How creators are preparing for a shutdown

TikTok’s creators are scrambling for a lifeline as the platform’s January 19 sale or shutdown date approaches. While some are driving audiences to their existing Instagram, YouTube, or Snap accounts, others are flocking to lesser-known alternatives like Lemon8 and RedNote (Xiaohongshu) — a Chinese-owned app popular among Chinese wanghongs for years (the creators).

Even if a buyer emerges at the 11th hour, the change is a powerful reminder of the fragility of platform-dependent work.

Indeed, TikTok’s creators have been preparing for a possible ban for years. In 2020, when I started researching the platform-formerly-known-as-Musical.ly, rumors swirled about the fallout of a possible ban under then-President Trump’s executive order. Some creators told me they created “goodbye” videos in advance, while others created backup accounts on rival platforms. Or, as TikTokers warned during the first wave of ban anxiety: “Don’t build your house on borrowed land.”

TikTok entertainers, educators and small business owners were shocked again in 2023 when CEO Shou Zi Chew’s Congressional testimony failed to quell concerns about the company’s Chinese parent, ByteDance. During an interview that March, business creator Dulma Altan shared her concerns about relying on a platform so susceptible to political and algorithmic whims: “It feels[s] like it can be removed arbitrarily, because it depends on the algorithm, because it depends on US-China relations and Congress…”

Other creators cited the sudden shutdown of Vine — a Twitter-owned platform that pioneered short-form video — in 2017 as a cautionary tale of platform overdependence.

TikTok’s ‘Magic’ Algorithm?

TikTok has been credited with super-charging the creator economy, thanks in part to its distinctly “virality-centric” logic. Alessandro Bogliari, co-founder and CEO of The Influencer Marketing Factory, explained how TikTok stood out from the start. Instead of “network-based communication,” he explained, TikTok provided a “content-based discovery system.”

He added, “Instead of starting at 1 million and then being seen by 10,000 people, you have potentially 10,000 followers and [can] to be seen by a million people.”

On January 10, when TikTok representatives and legal scholars delivered oral arguments to the Court, Judge Alito questioned whether Bytedance had “really created this magical algorithm that all the geniuses at Meta” are unable to replicate.

On Friday, when TikTok representatives and legal scholars delivered oral arguments to the Court, Judge Alito challenged arguments about the platform’s unique prioritization, questioning whether Bytedance has “really created this magical algorithm that all the geniuses at Meta” didn’t. are able to repeat it.

But given how often TikTok’s algorithmic system has inspired fear, anxiety and agitation among creators and users, the “magic” call isn’t that far-fetched. Last year, Internet researcher Kelley Cotter and colleagues introduced the idea of ​​”algorithmic conspiracism” to describe how users attribute powerful mysticism to TikTok’s black-box visibility system.

Insecurity and work

Algorithmic expertise has become something of a prerequisite for creators. However, the unpredictable nature of algorithms, as we argued in a 2021 study, is rooted within layers of uncertainty: fickle audience tastes, boom-and-bust market cycles, and – as the TikTok case shows – the volatility associated with “ move fast and break things” culture of Big Tech.

Such uncertainty is a longstanding feature of work in the creative industries. In a newly published study exploring the intersections of media work and mental health, media researcher Mark Deuze identifies a long tradition of research “documenting unsafe working conditions” across the journalism, music and software industries.

For creatives, such uncertainty is exacerbated by their inclusion within legal and regulatory gray areas, which renders them unrecognizable as a working class. Additionally, the work of professional influencers, content creators, and broadcasters is obscured by the seductive narrative of “work that doesn’t feel like work.” Norms about passion and authenticity force many creators to hide the less dazzling aspects of their careers behind screens.

What we don’t see in a 30-second video are the countless hours spent brainstorming, researching, filming and editing content, connecting with audiences, and (hopefully) brokering deals.

Risk mitigation

If uncertainty is inherent in the social media economy – and creative careers more broadly – ​​then it makes sense that “don’t put all your eggs in one basket” has become what social media researcher Zöe Glatt claims is a “widespread metaphor ” in the middle of today. creative workers. Over the years, creators have told me about their efforts to diversify with podcasts, newsletters, training courses, merchandise, and other expressions of their cross-platform brand.

However, despite assumptions from Supreme Court judges that creators can simply shift their audience to competitors, it is far from a smooth transition. Jeffrey Fisher, a lawyer representing a group of TikTok creators, told the court that such a conversion of the platform was “not at all satisfactory” to his clients – who are not celebrities, but rather, “ordinary American citizens “.

Or, as Altan said, “There is no creator [who]…has equal appeal on all platforms. Everyone has one or two dominant platforms.” Audiences cannot be easily transferred from one platform to another, and platform cultures vary significantly.

As the fate of TikTok hangs in a delicate balance, creators once again face the problem of “borrowed land.” This time, it’s on borrowed time.