Property, Not Permission
—The Emergence of Digital Ownership
When we buy a book, we own it. We can read it, lend it to a friend, sell it in a second-hand bookshop, or place it on a shelf for the next generation. Ownership is intuitive, and deeply embedded in the structure of commerce.
Yet somewhere along the way, something changed. When we purchase a digital book today, we do not actually own it. What we receive instead is a licence—permission to access the file under conditions set by the platform that delivered it. The book cannot usually be resold, it cannot easily be lent, and in some cases it can be edited or even disappear from a user’s library if access is altered or withdrawn.
This shift from ownership to licensed access has reshaped the digital economy. Music, films, software, and books are increasingly delivered not as property but as permissions—revocable rights mediated by central platforms. The familiar structure of commerce, in which buyers acquire things they can freely transfer, has gradually been replaced by a system in which users rent access to digital goods that remain under the control of the issuing platform.[1][2]
However, a growing number of legal scholars are exploring a deceptively simple question: can digital files themselves become objects of personal property? If so, the implications extend far beyond legal theory. They point toward the possibility of restoring genuine ownership in the digital world—and with it, the foundations of a very different kind of digital marketplace.
Control and Possession in the Digital World
A recent paper from the Cloud Legal Project at the Centre for Commercial Law Studies at Queen Mary University of London[3] takes this question seriously. The authors ask whether English law could recognise property rights in digital files themselves, treating them in certain respects like physical objects. Their analysis focuses on a central concept in property law: possession.
In the physical world, possession plays a foundational role in determining personal property rights. A person who possesses an object exercises factual control over it and intends to exclude others from its use. That possession gives rise to a legal right—a possessory title—which the law protects against interference by others. If someone takes or destroys the object, the possessor can seek remedies through the established doctrines of trespass or conversion.
The authors suggest that an analogous structure may exist in the digital environment. Instead of physical possession, computer systems operate through mechanisms of control. Digital files are typically protected by access controls such as passwords, authentication systems, and user permissions. These mechanisms determine who can open, modify, or delete a file, and who cannot. In this sense, control of a digital file can serve a function similar to possession of a physical object.
From this perspective, a digital file can be understood not merely as information but as a distinct digital object—a virtual container that holds data and that can be controlled, transferred, or interfered with. If a person exercises exclusive control over such a file, the authors argue, that control could ground a form of property right analogous to the possessory title recognised for physical goods. Interference with that control—for example by deleting a file, altering its contents, or locking its owner out of access—could then give rise to legal remedies similar to those that apply when physical property is taken or damaged.
This approach represents a significant shift in how the law might understand digital assets. Rather than viewing digital files purely as information or contractual rights, it opens the possibility that they may function as objects of personal property in their own right.
Yet the authors also recognise that applying traditional property concepts to the digital world is not straightforward. Modern digital systems often rely on layered infrastructures—devices, operating systems, and cloud services—through which multiple parties may exercise varying degrees of control over the same file. A document stored in a cloud service, for example, may appear to be under the control of the user, while in practice the underlying servers remain under the authority of the service provider.
These complexities raise an important question. If digital property is grounded in control, whose control ultimately counts?
The Limits of Platform-Based Control
At first glance, the idea that control of a digital file could function like possession of a physical object appears persuasive. Modern computer systems are designed precisely to regulate who can access, edit, or delete digital files. Passwords, authentication mechanisms, and user permissions all operate to restrict access and to signal that a particular file is under someone’s control.
Yet these systems also reveal an important limitation. The control exercised by the user is rarely absolute.
Most digital files today are stored within layered infrastructures. A document saved on a laptop depends on the operating system that manages access to the file. A document stored in the cloud depends on the servers, software, and access-management systems operated by the service provider. In each case, the user appears to control the file through their account credentials, but that control exists within a broader technical and institutional framework.
Consider a document stored in a cloud-based service. The user may access the file through a password-protected account and may reasonably regard the file as their own. Yet the underlying servers remain under the authority of the service provider, whose administrators in structural terms control the infrastructure on which the file resides. The provider may suspend the account, alter access permissions, or remove the file altogether, often in accordance with the terms of the service agreement.
For this reason, the authors of the Cloud Legal Project paper introduce the idea of ‘vicarious control’. The user may be regarded as controlling the file in a legal sense, while the cloud provider merely holds or manages it on the user’s behalf. This interpretation allows the concept of control-based property rights to function even within complex digital infrastructures.
Nevertheless, the underlying tension remains. If multiple actors in practice possess the technical ability to alter or remove a digital file, then the user’s control is not fully analogous to possession of a physical object. The control exercised by the user is mediated by institutions—platform operators, service providers, and system administrators—whose authority in the end depends on contractual arrangements rather than on the direct exercise of possession.
In practice, this is precisely how the contemporary digital economy operates. Users interact with digital goods through accounts granted by platforms that retain ultimate control over the systems that host those goods. What appears to be ownership is often a carefully structured form of access.
The result is a system in which digital goods behave very differently from physical ones. A physical book cannot be altered or removed by the publisher once it has been sold. A digital book, by contrast, may remain subject to the technical and contractual authority of the platform that delivered it.
This raises a deeper question. If genuine digital property requires a form of control equivalent to possession, is it possible to design a digital system in which such control exists without relying on the authority of an intermediary?
Digital Possession
The question that emerges from this analysis is whether a digital system can be designed in which control over a digital object does not ultimately depend on the authority of a platform or service provider. If the law is to recognise digital files as objects of property, the form of control exercised by the user must resemble possession more closely than the conditional access typically granted by modern platforms.
In most contemporary systems, access to digital goods is mediated through institutional infrastructure. Platforms maintain the servers on which files are stored, administer the authentication systems that regulate access, and retain the technical ability to alter or remove the files themselves. The user’s apparent control therefore exists within a framework which in practice is governed by contractual permissions.
If genuine digital possession requires control that is not dependent on institutional authority, the question becomes whether such a system can exist at all?
In fact, a different model of digital control emerged with the publication of the Bitcoin protocol in 2008.[4] Rather than relying on central administrators to determine access to digital assets, the system introduced a method by which control could be exercised directly through cryptographic keys recorded on a distributed ledger.
Within this architecture, digital assets are represented as discrete units recorded on the ledger. Control over those units is determined by possession of the corresponding private key. Only the holder of that key can authorise the transfer of the asset by producing a valid digital signature. Once the transaction is verified and recorded on the ledger, control of the asset passes to the recipient’s key.
This structure introduces a form of control that differs fundamentally from the platform-mediated systems that dominate the modern digital economy. No central administrator can override the authority of the key holder. The network validates transactions according to fixed and transparent rules, rather than according to the discretionary decisions of a service provider.
In practical terms, possession of the private key functions in a way that closely resembles possession of a physical object. The holder of the key exercises exclusive control over the asset associated with it and can transfer that asset directly to another party without requiring permission from an intermediary.
Control through private keys, however, does not exist in isolation. The architecture of the original Bitcoin protocol also records the history of transfers through a chain of digital signatures that links each transaction to the previous one. Each transfer of the asset is authorised by the current key holder and cryptographically connected to the prior transaction, creating a verifiable lineage of control over the asset.
This chain of signatures performs an important function. While possession of the private key allows the current holder to exercise control over the asset, the transaction history provides a publicly verifiable record of how that control has passed from one party to another. In effect, the ledger combines elements of possession with a transparent record of provenance.[5]
This feature also addresses a practical reality familiar to the law of personal property. Just as physical possession of an object may be lost or wrongfully taken, control of a cryptographic key can also be lost or compromised. The existence of a publicly verifiable chain of signatures provides an evidentiary framework through which disputes over control can be examined, much as courts examine chains of title or possession in disputes over physical property.
The original design of the Bitcoin protocol therefore combined two elements rarely found together in digital systems: direct control exercised through cryptographic keys, and a transparent record of how that control has moved through time[6]. Together these features create a structure that closely parallels the mechanisms through which property rights have historically been recognised and adjudicated.
An important consequence of this architecture is that it recreates, in digital form, a feature that has long characterised physical property: rivalry. A physical object can be possessed by only one person at a time. By linking control of a digital asset to a unique cryptographic key and recording transfers through a chain of digital signatures, the Bitcoin architecture introduces a similar constraint in the digital realm. Control of the asset cannot be exercised simultaneously by multiple parties, and ownership can pass from one holder to another in a clearly defined sequence. In this sense, the system restores the rivalrous nature of objects within a purely digital environment.
Another important characteristic of such a system is that its operation does not depend on the ongoing discretion of an issuer, sponsor, or governing body. The rules governing the network are defined by the protocol itself, and transactions are validated according to those fixed rules rather than through the judgement of an intermediary.
In this respect, the infrastructure begins to resemble a form of public utility. Much like the basic protocols of the internet, the system operates as neutral infrastructure upon which applications and markets can be built, without requiring any central authority to determine how the assets recorded within it should circulate.
From the perspective of personal property law, this architecture is striking. The elements traditionally associated with possession—exclusive control, the ability to transfer, and protection against unauthorised interference—appear in digital form. For the first time, a purely digital object can be controlled in a manner that closely parallels the possession of a physical good.
Seen in this light, the challenge faced by legal scholars attempting to construct digital property rights may be less a question of legal theory than one of technological architecture. The conditions required for digital possession already exist within systems designed to allow individuals to control digital assets directly through cryptographic keys rather than through institutional intermediaries.
If digital possession and verifiable provenance can exist simultaneously in a purely digital system, then the foundations required for digital property are no longer theoretical.
From Digital Possession to Digital Commerce
If digital assets can be controlled and transferred in a manner analogous to possession of physical objects, the implications extend far beyond the technical design of computer systems. They reach into the structure of digital commerce itself.
The modern digital marketplace is largely organised around platforms that distribute content through licensing arrangements. Books, music, films, and software are typically delivered through accounts governed by terms of service that restrict how the digital file may be used. These arrangements preserve the issuer’s ongoing control over the file and prevent the buyer from transferring it freely to another person.
Such restrictions stand in marked contrast to the way physical goods have traditionally circulated within the economy. When a person purchases a physical book, ownership transfers with the sale. The buyer may keep it, lend it, resell it, or give it away without requiring permission from the publisher. This principle, sometimes referred to as the ‘first sale doctrine’, has long played an important role in enabling secondary markets for books, records, and other goods.
Digital distribution models have largely displaced this structure. Because the file remains under the technical and contractual authority of the platform that distributes it, the buyer receives access rather than ownership. Secondary markets for digital goods rarely exist because the underlying systems do not permit transfer of the digital object itself.
A digital system that allows individuals to exercise direct control over digital assets, however, makes a different model possible. If a digital file can be associated with a transferable unit recorded on a ledger, and if control of that unit can pass from one person to another through the authorisation of the current holder, then digital goods can begin to circulate in ways that more closely resemble the exchange of physical property.
Under such an architecture, a digital book could be issued together with a digital asset that represents ownership of that specific copy. When the book is sold, control of the associated asset would transfer to the buyer. The buyer would then possess both the file and the cryptographic authority required to transfer that copy to someone else. Lending, gifting, and resale would once again become technically possible.
Such systems could also allow publishers and authors to introduce characteristics familiar from the world of physical books. A digital work might be issued in a limited number of copies, or released in special editions—such as first editions or signed editions—that circulate independently in secondary markets. These features, long associated with physical books and other collectible works, become technically feasible again once digital copies can exist as distinct property objects rather than as infinitely replicable files.
Importantly, such a system need not merely replicate the mechanics of physical commerce. Because transfers are recorded on a programmable ledger, additional features could be incorporated into the exchange itself. Creators might choose to receive a small share of proceeds when a digital work is resold, or publishers might issue works in ways that enable transparent tracking of distribution. These possibilities arise not from platform control but from the structure of the underlying ledger.
Seen in this light, the architecture that enables digital possession also opens the door to a different form of digital marketplace—one in which digital goods circulate as personal property rather than as permissions granted by platforms. Instead of renting access to content stored within institutional systems, individuals could hold and exchange digital objects directly with one another.
Property and Claims in the Digital Economy
The distinction emerging from these developments can be understood through a familiar concept in private law: the difference between property and claims.
Property rights attach directly to things. The owner of a physical object exercises control over it and may transfer that control to another person without requiring the consent of a third party. The law recognises this relationship as one that operates against the world at large. Others may not interfere with the owner’s possession without legal consequence.
Claims operate differently. A claim is a right that one person holds against another. A bank deposit, for example, is not money held directly by the depositor but a claim against the bank to repay an equivalent amount. The depositor relies on the institution to honour that obligation.
Much of the modern digital economy is built on structures that resemble claims rather than property. When a user purchases a digital book through an online platform, they typically receive a contractual right to access the file through that platform’s systems. Continued access depends on the platform maintaining the account and permitting the user to retrieve the file. In legal and technical terms, the user holds a claim mediated by the platform rather than direct control of the digital object itself.
This architecture has significant consequences. Because the digital asset remains embedded within the platform’s infrastructure, in practice the user’s ability to transfer or retain the asset depends on the platform’s policies and contractual terms and its continued solvency. What appears to be ownership is often a structured form of permission.
Systems that allow individuals to control digital assets directly through cryptographic keys introduce a different relationship. Instead of holding a claim against an intermediary, the individual exercises direct control over the digital asset itself. Transfer of the asset occurs through the authorisation of the current holder rather than through the discretionary approval of a platform operator.
From a legal perspective, this structure begins to resemble property more closely than the account-based systems that dominate the digital economy today. Control of the asset resides with the holder of the key, while the ledger provides a public record of how that control has moved from one party to another. The role of institutions shifts from that of custodians exercising authority over assets to that of service providers building applications around a system in which the underlying assets remain under the direct control of their holders.
This distinction—between assets held as property and assets accessed through claims—may ultimately shape the future structure of digital markets. A digital economy organised around claims tends naturally toward centralised platforms that manage accounts and permissions. A digital economy organised around property allows assets to circulate more freely between participants, enabling forms of exchange that more closely resemble traditional markets.
If the legal recognition of digital property continues to develop alongside technological architectures that allow individuals to exercise direct control over digital assets, the balance between these two models may begin to shift. The internet, long dominated by systems of licensed access, may gradually evolve toward an environment in which digital objects can be owned, transferred, and exchanged as property.
The Return of Ownership
For much of the internet’s history, digital goods have circulated through systems designed around access rather than ownership. Books, music, films, and software have been distributed through platforms that grant users permission to retrieve files while retaining ultimate control over the infrastructure on which those files reside. What appears to be ownership is often a carefully structured form of access mediated by contractual terms and technical controls.
The legal scholarship now emerging around digital property reflects a growing recognition that this arrangement is not inevitable. If control of a digital object can function in ways analogous to possession of a physical one, then the law may be able to recognise certain digital assets as objects of property rather than merely as contractual rights.
Yet the analysis also reveals that the architecture of the systems through which digital goods are delivered plays a decisive role in determining whether such property can exist in practice. Platform-based infrastructures tend naturally toward models of access and permission because the assets themselves remain embedded within institutional systems.
By contrast, systems that allow individuals to exercise direct control over digital assets through cryptographic keys introduce a different possibility. When combined with a transparent record of transfers, such architectures begin to reproduce the core elements through which property has historically been recognised: possession, provenance, and the ability to transfer control without requiring the consent of an intermediary.
In this sense, the emergence of digital property may represent more than a technical innovation. It may mark the reappearance of a familiar economic structure within a new technological environment. Digital goods that were once confined within platforms could begin to circulate as property, capable of being held, transferred, and exchanged between individuals in ways that more closely resemble the operation of traditional markets.
If this development continues, the shift may prove significant. The internet, long organised around systems of licensed access, may gradually evolve toward an environment in which digital objects can be owned and exchanged on neutral public infrastructure. What legal scholars are now beginning to explore as a theoretical possibility may in fact signal the early stages of a broader transformation in how digital commerce is structured.
The recognition of digital property may therefore represent more than a legal development. It may mark an important step in the gradual shift from digital systems organised around control and extraction toward systems capable of supporting genuine exchange and ownership.
About the Author: Anna Thalena Iversen is a former City of London financial services lawyer who is now engaged in value-aligned finance. Anna has spent more than 20 years in financial services working for financial institutions, law firms and consultancy firms. She left the profession in 2016 after the passing of her parents to cancer, embarking on a new career in health and wellbeing where she became involved in a number of start-up and scale-up business ventures using novel, unique protocols and technologies. Since leaving her first career in finance, Anna has committed herself to re-imagining how the world of financial services could evolve to become aligned with human creativity, generating abundance rather than acting as its impediment—forcing humanity to focus on survival instead of thriving. She is convinced there is far more in store for humanity than what we have thus far seen and experienced, and has devoted her time and energy to projects that support these endeavours, in the knowledge that the word is mightier than the sword. You can find Anna’s work on Substack Substack Anna Iversen
[1] This essay is part of a series where I challenge the assumption that decay and decline are woven into the fabric of the universe itself, showing how our financial, cultural, and political systems have been built on an entropic logic of siphoning and scarcity—and how a very different design is possible. The keystone essay entitled “From Entropy to Creative Coherence—Finance, Geometry, and the Return of Living Order” frames this journey of exploration, and it can be found here From Entropy to Coherence_Anna Iversen . This series of essays form both a diagnosis of our caged existence, and a vision of the coherence we could choose instead.
[2] I would like to dedicate this essay to the late Lyndon H. LaRouche, Jr. (1922-2019), whose explorations of entropy and “negentropy” in political economy paved the way for much of what follows. His work continues to inspire those of us who believe that creativity, not decay, is the true measure of value.
[3] Johan David Michels, Christopher Millard, ‘Property Rights in Virtual Things: Digital Files, Revisited’, 13 February 2026 Property Rights in Virtual Things: Digital Files, Revisited
[4] Bitcoin White Paper entitled ‘Bitcoin: A Peer-to-Peer Electronic Cash System’, by Satoshi Nakamoto, 31 October 2008 bitcoin.pdf
[5] The architecture described here reflects the design of the original Bitcoin protocol as published in the 31 October 2008 white paper. Among existing public blockchain networks, the Bitcoin Satoshi Vision (BSV) blockchain has retained this protocol design in its original form, maintaining the unbounded scaling model and transaction architecture necessary for large-scale digital asset and data applications.
[6] Some implementations of Bitcoin have moved away from preserving the full transaction lineage within the network’s economic model, altering this evidentiary structure.