The Federal Trade Commission’s (FTC’s) recent assertion of authority to engage in legislative rulemaking in antitrust matters can be addressed in terms of three frameworks: the major questions doctrine, the Chevron doctrine, and as a matter of ordinary statutory interpretation. The article argues that as a matter of ordinary statutory interpretation the FTC has no such authority. This can be seen by considering the structure and history of the Act and is confirmed by the 1975 Federal Trade Commission Improvements Act. Given that the result follows from ordinary statutory interpretation, it is unnecessary for courts to consider the other two frameworks.
Introduction
The leadership installed at the Federal Trade Commission (FTC or the Commission) by the Biden Administration would like to use legislative rulemaking to regulate anti-competitive practices. The Commission Chair, Lina Khan, has argued that the traditional method used by the FTC and the courts to enforce the antitrust laws—adjudication—“generates ambiguity, unduly drains resources from enforcers, and deprives individuals and firms of any real opportunity to democratically participate in the process.” Legislative rulemaking would reverse these deficiencies; that is, it would reduce ambiguity about what is or is not permitted, conserve the resources of enforcers, and permit affected individuals and firms to participate in the process of formulating rules. The FTC made good on this aspiration on January 5, 2023, by issuing a notice of proposed rulemaking that, in the interest of enhancing competition among firms for workers, would make so-called non-compete clauses in employment contracts illegal.
This Article will not focus on whether such rulemaking would be a good idea in determining what sorts of behavior are prohibited by the antitrust laws. That question, this Article argues, is essentially moot because the FTC has no legal authority to engage in legislative rulemaking on competition matters.
The question of the FTC’s authority in this context has important implications for the future of the regulatory state. The FTC will argue that a provision allowing it to make “rules and regulations” tucked away in its 1914 organic act authorizes it to make legislative rules about unfair competition. After all, the provision does not clearly say that legislative rules are not included in the phrase “rules and regulations,” and courts have often assumed that similar language includes the authority to make legally binding rules. Indeed, the D.C. Circuit so held with respect to the FTC’s rulemaking grant many years ago. And even if one regards the rulemaking grant as ambiguous, the Commission can point out that as recently as 2013 the Supreme Court held that agencies are entitled to Chevron deference with respect to interpretations of ambiguities about the scope of their own authority.
Other aspects of the question, however, suggest that the FTC will encounter choppy waters. The Supreme Court has recently embraced something called the “major questions” doctrine, most prominently in West Virginia v. EPA. Much about the doctrine remains uncertain, but it takes little imagination to predict that opponents of antitrust rulemaking will claim that the Commission’s authority to make such rules is a major question, and thus, the commission must be able to point to “clear congressional authorization” before it goes down this path.
There is a more general problem: The Supreme Court seems to have lost all enthusiasm for deferring to agency interpretations of the law they administer. The Court has not applied the Chevron doctrine to resolve a question of agency law since 2016. In the most recent full Term, it was barely mentioned. Instead, the Court has taken to resolving questions of agency law de novo, whether the result happens to be to affirm or reverse the agency position. A particularly pertinent example is AMG Capital Management v. FTC, where the Court held that the FTC does not have statutory authority to bring original civil actions in federal court seeking restitution for consumers who have been victims of deceptive practices. The Court reached this result by reviewing the structure of the Federal Trade Commission Act of 1914 (FTC Act or the Act) and its historical evolution over time. The Article will argue in Part III that a similar conclusion can be reached about antitrust rulemaking by tracing the history of the FTC’s authority to engage in rulemaking. Such a decision would obviate any need either to defer to the FTC’s interpretation, or to trot out the heavy artillery of the major questions doctrine.
In what follows, the Article will discuss the question of the FTC’s rulemaking authority in competition matters from three perspectives. Part I will consider how the issue should be resolved under the newly minted major questions doctrine. Part II will address how the matter might be resolved under the Chevron doctrine, as it came to be regarded in its most expansive form, with the decision in City of Arlington v. FCC. Part III will examine how the issue should be resolved as a matter of ordinary statutory interpretation. The last framing is the correct one, the Article argues, because courts should always determine as a matter of independent judgment whether an agency is acting within the scope of its delegated regulatory authority. But the major questions frame and the Chevron doctrine are likely to be invoked if the matter becomes contested in litigation. So, for the sake of completeness, the Article will address all three ways of viewing the question.
I. Is FTC Rulemaking Authority a Major Question?
The Supreme Court Term that ended in the summer of 2022 will be remembered for, among other things, the Court’s endorsement of something called the major questions doctrine. There are many uncertainties about this doctrine and how it will be deployed in the future. A rough statement of the doctrine is that courts will not uphold novel agency interpretations that seek to regulate questions of economic and political significance unless the agency can point to clear congressional authorization for such actions.
The major questions doctrine did not come out of nowhere. The Court has episodically expressed skepticism about agency assertions of “significant policymaking authority” in an unprecedented fashion. For example, in 2000, the Court held that the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) could not regulate tobacco products as ordinarily marketed based on its general authority to regulate drugs and devices. Then, in 2014, the Court held that Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) could not subject stationary sources of air pollution to certain stringent regulations based on their emission of greenhouse gases since this would “bring about an enormous and transformative expansion in EPA’s regulatory authority without clear congressional authorization.”
Until 2022, however, such expressions of skepticism had manifested themselves in the course of exercises in ordinary statutory interpretation, typically either as part of “step one” or “step two” of the Chevron doctrine. The Court’s expressions had the status of sayings or maxims, such as the often-quoted quip that Congress does not hide “elephants in mouseholes.” In contrast, in National Federation of Independent Business (NFIB) v. OSHA, decided in January of 2022, and more emphatically in West Virginia v. EPA, decided in late June of that year, the Court reformulated these expressions of skepticism into a new canon of interpretation.
Under this new doctrine, the obvious and generally dispositive question is what constitutes a major question. What do we learn from the recent decisions about this? Chief Justice Roberts’s opinion for the Court in West Virginia, as is often his style, sought to ground the major questions doctrine in precedent. In so doing, the opinion includes quotations from a number of the Court’s previous decisions. Thus, we read that a major question exists when an agency offers a “novel reading” of a statute that would result in the “wholesale restructuring” of an industry; when it advances a claim of “sweeping and consequential authority” based on a “cryptic” statutory provision; when it entails “unheralded” regulatory power over “a significant portion of the American economy;” when it invokes “oblique or elliptical language” to make a “radical or fundamental change” in a regulatory scheme; or when it cites an “ancillary provision” to “adopt a regulatory program that Congress had conspicuously and repeatedly declined to enact itself.” It is hazardous to attempt to distill a more precise formulation of what constitutes a major question based on this collection of quotations. The root idea of the Court’s opinion, however, is that a major question is one in which an agency advances a novel interpretation of its statutory authority that has the effect of significantly changing the scope of its authority.
Justice Gorsuch, in a concurring opinion in West Virginia joined by Justice Alito, sought to provide a crisper formulation of the meaning of major question. He discerned three inquiries that provide “a good deal of guidance” in this regard. First, does the “agency claim[] the power to resolve a matter of great ‘political significance,’” such as one in which Congress has considered and rejected in “bills authorizing something akin to the agency’s proposed course of action?” Second, does the agency seek to regulate “a significant portion of the American economy” or does its action implicate “billions of dollars in spending” by private persons or entities? Third, does the “agency seek to ‘intrud[e] into an area that is the particular domain of state law’” thus implicating considerations of federalism? Whether this exegesis provides better guidance is a matter of opinion. The first two inquiries are compounds of two separate factors (e.g., political controversy and prior rejection by Congress), so arguably Justice Gorsuch has posited five factors rather than three. And the Justice added that his list of “triggers” “may not be exclusive.”
Justice Gorsuch’s concurrence further complicates things by offering an exegesis about what qualifies as a clear statement of congressional authorization in this context. Here, as one would expect, we read that “oblique and elliptical language,” “gap filler” provisions, and “broad and unusual authority” do not count as clear statements. But we also read that novel interpretations of old statutes, interpretations by an agency that are not contemporaneous with enactment of the statute or of longstanding duration, and interpretations that reflect a “mismatch between an agency’s challenged action and its congressionally assigned mission and expertise” may not count. These latter circumstances suggest a concern about the novelty or lack of precedent for the agency interpretation or what political scientists call policy drift, all of which seem to go to problems associated with the nature of the agency decision, not to whether Congress has supplied the requisite clear authorization. So maybe the concurrence posits eight factors, rather than three or five.
Without regard to how one tallies up the factors, the determination of whether something is a major question apparently entails a multi-factorial inquiry. And the various factors cannot be reduced to a common metric. The impression one gets is that the concept of major questions is grounded in an intuitive mix of considerations of the “know it when you see it” variety.
In terms of the future path of development, there are some intriguing differences between the description of the major questions doctrine in Chief Justice Roberts’s opinion for the Court in West Virginia and Justice Gorsuch’s concurring opinions in NFIB and West Virginia. Justice Gorsuch, who appears to be the most enthusiastic proponent of the new doctrine, describes the major questions doctrine as a “clear-statement rule[].” Chief Justice Roberts, however, never uses this expression in the portions of his West Virginia opinion setting forth his understanding of the doctrine. Instead, he speaks of the requirement of “clear authorization” by Congress which might include, for example, implicit ratification of the agency position by subsequent legislative action. Perhaps even more strikingly, Justice Gorsuch grounds the doctrine in constitutional law, namely the nondelegation doctrine that posits Congress has the exclusive power to legislate and may delegate authority to executive actors only on minor or interstitial matters of implementation of legislative policy. The Chief Justice, in contrast, locates the doctrine almost entirely in what can be called administrative common law. A third difference is that the Chief Justice appears to incorporate something like the “swerve doctrine” into the major questions idea, emphasizing that prior opinions have identified major questions as being “unprecedented,” “unheralded,” or based on a “novel reading” of statutory authority. Justice Gorsuch does not mention this in his recitation of the elements that may qualify a question as being “major,” although he describes agency inconsistency as a factor to be considered in determining whether the agency action is supported by a clear statement from Congress.
How these differences are resolved in the future will have an important bearing on whether the major questions doctrine portends a revolution in administrative law or merely adds one more substantive canon to the proliferating list of canons collected in treatises on statutory interpretation. This Article leaves for another day a more systematic critique of the new doctrine. For present purposes, all that can be said is that it is unclear how the major questions doctrine would apply to a claim by the FTC of antitrust rulemaking authority.
Many of the factors that help make something a major question, as enumerated by the Chief Justice and Justice Gorsuch, clearly suggest that the FTC’s proposed ban on non-compete agreements is a major question. The proposed ban, according to the Notice of Proposed Rulemaking, would affect approximately thirty million workers and increase their earnings by $250 to $296 billion per year. This would seem clearly to satisfy the large number of persons and large number of dollars referenced by the Court as signifying a major question. The issue would also appear to implicate questions of federalism, given that the permissibility of non-compete employment contracts has long been governed by state law, with some states (e.g., California) banning them, and others permitting them if they are reasonable. The issue is likely to be politically controversial, at least with employers. But it does not appear that Congress has tried, and failed, to enact a similar nationwide ban. Other factors, however, cut less clearly in favor of characterizing the FTC’s proposed rule.
One factor stressed by the Chief Justice in his opinion for the Court in West Virginia is the swerve idea: a question is likely to be major if the agency action is unprecedented, unheralded, novel, or inconsistent with past agency understanding. This also appears in the per curiam opinion for the Court in NFIB, and in Justice Gorsuch’s discussion of what constitutes a clear statement in West Virginia.
In one sense, the FTC’s claim of legislative rulemaking power can be viewed as an avulse change. For more than a century, the FTC has never engaged in legislative rulemaking in a matter that unambiguously involves its antitrust authority. On the other hand, the FTC’s claim that the source of this authority is § 6(g) of the FTC Act (discussed more fully in Part III), is not a bolt from the blue. The Commission asserted this interpretation of § 6(g) in the late 1960s, and its claim was upheld by the D.C. Circuit in National Petroleum Refiners Ass’n v. FTC in 1973. There is more to say about this decision (which is also covered in Part III). The point for present purposes is that the FTC’s claim for legislative rulemaking authority based on § 6(g) has been around for more than half century. This authority has rarely been asserted, and virtually never in a purely antitrust context. But it is different in this respect from the Occupational Safety and Health Administration’s (OSHA’s) claim of authority to require the vaccination or periodic testing of all employees at all major firms throughout the country, which the Court said had never been asserted by OSHA in the fifty years of its existence.
Another variable is whether the agency interpretation significantly changes the scope of its regulatory authority. A number of cases cited as precedents for the major questions doctrine involved debatable expansions or contractions of an agency’s substantive regulatory authority. FDA v. Brown & Williamson Tobacco Corp., described by the Chief Justice as the “leading case,” is a clear example: the FDA, after decades of disclaiming any power to regulate tobacco products, discovered such authority based on a revised reading of its statutory mandate. Similarly, in King v. Burwell, the government allowed persons to claim tax credits for health insurance purchased on a federally-created insurance exchange, even though the statute spoke of exchanges “established by a state.” The Court characterized the statute as “ambiguous,” but declined to rest on the agency’s interpretation. Instead, it invoked the major questions doctrine and decided the matter itself in favor of the agency’s position.
What is unclear is whether the major questions doctrine is reserved for interpretations that implicate the scope of an agency’s substantive regulatory authority, as in Brown & Williamson and King v. Burwell, or whether it also applies to the changes in the method of exercising that authority. The question of whether the FTC has rulemaking authority over competition matters does not affect the scope of its substantive regulatory authority. The FTC has been charged with enforcing the antitrust laws for more than a century. The Sherman Act was passed in 1890, and the FTC has enforced the antitrust laws ever since the Clayton Act was adopted in 1914. That authority, however, has always been exercised through case-by-case adjudication. The precise question, therefore, is whether the belated discovery of legislative rulemaking power as a means of supplementing a long-existing form of substantive regulatory authority also triggers the major questions doctrine.
The Court’s limited jurisprudence of major questions points both ways. Consider West Virginia. At times the Chief Justice appears to say that the Obama Administration’s Clean Power Plan (CPP) was a major question because it was designed to force utilities to enter into cap-and-trade systems in order to reduce carbon dioxide emissions, and this particular regulatory tool had not been clearly authorized by Congress under the relevant provision of the Clean Air Act. This points toward the choice of method for achieving a regulatory goal as being included within the ambit of the major questions doctrine. At other times, the Chief Justice seems to say that the CPP was designed to force coal-burning plants out of business, transforming the nation’s electric power industry into one based on renewables and natural gas rather than coal, and that this goal had not been authorized by Congress. This points toward the major questions doctrine being concerned with the scope of regulatory authority.
Justice Gorsuch, in his concurring opinion in West Virginia, cited a late nineteenth-century decision holding that the Interstate Commerce Commission (ICC) could not prescribe rates for the future without a “clear and direct” authorization from Congress. Rate prescription orders are a form of legislative rulemaking, as opposed to awards of reparations for unreasonable rates charged in the past, which are a type of adjudication. So The Queen and Crescent Case is a close parallel to the question we are considering and suggests that the major questions doctrine applies to an agency interpretation discovering a new source of rulemaking authority. But the Chief Justice in his opinion for the Court did not include the decision in his rendition of the precedents for the major questions doctrine.
The better view is that both agencies and reviewing courts “are bound, not only by the ultimate purposes Congress has selected, but by the means it has deemed appropriate, and prescribed, for the pursuit of those purposes.” This would seem to be required by the principle of legislative supremacy. But this position does not answer the question whether a deviation from “the means” Congress has selected should be regarded as a major question, in all or even some cases. That remains unclear and may depend on other contextual factors.
Yet another factor, implicit in the majority decision in West Virginia, was labeled by the concurrence and Justice Kagan’s dissent as “a mismatch between an agency’s challenged action and its congressionally assigned mission and expertise.” The majority and the concurrence regarded the mismatch to be EPA’s decision to balance “the many vital considerations of national policy implicated in deciding how Americans will get their energy.” EPA, in their view, was charged with controlling air pollution, not with formulating energy policy. Justice Kagan demurred, finding “no misfit, of the kind apparent in our precedents, between the regulation, the agency, and the statutory design[.]”
Whatever the correct conception of EPA’s statutory mandate to deal with climate change, this variable would not seem to impeach the FTC’s desire to engage in antitrust rulemaking. In this regard, consider that the FTC, in conjunction with the Antitrust Division of the Justice Department, has for many years promulgated the Merger Guidelines (the Guidelines), which FTC officials and Department of Justice (DOJ) officials use in opining on whether proposed mergers of companies should be allowed to go forward consistent with the antitrust laws. The Guidelines are a policy statement, not a legislative rule. They are used to predict how FTC and DOJ officials, as enforcement agents, regard a proposed merger, not to prohibit or permit particular mergers. But they are “rules” within the meaning of the Administrative Procedure Act (APA), and they unquestionably have a significant impact on whether companies decide to proceed or abandon particular merger agreements. If officials of the FTC or the DOJ, applying the Guidelines, announce their opposition to a merger, the affected firms generally assume this will carry weight with the courts, which means that the merger is more likely to be disapproved. Uncertainty about approval can be fatal to a merger, so many firms—faced with opposition of the FTC or DOJ—will abandon the merger. Courts and lawyers are familiar with this dynamic, which means that the prospect of legislative rulemaking by the FTC on matters of antitrust law more generally may not strike them as some alien intrusion into the fabric of American public law.
In sum, many of the factors cited in the recent decisions about what constitutes a major question, such as the large numbers of persons and dollars implicated by the agency decision clearly point to the proposed rule as being a major question. Other factors, such as the novelty of the agency interpretation or whether a change in the methods of enforcement can count as a major question, could be resolved either way. A final factor, whether there is a mismatch between the agency’s basic mission and the assertion of agency authority, seemingly counts against characterizing the claim of rulemaking authority in competition matters as a major question. On balance, my view is that the issue should not be classified as a major question, but that is surely debatable, given the uncertain scope of the doctrine. Opponents of antitrust rulemaking will certainly claim that it is. Because the question can be resolved as a matter of ordinary statutory interpretation, as discussed in Part III, courts should resist the temptation to invoke the major questions doctrine in resolving it. In other words, they should avoid using the new form of constitutional avoidance, if that is what it is.
II. FTC Rulemaking Authority as a Matter of Chevron Deference
If the major questions doctrine does not answer the question about the FTC’s authority to engage in legislative rulemaking in competition matters, what does? Until recently, most administrative lawyers would answer “the Chevron doctrine.” That answer is no longer clear either. For some thirty years, Chevron served as the principal metric used by the Supreme Court in reviewing challenges to an agency’s interpretation of the statute it administers. The Court invoked the two-step standard of review in over 100 decisions, and occasionally rebuked lower courts for failing to apply it. The Supreme Court essentially stopped using the Chevron doctrine in 2016, and several Justices have taken to writing separate opinions arguing that it should be overruled or at least reconsidered. The Court’s latest Term is perhaps the most striking. The Court considered seven cases that involved a challenge to an agency’s interpretation of its statute. Chevron was not mentioned once in a controlling opinion and received only the most fleeting mention in two separate opinions. Notwithstanding that many parties and amici filed briefs arguing that Chevron should be overruled or modified, and that these pleas were expressly addressed in oral argument in two cases.
The Court’s determination to leave Chevron unmentioned is particularly striking in West Virginia v. EPA. The emergence of the major questions doctrine clearly operates as a modification of Chevron. Indeed, it is a kind of reverse-Chevron. Chevron says if the statute is unclear, defer to the agency; West Virginia says, if the question is major, do not defer to the agency unless the statute is clear. But the Court did not offer a single word in any of its recent decisions about how to integrate the new major questions doctrine with the Chevron doctrine. Does the major questions doctrine function as a preliminary inquiry (a “step zero” or maybe “step minus one”), which cuts off further analysis if the authorization is not clear? Or does the major questions doctrine operate like a substantive canon of interpretation applied at step one of Chevron, which supports the conclusion that the statute has a clear meaning contrary to the meaning urged by the agency? Or is the major questions doctrine analogous to the Mead doctrine, determining that the agency is not entitled to Chevron-style deference but only respectful consideration under Skidmore? Or perhaps no deference at all?
The matter is further clouded by the Court’s recent practice, during what can be called the “Chevron moratorium,” of deciding all questions of statutory interpretation that arise on review of agency action de novo, without giving any consideration one way or another to the agency’s view. The practice has been followed by all Justices, liberal and conservative alike, and sometimes results in upholding the agency and sometimes in reversing it. The simple explanation for this development is that the Court is deeply divided about what to do about Chevron, and all Justices have tacitly agreed to ignore the doctrine until some kind of consensus emerges about the path forward. But it is also conceivable that the Justices have tacitly agreed to replace Chevron with de novo review, i.e., overrule it, but cannot decide how to handle the embarrassment that the Court itself applied Chevron in over 100 cases. The possibility that the Court has opted for de novo review in every case would ignore the critical fact that it is possible for the Justices, who decide only about seventy cases per Term, to dig into the details of complex regulatory statutes and decide the matter de novo; it is far more difficult for lower court judges, who have much heavier caseloads, to function without some kind of deference doctrine.
What is a lower court judge supposed to do in this puzzling situation? Perhaps the most obvious course of action is to ask, first, if the question is major or minor in light of the multiple factors listed by the Court. If major, the agency loses, and the matter is effectively sent back to Congress for possible resolution. If minor, the Chevron doctrine applies, as the Court explicated through 2016. On the assumption that the question of the FTC’s antitrust rulemaking authority is not a major question, as discussed in Part I, how then should the matter be resolved under the Court’s explication of the Chevron doctrine as of 2016?
As detailed in The Chevron Doctrine: Its Rise and Fall, and the Future of the Administrative State, the Chevron doctrine has undergone significant revision over its thirty-plus-year life span. What follows is a highly abbreviated version of the history most relevant to the question of whether the FTC has antitrust rulemaking authority.
In its classical formulation, the Chevron doctrine was understood to require courts to accept reasonable agency interpretations of ambiguities in the statutes they administer. The Court narrowed the doctrine in United States v. Mead Corp., holding that the agency must act with the “force of law” in order to be eligible for Chevron deference, as opposed to some lesser degree of deference like Skidmore. The Court was unclear about what sorts of agency decisions should be regarded as having the force of law, but legislative rulemaking and binding adjudication were implicitly regarded as the core cases. The pattern of later decisions applying Mead is consistent with this understanding. Justice Scalia filed the only dissent in Mead, arguing that Chevron should apply whenever the agency has offered an “authoritative” interpretation of the statute it administers, as when the agency files an amicus brief endorsed by the head of the agency or its general counsel. Justice Scalia continued in later cases to condemn Mead and its “force of law” requirement.
In 2013, the Court agreed to decide an issue that had divided the Justices early in the Chevron era and had produced a split in the circuits: whether Chevron should apply to an agency interpretation that implicates the scope of the agency’s “jurisdiction.” Justice Scalia had staked out the position in 1988 that Chevron should apply to “jurisdictional” questions, because there is no meaningful distinction between jurisdictional and nonjurisdictional questions in the agency context. When the issue came back to the Court twenty-five years later, Justice Scalia was able to command a bare majority for this position. The distinction between jurisdictional and nonjurisdictional decisions was meaningless in the administrative context, he wrote for the Court, because all statutory limits on agency authority, if violated, make the agency action ultra vires. Ergo all agency interpretations should be reviewed under Chevron.
In order to reach this result, Justice Scalia had to adopt a narrowing interpretation of Mead and the proposition that only agency actions having force of law are eligible for Chevron deference. In doing so, Justice Scalia held that it is not necessary to identify a delegation of power to act with the force of law with respect to the specific statutory provision in question; it is enough that Congress has in general terms authorized the agency to act with the force of law. Thus, as long as Congress has generally authorized an agency to engage in legislative rulemaking or to render binding adjudications, a court should apply Chevron to any and all agency decisions the agency adopts, whether or not Congress has specifically authorized the agency to act with the force of law with respect to the issue in question.
Chief Justice Roberts filed a vigorous dissent, joined by Justices Kennedy and Alito. He wrote in part:
Courts defer to an agency’s interpretation of law when and because Congress has conferred on the agency interpretive authority over the question at issue. An agency cannot exercise interpretive authority until it has it; the question whether an agency enjoys that authority must be decided by a court, without deference to the agency.
Specifically, Chief Justice Roberts objected to the interpretation of Mead as making an agency eligible for Chevron deference based on one generic authority to act with the force of law. Instead, courts must undertake to determine whether the agency has been given authority to act with the force of law with respect to the specific issue in contention.
The question whether the FTC has authority to issue legislative rules on competition matters would seem to implicate the scope of the agency’s regulatory authority or jurisdiction. Under Arlington, this does not matter. The critical question is whether the agency has been given general authority to act with the force of law. With respect to the agency at issue in Arlington—the FCC—Justice Scalia was able to rely on precedent holding that it has general authority to issue legislative rules as to all titles that it administers. With respect to the FTC, the answer to this question is by no means simple or straightforward.
One possible source of authority for the FTC to act with the force of law is § 5 of the FTC Act, which authorizes the agency to file complaints and determine whether particular firms are engaging in unfair methods of competition. If the FTC finds a violation, it can issue a cease and desist order. However, under the original FTC Act, and still today, the agency has no authority to enforce such orders if they are challenged in court. Rather, the order must be reviewed by a federal court of appeals, and if the court determines that it is valid, it will be enforced by the court. Whether this constitutes agency authority to act with the force of law, or is more accurately characterized, as the Court did in a landmark decision in 1935, Humphrey’s Executor v. United States, as the agency acting as a “judicial aid” to the court, is debatable.
Another possible source of authority for the FTC to act with the force of law is § 6(g), which authorizes the agency to “make rules and regulations for the purpose of carrying out the provisions of this subchapter.” As discussed in Part III, this was long understood to refer to procedural rules and other housekeeping matters. It is true that in recent cases the Court has often construed such generic rulemaking grants to include the authority to issue legislative rules. But the historical understanding of the FTC rulemaking grant, and the fact that Congress saw fit in 1975 to adopt an explicit grant of legislative rulemaking authority for the FTC with respect to deceptive practices, would seem to counsel against this interpretation.
Even if a court were to conclude that the FTC has a generic source of authority to act with the force of law within the meaning of Arlington, there is still the question whether the FTC Act, as amended, is “unclear” or “ambiguous” as to whether this-force-of-law authority extends to issuing legislative rules about competition policy. Chevron deference applies only when a court concludes, at step one, that Congress has not clearly or unambiguously addressed the precise question at issue. Arlington reaffirms this understanding. Courts should enforce the limits Congress has placed on agency authority, Justice Scalia wrote, “by taking seriously, and applying rigorously, in all cases, statutory limits on agencies’ authority. Where Congress has established a clear line, the agency cannot go beyond it; and where Congress has established an ambiguous line, the agency can go no further than the ambiguity will fairly allow.”
So even if the Chevron doctrine applies, the decisive question is likely to boil down to one question of statutory interpretation: has Congress clearly or unambiguously foreclosed FTC authority to issue legislative rules on matters of competition policy? If the answer is yes, then the FTC’s assertion of such authority must be rejected at Chevron’s step one. As the Court observed in Chevron, “If the intent of Congress is clear, that is the end of the matter; for the court, as well as the agency, must give effect to the unambiguously intent of Congress.” It is to that question of statutory interpretation that the Article now turns.