By Phakamisa Mayaba
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. (For those of us with our heads in the sand, here’s a useful article about TikTok on Investopedia — and another one about how money is made from it on Nerdwallet — ed.)
Not entirely a new world, but it does orbit on its own axis of spontaneity and sometimes ultra-stringent community rules; fosters a new language; and progresses so fast that those who don’t appreciate the need 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 digital platform, running laps around everything else out there. So much so that it landed in the crosshairs of the US government in early 2024. In January this year, due to the US Supreme Court upholding the Protecting Americans from Foreign Adversary Controlled Applications Act, 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 still have to be ironed out, but the platform continues to flourish even though the pendulum of uncertainty is swinging over its head.
A brief lowdown on the US TikTok ban. Source: YouTube.
Of all the socials, it is the most no-nonsense-taking. Show too much buttock on that picture, consume anything suspicious without putting up prior warning, or use a forbidden word, and you can rest assured that the TikTok police will come 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 out of the comments sections, and violent terminology is severely restricted. As a result, 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. Come 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 with a cryptic combination of emojis – 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 which 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 shut down 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 offence of this particular group has had the Mzansi internet ablaze for at least two weeks.
South Africa’s mini Russiagate on SABC News. Source: YouTube.
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 this country, this was the story that kept the chattering class thte busiest 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 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 looks 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.
One of TikTok’s many content creators doing his thing. Source: YouTube.
Heck, I’ve even run across Ps Paseka Mboro, the controversial, panga-wielding evangelist, suave in a blue suit and black tie, getting ready to preach the word live on the ether. Sangomas, actually loads of them, often pop up, replete with bones, bamboo mats, 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 rather 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 provide 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 equaliser. Or at least the illusion of one, because whether the video was shot on a high-end camera or a budget-store handset, what counts most is which one is more impactful or entertaining.
Despite all of this, old trends refuse to give way 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, 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 rape or sexual assault. Also, no matter how interesting your video looks, it is never advisable to post 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.