Can You Trust Mark Meador?
The FTC remains politicized. One commissioner is leading the way—when it suits him.
The Federal Trade Commission under Lina Khan was not a well-run institution. I wrote about this at the time, often and at length, and I regret nothing. But wow—wow—would you be forgiven for thinking that the goal of new management is to make Khan’s tenure look good by comparison. There is plenty to say about this sorry state of affairs, but for now let’s focus on a single commissioner.
Why just one? Isn’t the FTC a multi-member body? Well, these days the agency is something of a husk. President Trump has purported to fire two commissioners—the Democrats, naturally. The FTC Act says he cannot do that, but the Supreme Court appears poised to bless the move on constitutional grounds (a serious mistake). A third commissioner, Melissa Holyoak, recently departed after a brief stint. And rumors swirl that the chair, Andrew Ferguson, will soon take on a second job overseeing a nationwide fraud unit at the Justice Department.
That leaves Mark Meador. He may soon be the lone commissioner who has not been defenestrated, jumped ship, or been pulled into a dual role.
Last week I saw Meador speak at an antitrust conference in the Bay Area. As a matter of policy, his remarks were not to my taste. He aired a familiar set of complaints about modern tech products. Apple’s “liquid glass” is confusing; Google’s AI overviews—that stuff that now appears above the search results—are annoying; AI-generated cat videos, and short-form video more generally, are bad for the soul. It is certainly true that tech companies have many bad ideas. It does not follow that Mark Meador knows better. Yet he spoke with complete confidence in his own superior vision for the tech industry. He knows what the social media market should look like. He knows how to “win the AI race the right way.” The man is, apparently, a prophet.
Some of Meador’s gripes were not really about products at all, but about people. People shouldn’t like short-form video. The government, Meador seemed to suggest, must protect them from themselves. You might say that Meador wants to replace the consumer-welfare standard, under which the FTC protects markets that work to give people what they want, with a moral-welfare standard, under which the FTC pushes markets to give people what they are supposed to want—as determined by Mark Meador.
Maybe people should be more virtuous. But what business is that of the FTC? The FTC Act makes commissioners competition regulators, not philosopher-kings or morality police.
One European lawyer I spoke with at the conference seemed rather taken with Meador’s speech. He wants to crack down on Big Tech, after all; what’s not to like? I tried to explain how Meador plainly judges companies by a moral code, and why that code should give any upstanding European pause. Meador is committed to “the just ordering of society that best facilitates human flourishing.” He speaks unabashedly of the need for “beauty and virtue,” “moral values,” and “tradition and custom.” He peppers his writing (yes, his antitrust writing) with theological language, referring to human beings as “embodied souls seeking communion with their fellow man and their Creator.” The undertone—the dog whistle, if you will—is not Brussels-style social democracy. It is national conservatism, if not flat out Christian nationalism.
Which brings me to my real objection to Meador’s appearance. In Palo Alto, he was mild, reasonable, even conciliatory. The speech itself was a little misguided but pleasant enough. The problem was what it concealed: the other Mark Meador, and the other FTC.
In his speech, Meador called for apolitical enforcement. Antitrust, he said, should not serve an “unrelated political agenda.” It should not target disfavored industries. He and the agency should not “make decisions according to how political winds are blowing.”
How rich. Maximally politicized enforcement has characterized the Trump administration at large, and the Trump FTC in particular. Consider the Omnicom–IPG settlement. The FTC allowed two major advertising firms to merge, but only after restricting the new entity’s ability to withhold advertising dollars based on a publisher’s viewpoints. The settlement is a transparent assault on advertising firms’ First Amendment right to boycott publishers on grounds of social or ideological principle. It is also a nakedly political effort to redirect advertising dollars toward right-wing outlets.
Or consider the FTC’s hapless social-media “censorship” inquiry. This move, too, is an attack on First Amendment rights—this time, platforms’ right to moderate content as they see fit. And this move, too, is aimed at helping the right, specifically those right-wing speakers who insist—baselessly, by and large—that platforms have “silenced” them. Take also the FTC’s foray into debates over gender medicine. The FTC is not a medical regulator; it has no expertise in this area. But transgender issues are at the center of the culture war, so the agency could not resist weighing in, thumb firmly on the scale for the political right.
For Meador to sit in Palo Alto and sermonize about ignoring political winds was an insult to anyone paying attention to his agency or the administration it serves.
Equally striking was the contrast between Meador’s tone inside the conference room and the tone he and the FTC adopt elsewhere. In his remarks, Meador urged listeners not to “draw up battle lines.” Washington and Silicon Valley, he said, should root for each other’s success. During the Q&A, he endorsed a “just the facts, ma’am” approach. He expressed distaste for heated rhetoric from private parties—inflated claims about the stakes of litigation or boasts about whipping the FTC in court. Such talk amounts, he complained, to “melodramatic atmospherics.”
But Mark Meador and the Trump FTC do melodramatic atmospherics with the best of them. Last year, for instance, the FTC convened a conference titled “The Attention Economy: How Big Tech Firms Exploit Children and Hurt Families.” The title was all too fitting: the whole event was slanted, overheated, and self-righteous. Meador led the charge. He likened “the battle over the ‘attention economy’” to “the fight against Big Tobacco.” He argued that social media companies sell an addictive and harmful product; that they must keep children hooked, “craving the next fix, the next puff, the next notification”; and that they peddle lies in their defense.
No doubt this jeremiad resonates with some. I think it’s nonsense. But the point here is not whether Meador is right or wrong. It’s that he is two-faced. In Silicon Valley, he presents himself as mildly uneasy about short-form video. Elsewhere, he portrays social media companies as irredeemable reprobates, scarcely distinguishable from cigarette manufacturers. The Meador we saw projected reasonableness. In reality, he is a fanatic.
What Meador concealed about himself pales, though, beside what he concealed about the FTC. Excuse me, commissioner, did you just say you oppose overheated rhetoric? Where were you after the FTC lost its antitrust case against Meta?
The defeat was not surprising. The case was weak from the outset, failing to grapple with competitors such as YouTube and TikTok. It was dismissed in a careful opinion written by an able judge. That judge, James Boasberg, also ruled against the Trump administration’s reprehensible efforts to hustle men, without due process, to a prison in El Salvador. In response to that ruling, some GOP lawmakers launched a campaign to impeach him. The case for impeachment is risible. But that did not stop the FTC from exploiting it. After the Meta loss, an FTC spokesperson, Joe Simonson, sneered: “The deck was always stacked against us with Judge Boasberg, who is currently facing articles of impeachment.”
This statement is an embarrassment. Everyone at the FTC should be mortified by it. But there it is. Mark Meador has no standing to lecture others about decorum.
Nor should we expect this to be an isolated lapse. The second Trump FTC has been staffed with people who are terminally online. In a sense, they are the dog that caught the car: they have memed their way into an amount of power they are neither competent nor responsible enough to wield.
This became obvious when the FTC set out to punish Media Matters. The organization had published a study finding that ads appeared next to hate speech on the alt-right-friendly platform X. The agency then launched a sweeping investigation (another example, contra Meador, of the FTC’s overtly political posture). The courts blocked the probe, finding it to be retaliation for constitutionally protected speech. Evidence of a retaliatory motive included, almost comically, some FTC staffers’ big fat mouths. Before joining the agency, a cadre of young edgelords had been spending their time spouting off on social media. Joe Simonson (he of the appalling comment after the Meta loss) had mocked Media Matters for employing “a number of stupid and resentful Democrats.” Another staffer had called the group “scum of the earth.”
This is the backdrop to Meador’s calls, in Palo Alto, to lower the temperature. Spare us, commissioner.
The word at the conference was that the FTC is in disarray. Many experienced attorneys and economists accepted one of the Trump administration’s buyout offers. Others concluded, after a return-to-office mandate, that if working for the FTC was going to be a hassle—don’t forget those “five things you did this week” emails!—they might as well leave for higher pay. I heard this from a former government official who had himself recently decamped to private practice. When I asked this refugee about the FTC’s ambitions to police social media or wade into gender medicine, he said he would not be surprised if the agency ultimately accomplishes very little. Who knows. But the intuition is sound: you cannot decimate and demoralize an agency and then expect it to move regulatory mountains.
When Meador was appointed, Tyler Cowen summed things up nicely, concluding that he “is just flat out terrible,” including for his inability to maintain “a basic level of professionalism.” Is he lonely at the top? With the agency hollowed out, Meador may be a king without a throne. One can only hope that his capacity for mischief will be constrained by the wreckage below.
Corbin K. Barthold is Internet Policy Counsel at TechFreedom. Republished with permission from Policy & Palimpsests