Malta’s 300k TikTokers on Edge as US Nears Forced Sale or Ban of Chinese-Owned App

US TikTok Deal Edges Closer: What a Ban-or-Sale Could Mean for Malta’s 300,000-Strong User Base
By Hot Malta Staff

Valletta – When US Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent told Fox News on Sunday that Washington is “very close” to a final agreement forcing TikTok’s Chinese parent ByteDance to sell or face a nationwide ban, the headline ricocheted through Malta’s group chats faster than a Paceville remix. On an island where 78% of 16- to 34-year-olds scroll the vertical-video app daily, the prospect of losing TikTok is more than foreign-policy gossip—it is a cultural jolt that could reshape everything from language preservation to late-night pastizzeria runs.

Inside the 18th-century baroque boardrooms of Castille Place, no one is drafting sovereignty statements on Chinese-owned algorithms just yet. Still, the potential ripple effects are already being felt by Malta’s creators, educators and businesses who have banked on TikTok’s hyper-local reach. “We literally sell out ftira sandwiches in Sliema because a 20-second clip hits 50,000 views,” says Luke Azzopardi, co-founder of the viral street-food kiosk Ftiri with Benefits. “If the US bans and Europe follows, our main funnel disappears overnight.”

Malta’s TikTok census is modest in absolute numbers—about 300,000 accounts, equivalent to 60% of the population—but its engagement rate is among the EU’s highest, according to 2024 Eurostat data. The reason is linguistic ingenuity: creators toggle between English, Maltese and Italian in a single clip, turning code-switching into comedy gold. Anthropologist Dr. Marisa Falzon argues the platform has become an unlikely archive for endangered dialects. “Teens in Gozo are remixing folk proverbs with drill beats,” she notes. “A ban would sever that living dictionary.”

The educational sphere is similarly exposed. The University of Malta’s media department runs a compulsory module on “TikTok ethnography,” while state primary schools use #MaltEduChallenge to teach fractions through ħobż biż-żejt recipes. “We saw a 22% uptick in maths scores where teachers integrated short-form video homework,” reveals Education Minister Clifton Grima, stressing that any US-China deal must honour EU data-sovereignty rules that protect Maltese minors.

Economically, the stakes climb higher. Malta Enterprise counts at least 120 micro-businesses—boutique hotels in Birgu, eco-boat operators in Comino, henna artists at village festas—whose bookings rely on TikTok influencers with 30k-200k followers, numbers that dwarf traditional travel brochures. A forced sale that fragments the app (say, into a US-only version) could fracture audiences and collapse affiliate-link revenue. “We already weathered COVID’s zero-tourism period,” says Sarah Camilleri, who converted her grandmother’s Gozitan farmhouse into an eco-retreat booked 90% through TikTok travel hacks. “Losing the algorithm feels like being pushed back to 2019, but without EU rescue funds this time.”

Privacy hawks are less sympathetic. The Malta IT Agency (MITA) has long warned that TikTok’s data routing through Singapore and US servers exposes local users to foreign intelligence laws. “A change of ownership doesn’t automatically fix surveillance concerns,” cautions MITA CEO Emmanuel Briffa. “If ByteDance retains coding leverage via updates, the geostrategic risk remains.” His sentiment echoes EU-wide negotiations on the forthcoming Data Act, which could fine non-compliant platforms up to 6% of global turnover—numbers that would obliterate margins for any buyer.

Yet the vibe on Malta’s streets is less geopolitics, more pocket-sized livelihoods. In Valletta’s Strait Street, 19-year-old dancer Djamila Ebejer rehearses a choreography that garnered 1.2 million views during last month’s Carnival. “TikTok paid my first-year tuition,” she admits, wiping glitter from her brow. “If it vanishes, I’ll need three waitressing jobs instead of one viral dance.”

Washington’s deadline is 19 April. Should a US-centric TikTok emerge, EU regulators could force a separate European entity, raising costs and splintering audiences. For Malta’s creators, that means smaller ponds and softer echoes. Until then, the island keeps scrolling, posting, hoping the next swipe up is not the last.