Freenom Fallout Free Domains with Hidden Costs

In the domain name industry, where competition is usually measured in marginal pricing differences between registrars or the marketing of new gTLDs, Freenom stood out as something radically different. Instead of charging users a standard registration fee, Freenom offered domain names for free. Its pitch was simple and powerful: anyone could obtain a domain without cost, lowering the barrier of entry for entrepreneurs, hobbyists, and individuals in developing regions who might otherwise hesitate to invest in digital real estate. For countries with limited internet penetration or communities eager to experiment online, this model promised to democratize access to the web. Yet behind the appealing headline of “free domains” lay a series of structural problems, hidden costs, and controversies that would eventually turn Freenom from a visionary experiment into one of the most infamous disappointments in the industry.

The foundation of Freenom’s model was tied to its management of several small country-code top-level domains, including .tk for Tokelau, .ml for Mali, .ga for Gabon, .cf for the Central African Republic, and .gq for Equatorial Guinea. Tokelau, a remote territory in the South Pacific with fewer than 2,000 residents, became an unlikely global leader in domain registrations thanks to Freenom’s stewardship of .tk. By giving domains away for free, Freenom turned what would have been obscure namespaces into some of the most heavily registered TLDs in the world. On paper, this looked like a success story: tiny countries suddenly had global recognition in the digital economy, and millions of people who had never owned a domain could get one instantly without financial barriers.

But the free model came with strings attached. Freenom’s business strategy was based not on the registration fees it waived, but on monetizing the traffic of expired or reclaimed domains. If a user failed to renew or if Freenom determined that a domain was inactive or in violation of its terms, the company would take the name back and monetize it with advertising, redirecting traffic to pages filled with pay-per-click ads. In theory, this was a clever way to subsidize free registrations. In practice, it created perverse incentives and widespread distrust. Users discovered that domains they had invested time in—by building websites, creating communities, or linking to content—could suddenly be reclaimed by Freenom, stripping them of their work without recourse. The “hidden cost” of free domains was the lack of true ownership, leaving registrants vulnerable to losing their digital identity at any time.

The problems multiplied as bad actors flocked to Freenom’s domains. Because they cost nothing and required minimal verification, .tk, .ml, and the other extensions quickly gained a reputation as havens for spam, phishing, and malware distribution. Cybercriminals could spin up hundreds or thousands of free domains for malicious campaigns, discarding them just as quickly when they were blocked. Security researchers frequently identified Freenom-operated TLDs among the most abused on the internet, and major tech companies began flagging them as untrustworthy. Google’s Safe Browsing team, for example, often listed Freenom namespaces as disproportionately represented in phishing and malware incidents. For legitimate users, this was devastating: even if their intentions were good, simply using a Freenom domain risked being tainted by association with fraud and abuse.

Governments and regulators began to take notice as well. Complaints emerged about the opaque management of these country-code domains, with critics questioning how much of the revenue generated from monetized traffic actually reached the small nations whose digital assets were being commercialized. In some cases, local governments appeared to have little oversight or benefit, raising concerns about exploitation. Meanwhile, the reputational damage meant that businesses in those countries faced unique challenges. A startup in Mali using a .ml domain, for example, had to contend with global skepticism about the legitimacy of its online presence simply because of the extension it used.

For years, Freenom brushed aside criticism, continuing to market its free domains as tools for digital inclusion. Millions of domains were registered, and the sheer volume created the impression of growth. But beneath the surface, the model was rotting. The vast majority of registrations were either abandoned quickly or used for abuse, leaving little sustainable development of real websites. Unlike .com or even newer gTLDs, which built vibrant ecosystems of businesses, blogs, and communities, Freenom’s namespaces were littered with inactive or harmful content. The promise of empowering small businesses and individuals gave way to a reality where free domains were treated as disposable commodities, stripped of credibility in the eyes of the broader internet.

The breaking point came when some of the internet’s largest stakeholders began to push back. Companies like Meta (parent of Facebook) filed lawsuits against Freenom, accusing it of profiting from domains used in abusive campaigns that targeted users of its platforms. The allegations were not just about negligence but about active participation, with claims that Freenom monetized harmful traffic rather than taking meaningful steps to prevent abuse. These lawsuits placed Freenom under intense scrutiny and exposed its practices to a wider audience, eroding whatever goodwill remained. At the same time, ICANN began investigating Freenom for compliance violations related to its registrar operations. By 2023, Freenom had stopped offering new domain registrations, effectively halting its core business.

The fallout was severe. Millions of domains across .tk, .ml, .ga, .cf, and .gq were left in limbo, and users who had depended on them were forced to migrate to other namespaces. The countries involved, once celebrated for having some of the most-registered extensions in the world, saw their reputations tarnished and their digital strategies thrown into uncertainty. Tokelau, once touted as a model for digital inclusion, was instead associated with one of the internet’s most notorious sources of spam and fraud. For Freenom, the lawsuits and regulatory pressure signaled the unraveling of its entire business model, with little prospect of recovery.

The larger disappointment was not just that Freenom failed, but that it squandered an opportunity to genuinely expand access to the internet. The idea of lowering barriers to entry through free domains had real merit, particularly for underserved regions and marginalized communities. With better governance, stricter anti-abuse measures, and greater transparency, the model might have succeeded in creating a new tier of affordable online access. Instead, the lure of short-term monetization and the failure to police abuse turned the experiment toxic. Rather than being remembered as a pioneer of inclusion, Freenom became a cautionary tale about how “free” can carry hidden costs that ultimately outweigh the benefits.

Today, the Freenom fallout serves as a stark reminder for the domain name industry. Ownership and trust are the cornerstones of digital identity, and any system that undermines them will eventually collapse. Free domains proved attractive in the moment, but when registrants realized they could be taken back without notice, when businesses discovered they were tainted by association with fraud, and when regulators and tech companies decided they had had enough, the model unraveled. The disappointment lies not only in the damage done but in the potential lost—the chance to create something truly transformative for digital inclusion was buried under a business strategy that prioritized exploitation over empowerment.

The legacy of Freenom is now defined by that gap between promise and reality. It showed the world what happens when free access becomes a trap, when hidden costs erode trust, and when an industry built on ownership fails to protect the very people it claims to serve.

In the domain name industry, where competition is usually measured in marginal pricing differences between registrars or the marketing of new gTLDs, Freenom stood out as something radically different. Instead of charging users a standard registration fee, Freenom offered domain names for free. Its pitch was simple and powerful: anyone could obtain a domain without…