Smart but unconstitutional? Trump appointee inverts Scalia maxim in striking corporate transparency law

"Corporate Transparency," Seattle
by Daniel Foster via Flickr CC BY-NC 2.0

A federal district court in Alabama ruled the Corporate Transparency Act, a key anti-corruption statute, unconstitutional upon the inverse of a maxim of the late Justice Antonin Scalia.

There's much commentary on the reading-people's internet about the significance of the March 1, 2024, decision, which is certain to be reviewed by the Eleventh Circuit Court of Appeals. The dry question of business regulation might not make the cut on the TikTok news cycle, meanwhile, but the issue is immensely important.

Effective in January 2024, the Corporate Transparency Act, part of the Anti-Money Laundering Act of 2020, which in turn is part of the National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2021 ("NDAA"), requires most businesses to report their "beneficial owners" with the Financial Crimes Enforcement Network (FinCEN) of the U.S. Treasury Department. The information is not then public, but can be shared with law enforcement, including tax authorities.

The change in law has been in the works for some 20 years, conceived initially in the years after 9-11 to combat the financing of terrorism. The ABA Business Law Section has a deeper dive for subscribers.

Critically, the transparency around beneficial corporate ownership brings the United States into compliance with transnational norms. We had become something of a money-laundering haven in the world because of the secrecy we allow around ownership of corporations, namely (pun intended) anonymous shell corporations.

People who are keen to exert dark-money influence in politics, to hide assets, or to launder money, of course, tend to have a lot of it. So the law did not come about quickly or easily. But Congress was determined enough in the end to enact the law by a super-majority, overriding President Trump's veto of the NDAA.

Constitutional objections to the law are abundant, based in the First, Fourth, and Fifth Amendments, besides the limits of congressional power under Article I, as amended. It was only the latter theory on which Judge Liles Burke ruled. He concluded that the Corporate Transparency Act strays beyond the necessary-and-proper latitude afforded Congress for any of its constitutional powers, including the Commerce Clause and the Sixteenth Amendment taxing power. It's a problem in vertical federalism; if there is to be transparency in corporate beneficial ownership, then, it must come from the states. Burke is a Trump appointee.

I'm skeptical of the winning argument. Congress's powers in business regulation are substantial, and corruption and tax evasion are almost invariably interstate endeavors. Thus, the significance of the decision: for if it is right, a great deal more of our federal regulatory and taxing machinery will be suspect.

To be fair, small businesses objected to the added burdens of FinCEN compliance amid their already hefty costs in tax compliance, and I am empathetic. We might ought do something about that. But I suspect the legislative obstacles have more to do with keeping commercial-tax preparers in business and keeping the law arcane to shield loopholes, than with flat aversion to transparency.

The other constitutional objections are not frivolous, even if they don't hold up in the end; the rights-based theories have more romantic appeal to the classical liberal. The Fifth Amendment claim is based on due process, not so strong by itself; the Fourth Amendment claim is creative: search or seizure without reasonable suspicion. The First Amendment claim gave me pause: Compelled transparency compromises anonymous speech.

It happens that just last month, I (pro se) created a nonprofit entity to operate an academic research project. To free my New York nonprofit of minimum tax obligations—even though it has and anticipates no money—I applied for a 501(c)(3) determination from the IRS—which costs, by the way, a $275 tip to Uncle Sam.

The IRS informed me that upon approval, I will have to report my nonprofit's beneficial owners to FinCEN. It's irritating; mostly, I'm put off just wondering whether there will be yet another fee.  But it did occur to me that my nonprofit will be engaged in academic expression, and it might have things to say that will upset people in power. So there is a hint of Orwellianism in having to register my state entity with the federal FinCEN and identify my "beneficial owners"—remember, not even with any money in the mix.

At the same time, this is the uneasy balance we always have struck with the nonprofit tax registrations of First Amendment-sensitive enterprises, such as churches and issue advocates. In essence, this is the Citizens United problem, which I've always thought is more layered than it gets credit for. We have not found a principled way to differentiate Nike-as-speaker from the ACLU-as-speaker without some office of government problematically intervening to make the call.

Anyway, what attracted me to this ruling from Alabama is none of the above; rather, it was page one of Judge Burke's opinion. Have a read:

The late Justice Antonin Scalia once remarked that federal judges should have a rubber stamp that says STUPID BUT CONSTITUTIONAL. See Jennifer Senior, In Conversation: Antonin Scalia, New York Magazine, Oct. 4, 2013. The Constitution, in other words, does not allow judges to strike down a law merely because it is burdensome, foolish, or offensive. Yet the inverse is also true—the wisdom of a policy is no guarantee of its constitutionality. Indeed, even in the pursuit of sensible and praiseworthy ends, Congress sometimes enacts smart laws that violate the Constitution. This case, which concerns the constitutionality of the Corporate Transparency Act, illustrates that principle.

If that doesn't suck you into a 53-page opinion on financial regulation, nothing will.

For the time being, as of March 4, 2024, FinCEN has suspended reporting obligations for plaintiffs in the action only, including members of the National Small Business Association.

The case is National Small Business United v. Yellen (N.D. Ala. Mar. 1, 2024). The plaintiff is a 501(c)(6) nonprofit, I'm guessing a business league, though it sounds like a not-too-exciting football league.

FTC 'junk fees' proposal needs tightening

The CFPB is attacking junk fees in banking. The FTC rule
would govern consumer sales transactions. CFPB image.

Today I submitted the following comment to the Federal Trade Commission on the notice of proposed rule-making regarding "Trade Regulation Rule on Unfair or Deceptive Fees." These are the "junk fees" that the Biden Administration has pledged to combat.

The NPRM was published on November 9, 2023. You too can comment at the Federal Register website. You can bet that business will be crying loudly about the impracticality of simply telling customers what the price of a thing is.

I support the proposed rule, though I don't think it goes far enough. My comment focuses on select points of ambiguity on which already I foresee business intransigence.

Elsewhere in the world, even tax is part of a price. When my friends and family visit from abroad, they are flummoxed by the repeated experience of seeing a price and then having to pay more. For some reason we countenance this in America, as if in some kind of wild West approach to market regulation, it's OK for a seller to put a gun to the consumer's head at the point of sale. As I say in my comment, that is not what "free market" means.

---

December 6, 2023

I support the proposed rule because I support free-market transaction and regulatory policy. A free market requires transparency around the terms of transaction to both buyer and seller. When a buyer is surprised by junk fees, that is, fees that are applied to a transaction after the customer believes that she or he has concluded negotiation of the terms, the seller is able to conclude the transaction upon an unfair advantage. It is an appropriate role for government regulation to level the marketplace by ensuring transparency, and that means upfront total pricing.

I note [a] point of potential ambiguity, and, thus, potential abuse by sellers. In the proposed rule, “Government charges” are defined as

all fees or charges imposed on consumers by a Federal, State, or local government agency, unit, or department. This definition covers only fees or charges imposed by the government on consumers and does not encompass fees or charges that the government imposes on a business and that the business chooses to pass on to consumers.

I anticipate argument over two points.

First, I expect that quasi-governmental actors, such as a corporations created by statute, and government contractors, such as service concessionaires, are not agencies of government. Sellers might disagree.

Second, if a governmental actor compels a seller to report and pay a per consumer or per transaction fee, I expect that the fee is nonetheless a fee that the business “chooses to pass on to consumers.” Sellers might disagree.

By way of example, I have just made a car reservation with Avis at BWI. My upfront price was $104.82.

On the payment page, the following fees were added:

• Concession Recovery Fee (11.11%): 12.27
• Customer Facility Charge-3.75/day: 7.50
• Transportation Facility Charge-2.25/day: 4.50
• Vehicle License Fee-0.56/day: 1.12
• Total Tax: 14.97

The additional fees sum $40.36, which is a 38.5% markup on the upfront price.

All of these fees are sanctioned by Maryland law. The former two fees are passed on by Avis to the Maryland Airport Authority (MAA), and the latter fee is, self-evidently, a tax. I do not know the beneficiary of the penultimate two fees, but I assume that the Transportation Facility Charge goes to an MAA shuttle contractor.

So first, is the MAA contractor a “government agency, unit, or department” under the proposed rule? I suggest no, because contractors and concessionaires, like quasi-governmental “sue or be sued” entities created by Congress, are expected to comply with the rules of the competitive marketplace when they act in a commercial capacity. However, Avis might disagree, arguing that the fee is set by the MAA. The MAA is a governmental unit of Maryland state government.

Second, are these fees “impose[d] on a business[,] and … the business chooses to pass [them] on to consumers”? I suggest yes, because Avis owes these fees to the MAA, et al., but is not obligated to pass them on to consumers. As long as Avis accounts for the fees with the government, Avis remains free to price its services as it pleases. Moreover, to calculate the state tax on the car rental, 11.5%, the tax basis includes the fees. Thus, it seems plain to me that the fees represent the price of service and are not akin to a tax that is imposed upon the transaction. However, Avis might disagree, arguing that the seller is a mere conduit for fees set by the MAA.

I suggest that the junk-fee rule is virtually impotent in a broad range of transactions if it does not address fees in a transaction such as this one. While I might like to see tax and all incorporated into upfront pricing—as it is in countries the world over—I understand that that is not the American custom. But any fee besides tax on sale or service should be disclosed to a customer as part of an upfront price. Otherwise, the proposed rule is completely undermined. I must go all the way to the payment page of the Avis transaction before I discover the actual price, a substantial markup, for the transaction I desire.

I hope you will clarify that government contractors and comparable quasi-governmental actors are not governmental actors within the meaning of the proposed rule. And I hope you will clarify that government-sanctioned fees that are incorporated into the tax basis of a transaction, even if imposed on a per customer or per transaction basis, are fees that a seller “chooses to pass on to consumers.”

Bank battles liability for client's pyramid scheme

The federal district court in Massachusetts has continued in recent months to resist Bank of America efforts to extricate itself from allegations of complicity in a pyramid scheme.

The liability theory working against Bank of America (BoA) in the Massachusetts litigation is a theory of ancillary, or secondary, liability.  I'm fond of ancillary liability theories, which put on the hook not just the actor that most directly injured a plaintiff, but the actor's compatriots.

MLM
by Zainabdawood77 via Wikimedia Commons CC BY-SA 4.0

The myriad ways an injured plaintiff can add defendants to a civil claim improve the plaintiff's odds of recovery. So it behooves the plaintiff attorney to think creatively about ancillary liability. Correspondingly, it behooves the defense attorney to be on guard.

A plaintiff can be especially in need of better odds when a principally responsible defendant acted criminally, because criminal defendants tend to come up short on money to right wrongs. Ancillary liability theories in cases of financial crime are especially compelling, because perpetrators of fraud, before they're apprehended, tend to live large on their proceeds and then declare bankruptcy.

Think Bernie Madoff. His wild ride merited a thrilling fictionalization starring Richard Dreyfuss and still drives public interest with a new docuseries on Netflix. That his victims tended to be wealthy adds a sweet note of schadenfreude for American viewers, the vast majority of whom are trapped on the wrong side of the wealth gap.

That same schadenfreude thirsts for the diffusion of liability to more defendants. Plenty of corporations, namely banks and investment firms, and their directors and officers, leached wealth off schemes such as Madoff's, but bear no liability to victims. Ostensibly, these earners did nothing wrong. They merely engaged in lawful business.

Overlay that dynamic on financial opportunism that victimizes ordinary people, and the thirst for accountability becomes about more than schadenfreude. Financial disasters such as the savings-and-loan crisis of the 1980s and the housing crisis of 2008 infused the public with burning resentments that still smolder in the wreckage of the American dream.

In these crises, people were victimized by risks that enterprise externalized while providing no corresponding benefits. When the civil justice system fails to recognize a wrong in the infliction of such losses, we can expect the very insults to the social fabric that the system is supposed to prevent: more wrongdoing, diminished confidence in public institutions, and, ultimately, vigilantism by the afflicted.

Ancillary liability rides to the rescue. Two liability theories are especially useful in cases of financial fraud: "conspiracy" and "aiding and abetting." Those imprecise terms are useful to convey the essence of it, but the civil theories should not be confused with their criminal counterparts, which give rise to the terms.

More accurate descriptions in civil terminology are, respectively, "common design" and "substantial assistance or encouragement." When a principal defendant cannot be held to account, a plaintiff may demand compensation from a co-defendant that participated in a tortious common design with the principal, or from a co-defendant that knowingly substantially assisted or encouraged the principal in accomplishing a tortious objective.

The availability of conspiracy and aiding-and-abetting liability theories in common law business torts is not settled and not without controversy. The commercial defense bar naturally regards theories derived from personal injury law as ill suited to business torts, in which harms are only economic. Commercial actors are expected to safeguard their own interests to some extent in commercial transactions, more than a person exposed to risk of physical injury. Compensating economic loss is not regarded as socially imperative as the making whole of injured persons. The issue offers a window into a broader debate over whether business torts are torts at all, or, rather, a form of common law market regulation. We can leave that question on the shelves of academia for now.

In multi-district litigation pending in the U.S. District of Massachusetts, plaintiffs allege that Bank of America, among other defendants, substantially assisted or encouraged a pyramid scheme, or, more precisely, a "multi-level marketing" scheme (MLM), in the provision of commercial banking services. Bank of America (BoA) vigorously denies the allegations. In August 2022, the court refused to dismiss BoA, finding the allegation of ancillary liability sufficient to warrant discovery. The court has refused to undo its ruling upon motions for reconsideration since.

The principal defendant in the case is Telexfree, a transnational company with U.S. headquarters in Massachusetts. Having started up in 2012, the multibillion-dollar enterprise was an MLM that enlisted "promoters" to sell voice-over-internet-protocol telecommunication services. For a deeper dive into the rank turpitude of MLMs, check out comedian John Oliver's classic treatment in 2016. True to form, after only a year or two, Telexfree collapsed in bankruptcy under pressure from regulators in various countries, especially the Securities and Exchange Commission in the United States and authorities in Brazil. Private civil suits followed.

There is no question that banks such as BoA literally "substantially assisted or encouraged" Telexfree in its illicit enterprise. A company, even an MLM, needs banking services. The tricky part, though, for plaintiffs successfully to allege tortious aiding and abetting, is to show the ancillary defendant's knowledge of the principal defendant's tortious objective. BoA denies that it knew what Telexfree was up to.

Such denials usually fly. Banks at least purport to do business at arm's length. That impression accords with the experience of the average consumer; we don't imagine bankers poring over our checking accounts to second-guess our spending. And there's a sound argument in public policy that banks should not be held liable for the misdoings of their clients. Imposing weighty responsibility on banks, at best, would slow down commerce, and, at worst, could render capital inaccessible, paralyzing the marketplace. 

At the same time, banks with large commercial clients, in fact, routinely do business at much less than arm's length. Banks may well scrutinize clients, indeed may be fiduciarily obliged to scrutinize clients, if their business will place large amounts of capital at risk. Accordingly, the pleadings in Telexfree indicate that BoA worked closely enough with Telexfree executives to know what they were up to.  Indeed, plaintiffs allege that at least one BoA executive voiced concern that Telexfree's business model was not legal, and evidence suggests that BoA closed at least one account for that reason.

Upon the pleadings, then, the district court ruled that BoA had enough "red flags" to know what Telexfree was up to. BoA objected, and the court conceded, that red flags do not equate to the actual knowledge required for aiding-and-abetting liability. But red flags are evidence enough to allow plaintiffs to dig deeper in discovery, the court concluded.

The ruling has caused some angst in the commercial sector, for fear of the slippery slope of bank liability. I respect the worry, but I welcome the court's fresh take and willingness to rebalance the equities in financial fraud. Madoff was a compelling curiosity, and I don't have much sympathy for his high-roller investors. But more troublesome in America are recurring financial crises that seem only to exacerbate wealth disparity. And at the transactional level, MLMs and their like continue to run rampant, defying regulators and bilking not just high rollers, but ordinary people. 

The rabble is restless, as accountability runs thin. Regulators, whether wearing black robes or bearing pointy heads, had better start noticing.

The case is In re: Telexfree Securities Litigation, No. 4:14-md-02566 (D. Mass. received Oct. 22, 2014). HT @ attorneys Anthony D. Mirenda, Leah Rizkallah, and Nick Bergara of Foley Hoag LLP, writing for Mondaq.

Americans chase dream of air passenger rights, while EU consumer protection reaches age of majority

Boarding a flight in Ilorin, Nigeria, in December 2022.
RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0

A Savory Tort Investigation

The Christmastime Southwest meltdown has prompted tongue wagging in Congress over a "Passenger Bill of Rights" to redress the radical imbalance of market power that has left Americans at the mercy of an oligopolist airline industry for decades.

Don't get your hopes up. In the United States, airlines have been playing cat and mouse with regulators since the mail took to the air in the 1920s. And the cat has never been enthusiastic about the chase. 

Passenger protection from exploitative practices in the airline industry has been a congressional dog whistle since overbooking became a business model in the 1960s. Ralph Nader took on the issue, along with so many others, in the 1970s. We've swung back and forth between transparent pricing and the piling on of surprise fees enough times to make you use your sick bag. Over the years, more passenger bills of rights have died in Congress than we have airlines. Well, that's a low bar, but you take my point.

As in all things when corporatocracy clashes with simple equity in the marketplace, the European Union is doing a better job than the United States to level the playing field. The crown jewel of more robust European consumer protection is Regulation 261/2004, which has been on the job for almost twenty years. When flights are delayed or canceled, EU 261 requires compensation to customers in cold, hard cash.

The circumstances that lead to an EU 261 payout are well circumscribed. But when it happens, an airline feels the pinch. The regulation pertains upon delay or cancellation, EU guidance explains (bold in original), when:

• the flight is within the EU and is operated either by an EU or a non-EU airline;
• the flight arrives in the EU from outside the EU and is operated by an EU airline; or
• the flight departs from the EU to a non-EU country operated by an EU or a non-EU airline.

Here is the compensation schedule, per passenger:

• Type 1: €250 for a delay of two-plus hours, or €125 if re-routed to arrive fewer than four hours late, for flights of 1,500 kilometers or less.
• Type 2: €400 for a delay of three-plus hours, or €200 if re-routed to arrive fewer than four hours late, for intra-EU flights of more than 1,500 kilometers and for all other flights between 1,500 and 3,000 kilometers.
• Type 3: €600 for a delay of four-plus hours, or €300 if re-routed to arrive fewer than four hours late, for all other flights.

There need be no compensation when the delay can be attributed to a cause extrinsic to the carrier, such as weather. A passenger's receipt of compensation, including non-monetary assistance, pursuant to the law of a non-EU country precludes an EU claim.

Cash compensation is a welcome recognition that airline passengers suffer real costs when flights are delayed or cancelled—more than what is covered by a meal voucher or even, when necessary, an overnight stay. Ours is now a world of nonrefundable reservations for hotels, cars, and tours. Travel insurance is becoming a must, and yet another expense. Vacation time meanwhile is increasingly scarce, especially for Americans.

Meaningful compensation incentivizes airlines to work smarter. For example, scheduling departures too tightly, failing to anticipate mechanical needs, or simply de-prioritizing the correction of problems all become decisions with bottom-line consequences.

The outer jurisdictional limits of EU 261 are not spelled out on the face of the regulation, but European regulators and courts largely have construed silence expansively. EU 261 claims are not limited to EU citizens and airlines, as long as an EU country can exercise jurisdiction. EU 261 has an exception for "extraordinary circumstances," but courts have construed the exception narrowly, excluding technical problems. Court rulings in the late 2010s led to the application of EU 261 to U.S. carriers operating international connections to and from the EU.

At the same time, compliance has been a mixed bag. The fuzziness at the margins of EU 261 application, along with the reality that not all domestic authorities have been prepared to invest fully in enforcement, has afforded airlines room to fudge fulfillment of their obligations.

In the event of a maloccurrence, airlines are obliged to make passengers aware of their EU 261 rights, and passengers file claims with the airlines, not with regulators. The airlines can be less or more forthcoming with notifications and the ease with which consumers can file claims. There are reports, moreover, of airlines simply not paying what's owed. As a result, a cottage industry has arisen of intermediary companies that facilitate consumer claims in exchange for significant contingency fees.

As an American citizen traveling to, from, and through the EU, I’ve made some EU 261 claims in recent years, since the regulation expanded to reach foreign flight legs. I tested different options to make my claims, and I promised to share some outcomes.

No-Coverage Cases

It’s first important to articulate unfortunately ever more common passenger experiences that are not covered by EU 261—and, needless to say, precipitate no consumer protection in U.S. law.

My fellow Lagos-bound passengers and I wait in Paris.
RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0

CLAIM DENIED by Air France: EU transit.  In December 2022, I traveled from Boston, Massachusetts, to Lagos, Nigeria, via New York and Paris.  Because of a mechanical problem, after several hours’ delay, the connection from Paris to Lagos was canceled and rescheduled for the following day.  My booking was with Delta; KLM owned the itinerary; and the canceled connection was operated by Air France. EU 261 charges the operator with responsibility. Air France provided a €15 meal voucher and overnight accommodation, including a shuttle after quite a long wait. Such intermediate compensations do not preclude EU 261 awards.

Air France denied the type-3 compensation claim I filed directly with the airline. An Air France agent wrote:

I am really sorry to have to inform you that the EU Regulation 261/2004 does not apply when flight departs from a point outside the EU or EEA and travels to a final destination outside EU or EEA, via a connection in an airport in the EU or EEA.

Since your flight departs from Boston and arrives in Lagos via New York and Paris, we regret our inability to accede to your request for compensation on this occasion.

To be clear, every leg of this journey was a different "flight," with its own flight number; this was not a continuation "flight." My itinerary originated and terminated outside the EU. At the same time, Air France's interpretation of "flight" in EU 261 seems consistent with my other claim experiences. I suppose Air France was obliged to pay compensation to passengers who originated in Paris; I don’t know. I was not given any particular notice of EU 261 rights; maybe passengers originating in Paris were.

NO CLAIM against Air France: Advance cancellation. In November 2022, I traveled from Boston, Massachusetts, to Kraków, Poland, via Amsterdam.  I booked through Egencia; Air France owned the itinerary; KLM operated the connection to Kraków.

A month after my purchase, but still a month before the departure, KLM canceled the connection to Kraków. KLM rebooked me on another flight, lengthening my layover by five hours and putting me late into Kraków. Air France offered a full refund, in the alternative, but refused to book me on another carrier that would arrive earlier into Kraków.

Patriotic illumination aboard an Air France flight.
RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0

The problem here was that I had paid more for a morning arrival in Kraków, because I had to work there that day. I could have booked for the midday or later arrival with another carrier for less money at the time I purchased, had I wanted to. I chose the SkyTeam Alliance specifically for the early arrival. In the month since the purchase, the alternatives had risen exorbitantly in price as international itineraries. I could still buy a replacement connection to Kraków for midday arrival from another carrier, but Air France also refused to release me from the KLM connection. If I failed to appear for the KLM connection, Air France would cancel my ticket home.  I had no choice but to accept the change and miss most of my work day.

KLM claimed that it canceled the morning connection—a month in advance—because of a "mechanical problem." Apparently, no regulation requires an airline to tell the truth. I rather believe that KLM canceled the flight because SkyTeam's multiple flights to Kraków were undersold.

I could not make an EU 261 claim, because airlines are permitted to make whatever changes they please more than seven days before departure. This is a big gap in consumer protection, because passengers have no ability to rebook with another carrier so close to the departure date.

I did complain to the U.S. Department of Transportation (DOT), because it is impermissible, even under U.S. regulations, for a carrier to cancel a flight merely because it's undersold. Unfortunately, this rule is rarely enforced, because it's so easy for a carrier to point to another reason for the cancellation. KLM continued to claim mechanical failure, never explaining how that hurdle could not be overcome with a month's advance notice.

DOT took no action, but entered my complaint in its "industry monitoring system." I suppose this is the same system through which, a mere 16 years after Southwest began A-B-C boarding, it seems finally to have dawned on federal regulators that maybe children should not be forced to sit next to strangers. That would have been a nice policy change to have had when my daughter was growing up.

NO CLAIM against Turkish Airlines: Airport change.  This is an older matter, but I’m throwing it in here because it's a variation on the problem of advance cancellation that might well happen to other people in today's tight market. 

In November 2020, I was to travel from Boston, Massachusetts, to Khartoum, Sudan, via Istanbul, on Turkish Airlines.  Within a week of departure, Turkish canceled my Boston flight and rebooked me on a departure from New York JFK. That’s not an easy or costless transit, from my home to JFK: a four- to five-hour drive each way, or a slow train with multiple transfers. Turkish refused any compensation, offering only complete cancellation as an alternative, and that only when I asked.

This was not an EU 261 matter, because there was no point of contact with Europe.  If the same thing happened, though, with a transit in Europe, EU 261 would not have applied, at least according to the reasoning of Air France in the above-described claim denial. If Turkish made such a change for an EU-bound flight, I hope that EU 261 would apply. I wonder what would happen if Turkish changed the airport, but not the flight number; that's not a delay or a cancellation.

I'll never find out, because I now exclude Turkish Airlines from my fare searches. I suggest you do the same.

Coverage Cases

CLAIM SETTLED with SATA Air Açores: Delayed flight within EU. In July 2022, I traveled within Portugal, from Lisbon to Terceira Island, on SATA Air Açores. Because of a mechanical failure, my 4:15 p.m. departure was delayed to 9:55 p.m. SATA gave me a €10 food voucher. I incurred some additional expense having to get a nighttime transfer on the island, and I lost some daylight leisure time.

My SATA rights notice.

Lisbon to Terceira maps out at 1,555 kilometers, so just over the threshold for a type-2 claim. When I received the voucher at the airport, the agent also gave me a well copied notice of rights in paper. The notice was in Portuguese with no translation.  In Portuguese, the notice accurately described the three types of EU 261 events, but conspicuously omitted any numerical amounts of compensation. In late July, I filed a €400 claim directly with SATA via email.

In September, SATA responded via email with a counteroffer: €300. I accepted. SATA sent me a form to provide my banking information for a wire transfer. I did so, but SATA wrote subsequently to say that it couldn't get the transfer to go through—foreign payers often struggle to align their parameters with U.S. bank data—and that it would send a check. In November, I received a paper check in the mail for US$322.

I accepted the SATA offer because I thought it was more than fair, even though I was entitled to €400 under EU 261. SATA implicitly acknowledged as much by offering more than €250. But my roundtrip ticket with SATA had cost me only €255. And I didn't feel there was any misfeasance on SATA's part. There was no indication that the mechanical failure could have been anticipated; airport agents acted quickly and efficiently to reschedule; and SATA tasked the flight to another plane the same day, if later. Overall, I remained happy with SATA service, despite my lost time. I don't know what SATA would have done had I refused the offer and insisted on €400.

CLAIM PAID by American Airlines: Delayed flight in United States. Also in July 2022, I traveled from Lisbon, Portugal, to Boston, Massachusetts, via Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I booked on Egencia, and American Airlines operated all flights. The connection from Philadelphia to Boston was delayed more than three hours, but less than four.

Had American Airlines not made such a mess of this delay, I probably would not have thought to apply for EU 261 compensation. This was the kind of straightforward poor customer service that, sadly, Americans have simply come to expect. The delay seemed to have resulted from the unavailability of crew. Passengers actually boarded the plane, and then we were ordered to deboard and return to the terminal. Gate agents offered conflicting explanations. They seemed to be arguing with each other. The tension was contagious, and information was scarce. Space around the gate was overcrowded. The scene was chaotic, ugly, and frustrating.

It's not immediately apparent that EU 261 applies. The flight was a domestic connection; there were passengers on board with no passports. This was the inverse of the Air France claim-denial situation I described above. My point of origin in the EU was dispositive, even when the problem arose on a domestic connection in the United States. My American citizenship was immaterial. The relevant facts under EU 261 were that my itinerary started in the EU, and I arrived more than three hours late to my final destination.

Even insofar as EU 261 applied, I wasn't sure what type of claim mine was. The overall travel distance, the "flight," defined by itinerary, was more than 5,000 kilometers. But the "flight," defined by a leg with unique flight number, from Philadelphia to Boston was less than 500 kilometers. 

Under the circumstances, I expected that if I made a claim, American would deny it. After all, I might notionally be entitled to make a claim under European law, but where would I enforce? The U.S. DOT barely enforces U.S. regulations; it's not likely to expend resources to enforce foreign law. The relevant EU jurisdiction was Portugal. But would I, a non-European, have standing before a Portuguese regulatory authority? 

With so much uncertainty, I was inclined to let the matter drop. But over the next couple of days, I became angry again that American never reached out with any kind of apology for its mess. What the heck, I thought. At least filing a 261 claim would let me vent.

At the same time, because I seriously doubted that I would see a dime, I decided to try using an intermediary. After reading some reviews, I chose AirHelp, a 10-year-old startup from Berlin that is now global. AirHelp promises to make the claims process easy, and it did. In late July, I uploaded my documents and provided a short description of what happened. I got to vent.

AirHelp kept me apprised of my claim status. It sent me an email saying it had determined that I had a valid claim for €300. That seems right, using the itinerary as the measuring stick to reach type 3, and acknowledging that the delay in the end was under four hours. AirHelp said that it would make that demand of American Airlines. Thereafter, AirHelp periodically let me know that it was still waiting to hear back.

To my surprise, in mid-November, AirHelp told me that American had agreed to pay €300. AirHelp sent me an invoice showing that it was deducting its 35% contingency fee of €105. AirHelp sent me a check for the difference in U.S. dollars, $201.38. The fee was hefty, but maybe not bad for a claim I never thought would be honored.

✈     ✈     ✈

In sum, EU 261 is a powerful accountability tool, even if, 18 years on, it leaves some wide gaps in consumer protection. Americans should have at least as good a mechanism at their disposal. Our airlines meanwhile are fighting against accountability, trotting out the usual "be careful what you ask for" warning that our mere expectation of market equity will make air travel unaffordable. Seems to me that if American consumers are going to lose either way, misery loves company.

Sponsored in the present U.S. Congress by Senators Richard Blumenthal (D-Conn.) and Ed Markey (D-Mass.), the "Passenger Bill of Rights" now pending as S. 178 calls for a ticket refund and re-routing, even on another carrier, for delays of one to four hours, and, additionally, $1,350 cash compensation for delays of more than four hours.

I'm sure the check's in the mail.

Anti-corruption law violates business-owner privacy, EU court holds with myopic appraisal of transparency

A key European Union transparency law that allows watchdogs to trace corporate ownership to combat corruption has been struck down by the EU high court for compromising personal privacy.

EU beneficial owner registry map from Transparency International, 2021. Read more.
CC BY-NC-ND 3.0

I'm not a hard skeptic on the personal privacy prerogative of the EU General Data Protection Regulation. To the contrary, I've written that there's a lot to like about the emerging global privacy norms embodied in the GDPR, and, contrary to conventional wisdom, American social expectations, if not yet federal law, are converging with Europe's.

That said, the EU Court of Justice yesterday announced a profoundly problematic decision at the junction of public access and personal privacy. The blanket disclosure requirements of a key anti-money-laundering law can't stand, the court held, because they don't calibrate the public need for access with the privacy of natural-person business owners with sufficient precision, that is, as a function of necessity and proportionality.

Troublingly, the court characterized transparency norms, which are grounded in treaty and law more firmly in the EU than in the United States, as specially relevant to the public sector and not fully implicated in the private sector, in the context of business regulation.

The potential implication of this proposition is that access to information is limited to a requester learning "what the government is up to," to the exclusion of government oversight of the private sector. That's a cramped and problematic construction of access law that has dogged journalists and NGOs using the U.S. Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) for decades. Read more in Martin Halstuk and Charles Davis's classic 2002 treatment. As I have written in my comparative research on access to information, access to and accountability of the private sector is a problem of our times. We must solve it if we're to save ourselves from the maw of corporatocracy.

In my opinion, the CJEU decision fundamentally misunderstands and overstates the legitimate scope of data protection regulation with the effect of enervating transparency as a vital oversight tool. The impact is ironic, considering that data protection regulation came about as a bulwark to protect the public from private power. The court turned that logic on its head by using personal privacy to shield commercial actors from public scrutiny.

Unfortunately (for this purpose), I have my hands full in Europe (coincidentally) right now, and I lack time to write more. Fortunately, Helen Darbishire and the team at Access Info Europe already have written a superb summary. Their lede:

In a ruling that has sent shockwaves through Europe’s anti-corruption and transparency community, the Court found that the Fifth Anti-Money Laundering Directive (AMLD5, 2018) is too loosely framed and provides for overly-wide public access to the [ownership] registers without a proper justification of the necessity and proportionality of the interference with the rights to privacy and personal data protection of the beneficial owners.

A saving grace, Access Info observed, is that the court did not rule out transparency per se; rather, requesters will have to fight for access case by case on the facts, upon a properly narrowed regulation. In U.S. constitutional terms, it's like saying the one-size-fits-all law was struck for vagueness, but the regulatory objective still can be achieved under a narrower rule that works as applied. All the same, journalists and non-profit watchdogs are not famously well financed to fight for access on a case-by-case basis.

The case is No. C‑37/20 & No. C‑601/20 in the Grand Chamber of the CJEU.

Proposed Biden rule would try again to compel airline pricing transparency; it worked out so well last time

President Biden has his own plane.

(U.S. Mission photo by Eric Bridiers CC BY-SA 2.0 via Flickr)

The U.S. Department of Transportation (DOT) has proposed a rule to refresh pricing transparency in the airline industry.

According to a DOT press release: "Under the proposed rule, airlines and travel search websites would have to disclose upfront—the first time an airfare is displayed—any fees charged to sit with your child, for changing or cancelling your flight, and for checked or carry-on baggage." 

For me, the new rule can't happen soon enough. At the same time, I'm doubtful we'll see much change in the opacity of the airfare market.

I'm a libertarian. But in America, libertarianism is too often confused with a radically absolutist version of laissez-faire capitalism. Libertarianism rather is about the virtues of a free market. And free markets depend on conditions that don't naturally tend to exist in the real world, including a free flow of information between buyer and seller—that is, transparency. Free markets require regulation to ensure that they remain free.

The airline industry, especially since it moved to online sales, is case in point. In the online marketplace, customers are attracted by low upfront prices. Airlines found that sales improved when the upfront price was lowered by moving some of the fare, especially bag-check costs, to add-on fees later in the purchase transaction. Southwest famously resisted bag-check fees and has capitalized on its exceptionalism, though not without costs. 

In the usual purchase transaction, the low upfront price is too attractive to resist. And competitors' add-ons are not always apparent until the customer has sunken too much time and money into the booking to look back. Indeed, Delta does not even allow customers to prepay bag check, so fliers are not confronted with the bag-check add-on until the day of departure.

Dollars are not the only costs that airlines can conceal from customers doing online price comparison. Inconvenient routing with multiple and lengthy layovers can cost fliers time and money down the line. Early morning and late night flight departures and arrivals can significantly increase airport transfer costs, besides risking personal security and inducing exhaustion. Seat availability can be limited, making flying literally painful for someone six-foot-five or weak of bladder. 

Negotiating these options can be grueling for the consumer, and the market can seem ungoverned by logic. For me, it is not unusual to take days, at hours per day, sifting and testing the market to get the best deal on an air itinerary. In a recent search process, I found, not atypically, that I could fly from city A to city B to city C for less than it cost to fly from city A to city B, which was my actual destination, because direct service is more desirable. But buying the cheaper fare and leaving the airport at city B is called "skiplagging," or "hidden city ticketing," and airlines can be nasty about enforcing their prohibition on it.

On the one hand, I respect the airlines' free-market discretion to charge a higher price for a direct flight than for a less desired routing. On the other hand, there is a confounding absurdity to the idea that I would find myself at home in city B, yet be obligated to board a plane to carry on to someplace I don't want to go. Courts have been hostile to airlines' efforts to penalize skiplaggers financially. But they won't stop an airline from zeroing out a customer's frequent flier miles or even banning the flier from the line.

Like radar detector technologists with speeding enforcers, airlines have played cat and mouse with private and public regulators. Search engines have become more sophisticated in allowing customers to specify parameters, such as bag checks and connections. But the providers vary in options and their efficacy. Kayak tries to help with bag-check fees; Expedia not as much. And the mere act of online price comparison might introduce costs; despite industry denials, there is some evidence that consumers trigger price increases by repeating searches on Kayak and Google.

The search engines anyway can only sort data that the airlines provide, and they are not always forthcoming with details. Some airlines shun intermediary booking sites wholly. Airlines started gaming bag-check fees in 2008. Customer frustration finally precipitated disclosure regulation in 2011.

The regulation failed; bag-check fees are not easy to find. At Frontier and Spirit, the pricing is variable, so a shopper must enter data about a specific flight to get a number that allows price comparison. Meanwhile, bag-check fees have extended to an array of options. United is among airlines that now charge for a carry-on bag, and JetBlue charges for overhead bin space.

Add to the mix that JetBlue and Spirit announced their merger in 2022, even as JetBlue defends its partnership with behemoth American Airlines in litigation with the Justice Department (DOJ). Fewer carriers never results in improved transparency or lower prices for customers. Anti-competitive conglomeration is a natural market tendency, and healthy to a point, but it must be counterbalanced by thoughtful and vigorous antitrust regulation.

Even if DOJ is successful in the present antitrust litigation, the success will be a drop in the bucket of an industry that already is far too monopolized. The United States has nothing like the peanut airlines that blanket Europe. There are legitimate reasons for that deficiency, for example, our larger land mass. But there are plenty of illegitimate reasons, too, including monopoly by air carriers and monopoly in secondary markets, such as airports, baggage handling, and the transportation infrastructure that supports transfers.

The proposed rule announced by the Biden Administration is better than nothing, if it is promulgated intact. But the rule barely scratches the surface of what's needed to move the airline industry into a truly free market, in which consumers have a fighting chance. Extrapolating from past efforts to compel the disclosure of bag-check fees, it's safe to predict that the airlines already are one step ahead, and little will change for the consumer's experience.

A free market is a transparent market with manageable entry barriers. Consumers should be able to compare prices head to head for the same services. The internet should have facilitated the free market and leveled the playing field for buyers. Instead, weak regulation has let industry run amuck and obfuscate pricing. Absolutist laissez-faire capitalism is otherwise known as corporatocracy.

 —

Presently, I'm using two different modalities to try to pursue penalty fees from airlines for flight delays I experienced in the summer under European Union regulatory jurisdiction. When I have outcomes to report, I'll blog about it.

Schneider proposes (more) insider trading reform for Congress; background guarantees to outrage

Ever feel like it's harder and harder to pay higher and higher bills, even while the news raves about low unemployment, a rising stock market, and the rich get richer?  Feel like our members of Congress are out of touch and only working to line their own pockets?

Not all paranoia is delusional.  Fuel your outrage with Money, Power, and Radical Honesty: A Look at Members of Congress' Use of Information for Financial Gain, an article published by attorney Spencer K. Schneider, once my teaching and research assistant, in the Pepperdine Journal of Business, Entrepreneurship & The Law in November.  Here is the abstract.

Cleared of wrongdoing due to lack of evidence, Senators Kelley Loeffler and David Perdue continued their bids for re-election, and control of the Senate, in the Georgia run-off. Both Senators Loeffler and Perdue traded stocks in the run-up to the COVID-19 crisis after receiving classified briefings. These are just two of many instances of members of Congress profiting after receiving classified information. While the American public remained uninformed as to the true crisis looming as COVID-19 spread, members of Congress received private briefings and quietly sold securities such as travel and hotel related interests, and purchased other securities, such as remote-work software and medical equipment related interests.

Many members of Congress also profit from federal money earmarked to increase the value of their personal land deals, from access to IPOs, and from corporate board seats. While corporate executives, members of the executive branch, and ordinary citizens are subject to strict insider trading laws, members of Congress sail through loopholes and exceptions that are hand-crafted for their benefit. This article reviews proposals for fixing the problem before proposing a comprehensive solution focused on limiting the financial opportunities for members of Congress and strict reporting requirements.

While many proposals to address this problem exist, none come close to preventing members of Congress from profiting in these often nefarious ways. To ensure that members of Congress work on behalf of the American Public—and not their own pocketbooks—the comprehensive and drastic reform articulated in this article is required.

Spencer K. Schneider

Mr. Schneider worked on a piece of this article when he was still a law student under my tutelage.  I remember being flabbergasted by the background section, and then, in January 2021, thinking that we all should be at the Capitol ramparts, but for different reasons.  What's perhaps most disheartening is that past purported reform efforts in Congress have been devoid of will or insincere in execution. I know that Schneider worked hard on his reform proposal and sought advice from skeptical experts. Whether meaningful reform will precede frustration-fueled revolution in this country is anyone's guess.

The article is Spencer K. Schneider, Money, Power, and Radical Honesty: A Look at Members of Congress' Use of Information for Financial Gain, 14 J. Bus. Entrepreneurship & L. 296 (2021).  Schneider is licensed in Massachusetts and bar pending in his present home state of California.

UPDATE, Jan. 28: Less than a week after I posted this item, The Daily Show with Trevor Noah published a nice exposé on congressional insider trading, incorporating some of the same data that fueled Schneider's article and my ire: