Part 9. The Seizure of the Brand. The Name as Hostage

Reading the Platform — Part 9 of 21.

Two holes in the wall of 1996 have been examined. Anderson v. TikTok — about the algorithm as the platform’s speech. Retaliation — about a motive lying outside moderation.

The third hole is of a different nature. It isn’t about the platform’s action. It’s about what remains after the action.

When the platform bans an author, the account disappears. The name does not. The handle under which an author’s blog was written for months stays in the system. Subscribers remember that name. The platform’s search finds that name. External links lead to that name. And the platform keeps disposing of that name as it pleases.

This is called brand capture. And in the legal sense it is a separate claim.

What a handle actually is

A handle is not just a string of letters. It is a node in a web of connections.

Bound to the handle are: subscribers (names in a database), an archive (posts with metadata), recommendations from other blogs (inbound links), mentions in comments (outbound links), positions in category rankings (a history of metrics), external links (articles, posts, discussions off the platform that lead to that handle).

All of this is an integrated digital entity. It has a name — the handle. One name, many layers.

When the platform disables an author, it disables the author’s access to that entity. But the entity itself does not vanish. It keeps existing inside the platform’s infrastructure.

And the platform keeps disposing of it.

Three fates of a handle after a ban

First. The platform holds the handle frozen. The page for the handle returns “account suspended” or “404.” Search engines see this. External links lead into a void. The author’s brand degrades gradually — the outside world forgets.

Second. The platform releases the handle. After a while — usually 30 days to 6 months — the handle becomes available for registration. Someone else can come and register that handle. Without verification. Without the prior owner’s consent. Without notice. The new owner gets the name with all its external links — but without the audience.

Third. The platform uses the handle itself. Rarer, but it happens: the page bound to the name turns into redirects, into marketing material, into platform pages. The author’s name becomes part of the platform’s infrastructure.

In all three cases the author has no say. The name is the platform’s property, by its Terms of Use.

The legal nature of a handle

The key question: what is a handle from the standpoint of law?

Two competing answers.

The platform’s answer. A handle is a user login. An account. A service the platform provides at its discretion. The Terms of Use say exactly this: “User accounts are provided as a service. We may terminate accounts at any time.” This is contractual language. By it, a handle is not the author’s property but access to the platform’s service.

The platform states this directly. Asked in its own support channel what happens to a handle after a ban, the platform answered that a handle is “kept… only while the publication/profile remains active” — meaning that once the platform deactivates the publication, the name no longer stays with the author. The platform treats the handle as its service, not the author’s property.

The court’s answer (a growing line). A handle is the author’s protected intangible property. Not just a login. An identifier into which the author invested time, effort, and reputation. An audience and a reputation are tied to it. Loss of the handle is loss of property.

The second answer rests on precedents of the U.S. Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals.

The key case — Kremen v. Cohen (2003). A dispute over the domain name sex.com. The court then formulated: a domain name is intangible property. The doctrine of conversion applies to it — the doctrine of taking another’s property. If a third party seizes the domain, that is a conversion claim. Not “breach of contract with the registrar,” but conversion — a standalone tort.

Since Kremen, the doctrine has been discussed for other digital assets — social-media accounts, corporate Twitter pages, streamers’ handles. A full public precedent directly applying conversion to a social handle on a blogging platform at the level of the platform in question does not yet exist. This is a forming theory, resting on a settled doctrine.

The key argument in its favor: there is no fundamental difference between a domain name and a social handle. Both are intangible identifiers with attached reputational and commercial value. If the first is property, the second should be property too.

The platform’s counterargument will cite the Terms of Use — “a user account is a service provided at our discretion.” In contractual language this works. But conversion is tort law; it is not subject to the contract. If a court recognizes a handle as intangible property, a contractual clause does not cancel that.

This is an argument that will have to be tested in court. Not “winning by default,” but viable — based on a standard doctrine extended to a new category of assets.

What this changes

Three fundamental shifts.

First. Conversion is a tort, not a breach of contract. This matters. Breach of contract is governed by the arbitration clause. If the claim is about breach of contract, it goes to JAMS, in San Francisco, by the rules described in Part 3. The tort of conversion is outside the contract. It is a claim that can go to an ordinary court at the plaintiff’s place of residence.

Second. Section 230 does not extend to conversion. The 1996 immunity operates in the realm of “decisions about publishing content.” A conversion claim is not a publishing claim. It is a claim about withholding or alienating intangible property. A different jurisdiction, a different logic.

Third. It is grounds for an injunction. Not merely a claim for damages. An injunction — barring the platform from releasing the handle to third parties until the dispute is resolved. This is a strong instrument. It keeps the author’s name frozen until the dispute ends, depriving the platform of the ability to “solve the problem” by simply giving the name to someone else.

Where this already worked

Kremen v. Cohen (Ninth Circuit, 2003). The base case. The doctrine of conversion applied to intangible digital assets — domain names.

Twitter-account cases in business sales and departing employees (2010s). Several commercial disputes over ownership of a corporate Twitter account. Courts framed the handle as “property tied to the owner’s investment,” not “the employer’s service.” Full public rulings in most such cases stayed at the settlement stage, but the logic of recognizing a handle as property is visible.

Legal commentary, 2024. After Moody v. NetChoice and Anderson v. TikTok, academic literature and legal reviews record a direction: a handle is the user’s property more than the platform’s service. A full precedent on a ban at this platform is not yet formed, but the movement of the doctrine is visible.

This is a forming area. A specific claim on this ground against the platform has not yet won publicly. But the logic is standard and rests on the settled Ninth Circuit doctrine.

Where this hole is not yet formed

An honest assessment.

The conversion doctrine applied to handles on writers’ blogging platforms is a forming area. Kremen was about domain names. Extending it to platform handles is an argument that will have to be proven.

The platform may cite its Terms of Use, which say “user accounts are a service we provide at our discretion.” In contractual language this works. But conversion is tort law; it is not subject to the contract. If a court recognizes a handle as intangible property, a contractual clause does not cancel it.

This is, for now, a theory and not a decided ruling about this platform. But the theory rests on the standard Ninth Circuit doctrine.

What to do if you write on the platform right now

First. Document your investment in the handle. When you registered the name. How many posts you published under it. Which external links lead to it. When mentions in the press or other blogs occurred. This is material proof of “investment in the name.”

Second. Keep copies of external links to your handle. If someone on a site wrote “read this handle,” save a screenshot. If your account is mentioned elsewhere — save it. These mentions prove the handle is a node in a web, not just a string.

Third. When you discover the handle is frozen — record the dates. When the page stopped opening. When it returned “404” or “account suspended.” This is the basic time marker for a future injunction claim.

Fourth. Do not surrender rights to the name in exchange for restoration. Sometimes platforms offer “you get the account back, but we reserve the right to reuse the name in the future.” This is a legal waiver of rights to the name, hidden in the wording. Do not sign without a lawyer.

What this part shows

The third hole in the wall of 1996.

The first was about the algorithm. The second — about motive. The third — about the property nature of the handle.

These three holes do not duplicate each other. They add up to three independent claims, each with its own logic.

The platform is shielded by Section 230 from claims about its moderation. But it is not shielded:

— From claims about algorithmic decisions, after Anderson.

— From claims about revenge, under the standard retaliation doctrine.

— From claims about conversion of intangible property, under the Kremen v. Cohen doctrine and its extensions.

Each is a separate front. Each with its own precedents. Each with its own jurisdiction.

Four holes remain. The next — the author’s copyright in their own comments and correspondence.

— Lintara

Next: Comments and Correspondence. An author’s texts written in comments, in chat, in direct messages, in notes — are protected intellectual property. When the platform deletes them en masse along with the account, that is copyright infringement. Section 230 does not shield against copyright claims.

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