liberty of contract

Archive for Tag “liberty of contract”


Cablevision’s antitrust attack on Viacom: Who’s “strong-arming” whom?

watching the bokeh channelIn the topsy-turvy world of antitrust, what’s coercive is deemed voluntary, and what’s voluntary is deemed coercive. A while back, for example, I pointed out that it’s wrong to call Google’s action “voluntary” when it’s changing business practices in response to threats from the Federal Trade Commission.

Now here’s the opposite error, arising out of an antitrust suit by Cablevision against Viacom. The two companies signed a contract in which Cablevision (a cable provider) purchased a bundle of Viacom programming at a discounted price.

Viacom’s price would have been significantly higher if Cablevision had promised to transmit only Viacom’s most popular channels (MTV, BET, Nickelodeon, etc.) But Viacom offered a lower price based on Cablevision’s promise to carry a dozen or so less popular channels as well. Cablevision agreed to the lower-priced deal.

Now Cablevision has filed a private antitrust complaint full of accusations that Viacom “strong-armed” Cablevision, used “coercive tactics” and “forced” it to carry more programming than it wanted.

Excuse me? Signing a contract that one has a right to reject is the epitome of voluntary action. The truth is that Viacom offered its most attractive products at a price higher than Cablevision was willing to pay. That’s not coercion. Cablevision refused that deal. That’s not coercion, either. Viacom offered a different deal at a lower price. Nobody coerced either Cablevision or Viacom to sign that contract.

Where does coercion actually enter the picture? When Cablevision asks the courts, in its antitrust suit, to force Viacom into changing the deal.

Photo Credit: Robert S. Donovan via Compfight cc


An adventure in historical revisionism

The latest issue of George Mason Law Review, currently in the mail to subscribers (how quaint that sounds in this digital age), contains my review of an important new book on the landmark Supreme Court case of Lochner v. New York. The book is called Rehabilitating Lochner: Defending Individual Rights Against Progressive Reform, by David E. Bernstein, a professor at George Mason University School of Law.

I welcomed the opportunity to review Bernstein’s book because the Lochner case stands as an enduring symbol of the most important debate in American legal history. Do individuals have natural rights that government must respect, even when political majorities want to infringe upon them? The majority in Lochner said yes—but Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr., in a famous dissent, said no. In the century since that 1905 case was decided, legal thinkers have returned time and again to Holmes’s dissent, about which I have written at length elsewhere, to support the idea that judges must step aside and allow legislatures to write laws as if individuals have no rights that the majority must recognize.

Bernstein’s book is attracting attention from prominent legal scholars and commentators. Richard Epstein, professor of law at New York University, wrote in the Claremont Review of Books that Bernstein reaffirms a “classical liberal paradigm” that the Supreme Court should employ to “confess, and undo, its prior errors.” In Commentary, Glenn Reynolds—the University of Tennessee law professor and Instapundit guru—wrote: “The false narrative of Lochner has controlled the past for decades, but Bernstein’s clear and incisive work may wrest that control away and move us back to the truth.” And columnist George Will endorsed Bernstein’s argument that “Progressivism . . . is hostile to America’s premise that individuals possess rights that preexist government and are not fully enumerated in the Constitution.”

Rehabilitating Lochner has a limited purpose. It does not set out to resolve the fundamental question whether individuals have natural rights, nor does it even present Bernstein’s view on the matter. It is rather a work of historical revisionism, meant to clear out the nasty underbrush that has grown up around this oft-cited but little understood case. In my review, I summarize Bernstein’s achievement this way:

     Here, then, is the demythologized Lochner. It was a well-reasoned opinion based on strong precedent and time-honored judicial philosophy, not a textually absurd act of judicial malfeasance. It was a sincere attempt to uphold constitutionally protected liberty, not a cynical mask for prejudice. It resulted in the defense of individual liberty against power-wielding political pressure groups, not the surrender of defenseless individuals to callous Social Darwinism. And it was a progenitor of decisions that would recognize constitutionally protected rights in a variety of contexts, not a doctrinal plague-carrier to be exterminated by right-thinking scholars and judges.

It is books like this one that are laying the groundwork for a future in which America’s judiciary—and especially the Supreme Court—can intelligently assess its past conduct and chart a future course that’s consistent with the nation’s founding ideals.


A deal is a deal

If you’ve seen “The Social Network,” the movie about Facebook, you remember the Winklevoss twins. These Harvard students sued Facebook’s founding genius, Mark Zuckerberg, alleging he stole the idea for Facebook from them.

Here’s what happened in real life. When the suit was dismissed on technical grounds, the parties went to a mediator. After a day of negotiations, they signed a handwritten “Term Sheet & Settlement Agreement,” which provided for the twins to drop their claims in exchange for cash and part-ownership in Facebook.

Later, the parties couldn’t agree on a formal contract to carry out the settlement. The twins said the deal was off, but Zuckerberg disagreed. Last week, a federal appeals court in California determined the ensuing litigation in Zuckerberg’s favor. The written decision, authored by Chief Judge Alex Kozinski, concludes with these words:

The Winklevosses are not the first parties bested by a competitor who then seek to gain through litigation what they were unable to achieve in the marketplace. And the courts might have obliged, had the Winklevosses not settled their dispute and signed a release of all claims against Facebook. With the help of a team of lawyers and a financial advisor, they made a deal that appears quite favorable in light of recent market activity.  See [a Wall Street Journal article] (reporting that investors valued Facebook at $50 billion . . . 3.33 times the value the Winklevosses claim they thought Facebook’s shares were worth at the mediation). For whatever reason, they now want to back out. Like the district court, we see no basis for allowing them to do so. At some point, litigation must come to an end. That point has now been reached.

Decisions like this are rendered by the hundreds every day in America’s courts. They reaffirm the certainty that parties need when they enter into contracts. Yes, there can be legitimate disputes, and I’m not saying the Winklevoss position was frivolous. But it’s important to know that, despite widespread infringements on contractual freedom, courts have not lost sight of the need for contracts to be enforceable.

 

Image: Wikimedia Commons


Politics and Prose, and passion

A recent article in the Washington Post attracted my interest by going behind the scenes in the sale of an independent D.C. bookstore called Politics and Prose. Not an earthshaking event, you might say, but it beautifully illustrates how a company’s founders can keep alive their original vision long after they cease to own the business.

As you read this excerpt, think about the power inherent in a property owner’s right to set his own terms of sale. This article is written in the first person, by the two individuals who recently purchased the store:

Our evolution from P&P fans to P&P proprietors began almost accidentally. Over the summer, friends urged Brad, who has spent his career in journalism, to think about bidding for the store. We talked about it, and in October, he submitted a lengthy questionnaire required of all prospective buyers that asked about everything from his favorite books to his vision for the store’s future.

The questionnaire was one of many examples of the seriousness and care with which the store’s owners, Barbara Meade and David Cohen, were going about the sale. David’s wife, Carla, conceived of Politics and Prose in 1984, and Barbara became a partner soon afterward. They were a formidable book-selling pair whose vision, passion and hard work built Politics and Prose into a Washington landmark.

But Carla’s cancer diagnosis in 2009, and her passing last October, left Barbara and David with the sad duty of having to sell their community treasure. . . .

What was evident to us throughout the sale process was that Barbara and David were not selling just a business. They were selling a cultural institution that was part discussion forum, part neighborhood meeting ground, part event stage. And they were determined that Politics and Prose not only survive and thrive, but continue to reflect Barbara and Carla’s legacy.

Barbara also made clear that it was important to have a female presence at Politics and Prose, since women had founded and run the store. This point hit home especially with Lissa, who was already warming to the idea of a husband-and-wife team managing P&P. So what started as a solo enterprise for Brad quickly became a partnership.

The questionnaire, the earnest conversations and interviews, the strict standards that buyers had to meet—here were bookstore owners using the power of contract to express and achieve their deepest personal values. Transactions like this one illustrate how important it is for a legal system to protect freedom of contract.

What if that freedom had been infringed? What if zoning authorities insisted that the building now be used for a senior center instead of a bookstore? What if equal opportunity bureaucrats had deemed the sellers’ desire for a “female presence” to be illegal discrimination? What if political pressure had been exerted in favor of purchasers with right-wing credentials, on grounds that the store’s existing liberal agenda should be abandoned on “equal time” grounds? What if sale of the company’s stock could not meet Securities and Exchange Commission requirements? What if the new owners had to be licensed and couldn’t qualify without undergoing an expensive college-level certification?

These are just some of the types of infringement that Americans take for granted. We need to start thinking more about these encroachments’ devastating power to destroy dreams.
Image: Wikimedia Commons


Repairing the supply chain

The world’s economy functions by means of intricate, extended supply chains: raw materials are shipped to parts makers, then parts are shipped to factories, then finished products to shippers, truckloads to wholesalers, then retailers. But when the massive earthquake and tsunami rocked Japan, this supply chain was interrupted.

All of a sudden, uncertainty gripped producers around the world. But amidst the inevitable chaos was an underlying layer of certainty provided by contracts. Businesses typically plan for disaster by inserting so-called force majeure clauses in their contracts. Through such clauses, customers agree to excuse performance when a disaster like the 3/11 quake makes performance impossible. This places hardships on each customer, but it gives the company hit by disaster a chance to survive and regroup. Without such clauses, hard-hit companies could be immediately sued by customers and bankrupted.

Companies also have an option of purchasing business interruption insurance, which can reimburse profits lost when a disaster destroys company assets, and contingent business income insurance, which kicks in when a company’s supplier can’t deliver because of a disaster at its place of business. (Another beautiful aspect of global capitalism is that companies unaffected by disaster can leap into action, offering contracts aimed at picking up the slack left by temporarily incapacitated producers.)

None of these contractual devices is a cure-all. Disaster damage is still damage, not “economic stimulus,” and it must be repaired by intense effort, diverted from other tasks. But careful contracting can maximize certainty in the most uncertain of times.

 

Image: Wikimedia Commons


AT&T buys T-Mobile—or does it?

As soon as I spied the headline in the Wall Street Journal, I knew it was only half the story. “AT&T to Buy Rival in $39 Billion Deal,” it said, followed by a story describing an agreement between AT&T and T-Mobile, the second- and fourth-largest wireless carriers in the country.

I paged through the paper, waiting for the other shoe to drop. And there it was, on Page B1: “T-Mobile Deal Faces Antitrust Barriers.” Turns out the two companies need permission to merge from at least three government agencies: the Federal Communications Commission, the Justice Department, and the Federal Trade Commission.

So, the “deal” wasn’t really a deal. It was more like a very complicated, very expensive petition for Uncle Sam’s permission to do a deal. What that means is that AT&T and T-Mobile don’t have freedom of contract. They don’t have the right to make the final decision on whether to merge.

It’s not just big companies that lack freedom of contract. Think about it: how many contracts in your own business or profession require prior permission from a bureaucrat? How many deals require the parties to be licensed? How many projects require a special permit, or certificate of need? How many exports must satisfy a quota? How many deals have to be crafted so as not to draw government attention? And perhaps most important of all: How many deals don’t make it past the back-of-a-napkin stage because permission would be too hard to get?

I think of it this way: the number of government permissions needed for private parties to go about their business is one measure of how far our legal system has moved away from freedom of contract. We wouldn’t tolerate such interference with our freedom of speech. Why do we so often tolerate it when it comes to voluntary contracts?


How flooring is being stepped on

Thinking about buying some wood flooring, for a home remodeling project, perhaps? The price you pay will be higher—perhaps much higher, if American flooring manufacturers get their way—because of U.S. tariff regulations.

According to this Wall Street Journal article, Chinese flooring imports are already subjected to an 8 percent duty. Now, the Commerce Department is considering a petition by eight U.S. makers of flooring to increase the duty. But wait: that petition is being opposed by a group of American importers who make profits selling Chinese flooring.

What do the pressure groups and lobbyists in a battle like this take for granted? That everyone’s freedom of contract is putty in their (and their politicians’) hands—that your supplier’s ability to buy from an overseas manufacturer at a mutually agreeable price is not a right but a privilege, revocable by regulatory decree when political pressures demand it.

It’s fairly to easy to see how the consumer suffers from this kind of interference: it’s in the form of higher prices. But it’s not as if importers can just pass along all the costs to consumers. Consider their plight:

Importers would be in a tough spot if duties were imposed, said William Perry, a lawyer representing some of them. That’s because such levies can be adjusted by the federal government annually, and new duty rates are applied retroactively. As a result, importers don’t know how much they would have to pay when they agree to bring in Chinese products.

Did you catch that? Let’s say a consumer orders a thousand square feet of flooring. The order makes its way up to an importer, whose wholesale price must be based on a mere guess about the level of tariff duties in the future. Then, months later, the U.S. government can decide that the duties should be higher than the importer guessed.

Our economy is a battlefield populated by thousands of such pressure groups. Such a state of affairs can arise only when government does not recognize liberty of contract as a basic legal principle.

Image: Wikimedia Commons


The sale before the sail

This is a post about a contract. The parties are two companies: Maersk, the world’s largest container-shipping line, and Daewoo, a South Korean shipbuilder. According to an article in the Wall Street Journal, excerpted below, Maersk has ordered ten new container ships from Daewoo—ships that will be the biggest ever built.

As you read, think about how important this contract is to all the people involved: stockholders, managers, employees, suppliers, and related companies. Then imagine the contract’s complexity—the number of different clauses required to spell out all parties’ obligations, expectations, remedies upon failure to perform, and so forth—and the depth of legal expertise needed to draft and negotiate it. Then contemplate how many thousands or millions of new shipping contracts will be made possible by the construction of these ten ships—as the article says, “to transport cargo ranging from iPhones to powdered milk between Asia and the ports of Rotterdam, the Netherlands, Felixstowe, England and Bremerhaven, Germany.”

Now think about how the world’s economy functions through millions of such contracts—most not nearly as large as this $1.9 billion deal, but all of them important to the parties. Finally, think about what a remarkable political achievement it is for companies to have the freedom of contract necessary to conceive and carry out a transaction on this scale.

It’s staggering to think about how much of modern life depends on contracts like this one.

The order “changes the whole landscape in the container-ship market,” said Nam Sang-tae, chief executive of Daewoo Shipbuilding & Marine Engineering Co., the South Korean company that agreed to deliver the 10 ships by 2014.

The deal, which the two companies said was the biggest in shipbuilding history, includes options for 20 more of the $190 million vessels.

The new ships will be 1,312 feet long, 193.5 feet wide and 239.5 feet high, longer than a modern aircraft carrier and bulkier than an oil tanker. They will be able to carry 18,000 20-foot containers, 2,500 [more] than the largest class of container ships now in service, which are also in Maersk’s fleet.

Maersk will use the ships to transport cargo ranging from iPhones to powdered milk between Asia and the ports of Rotterdam, the Netherlands, Felixstowe, England and Bremerhaven, Germany, among the few Western ports big and deep enough to accommodate them. U.S. ports are too small to handle such large ships. . . .

The economies of scale afforded by the current generation of large container ships already has led shippers to start moving new categories of goods—commodities like wheat and corn, and bulky objects like trucks—inside containers, instead of aboard other kinds of ships

Maersk’s new order, which was signed in London, could reshape competition in the highly fragmented industry. . . .

Industry experts said the new ships are approaching maximum size. Already, if all the containers on the new Triple-E ships were laid end to end, they would stretch for 68.8 miles. In theory, bigger ships could be built, but there would have to be ports big and deep enough to handle them.

Image: WikiMedia Commons


Charlie Sheen, Tiger Woods, and their contracts

Despite obvious similarities between the scandal now enveloping TV star Charlie Sheen and the one that brought down Tiger Woods a couple of years ago, there’s a difference worth noticing. Reports indicated that Woods’s various contracts with sponsors included “morals clauses” permitting quick and quiet termination of business relationships when it became apparent that Woods was an adulterous philanderer.

Sheen, by contrast, is engaged in an extended, boisterous war of words with CBS and Warner Bros. Television, which have shut down production on “Two and a Half Men.” Sheen contends that he is both able and contractually entitled to work, and he’s threatening to sue. One reason he can take such an aggressive stand despite widely noted scandals is that, by all indications, there is no “morals clause” in his contract. According to one report:

A morals clause allows a buyer—in this case, a TV studio—to bail on a contract if a star’s conduct is “detrimental to the buyer’s interests,” according to a 2005 Columbia Journal of Law & the Arts article by Noah B. Kressler.

But lawyers and studio insiders say that while morals clauses remain a fixture in the popular imagination, they are seldom used anymore in deals for entertainment talent.

“In terms of my own practice, I haven’t seen a lot of them,” said Doug Mirell, a partner and entertainment litigator at Century City law firm Loeb & Loeb.

The clauses, however, are still widely used in sports contracts and product-endorsement deals. When golfer Tiger Woods was caught up in a heavily publicized cheating scandal that led to his divorce, a number of companies quickly dropped or downgraded their sponsorships. Kellogg dumped swimmer Michael Phelps after video surfaced of the gold medalist smoking marijuana. And Sheen himself was nixed as a spokesman for underwear purveyor Hanes after the actor was accused of threatening his wife in 2009.

To see what they’re talking about, here’s a sample morals clause, typical of those found in professional athletes’ contracts:

“The employee agrees to conduct himself with due regard to public conventions and morals, and agrees that he will not do or commit any act or thing that will tend to degrade him in society or bring him into public hatred, contempt, scorn or ridicule, or that will tend to shock, insult or offend the community or ridicule public morals or decency, or prejudice the producer or the motion picture, theatrical or radio industry in general.”

Of course, there are many considerations that figure into inclusion of a morals clause in a contract. After all, it has to be agreeable to both parties. (Plus, I should note that not all relevant details about either the Woods or Sheen situations have been, or perhaps ever will, be made public.) Nonetheless, one of the values of contract law is that it offers a method for companies like CBS and Warner Bros. Television to arrange in advance a way of disentangling themselves from embarrassing relationships when a star starts misbehaving.

Image: Wikimedia Commons