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Late on the night of January 17, a 500-member merchants’ group received a shocking message confirming TikTok’s ban. The message was accompanied by several screenshots of foreign media reports. The group erupted in chaos as questions, doubts, and discussions flooded the chat. The rapid exchange of messages was soon overshadowed by an even stronger wave of emotions.
One merchant tried to counter the bad news by sharing optimistic updates, referencing remarks by the Biden administration suggesting a deferral of enforcement to US President Donald Trump, who had indicated his willingness to lift the ban.
However, rebuttals quickly followed. Some members pointed out the distinction between enforcement and implementation, emphasizing that while future developments remained uncertain, the immediate implications of the ban were undeniable.
The group soon spiraled into arguments, veering away from the incident itself. The conversation ended on a sour note with insults, as one frustrated merchant who had failed to find a silver lining lashed out: “Who do you think you are?”
Earlier that day in the US, the Supreme Court ruled that the divest-or-ban act targeting TikTok did not violate the nation’s First Amendment.
This outcome had been hinted at during the court’s debate a week prior.
Rewind to a week earlier, on January 10 at 3:00 a.m, a line had already formed outside the courthouse. In freezing, snow-laden conditions, people waited seven hours for a chance to secure one of the 50 public seats available in the courtroom.
For law students, this was an unprecedented, landmark debate. But for TikTok and the merchants whose survival depended on the platform, it was a life-or-death moment.
Representing TikTok was Noel Francisco, a seasoned litigator and former solicitor general during Trump’s first stint as president. During the hearing, Francisco confidently argued that the divest-or-ban act failed to meet any legal scrutiny, was excessively broad, and ignored less restrictive alternatives. He urged the court to preliminarily block the act so that the matter could be fully considered.
However, his composed demeanor quickly gave way under intense questioning. The justices interrupted repeatedly, pressing him about congressional concerns that China might manipulate TikTok’s content or collect US citizens’ data. Issues of national security weighed heavier than considerations of free speech.
Over the following week, stakeholders clung to fleeting hopes as new information emerged. For one, TikTok CEO Shou Zi Chew was invited to attend President Trump’s inauguration.
However, circumstances quickly took a turn. The Supreme Court ultimately upheld the ban, a decision that legal experts familiar with US jurisprudence described as nearly final.
At around 8:50 p.m. EST on January 18, TikTok began sending shutdown notifications to users. Merchants received similar alerts, informing them that TikTok Shop would cease operations on January 19. An employee at a cross-border e-commerce company lamented, “It’s really like someone pressed the pause button.”
The impact extended beyond TikTok. Users soon noticed that ByteDance’s other apps, including CapCut, Lemon8, Gauth, and Hypic, had also sent notifications announcing their suspension of services in the US.
At this point, the only faint glimmer of hope rested on Trump, who issued the original executive order to ban and sell TikTok over four years ago.
On the night of January 19, after learning of the court’s verdict, Trump released a lengthy statement vowing to prevent TikTok from shutting down. He announced plans to issue a new order after taking office to delay enforcement of the act. This delay, he suggested, would create a window to negotiate the sale of TikTok’s US operations. Trump also assured service providers on the platform that they would not face any liability for supporting efforts to keep TikTok online in the US.
However, sources close to TikTok could not confirm that an agreement had been reached with the US government.
TikTok responded eagerly on social media shortly after Trump’s announcement. However, skepticism lingered. Not all US states resumed services immediately. TikTok was still unavailable on Apple’s iOS App Store, and live streaming features remained disabled. Even though Trump had reversed many of Biden’s executive orders shortly after taking office, one inescapable reality remained: the TikTok divest-or-ban act was no longer an executive order but a law. Trump now faced two difficult options: push for a sale or draft new legislation—both of which posed significant challenges.
A crisis few noticed
In May 2024, Zeng Fanzhou and his partner, both experienced TikTok operators, saw the platform as a golden opportunity and launched their business on TikTok Shop in the US market. They viewed TikTok as being in its prime, offering ample rewards for early entrants.
This optimism persisted despite TikTok facing continued waves of scrutiny. In March and April 2024, the US Congress overwhelmingly passed the Protecting Americans from Foreign Adversaries Act (PAFACA), colloquially known as TikTok’s divest-or-ban act, which was swiftly signed into law. The entire process took just over a month.
“At the time, we were all optimistic,” Zeng said. “We knew there was zero chance it would actually happen.” He likened the situation to entertainment rather than a genuine threat, citing TikTok’s resilience in past battles, including Trump’s failed attempt to ban the platform.
Indeed, in the first half of 2024, TikTok Shop merchants in the US enjoyed abundant traffic and supportive policies, leading to a period of significant growth. At its peak, Zeng’s store generated nearly USD 10,000 in daily gross merchandise value (GMV) with a team of fewer than 10 people—a period he described as “heady times.”
Most merchants, like Zeng, were undeterred by regulatory noise. Andre, one of TikTok Shop’s earliest sellers in the US, initially split his GMV evenly between TikTok Shop and Temu. By October 2024, however, he went “all-in” on TikTok, drawn by the platform’s lenient compliance standards.
To support the Black Friday shopping surge, TikTok Shop relaxed its merchant onboarding requirements. In November 2024, TikTok’s US cross-border store updated its policies, allowing merchants with local inventory and business licenses to apply without needing to prove prior e-commerce platform experience. On November 29, TikTok Shop announced that its US sales exceeded USD 100 million on Black Friday, signaling a prosperous outlook.
Yet, as rumors of a ban grew louder, merchants and creators began to shift strategies. Over the past two months, Heizi, a popular TikTok Shop live stream host, intentionally redirected her live streams to focus on personal branding, hoping to cultivate a loyal following for future independent ventures. “Right now, the accounts I’m working on gain traction in just three days. Within a week, TikTok officials are reaching out for collaboration. It’s a great opportunity to deepen my partnership with TikTok as an independent creator rather than an employee of a company,” she said. She also hinted at future plans to pivot into becoming a social media influencer or content creator in the US market.
As late as December 2024, TikTok employees were still posting about new job offers on social media, dismissing questions like “Isn’t TikTok getting banned?” with quick rebuttals: “Offers for May are already being extended.”
But by January, anxiety was beginning to spread. On January 10, during the FGVCon hosted by FastMoss, the largest third-party data platform for TikTok, the conference venue was packed to capacity. Every presentation by influencers, merchants, and service providers drew large crowds, with attendees overflowing into the hallways.
While the event appeared celebratory, whispers of the impending ban became impossible to ignore. TikTok’s partner service providers had prepared standardized responses to quell uncertainty, stating that they can’t predict what the platform will do, but that work will carry on as usual.
The same sense of routine persisted within TikTok’s offices. Despite mounting concerns, employees were focused on wrapping up annual reviews and hitting performance targets. According to an insider, some local staff opted to leave the company preemptively, while others awaited lucrative severance packages. Managers tried to offer reassurance, alluding to a transition period even if the ban is enforced.
Pressing pause
On January 10, Zeng was chatting with his partner in their office when their phones simultaneously buzzed with breaking news: the Supreme Court had upheld the TikTok ban. Their conversation abruptly halted, and the room fell silent.
Just two hours earlier, they had wired over RMB 100,000 (USD 14,000) to a factory for inventory production. Meanwhile, their US warehouse was already stocked with over RMB 500,000 (USD 70,000) worth of goods. For the first time, Zeng seriously contemplated their options if TikTok were to be banned. Snapping out of the shock, he gathered his team for an afternoon-long meeting to brainstorm strategies.
From January 10 onward, the flow of TikTok-related news became relentless, amplified by social media algorithms and fueling everyone’s apprehension. Heizi admitted to wanting to avoid the news altogether but found it impossible as the updates kept coming. “I tried not to think about it, but I couldn’t escape it. I had to start planning an alternative, but the more I thought, the more anxious I became,” she said.
The anxiety wasn’t limited to creators. Customers began asking if they would still receive their orders if TikTok was banned. Merchants hesitated to restock, betting on a resolution but unwilling to take large risks.
Kimberly Rhoades, a TikTok creator with 3 million followers, posted a 30-second video on January 17 singing Taps, a song traditionally played at military funerals. She captioned it, “It was an honor making you laugh.”
In a mix of anger and despair, TikTok’s users and creators flocked to Chinese platforms like Xiaohongshu (also known as RedNote) and Lemon8, catapulting both apps to the top of the Apple app store’s download rankings. This unexpected migration symbolized a rare moment of cross-cultural exchange, born out of shared frustration with the US government.
The wheels of time continued to turn, indifferent to the shock or sadness felt by those affected. Various stakeholders began preparing contingency plans to navigate the crisis. For many, the immediate response was to “press pause.”
Starting January 10, Zeng ceased collaborations with influencers and halted new store or account launches. Similarly, TikTok creators all but disappeared from the platform. Multiple merchants told 36Kr that influencers had become far less responsive since January 10, making it nearly impossible to find reliable collaborators.
Some merchants had anticipated the crisis earlier. An established seller on Amazon and Shopee began scaling back TikTok investments over a month ago, cutting their monthly GMV on TikTok Shop from over USD 1 million to around USD 300,000. The company also reduced advertising spend on TikTok by 30% as part of its broader strategy to shift resources.
Inly Media, a marketing agency that helps Chinese brands expand overseas, narrowly avoided major disruptions thanks to its diversified platform resources. Recently, its business manager, Tan Kaiyang, secured a million-dollar client, earmarking 20–40% of the budget for TikTok. However, with uncertainty surrounding the platform, the client decided to delay the allocation of funds until after the Lunar New Year.
Despite the prevailing caution, some merchants took a counterintuitive approach, accelerating their activities in a bid to minimize losses. Zeng ramped up advertising efforts to sell off existing inventory before the ban took effect. While it was possible to transition to other platforms, the operational differences made such a pivot far from certain.
Andre, meanwhile, took an even riskier approach. He listed nearly 1,000 SKUs on TikTok Shop, a dramatic expansion fraught with legal risks. Many of the items were likely to violate IP laws, but with the ban imminent, he decided to prioritize immediate sales over long-term consequences. “There’s no time to worry about whether the products are suitable for the platform,” he admitted.
For Zeng and Andre, the TikTok ban marked a turning point. Zeng began exploring alternative platforms for growth, vowing never again to go “all-in” on a single channel. Andre, on the other hand, started leveraging his overseas warehouses to pivot into a logistics service provider.
Within Zeng’s cross-border e-commerce company, meetings stretched over several days as the team debated whether to pursue a long-term strategy or focus on short-term profits. The uncertainty left many doubting the viability of sustainable development.
Heizi also revised her plans. While she initially aimed to focus on TikTok in the US, she began considering other regions as potential fallback options. “As an experienced live streamer, I’m not afraid of losing my job overnight. Other markets are still open,” she said. “But it’s hard not to worry. If TikTok in the US is banned, will other regions face the same fate?”
A fragile lifeline
TikTok’s tumultuous journey in the US reflects a broader geopolitical shift. For six years, the platform operated under increasing pressure, yet it managed to weather each storm—until now.
In June 2021, then-US President Joe Biden rescinded the executive order issued by Trump in August 2020, which sought to ban TikTok unless it was sold. The move temporarily eased tensions, as the issue had not progressed to the legislative stage. At the time, many believed the worst was over.
However, the tide turned in March 2023 when the Congress passed the PAFACA with near-unanimous support. The legislation required ByteDance to divest TikTok’s US operations within nine months or face an outright ban. Notably, the act was appended to a broader spending bill that included provisions for Ukraine aid and Israeli security funding—a legislative package with strong bipartisan appeal.
Attorney Liang Fan, a partner at AnJie Broad, a law firm specializing in US trade compliance, said that the law passed easily because both parties had their own political motivations, with TikTok being a relatively minor factor. “It was more of an afterthought,” Liang said.
In April 2023, Biden signed the bill, setting January 19, 2024, as the effective date for the ban. By then, both Congress and the executive branch—the legislative and administrative powers in the US—had aligned on the issue. “In a system where two of the three branches of government agree, the odds of success are overwhelmingly high,” Liang added..
TikTok’s legal defense centered on the argument that the ban violated the First Amendment by infringing on free speech. However, no foreign platform had ever successfully used the First Amendment as a defense in a similar case. During the Supreme Court hearings, justices questioned TikTok’s legal team, asking for examples of precedent. Yet, all cited cases, such as The Washington Post’s reporting on the Vietnam War or other media-related disputes, involved specific content, whereas TikTok was seen as a platform, not a publisher.
Ultimately, the Court sided with Congress, ruling that the divest-or-ban act was justified on national security grounds. The act cited concerns about TikTok collecting data from US users, potentially violating privacy and undermining national interests.
The fallout from the ruling was swift. TikTok creators flooded Instagram Stories, venting their frustration over the ban. Some joked that the government’s swift action marked an unprecedented display of efficiency, while others sarcastically commented that saving TikTok would crown Trump a “hero.”
Indeed, Trump seemed eager to embrace this role. On January 19, just hours before taking office, he declared on social media his intent to “save TikTok.” According to a report from CNBC, ByteDance had entered preliminary negotiations with Perplexity AI to create a new joint entity. Trump’s vision involved forming a company with at least 50% US ownership to address security concerns. However, this solution required complex negotiations and lengthy decision-making processes, leaving TikTok’s future in limbo.
The US Supreme Court’s ruling included a telling remark:
“We are mindful that this law arises in a context in which ‘national security and foreign policy concerns arise in connection with efforts to confront evolving threats in an area where information can be difficult to obtain and the impact of certain conduct difficult to assess.’ … We thus afford the government’s ‘informed judgment’ substantial respect here.”
The ruling encapsulated a broader geopolitical struggle, echoing former US state secretary Henry Kissinger’s observation in his book On China—that what deepens hostilities is not necessarily what either side has done, but what each might do.
When Kissinger’s book was published in 2012, the world was still an interconnected global village, and China’s rise was an uncertain variable in US-China relations. 13 years later, the trajectory has shifted toward a more adversarial dynamic. The plight of TikTok, with its 170 million US users, represents a significant blow to ByteDance and other Chinese tech companies with global ambitions.
Yet in the grander scheme, TikTok’s fate is but a small wave in the larger tide of US-China decoupling and the broader anti-globalization movement.
This article was written by Lan Jie and Peng Qian and was originally published by 36Kr.