Be a laggard around the web long enough and you might wake up a relic. Antiquated, obsolete, convinced that the world’s gone mad and sure that there’s some super ingredient in the stuff both the senile and infantile are eating nowadays. Such is the world I woke up to thanks to signing up to TikTok recently.
Not entirely a new world, but it does orbit on its own axis of spontaneity, sometimes ultra stringent community rules, fosters new language, and progresses so fast that those who don’t appreciate the necessity of regularly logging in to stay abreast of new trends are soon left behind, often without even realising it. This is all the more urgent if you wish to join the ranks of content creation, where there’s potential for anybody to be virtually anything under the sun.
Through its bite-sized videos and viral trends, this Chinese creation is undoubtedly the most dynamic, running laps around everything else out there. So much so that it has found itself coming into the crosshairs of the US government in early 2024. Thanks to the U.S. Supreme Court upholding the Protecting Americans from Foreign Adversary Controlled Applications Act, in January this year, the app faced a complete US ban if its parent Chinese company, ByteDance, failed to sell its US operations to a US buyer. Those disagreements are yet to be ironed out but the platform continues to flourish even though the pendulum of uncertainty is swinging above its head.
Of all the socials, it is the most no-nonsense-taking. Show too much buttock on that picture, or consume anything suspicious without putting up prior warning during your live, or use a forbidden word and you can rest assured that the TikTok police are coming for you. With AI technology on their side, probably immediately. The violation penalties are swift. One moment you’re blabbering on, the next you’ve been booted out, hurled into TikTok gaol for the next 24 hours or so.
Vulgarity is filtered in the comments sections, violent terminology is severely restricted. Killing becomes ‘unalived.’ Drugs are anything from ‘powder,’ to ‘shoddy pharmaceuticals,’ depending on how creative you can be when trying to evade the long arm of the TikTok coppers. Coming to think of it, I’ve yet to see or read the F-word without some form of redaction during my month-long presence. The carnal business is usually depicted by a cryptic combination of emoji – usually an aubergine, apricot, and some droplets. Please don’t ask. I have no idea why either.
Serious scholarly papers are being published on this seven-year-old phenomenon and there is a school of thought that maintains that the platform is an incubator of tested Chinese cultural values. Strict, decisive and eager to clamp down on those who don’t tow the moral line. Recently, several very prominent South African ‘influencers’ have found their accounts banned due to our miniature ‘Russiagate.’ Influencers – in case you’re as clueless as I am – are usually users with lots of followers and to whom brands sometimes turn for some marketing or a ‘shout out.’ The alleged offense of this particular group has had the Mzansi internet ablaze going on at least two weeks.
According to reports, they – unwittingly or otherwise – were promoting a certain Alabuga Start programme from Russia. The adverts had presented this as an opportunity for young female recruits (age 18 – 22) to find opportunities, including employment in that country, but allegations that it is really nothing more than an avenue for labour exploitation and human trafficking have since stirred the hornet’s nest. You’d be surprised to learn that with all that’s been happening in the country, this was the story that had the chattering class very busy for a while.
One of TikTok’s major drawcards is content creation. There’s room for all manner of it and the best of them are enjoying TikTok superstardom and making the bag while at it. Yes, there’s seemingly no shortage of the means by which one can make money. Bex, a middle-aged British woman with a posh accent reciting a crass rap song over high tea seemingly enjoys a big following. (How our lady gets away with the extremely obscene lyrics only bears testament to my personal limitations on the app.) So too is the dark African man in baggy overalls with all kinds of thick chains and padlocks around his neck, prancing down a gutted village street with 50 Cent’s P.I.M.P blaring in the background. How about what look like a couple of Russian hillbillies charging the streets like they’re about to start a brawl even though most of the posse appear too old and wise to be throwing punches? It’s the new frontier I suppose, more for effect than actually engaging in proper shoot-outs.
Heck I even ran across Ps Paseka Mboro, the controversial, panga-wielding evangelist all suave in a blue suit and black tie getting ready to preach the word live on the ether. A sangoma, actually loads of them, often pop up; bones, bamboo mat and calling on the spiritually-troubled to come forth, sometimes with the expectation of some compensation. Never thought I’d see the day when our African shamans are paid in TikTok gifts than R100 bills and bottles of liquor.
There’s always a Dj spinning a set on the decks, Cassper Nyovest the biggest hip hop star in the country spends hours playing the video game Call of Duty live, and big actors often allow us access to life at home or behind a big shoot.
Everything goes. The raw and resonant – shot from inside shanties and unmistakable poverty – competing right up the with the glam and glossy. In an unfair world, this might just be the closest we’re ever going to get to some form of social equalizer. Or at least the illusion of one because, here, whether the video was shot on a high-end camera or a budget-store handset, what counts most is which one was more impactful or entertaining, high resolution or not.
Despite all this, old trends refuse to give way so easily. American action movies still lead the ranks. For martial arts, Asia remains ahead of the pack. Bollywood and Nollywood are in fierce competition by way of African attention stakes and, yes, you’d be pleasently surprised that when it comes to viral dance videos, lowly South Africa often achieves pandemic levels.
True crime documentarists are also a hit just as long as they say ‘pew pew’ or something when referencing a gun and thinking up user-friendly terminology around phrases like sexual assault or rape. Also, no matter how interesting your video looks, it is never advisable to be posting videos of smacking someone. Feeding a box of KFC to your dog on his birthday may have potential but just ensure that it’s not a once-off and that the animal is generally cared for. TikTok may miss it, but the SPCA may also be watching, and the ill-considered post may serve as evidence against you should the animal lovers suspect there’s a case of animal cruelty to be answered for.
That said, and despite the platform’s Big Brother tendencies, the racists, xenophobes, misogynists and all the other elements of the bad boy fringe will always devise means to beat the system. In TikTok’s case this is often done through the live sessions. Be extra cautious around there. As intently as the app endeavours to exercise due diligence you’ll often stumble in a room and hear those familiar offensive words and then you’ll soon realise that far from being a new world, this is merely an extension of the idiosyncratic one we’ve known all along.