Cal Newport replaces Kyle Chayka in this week’s Infinite Scroll column.
In 2013, I wrote a blog post titled “Why I Never Joined Facebook.” Social media has become so pervasive that I felt obligated to justify my abstention. I pointed out that I don’t need it because it doesn’t solve any of the real problems in my life. The post sparked a lively discussion in the comments section and led to a series of follow-up essays attempting to counter arguments against platforms such as Facebook and Twitter. “Fear of missing out…is not a valid argument for throwing away what you already have,” I observed in one earnest passage. In 2016, I put my ideas into a book chapter called “Quiting Social Media” and incorporated them into a TEDx talk and a Times op-ed, both of which went viral.
I’ve upset a lot of techno-optimists. For example, technology writer and researcher Alexandra Samuel appeared on a radio show with me and asked, “Ask yourself how this incredibly powerful medium can actually help you achieve your personal goals.” I think that’s much more useful.” But things changed after the 2016 election. This election is one of many disturbing upheavals shaped in part by social media. As public opinion gradually turned against the big tech platforms, my offline status became less alarming. I was willing to disconnect from whatever the world’s 5 billion social media users were doing in their online lives and move on.
Then last month I had surgery and was recuperating at home for several weeks. Looking for something interesting and relatively undemanding to spend my time with, I revisited my decade-old claims about quitting social media and wondered how much they still hold true. I was particularly interested in TikTok, which launched in 2017 and quickly replaced Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram for many young people. What caught my attention was that it was so common among the college students I teach that the Supreme Court should allow the US to ban it or else it would be owned by China. The company was in the process of deciding whether to force the seller to sell. (The verdict will be announced soon.) So I did something that would have made my former self cringe. While I still could, I downloaded the TikTok app to see what all the fuss was about.
When you sign in for the first time, TikTok will ask you to select your interests from a long list marked with cheerful emojis. I choose “Life Hacks,” “Science and Education,” and “Sports.” Then I leave. The first video shows the Clemson University baseball team playing an exhibition game against pro tour team the Savannah Bananas. Clemson infielders start dancing for inexplicable reasons. Swipe up. A new video begins and shows a person choosing shoes in a store. The video is only 10 seconds long. By the time you finish writing your notes, playback has already started. I quickly swipe again. In the following video, soft music plays as a car slowly drives toward Yosemite National Park. The algorithm must have noticed that I was stuck in a winter landscape. The following video shows someone using a rotating broom-like device to sweep snow from a balcony. Then the feed goes dark and you want to scroll even faster. I saw a news article about a person being pushed onto subway tracks in Manhattan — Swipe — Trump’s video with creepy music playing — Swipe — “Top 15 Most Ghetto High Schools in New Jersey” — Swipe — and someone At a restaurant making fun of the server’s accent. The app has been shut down.
The speed and emotional rawness of the clip is breathtaking. Like my grandparents who discovered smartphones for the first time, I quickly feel old. But what stands out to me most is that TikTok doesn’t have a clear purpose. In my 2013 blog post “Why I’m Not on Facebook (yet),” I discussed common arguments in favor of legacy social media. It is “able to maintain lightweight and high-frequency contact with a large number of users.” number of people. ” This is clearly not a feature of TikTok, and TikTok is not centered around following friends or posting updates about your life. When I first signed up, the app didn’t even ask me to choose a username. All I was asked for was my phone number and date of birth. According to Pew Research, the typical TikTok user never adds information to the “profile” field of their account. They happily remain anonymous consumers of content. (I later learned that many people share TikTok through text and instant messages.)
In my blog post, I also considered the once sacrosanct idea that social media provides important “professional benefits.” After I wrote the article for the Times, the paper even published a rebuttal from Patrick Gillooly, who at the time was director of digital communications and social media at Monster, a website for recruiters and job seekers. . “As someone who spends a large portion of my work time on social media helping people find careers they love, I disagree with his assessment,” Gillooly said of my article. “I believe you shouldn’t quit social media. Doing so will actually damage your career.” TikTok influencers are not the only ones who find TikTok beneficial to their careers in some way Does anyone else think so? On the contrary, you may be more likely to get fired for your social posts. (Videos about getting fired for posting on TikTok are, fittingly, a popular genre on TikTok.)
Additionally, social media is an online “town square”, where a Twitter trend, a widely read Facebook post, or an Instagram meme can become a forum for collective conversation. There is an argument that has been said. While some legacy platforms, particularly X, still cling to this concept, Reels, the short-form video-focused part of TikTok and Instagram, doesn’t seem to care about the shared experience. While some videos may receive millions of views, feeds are generally customized by each user’s individual curation algorithm. Encounters with dancing baseball players and spinning snow brooms were not the subject of public discussion. This experience was unique for me.
I realized that these perceptions were dislocated. Ten years ago, I understood the arguments in favor of social media, even if I didn’t necessarily agree with it. However, I realized that I had no idea what was creating its current appeal. Wanting some clarification, I called my former student, 24-year-old Zach. I asked him a simple question. Why?
“I mostly use the app to see content that my friends have shared, or to find content to share with friends and family,” says Zach. As if on cue, a text message from a friend interrupts him. It linked to a TikTok video and he forwarded it to me. Captioned “Always ready,” the clip begins with a shot of him stepping onto a bedroom carpet and the text: “Golf: ‘Buddy, be ready by 8am.'” ” Expectant music plays and your feet walk towards someone who appears to be asleep in bed. But as his hand pulls back the cover, the camera suddenly pans up to show a young man in golf attire standing on a bed, holding a club as if ready to swing. I’ll show it. The text changes to “Me at 7:59 a.m.” The music is exciting. That’s it! I’m surprised at how short it is.
“Is that all?” I ask.
“That’s interesting!” says Zach.
He forwarded me another TikTok that his brother had enjoyed. It depicts the Swiss national soccer team playing a match and is accompanied by the words, “Explaining what Toblerone is to someone who has never experienced it.” The announcer uses the phrase “neat little Swiss triangle.” 5 seconds have passed. The video ends.
I feel like funny TikToks have a special challenge of using visuals to encode as much information as possible in as little time as possible. For the viewer, there is pleasure in deciphering them. Zach sent me a calculus gag. A man and a woman are drinking alcohol on a date. A caption floating above the woman reads, “I’ll change him.” Near her face is the mathematical symbol d/dx, which is used to find derivatives. Superimposed on the human is the function e^x. To know that the derivative of e^x is itself e^x, you need to study calculus. I let out an audible squeal. Then I ask myself, how many people can understand this? “You also need context to understand the meme format,” Zack says. “A very specific kind of humor for some people.”
When Zach goes out with his brother, they sometimes watch clips on TikTok. “We look at them and laugh together,” he explains. However, his sister is more interested in catching a glimpse of various activities than comedy. “I feel like I’m living in someone else’s life,” she recently told him.
I asked another student, a 19-year-old undergraduate named Lizzie, how she uses TikTok. She describes the sense of authenticity afforded by the platform’s democratic nature: “Anyone can go viral.” She sent me a one-minute montage of soldiers coming home from deployment and surprising their children while playing patriotic background music. It’s not a sophisticated piece of work, but it’s definitely moving.
She also sent a TikTok of herself making a caprese-style sandwich. There’s something strangely hypnotic about watching basil being crushed or crunchy bread being sliced. But given how quickly these recipes fly by, can anyone actually follow them? “People use them for relaxation and learning,” she says. says.
Ten years ago, I thought of social media as Manichean. These platforms can distract and mislead users, but they also have the potential to topple dictators and enable free expression. These competing impulses are always at war with each other. Serious thinkers have written articles and books about how to make social media a force for good, and in 2018 they wrote a book titled “10 Arguments for Deleting Your Social Media Accounts Now.” Critics like Jaron Lanier have expressed skepticism about that vision. But much of the content on TikTok and similar services like Instagram Reels and YouTube Shorts borders on nihilism. They seem to enjoy the pointlessness and sometimes poke fun at the idea that videos should be useful. The most popular platforms are loudly asserting the quiet part that there is no deep and meaningful justification for their digital products, and users seem to understand and accept this new deal. Lizzy said TikTok is “a treasure trove for people who have short attention spans and want a quick dopamine hit.” As if to emphasize this point, she forwarded me a video of a dog barking, which sounds like human speech. “I love you,” the blue-eyed husky appears to growl.
