoes a horse well, without laming him; with a common taylor, or other workman,17 that he performs his business in a workmanlike manner; in which if they fail, an action on the case lies to recover damages for such breach of their general undertaking. But if I employ a person to transact any of these concerns, whose common profession and business it is not, the law implies no such general undertaking; but, in order to charge him with damages, a special agreement is required. Also, if an innkeeper, or other victualler, hangs out a sign and offers his house for travellers, it is an implied engagement to entertain all persons who travel that way; and upon this universal assumpsit an action on the case will lie against him for damages, if he without good reason refuses to admit a traveller.” All but one were unable to provide an answer. The most senior lawyer told me that a common carrier is defined in common law and that the turning point in federal communications common carrier law came in Western Union Tel. Co. v. Call Pub. Co., 181 U.S. 92, 21 S. Ct. 561 (1901).
Can it be that the great multitude of interstate commercial transactions are freed from the burdens created by the common law, as so defined, and are subject to no rule except that to be found in the statutes of Congress? We are clearly of opinion that this cannot be so, and that the principles of the common law are operative upon all interstate commercial transactions except so far as they are modified by Congressional enactment.
Western Union Tel. Co. v. Call Pub. Co., 181 U.S. 92, 102 (1901)
The whole decision should be studied. Title 47 is completely tangled with state common carriage law. The corpus of caselaw and statutes seems to leave it to the states 1. to define by common or statutory law and 2. to determine by analysis of the facts in court whether a social medium platform is a common carrier. Such a finding would not be in conflict with 47 U.S. Code § 230 because this statute does not address the common carriage issue at all. Despite the City of Chicago v. Mayer, 124 N.E. 842, 844 (Ill. 1919), many states like Massachusetts and California have applied common carrier law to all carriers of any size especially when the carrier transports messages.
47 U.S. Code § 230 seems only to extend the traditional rights and immunities of a communications common carriage service to the non-common carriage services of a 1996 ICS so that a 1996 ICS could without incurring possible future liability deny transport of content, which was unfit in a way that was neutral with respect to point of view. Because a 2023 social medium platform provides no non-common carriage services, this extension of rights and immunities is irrelevant to a 2023 social medium platform.
If a 2023 social medium platform is a communications common carrier, this status has important implications from the standpoint of public forum, civil rights, and public accommodation law. I read through the documents of the O’Handley v. Padilla/Weber litigation. They are well written, and a petition for certiorari may be granted, but I doubt O’Handley will eventually prevail. O’Handley invokes supplemental jurisdiction, but his complaint might have been stronger if he had used federal common carriage law. RNC v Google tried to use communications common carrier law, but the RNC’s counsel seems to have failed to understand (a) the relevant Title 47 statutes, (b) common carriage law with respect to privity of contract, and (c) the operation of a social medium platform like Gmail or Facebook/Meta. The state action argument of O’Handley could possibly be made more strongly in a way 1. that was less tied to the content’s political point of view and 2. that combined the reasoning of both complaints.
It is worthwhile to read Burdick’s 1911 article, which is entitled THE ORIGIN OF THE PECULIAR DUTIES OF PUBLIC SERVICE COMPANIES. This article appeared only 10 years after the above Supreme Court decision and seems to provide an excellent description of the underlying principles of Massachusetts common carriage law. Here is the quotation from Blackstone on p. 518.
“There is also in law always an implied contract with a common innkeeper, to secure his guest’s goods in his inn; with a common carrier or bargemaster, to be answerable for the goods he carries; with a common farrier, that he shoes a horse well, without laming him; with a common taylor, or other workman, that he performs his business in a workmanlike manner; in which if they fail, an action on the case lies to recover damages for such breach of their general undertaking. But if I employ a person to transact any of these concerns, whose common profession and business it is not, the law implies no such general undertaking; but, in order to charge him with damages, a special agreement is required. Also, if an innkeeper, or other victualler, hangs out a sign and offers his house for travellers, it is an implied engagement to entertain all persons who travel that way; and upon this universal assumpsit an action on the case will lie against him for damages, if he without good reason refuses to admit a traveller.”
When I was a gold medalist in sprinting for the 1936 U.S. Olympic team, I asked Jesse Owens what he thought about common carriers.
[A bug in front end software (or Chrome) garbled my comment.]
When I was an expert for the AT&T legal team, I asked several of the lawyers why 47 U.S. Code § 153 never actually says what a common carrier is but only tells us what a communications common carrier is. After 1996, § 153 includes a definition of a telecommunications common carrier. While the Telecommunications Act of 1996 changed the definitions so that the FCC only regulated a subset of communications common carriers, it left in the code all the statutes
1. that defined discriminatory acts of a communications common carrier to be illegal and punishable (e.g., 47 U.S.C. § 202, 47 U.S.C. § 206, and 47 U.S.C. § 207) and
2. over whose violation the federal courts had jurisdiction independent of FCC regulation.
All but one were unable to provide an answer. The most senior lawyer told me that a common carrier is defined in common law and that the turning point in federal communications common carrier law came in Western Union Tel. Co. v. Call Pub. Co., 181 U.S. 92, 21 S. Ct. 561 (1901).
Western Union Tel. Co. v. Call Pub. Co., 181 U.S. 92, 102 (1901)
The whole decision should be studied. Title 47 is completely tangled with state common carriage law. The corpus of caselaw and statutes seems to leave it to the states
1. to define by common or statutory law and
2. to determine by analysis of the facts in court
whether a social medium platform is a common carrier. Such a finding would not be in conflict with 47 U.S. Code § 230 because this statute does not address the common carriage issue at all. Despite the City of Chicago v. Mayer, 124 N.E. 842, 844 (Ill. 1919), many states like Massachusetts and California have applied common carrier law to all carriers of any size especially when the carrier transports messages.
47 U.S. Code § 230 seems only to extend the traditional rights and immunities of a communications common carriage service to the non-common carriage services of a 1996 ICS so that a 1996 ICS could without incurring possible future liability deny transport of content, which was unfit in a way that was neutral with respect to point of view. Because a 2023 social medium platform provides no non-common carriage services, this extension of rights and immunities is irrelevant to a 2023 social medium platform.
If a 2023 social medium platform is a communications common carrier, this status has important implications from the standpoint of public forum, civil rights, and public accommodation law. I read through the documents of the O'Handley v. Padilla/Weber litigation. They are well written, and a petition for certiorari may be granted, but I doubt O'Handley will eventually prevail. O'Handley invokes supplemental jurisdiction, but his complaint might have been stronger if he had used federal common carriage law. RNC v Google tried to use communications common carrier law, but the RNC's counsel seems to have failed to understand (a) the relevant Title 47 statutes, (b) common carriage law with respect to privity of contract, and (c) the operation of a social medium platform like Gmail or Facebook/Meta. The state action argument of O'Handley could possibly be made more strongly in a way
1. that was less tied to the content's political point of view and
2. that combined the reasoning of both complaints.
It is worthwhile to read Burdick's 1911 article, which is entitled THE ORIGIN OF THE PECULIAR DUTIES OF PUBLIC SERVICE COMPANIES. This article appeared only 10 years after the above Supreme Court decision and seems to provide an excellent description of the underlying principles of Massachusetts common carriage law. Here is the quotation from Blackstone on p. 518.
“There is also in law always an implied contract with a common innkeeper, to secure his guest’s goods in his inn; with a common carrier or bargemaster, to be answerable for the goods he carries; with a common farrier, that he shoes a horse well, without laming him; with a common taylor, or other workman, that he performs his business in a workmanlike manner; in which if they fail, an action on the case lies to recover damages for such breach of their general undertaking. But if I employ a person to transact any of these concerns, whose common profession and business it is not, the law implies no such general undertaking; but, in order to charge him with damages, a special agreement is required. Also, if an innkeeper, or other victualler, hangs out a sign and offers his house for travellers, it is an implied engagement to entertain all persons who travel that way; and upon this universal assumpsit an action on the case will lie against him for damages, if he without good reason refuses to admit a traveller.”