Following years of litigation, Canadian “patent monetization” firm WiLAN has signed a licensing agreement with Apple. With the deal, the two companies have settled all court cases that were ongoing between them in the US, Canada and Germany related to a series of wireless technology patents. The terms of the agreement were not disclosed.

WiLAN’s dispute with Apple dates back to 2014 when the two companies went to court over two patents WiLAN claimed covered voice over LTE technologies featured in a variety of iPhone models at the time. Before today’s announcement, the most recent development in the dispute was that a jury reduced the damages Apple had been ordered to pay in 2018 from $145.1 million to $85.2 million. The decision came after a judge ordered a retrial after agreeing with Apple that WiLAN had used a flawed process to calculate the size of the damages owed to it by the iPhone-maker.

While this saga has come to a close, we don’t expect it will be the last time Apple and WiLAN lock horns. As something of a notorious patent troll, WiLAN has sued Apple a handful of times in the past, sometimes to mixed results. As one of the successful smartphone designers in the mobile industry, Apple makes for a seemingly irresistible target.

Following years of litigation, Canadian “patent monetization” firm WiLAN has signed a licensing agreement with Apple. With the deal, the two companies have settled all court cases that were ongoing between them in the US, Canada and Germany related to a series of wireless technology patents. The terms of the agreement were not disclosed.

WiLAN’s dispute with Apple dates back to 2014 when the two companies went to court over two patents WiLAN claimed covered voice over LTE technologies featured in a variety of iPhone models at the time. Before today’s announcement, the most recent development in the dispute was that a jury reduced the damages Apple had been ordered to pay in 2018 from $145.1 million to $85.2 million. The decision came after a judge ordered a retrial after agreeing with Apple that WiLAN had used a flawed process to calculate the size of the damages owed to it by the iPhone-maker.

While this saga has come to a close, we don’t expect it will be the last time Apple and WiLAN lock horns. As something of a notorious patent troll, WiLAN has sued Apple a handful of times in the past, sometimes to mixed results. As one of the successful smartphone designers in the mobile industry, Apple makes for a seemingly irresistible target.

Public companies would be required to disclose greenhouse gas emissions they produce under new rules proposed by the US Securities and Exchange Commission. The move is part of the Biden government's push to identify climate risks and cut emissions as much as 52 percent by 2030. The SEC's three Democratic commissioners voted to approve the proposal, while Republican commissioner Hester M. Peirce voted against it.

"I am pleased to support today’s proposal because, if adopted, it would provide investors with consistent, comparable, and decision-useful information for making their investment decisions, and it would provide consistent and clear reporting obligations for issuers," said SEC Chair Gary Gensler.

Under the new rule, companies would need to explain how climate risks would affect their operations and strategies. They'd be required to share the emissions they generate and larger companies would need to have those numbers confirmed by independent consulting firms. They'd also need to disclose indirect emissions generated by supplies and customers if those are "material" to their climate goals. 

In addition, any companies that have made public promises to reduce their carbon footprint would need to explain how they plan to meet those goals. That includes the use of carbon offsets like planting trees, which have been criticized as being a poor substitute for actually slashing emissions, as Greenpeace said in a recent report. 

The SEC already allows for voluntary emissions guidance, but the new rules would make it mandatory. Many companies like Ford already share emissions date from factory production as well as vehicle fuel usage. However, "there are lots of companies that won't do it unless it's mandatory," task force chief Mary Schapiro told The Washington Post ahead of the report's release. 

After the proposed rule is published on the SEC's website, the public will have 60 days to comment. The final rule will likely head to a vote in several months, and would be phased in over several years. The ruling will likely be challenged in court by Republicans in states like West Virginia, along with business groups, on the grounds that climate change is not a material issue for investors in the near future. 

However, experts have warned that time is of the essence. The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) recently issued a report stating that many of the impacts of global warming are "irreversible" and that there's only a brief window of time to avoid the worst. UN Secretary General Antonio Guterres called it a "damning indictment of failed climate leadership." 

The US Department of Justice has accused Google of training its employees on how to shield business communications from discovery in cases of legal disputes "by using false requests for legal advice." As Axios reports, the DOJ has told the judge overseeing its antitrust case against the tech giant that Google instructs employees to add in-house lawyers to written communication, apply attorney-client privilege labels to them and make a request for legal advice even when it's not needed. The department is now asking the judge to sanction the company "for its extensive and intentional efforts to misuse the attorney-client privilege to hide business documents relevant" to the case.

In the brief (PDF) its lawyers wrote for the judge, the DOJ said Google refers to the practice as "Communicate with Care" and that it first started no later than 2015. New employees are reportedly directed to follow the practice without discussion on whether it should only be used when legal advice is truly needed. In addition, Google allegedly provided the same training to teams handling search-distribution for the department's (and other authorities') antitrust cases. 

Google specifically told those teams to follow the practice for any written communication containing revenue-sharing agreements and mobile application distribution agreements, based on the presentation slides the DOJ included in its brief. Those agreements are central to the case. If you'll recall, the DOJ accused Google of having an unfair monopoly over search and search-related advertising in its 2020 antitrust lawsuit. It also questioned its terms for Android device manufacturers that force them to pre-load Google apps and set Google as the default search engine. 

According to the DOJ, statements such as "adding legal" or "adding [attorney] for legal advice" appear in thousands of Google documents. These emails apparently lacked any specific request for advice and attorneys rarely respond to them. In the brief, the department said the practice "pervades the entire company" and is being used even by Alphabet CEO Sundar Pichai.

The DOJ is now asking the court to hold Google's conduct as sanctionable and to order it to immediately produce "all withheld or redacted emails where no attorney responded to the purported request for legal advice."

Google spokesperson Julie Tarallo McAlister defended the company in a statement sent to Axios, however, calling the allegations "flatly wrong." McAlister said:

"Our teams have conscientiously worked for years to respond to inquiries and litigation, and suggestions to the contrary are flatly wrong. Just like other American companies, we educate our employees about legal privilege and when to seek legal advice. And we have produced over four million documents to the DOJ in this case alone — including many that employees had considered potentially privileged."

A new lawsuit against Google accuses the company of fostering a "racially biased corporate culture" that offers Black employees lower pay and fewer opportunities to advance than their white counterparts, reports Reuters. Filed on Friday with a federal court in San Jose, California, the complaint alleges the company subjected former diversity recruiter April Curley and other current and former Black employees to a hostile work environment.

In 2014, Google hired Curley to design a program to connect the company with Black colleges. Shortly afterward, she claims she was subjected to denigrating comments from her managers, who allegedly stereotyped her as an "angry" black woman while passing her over for promotions.

"While Google claims that they were looking to increase diversity, they were actually undervaluing, underpaying and mistreating their Black employees," Curley's lawyer told Reuters. The complaint notes Black people make up only 4.4 percent of employees at Google and approximately 3 percent of its leadership.

We've reached out to Google for comment.

Curley is not the first person to accuse Google of fostering a work environment hostile to Black employees and other people of color. In the aftermath of Timnit Gebru's controversial exit from the company, Alex Hanna, a former employee with the tech giant's Ethical AI research group, said she decided to leave Google after becoming tired of its structural deficiencies. "In a word, tech has a whiteness problem," Hanna wrote on Medium at the time. "Google is not just a tech organization. Google is a white tech organization."

On Friday, the Superior Court of the District of Columbia threw out a complaint that Attorney General Karl Racine had filed against Amazon accusing the retailer of anticompetitive behavior, according to The Wall Street Journal. Last June, Racine’s office alleged that Amazon had used a variety of contract provisions to prevent third-party sellers from offering their wares for less elsewhere.

“We believe that the Superior Court got this wrong, and its oral ruling did not seem to consider the detailed allegations in the complaint, the full scope of the anticompetitive agreements, the extensive briefing and a recent decision of a federal court to allow a nearly identical lawsuit to move forward,” a spokesperson for the attorney general told the outlet.

At the center of Racine’s suit was Amazon’s Fair Pricing Policy. In 2019, amid antitrust scrutiny, the company stopped telling third-party sellers they couldn’t offer their wares at lower prices on competing marketplaces. The complaint alleged that Amazon added a near-identical clause under its Fair Pricing Policy. The suit said that those guidelines allow the company to impose sanctions on merchants that sell their products for less money elsewhere.

When Racine's office first filed its complaint, Amazon argued that many retailers employ pricing restrictions in their contracts. “The DC Attorney General has it exactly backwards — sellers set their own prices for the products they offer in our store," a spokesperson for the company told Engadget at the time. “Amazon takes pride in the fact that we offer low prices across the broadest selection, and like any store we reserve the right not to highlight offers to customers that are not priced competitively. The relief the AG seeks would force Amazon to feature higher prices to customers, oddly going against core objectives of antitrust law.”

Racine’s office said it was weighing whether to appeal the ruling. “We are considering our legal options and we’ll continue fighting to develop reasoned antitrust jurisprudence in our local courts and to hold Amazon accountable for using its concentrated power to unfairly tilt the playing field in its favor,” it told The Journal.

SHANGHAI (Reuters) - Tesla is suspending production at its Shanghai factory for two days, according to a notice sent internally and to suppliers, as China tightens COVID restrictions to curb the country's latest outbreak. 

The Shanghai factory runs around the clock, and suppliers and Tesla staff were told on Wednesday in the notice, reviewed by Reuters, that production would be suspended for Wednesday and Thursday. 

It did not give a reason for the stoppage at the plant, also known as the Gigafactory 3, which makes the Tesla Model 3 sedan and the Model Y crossover sport utility vehicle. 

Many cities across China, including Shanghai, have been rolling out strict movement controls to stem the country's largest COVID-19 outbreak in two years. The measures have also caused factory shutdowns in parts of the country, putting pressure on supply chains. 

Tesla did not have immediate comment. 

Its Shanghai factory produces cars for the China market and is also a crucial export hub to Germany and Japan. It delivered 56,515 vehicles in February, including 33,315 for export, according to the China Passenger Car Association. 

That amounts to an average of around 2,018 vehicles a day. 

It was not immediately clear whether the suspension of work would apply to other plant operations over the two days. 

Two people briefed on the notice said they understood it applied to Tesla's general assembly lines. They declined to be identified because the information was not public. 

The notice did not specify whether the measures would correspond to a loss of production, or whether Tesla could make up for any lost output. 

Authorities in Shanghai have asked many residents not to leave their homes or work places for 48 hours to as long as 14 days as they conduct COVID tests or carry out contact tracing. 

In a separate notice issued on Wednesday that was also seen by Reuters, Tesla asked suppliers to estimate how many workers were needed to achieve full production and to provide details of workers affected by COVID restrictions. 

It also asked suppliers to prepare workers to live, sleep and eat at the factories in an arrangement similar to China's "closed-loop management" process. Apple supplier Foxconn was allowed to resume some operations at its Shenzhen campus on Wednesday after it set up such an arrangement. 

Tesla was alerted by one supplier last weekend that its production had been affected by COVID measures, said a person familiar with the matter. That supplier told Tesla that its stockpiles could only last for two days, the person said. 

Any protracted China lockdowns will further rattle Asian supply chains, OCBC economist Wellian Wiranto said in a research note, noting the southern manufacturing hub of Shenzhen alone produces 11% of China's exports. 

  (Reporting by Zhang Yan and Brenda Goh; Editing by Kenneth Maxwell and Kim Coghill) 

Several organizations in Russia have found themselves locked out of their Slack accounts without notice, according to Axios. The Salesforce-owned business messaging app has started cutting off Russian users from its platform to comply with international sanctions against the country, as well as with the policies its parent company implemented following the invasion of Ukraine. Axios said it was mostly organizations directly affected by the sanctions that were locked out and that the terms of the restrictions against them require an immediate cutoff.

Since Slack serves as companies' main internal form of communication and can also be used to share files within organizations, it typically hosts a lot of important data for its customers. The organizations that suddenly lost access to their accounts may have also lost the chance to download their data, unless they'd prepared for the possibility of getting locked out. 

Salesforce published a statement earlier this month that it's exiting business in Russia, after all. The company said that it has a very small number of customers in the country and that it had already started exiting those relationships the week before. In a statement, Slack told Axios:

"Slack is required to take action to comply with sanctions regulations in the U.S. and other countries where we operate, including in some circumstances suspending accounts without prior notice, as mandated by law. We are in contact with affected customers regarding the impact of these actions on their account status, where permitted by law."

While Slack isn't deleting data owned by the Russian customers it suspended, the sanctioned organizations also won't have access to their data until the sanctions affecting them are lifted.

Ireland's Data Protection Commission has fined Meta €17 million ($18.6 million) over 12 data breaches. It said the company violated several articles of the European Union's General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) by failing "to have in place appropriate technical and organizational measures which would enable it to readily demonstrate the security measures that it implemented in practice to protect EU users' data."

The DPC received the data breach notifications from Meta between June and December 2018. Before announcing the fine, it consulted with other European authorities under GDPR guidelines, as the investigation was related to “cross-border” processing.

“This fine is about record keeping practices from 2018 that we have since updated, not a failure to protect people's information," a Meta spokesperson told Engadget. "We take our obligations under the GDPR seriously, and will carefully consider this decision as our processes continue to evolve.”

The fine is a drop in the ocean for Meta, which raked in $32.6 billion in ad revenue last quarter alone. The penalty pales in comparison with a $267 million fine the DPC imposed last year after it determined Meta app WhatsApp failed to comply with GDPR transparency rules. The regulator has investigated Meta over other data-related issues.

Americans pay two and a half times more for their prescription drugs than residents of any other nation on Earth. Though generic versions of popular compounds accounted for 84 percent of America's annual sales volume in 2021, they only generated 12 percent of the actual dollars spent. The rest of the money pays for branded drugs — Lipitor, Zestril, Accuneb, Vicodin, Prozac — and we have the Reagan Administration in part to thank for that. In the excerpt below from Owning the Sun: A People's History of Monopoly Medicine from Aspirin to COVID-19 Vaccines, a fascinating look at the long, infuriating history of public research being exploited for private profit, author Alexander Zaitchik recounts former President Reagan's court-packing antics from the early 1980s that helped cement lucrative monopolies on name-brand drugs.

Counterpoint Press

Copyright © 2022 by Alexander Zaitchik, from Owning the Sun: A People's History of Monopoly Medicine from Aspirin to COVID-19 Vaccines. Reprinted by permission of Counterpoint Press.

When Estes Kefauver died in 1963, he was writing a book about monopoly power called In a Few Hands. Early into Reagan’s first term, the industry must have been tempted to publish a gloating retort titled In a Few Years. Between 1979 and 1981, the drug companies did more than break the stalemate of the 1960s and ’70s — they smashed it wide open. Stevenson-Wydler and Bayh-Dole replaced the Kennedy policy with a functioning framework for the high-speed transfer of public science into private hands. As the full machinery was built out, the industry-funded echo chamber piped a constant flow of memes into the culture: patents alone drive innovation... R&D requires monopoly pricing... progress and American competitiveness depend on it... there is no other way...

In December 1981, the drug companies celebrated another long-sought victory when Congress created a federal court devoted to settling patent disputes. Previously, patent disputes were heard in the districts where they originated. The problem, from industry’s perspective, was the presence of so many staunch New Deal judges in key regions like New York’s Second Circuit. These lifetime judges often understood patent challenges not as threats to property rights, but as opportunities to enforce antitrust law. Local circuit judges appointed by Republicans could also be dangerously old-fashioned in their interpretations of the “novelty” standard. By contrast, the judges on the new patent court, named the Court of Appeals for the Federal Circuit, were appointed by the president. Reagan stuffed its bench with corporate patent lawyers and conservative legal scholars influenced by the Johnny Appleseed of the Law and Economics movement, Robert Bork. Prior to 1982, federal district judges rejected around two-thirds of patent claims; the Court of Appeals has since decided two-thirds of all cases in favor of patent claims. Reagan’s first appointee, Pauline Newman, was the former lead patent counsel for the chemical firm FMC.

The Supreme Court also contributed to the industry’s 1979–1981 run of wins. When Reagan entered office, one of the great scientific-legal unknowns involved the patentability of modified genes. Similar to the uncertainty around the postwar antibiotics market—settled in the industry’s favor by the 1952 Patents Act — the uncertainty threatened the monopoly dreams of the emergent biotechnology sector. The U.S. Patent Office was against patenting modified genes. In 1979, its officers twice rejected an attempt by a General Electric microbiologist to patent a modified bacterium invented to assist in oil spill cleanups. The GE scientist, Ananda Chakrabarty, sued the Patent Office, and in the winter of 1980 Diamond v. Chakrabarty landed before the Supreme Court. In a 5–4 decision written by Warren Burger, the Court overruled the U.S. Patent Office and ruled that modified genes were patentable, as was “anything under the sun that is made by man.” The decision was greeted with audible exhales by the players in the Bayh-Dole alliance. “Chakrabarty was the game changer that provided academic entrepreneurs and venture capitalists the protection they were waiting for,” says economist Öner Tulum. “It paved the way for a more expansive commercialization of science.”

But the industry knew better than to relax. It understood that political victories could be impermanent and fragile, and it had the scar tissue to prove it. Uniquely profitable, uniquely hated, and thus uniquely vulnerable — the companies could not afford to forget that their fantastic postwar wealth and power depended on the maintenance of artificial monopolies resting on dubious if not indefensible ethical and economic arguments that were rejected by every other country on earth. In the United States, home to their biggest profit margins, danger lurked behind every corner in the form of the next crusading senator eager to train years of unwanted attention on these facts. Not even Bayh-Dole, that precious newborn legislation, could be taken for granted. This mode of permanent crisis was validated by the return of a familiar menace in the early 1980s. Of all things, it was the generics industry, an old but weak enemy of the patent-based drug companies, that reappeared and threatened to ruin their celebration of achieving dominance over every corner of medical research and the billions of public dollars flowing through it.

***

As late as the 1930s, there was no “generic” drug industry to speak of. There were only big drug companies and small ones, some with stature, others obscure. They both sold products that were, in the parlance of ethical medicine, “nonproprietary.” To be listed in the United States Pharmacopeia and National Formulary, the official bibles of prescribable medicines, drugs could only carry scientific names; the essential properties of a good scientific name, according to the first edition of the Pharmacopeia, were “expressiveness, brevity, and dissimilarity.” The naming of drugs and medicines formed the other half of the patent taboo: branding a drug evidenced the same knavishness and greed as monopolizing one. The rules of “ethical marketing” did permit products to include an institutional affiliation—Parke-Davis Cannabis Indica Extract, or Squibb Digitalis Tincture—but the names of the medicines themselves (cannabis, digitalis) did not vary. “The generic name emerged as a parallel form of social property belonging to all that resisted commodification and thereby came to occupy a central place in debates about monopoly rights,” writes Joseph Gabriel.

As with patents on scientific medicine, the Germans gave the U.S. drug industry early instruction in the use of trademarks to entrench market control. Hoechst and Bayer broke every rule of so-called ethical marketing, aggressively advertising their breakthrough drugs under trademarks like Aspirin, Heroin, and Novocain. The idea was to twine these names and the things they described in the public mind so tightly, the brand name would secure a de facto monopoly long after the patent expired.

The strategy worked, but the German firms did not reap the benefits. The wartime Office of Alien Property redistributed the German patents and trademarks among domestic firms who produced competing versions of aspirin, creating the first “branded generic.” During the patent taboo’s extended death rattle of the interwar years, more U.S. companies waded into the use of original trademarks to suppress competition. As they experimented with German tactics to avoid “genericide” — the loss of markets after patent expiration — they were enabled by court decisions that transformed trademarks into forms of hard property, similar to the way patents were reconceived in the 1830s.

After World War II, branding and monopoly formed the two-valve heart of a post-ethical growth strategy. The industry’s incredible postwar success — between 1939 and 1959, drug profits soared from $300 million to $2.3 billion — was fueled in large part by expanding the German playbook. While branding monopolies with trade names, the industry initiated campaigns to ruin the reputations of scientifically identical but competing products. The goal was the “scandalization” of generic drugs, writes historian Jeremy Greene. The drug companies “worked methodically to moralize and sensationalize generic dispensing as a dangerous and subversive practice. Dispensing a non-branded product in place of a brand-name product was cast as ‘counterfeiting’; the act of substituting a cheaper version of a drug at the pharmacy was described as ‘beguilement,’ ‘connivance,’ ‘misrepresentation,’ ‘fraudulent,’ ‘unethical’ and ‘immoral.’”

As with patenting, it was the drug companies that dragged organized medicine with them into the post-ethical future. As late as 1955, the AMA’s Council on Pharmacy and Chemistry maintained a ban on advertisements for branded products in its Journal. That changed the year Equanil hit the market, opening the age of branded prescription drugs as a leading source of income for medical journals and associations. “Clinical journals and newer ‘throwaway’ promotional media now teemed with advertisements for Terramycin, Premarin, and Diuril rather than oxytetracycline (Pfizer), conjugated equine estrogens (Wyeth) or chlorothiazide (Merck),” writes Greene. In 1909, only one in ten prescription drugs carried a brand name. By 1969, the ratio had flipped, with only one in ten marketed under its scientific name. In another echo of the patent controversy, the rise of marketing and branded drugs produced division and resistance. By the mid-1950s, an alliance of so-called nomenclature reformers arose to decry trademarks as unscientific handmaidens of monopoly and call for a return to the use of scientific names. These reformers — doctors, pharmacists, labor leaders — made regular appearances before the Kefauver committee beginning in 1959. Their testimony on how the industry used trademarks to suppress competition informed a section in Kefauver’s original bill requiring doctors to use scientific names in all prescriptions. The proposed law reflected the norms that reigned during ethical medicine’s heyday, and would have allowed doctors to recommend firms, but not their branded products. Like most of Kefauver’s core proposals, however, the generic clause was excised. The only trademark-related reform in the final Kefauver-Harris Amendments placed limits on companies’ ability to rebrand and market old medicines as new breakthroughs.