The story has three parts: a coincidence, a chain of contracts, and a final irony that was only resolved very recently.

A pale sand lane under a closed canopy of breadfruit and coconut trees, the vegetation meeting overhead and a few small figures walking in the distance.
The main street of Funafuti: the postal address of a domain half the internet uses.Angela K. Kepler / Dominio público·Dominio público

01 Two letters by accident

Country-code top-level domains are assigned from two-letter country codes. Tuvalu's is TV, just as Italy's is IT or Spain's is ES. Nobody chose anything: the suffix came out of a table.

What turned that coincidence into an asset was what those two letters mean in English. The domain launched commercially in 1996 and from the start it was clear that television and video companies with no connection whatsoever to the Pacific wanted it.

It is an odd position: the country sells no product, no service, no natural resource. It sells the right to put its name at the end of an address.

02 A chain of contracts

The first agreement, in 1998, promised fifty million dollars upfront in exchange for managing registrations until 2048. The company never paid and the deal fell apart. In 1999 Idealab came in with a more modest formula: 12.5 million upfront and a million every quarter for ten years.

That did not go smoothly either: the business earned less than expected and had to be renegotiated, with three quarterly payments waived in exchange for shares. On 31 December 2001 VeriSign bought the operation for forty-five million and cut the quarterly payments from a million to 550,000 dollars.

VeriSign ran the domain for twenty years. On 14 December 2021 the contract passed to GoDaddy, which raised the annual payment to ten million dollars. Twenty-five years of corporate history to arrive roughly where the first promise had been.

A lagoon shore with very clear turquoise and green water over coral, a sloping concrete wall on the right, coconut palms and a metal-roofed house, and white cumulus over the horizon.
The lagoon shore on Fongafale, with its concrete wall and boats moored in the distance.Stefan Lins / CC BY-SA 2.0·CC BY-SA 2.0

03 What it weighs in a small budget

To weigh the figure you need the scale. In 2019, when the domain brought in some 5.5 million dollars, that amounted to 8.4 per cent of the Tuvalu government's revenue. The payment has doubled since then.

The jump is largely explained by a single address. In 2014 Amazon bought Twitch for a billion dollars, and with that the suffix stopped being a curiosity and became the label of an entire industry. Netflix, Hulu, Fox News and Eurovision all have .tv addresses too.

None of those companies has anything to do with the atoll. The relationship is purely contractual: they register an address, pay a fee, and a fraction of that fee reaches a budget managed from a single-storey office on Fongafale.

A low single-storey building with a blue metal roof and green joinery, the sign FUNAFUTI INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT across the front and several motorbikes parked outside.
The country's international airport: a single storey, blue sheeting and motorbikes parked at the door.Michael Coghlan / CC BY-SA 2.0·CC BY-SA 2.0

04 The country that rented out what it did not have

Here is the part almost nobody tells. For decades, the country that owns online video's favourite domain had no submarine cable: its entire connection to the world went by satellite — expensive, slow and sensitive to heavy rain.

The figures make it plain. Before 2020 national bandwidth was 340 megabits per second; in June that year an agreement raised it to 640. Six hundred and forty megabits for an entire country, while its suffix was used to distribute video on a planetary scale.

That changed on 24 October 2025, when the Tuvalu Vaka Cable was switched on, the country's first international submarine cable, with four fibre pairs landing at Funafuti. That same year a new-generation satellite gateway came into service with capacity of up to three gigabits.

The rusted hull of a ship aground and listing on a coral shelf covered in green algae, very shallow turquoise water behind and a deep blue sky with low cloud on the horizon.
A hull aground on the reef: for decades everything that arrived here came by sea or by satellite.INABA Tomoaki / CC BY-SA 2.0·CC BY-SA 2.0

05 What it reveals

A small state can hold an enormous asset without having done anything to get it, and can spend twenty-five years negotiating to be paid properly for it. The .tv income is not the fruit of an industry or a policy: it is the yield of a typographical coincidence, managed patiently.

And it leaves an idea worth carrying before you land here: what this place exports is invisible. There is no factory, no big port, no farmland. Funafuti's strongest connection with the rest of the world fits into two letters almost nobody associates with an atoll.

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Lucía Montes

Worth Knowing editor · Flowtravel

Lucía Montes chases the fact that changes how you look at a place, and follows it through.