Special 02 Pt.1|Beyond TikTok Ban: States, Corporations, and Individuals in Global Digital Politics

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Text Transcription:

Alina 01:01

Hello everyone, welcome back to Overreactology. I’m your host Alina.

Jasmine 01:05

I’m host Jasmine.

Alina 01:07

This episode is the second of our TikTok special. In the first episode, we explored the phenomenon of “TikTok refugees migrating to Xiaohongshu (RedNote)”. This refers to the recent trend of American TikTok users searching for a new digital home due to the U.S. government’s potential ban on TikTok due to data security and national security concerns. As a result, a group of self-proclaimed “refugees” turned to Xiaohongshu (RedNote), a Chinese-language social media platform. Within just the first two days, 700,000 new users flooded into Xiaohongshu, making it the most downloaded free app on the U.S. App Store.

Disappointed with the political and social climate in the U.S., these TikTok users became “cyber refugees” on RedNote, where they directly interacted with existing users who embrace a vision of a globalised, interconnected world. Their communications have been immersed in a lighthearted and humorous online environment, using cat and dog memes to bridge cultural differences with kindness and joy.

In the first episode, we also invited a guest who has 68,000 followers on TikTok before making the move to RedNote. We had an in-depth conversation with this “TikTok refugee” about their journey and experiences in navigating this digital migration.

Now, as we record this second episode on January 23rd, a significant political shift has taken place—Trump is back in power, the White House has changed hands, and TikTok appears to have been “resurrected” albeit with a seemingly new identity. At this moment, TikTok has evolved from a mere social media platform into what is now considered a national security threat in the U.S. and a geopolitical battleground. The proposed ban has seen multiple twists and turns, unfolding against the backdrop of a turbulent political landscape in both the U.S. and the world.

So in this episode, we aim to take a more academic, policy-oriented, and analytical approach to examine the deeper implications behind the phenomenon of American TikTok cyber refugees.

Jasmine 03:03

Welcome back, everyone! Today, in addition to Alina and me, we are honored to have a special guest joining us—D1, a PhD student at the Oxford Internet Institute. She will be sharing her insights on today’s topic with us.

I first came across D1’s work in Policy and Internet in 2024, when she published an article on TikTok’s platform moderation controversies in South and Southeast Asia. At the time, discussions around a potential TikTok ban were already heating up, so that article left a strong impression on me. It gave me a solid understanding of corporate operations and content moderation policies. Now, with the TikTok ban debate reigniting and the emergence of the TikTok refugee phenomenon, we decided to dedicate a special series to this topic. D1 was the first person that came to mind, so we reached out right away to invite her.

This is also the first time our podcast is doing a more academic discussion, which makes today’s episode particularly exciting! Now, let’s have D1 introduce herself and say hello to our audience.

D1 03:59

Thank you both! Hello to all the listeners—I’m D1. I’m currently a PhD student in the UK, and as Jasmine just mentioned, my research focuses on content governance through transnational social media platforms. In particular, I'm interested in exploring how the rules and norms of online public discourse are shaped, and by whom. Is it national governments, multinational corporations, NGOs, or algorithms? How do these different entities communicate with each other, and how is this process legitimised? Interestingly, though my research focuses on TikTok, I’m actually a regular user of Xiaohongshu (RedNote). I’m really excited to be part of today’s discussion!

A Quick Review of the TikTok case

Jasmine 04:34

Thanks, D1! So today, as Alina mentioned earlier, we won’t be focusing too much on the TikTok ban case itself. Instead, we’ll take a broader, more contextual approach and explore its potential long-term impacts.

For those interested in the specifics of the case, there are already quite a few resources available in the Chinese-speaking world. I’d like to recommend some that I think offer valuable insights.

In terms of podcasts, while many new episodes discussing the TikTok refugee phenomenon have emerged in the past few days—including our own interview episode—there’s one podcast that specifically focuses on the TikTok ban itself. That would be an episode from Wei Shijie’s Business Talk (卫诗婕商业漫谈), where the host invited Minda Huang, a lawyer specializing in Chinese businesses operating in the U.S. While the episode might be slightly outdated, it provides a very professional and comprehensive breakdown of the case, making it an excellent resource for understanding the full context. For textual content, there’s a WeChat public account called Nonlinear Thinking (非线性思维). The author attended TikTok’s most recent court hearing and has published six in-depth articles so far, analyzing key details of the case and sharing firsthand observations from the trial. It’s a very thorough and informative resource.

Let me quickly summarize the background of the TikTok ban. If you’re already familiar with this part, feel free to skip ahead.

The restrictions on TikTok—whether in the U.S. or elsewhere—have actually been in place for quite some time. This isn’t something that just emerged at the end of last year. Prior to this ban, the U.S. had already introduced the Restrict Act (S. 686), and back in 2020, Trump signed an executive order attempting to ban both TikTok and WeChat’s international versions. There have also been state-level restrictions, such as Texas prohibiting government officials from using TikTok on state-owned devices.

The current ban under discussion is officially titled the Protecting Americans from Foreign Adversary Controlled Applications Act. At its core, the legislation argues that TikTok poses a national security threat to the U.S. To give an example, during the recent hearing at the U.S. Court of Appeals for the D.C. Circuit, one judge even asked, “If the U.S. and China go to war, would we still be unable to ban TikTok?” This reflects how the U.S. government and courts have tightly linked TikTok to broader geopolitical issues, particularly U.S.-China relations and national security concerns.

The latest development is that, on his first day back in office—January 20th—Trump signed a new executive order granting a 75-day grace period for the ban. This means that within these 75 days, the Department of Justice will temporarily refrain from enforcing penalties against those who do not comply with the law. Additionally, something that hasn’t received as much attention is that on the same day, two U.S. senators introduced a bill aimed at repealing the ban.

There have been various responses and opinions within the U.S. regarding this ban. From Silicon Valley’s perspective, the TikTok ban doesn’t just affect TikTok and its parent company, ByteDance—it also impacts Apple and Google, which would be required to remove TikTok from their app stores. Additionally, companies like Oracle and Akamai would have to suspend their cloud services and support for TikTok. Meanwhile, Meta’s platforms—Facebook and Instagram—stand to benefit in the short term, as they are direct competitors of TikTok. Within the U.S. government, Trump himself has been explicitly opposed to the ban, as has Elon Musk. They argue that it violates free speech rights. On December 27th, Trump submitted an amicus curiae brief to the court. If you’re interested, I highly recommend reading it in detail as it contains many intriguing points. For instance, Trump argues that the TikTok ban represents an unprecedented, novel, and difficult tension between free speech rights, foreign policy, and national security concerns. He also warns that shutting down TikTok could set a dangerous precedent for banning speech and could lead to federal overreach in censoring social media.

Beyond government and industry responses, there has also been significant public reaction, including the TikTok refugee phenomenon. If you haven’t already, I highly recommend listening to the first episode of our TikTok Special, where our guest explained how the ban affects ordinary TikTokers, not just in terms of free speech but also their livelihoods. Many content creators rely on TikTok for income. Moreover, TikTok’s algorithm has been notably friendly to left-leaning political voices, which are often suppressed on platforms like Facebook and Instagram due to their moderation policies.

Today, we’re not going to speculate on the future of this case or dive too deeply into the legal details. Instead, we want to use this case as a lens to explore broader tensions and contradictions. One way to do this is by expanding the discussion geographically. The TikTok ban doesn’t just affect Americans or Xiaohongshu (RedNote) users in China—it has ripple effects in other regions as well.

D1, I know you have a strong understanding of Southeast Asia. Could you start by sharing your thoughts on how this ban impacts the region?

Beyond the US: Content creators around the world affected by the TikTok case

D1 10:04

Thank you! I wouldn’t say I’m deeply familiar with the region, as I’m not a local content creator myself. However, through my past research, I’ve engaged with creators from Pakistan and Indonesia, and I’ve observed two key mechanisms through which they could be impacted by the ban.

The first mechanism became apparent on January 19th, when some Indonesian creators reported that their TikTok app had also been blocked. A possible explanation is that they had previously studied in the U.S. or had used an American phone number to register their TikTok account. As a result, even after returning to their home country, they still found themselves affected by a ban originating from thousands of miles away. The second mechanism involves TikTok Creator Fund, which provides financial incentives to content creators. However, this program isn’t available in every country, for instance, it’s not open to creators in Pakistan. To get around this, many Pakistani creators use a VPN to register a U.S.-based account, allowing them to monetize their content through TikTok’s U.S. Creator Fund. With the new ban in place, these monetization strategies have been disrupted, leaving many creators in limbo. So, these are two ways in which non-U.S. users, particularly content creators, may be directly affected by the TikTok ban.

Jasmine 11:27

I’d like to ask, when it comes to South Asia and Southeast Asia, particularly Pakistan and Indonesia, is TikTok a really popular platform there? How many users does it have?

D1 11:36

I don’t have the exact numbers on hand right now, but if we look at TikTok’s global user base as of 2024, we’ll see that six out of its top ten overseas markets are in South Asia and Southeast Asia. Indonesia, in particular, is a huge market for TikTok. With the U.S. ban in place, Indonesia is set to become TikTok’s largest international market. Pakistan, on the other hand, ranks fourth in terms of user base. This region—South and Southeast Asia—is often the first stop for Chinese tech platforms expanding globally, especially social media and short video platforms. Factors like local culture and the widespread adoption of mobile internet have made it a fertile ground for social media platforms to thrive.

TikTok as a “Platform of Immorality”?

Alina 12:24

This just reminded me of a presentation I once attended at an academic conference. It was about how TikTok in Pakistan has also played a role in empowering underprivileged groups—people who are on the margins of society. Whether it’s by helping them increase their income or amplifying their voices, TikTok has provided opportunities that traditional media often overlook. However, the speaker also mentioned that the Pakistani government has considered restrictions on TikTok in the past. Interestingly, unlike the U.S., where the ban is driven by political and national security concerns, Pakistan’s hesitation towards TikTok has been more about social and moral values. The government has labeled TikTok as a “platform of immorality”—not necessarily because of its political influence, but because content like dancing, lip-syncing, and entertainment in general is seen as inappropriate by some authorities. In particular, the idea of women dancing on a public platform has been viewed as conflicting with conservative social norms. I wonder—does Pakistan still have these restrictions in place? Has the government imposed any new bans recently?

D1 13:33

Right, I think that’s a really great observation. As we just mentioned, TikTok—being a platform from a Chinese tech company—has faced geopolitical pressures in major countries like the U.S. and India, where there are direct economic and strategic conflicts with China.

However, in other parts of the world—like Pakistan and many South and Southeast Asian markets—governments have restricted or even banned TikTok not because of its Chinese origins, but because the platform failed to comply with local regulations on content moderation and censorship. In these regions, we’ve seen frequent cases where cross-border platforms are taken down from app stores, blocked from downloads, or even cut off from cloud services, all because they didn’t meet the local government’s demands.

In Pakistan’s case, since TikTok’s expansion in 2018, it has actually been banned and unbanned four times. Each ban typically lasted for about two to three weeks—so these were short-lived administrative bans rather than permanent prohibitions. The purpose? Mostly to pressure TikTok into removing content that the government deemed inappropriate, usually on moral, religious, or cultural grounds.

But this raises an interesting question—who gets to decide what is “immoral” or “inappropriate”? This is something I personally find fascinating in my research. For example, dancing is a completely normal and widely accepted form of content on short-video platforms like TikTok. But in more conservative societies, authorities might argue that women creators shouldn’t be showcasing themselves in such a way on social media.

So, at its core, I think this reflects the complex relationship between local governments, platform companies, and users in different markets. In many cases, the conflict isn’t necessarily about geopolitics, but rather about how global platforms adapt—or fail to adapt—to local cultural and regulatory expectations.

How Xiaohongshu (RedNote) as a platform yet to be fully geopoliticized became a global cyber refugee shelter

Alina 15:52

We’ve just been discussing TikTok’s global expansion, and how the recent surge of TikTok refugees into Xiaohongshu (RedNote) has also triggered a trend where users from many non-American countries are flocking to Xiaohongshu (RedNote). For example, there were jokes in the beginning that “without Americans, TikTok would become boring” so a lot of users from countries like Germany and the UK have also started joining Xiaohongshu (RedNote).

What I find particularly interesting is that Chinese netizens recently discovered that Russian users have actually been quietly using Xiaohongshu (RedNote) and some other Chinese social media platforms for around two years. This started after the Russia-Ukraine war in spring 2022, which was followed by some restrictions on social media platforms in Russia. After these restrictions were imposed, many Russian social media creators faced challenges similar to what American TikTok users experienced these days: loss of livelihood and reduced income. A lot of these creators were influencers on e.g. Instagram, and they also make money through things like cryptocurrency, NFTs, and promoting their own content products. After Instagram was shut down in Russia, some of these creators shifted to Russian-language social media platforms, while others began exploring alternatives, including Xiaohongshu (RedNote).

So, these creators have also started targeting platforms like Xiaohongshu (RedNote) and other Chinese social media platforms. However, probably because of their more reserved and low-key personality, they didn’t make as much of a dramatic entrance as Americans did. They didn’t come in with a big splash, nor did they leave with one. Instead, their presence has been more subtle, and only recently with algorithmic features highlighting foreign users’ uniqueness have many Russian users started to “rise to the surface” and be exposed to Chinese netizens out of the filter bubble. Now, there’s been a lot of discussion online about how, when users from different countries join Xiaohongshu (RedNote), it really showcases the cultural differences between them. There’s also a lot of talk about the specific situation of Russian users and some fascinating observations have emerged about how people from the U.S., China, and Russia are interacting with each other in these global digital spaces. So I think this really highlights the importance of technology and cyberspace in this globalized era. It’s really intriguing to see how these different dynamics are playing out.

D1 18:27

I’d like to add something about the influx of global users into Xiaohongshu (RedNote). Of course, part of this is simply due to curiosity: users from all over the world are discovering this emerging platform and choosing to join in, expressing themselves. At the same time, I’ve also seen reports that around January 17, Xiaohongshu (RedNote) actively reached out to businesses and marketing agencies in the U.S., inviting influential TikTok creators to join the platform. In other words, this wasn’t just an organic migration, it was also strategically guided by the platform itself. So, I think this whole trend is not just about users spontaneously flocking to Xiaohongshu (RedNote), but also about the platform seizing an opportunity and leveraging commercial strategies to attract new users.

Jasmine 19:10

Right, unlike other Chinese platforms, Xiaohongshu (RedNote) has not developed region-specific versions of its app. For example, ByteDance operates Douyin and TikTok as separate entities in different regions, and WeChat also has distinct versions for different markets. But Xiaohongshu (RedNote) remains a single, unified platform worldwide, the same app is accessible to users everywhere. This has actually laid the groundwork for users from different countries to flock to Xiaohongshu (RedNote) and interact in a shared digital space.

Alina 19:32

Yes. Now my Xiaohongshu (RedNote) feed is quite interesting, as it has essentially become a global political frontline with Russian soldiers sharing daily life, and Ukrainian users responding in the comments, and even Gazan netizens vlogging their post-ceasefire experiences. In the early days of this influx of US TikTok users, I also noticed international students posting firsthand accounts of major events unfolding around them. This highlights how Xiaohongshu is evolving into a social media platform at the forefront of global political discourse.

Of course, part of this might be due to the algorithm tailoring content based on your interest in international relations. But it’s also a reflection of how people increasingly seek to document and discuss politically charged events through their everyday experiences. And as Jasmine mentioned earlier, Xiaohongshu’s (RedNote) global accessibility, like, without a complex verification process, has made it easier for users worldwide to join and contributed to its role as a “globalizing cyberspace”.

D1 20:35

Right, I agree with Alina. Xiaohongshu, as a discursive space that has not yet been segmented or restricted, due to technological or other reasons, indeed reflects users’ concern for global politics and events happening around them, as seen in recent developments on our timelines and feed.

So I think, this sudden trendy phenomenon in fact reflects the interconnections between global users and their attention to the heated events. This also really highlights how algorithms personalize user experiences based on engagement patterns. There is a distinctive difference between me and Alina’s user behavior: while yours has become a geopolitical news hub, mine is filled with cats and dogs.

Alina 21:35

Indeed.

D1 21:36

Right, but we also just mentioned that many have said that Xiaohongshu (RedNote) rapidly hiring English-language moderators overnight. Plus, they’ve recently rolled out features like one-click translation. I think these are all new developments that highlight how the platform is making swift internal adjustments to adapt to this sudden wave of change.

Tech Utopia and America’s Moment of May 68

Alina 21:59

Yes, actually, I’ve come across some comments saying that this wave of traffic on Xiaohongshu (RedNote), and how it has become global cyberspace, somewhat echoes the ideals of the early days of the internet. Take the 1980s, for example—when China sent out the first hello-world message from a computer to connect with the world (in 1987, China sent its first email, carrying the message: “Across the Great Wall, we can reach every corner of the world”). It was a moment filled with the early dreams of globalization in cyberspace.

For example, in 1996, John Perry Barlow published A Declaration of the Independence of Cyberspace, where he famously stated that cyberspace was not a space defined by traditional state borders but rather a public project—an attempt to create a kind of digital utopia. However, as the internet evolved, we gradually saw the emergence of political boundaries within it. Algorithms, as they developed, even began to customize and shape the so-called “information space” that each user could access, which effectively created personalized digital borders.

But what’s interesting this time is that despite these technological limitations on our access to different parts of cyberspace, what’s happening now feels fundamentally different from the internet of the 1980s and 1990s due to advancements in AI models and translation tools. For example, American users can now directly navigate an entirely Chinese-language social platform—something that would have been unthinkable in the past by using the AI and LLM-powered translation functions. Sure, they complain about how exhausting it is to rely on Google Translate, but many have shared tips on how to take a screenshot and upload it to a translation app, instantly making the text readable—like putting on a pair of augmented reality glasses that reveal an entirely new world. And Xiaohongshu (RedNote) itself, from what I’ve heard, may have integrated some large AI models, possibly even something like GPT, though I’m not entirely sure about the exact technology they’re using. But without these rapid tech advancements, it would have been nearly impossible to break down the barriers created by language and cultural differences. In fact, what I find fascinating is that humor—something so deeply rooted in language and culture—still finds a way to resonate across these divides. The jokes land. The emotions connect. And that, I think, is incredibly powerful.

Jasmine 24:30

I feel like what you’re describing is the ongoing struggle between the technological barriers built by tech giants and nation-states on the one hand, and the ingenuity of users in navigating and overcoming these barriers on the other.

Alina 24:47

Yes, I feel like this time we’ve seen a lot of struggles and resistance. I saw an American content creator referred to this wave of “TikTok refugees migrating to Xiaohongshu (RedNote)” as “The Red Shift”—a “red turn”. (D1: A red storm.) In some Chinese comments, people even compared it to the “May 1968” that swept across France and later many other European countries, pointing out many striking similarities. First, the “Red” metaphor in Xiaohongshu (RedNote)’s name itself already hints a bit.

Another fascinating aspect of this phenomenon is what some are calling the “Great Ledger” between China and the U.S.—a kind of mass reckoning where people on both sides are realizing that each other’s lives are not as they had imagined. Whether things are going well or poorly, this influx of direct, unfiltered content has allowed for the emergence of more authentic voices and a more realistic picture of each other’s societies. This has led to an interesting trend in the comment sections, where many people are advising Americans to move away from extreme individualism and the kind of hyper-atomized existence they’ve been conditioned to accept. A lot of American content creators are also engaging in discussions, framing this not as a fight between left and right, but rather as a battle between the rich and the poor. Many are openly criticizing the current state of American politics, arguing that it has devolved into an oligarchy controlled by corporate elites and big capital, rather than the democratic capitalist system they were taught to believe in.

As a result, many voices are now calling for solidarity among ordinary Americans, painting a picture of what could almost be described as a “global people’s movement.” And I find that incredibly interesting. It also ties back to what Jasmine mentioned earlier—how TikTok’s algorithm in the U.S. has been instrumental in elevating voices from ordinary people, particularly those with left-leaning or activist perspectives. The platform has enabled the spread of more progressive, mobilizing content, and I think that’s a really compelling dynamic at play here.

This brings me back to something I studied in international political economy—Neo-Gramscianism. It’s a school of thought that sees cultural hegemony and ideology as forces that drive social change. According to this perspective, hegemony isn’t maintained solely through coercion or violence but rather through the construction of ideology, the repetition of cultural products, and the internalization of class values. In the digital space, this dynamic plays out through dominant narratives and popular culture, which can either reinforce or challenge the status quo. Traditional social media platforms—like those under Meta, which we’ve mentioned—tend to amplify content that aligns with mainstream values or serves corporate interests, ultimately reinforcing certain ideological structures. But TikTok’s emergence has disrupted this pattern. Unlike older platforms, it has provided marginalized groups with a space to express themselves and challenge dominant discourses in ways that weren’t as easily accessible before.

And now, with this wave of users coming onto Xiaohongshu (RedNote), we’re witnessing an interesting fusion of ideas between the English-speaking and Chinese-speaking worlds. Many creators are engaging in discussions that remind me of the concept of “organic intellectuals”—people who, rather than being traditional academics, generate knowledge and political discourse through lived experiences and grassroots communication.

On Xiaohongshu, we see users posting videos critiquing figures like Elon Musk or expressing dissatisfaction with the way oligarchy has taken hold in the U.S. political system. They are not just reacting to existing narratives but actively producing new forms of knowledge and ideology. And what’s really fascinating is the level of interaction happening in the comment sections between Chinese and American users. This kind of dialogue feels like the emergence of a new social force. While there has been a lot of critique about how social media platforms contribute to the reinforcement of cultural hegemony, this moment on Xiaohongshu (RedNote) suggests that platforms can also be repurposed as tools for counter-hegemonic movements. It makes me wonder—could Xiaohongshu (RedNote) be evolving into a space for resistance, a site where alternative narratives can be built outside of the traditional power structures of Western media?

D1 29:42

Right, I think this ties back to what we mentioned earlier—most platforms, even those that claim to be global, structure their recommendations, moderation, and overall operations based on the user’s country. So even though your homepage might feature content from around the world, the majority of what you engage with or get recommended still comes from within your own cultural context. At the very least, the content is filtered through language or location-based algorithms that tailor the experience to where you are.

And in a typical social media experience, unless someone has a strong personal interest in connecting with people from different countries, most users naturally stay within their own cultural sphere. Their feed is largely an inward-looking space, shaped by familiar narratives and local trends. And of course, there’s nothing inherently wrong with this—it’s just how people’s interests and social media habits tend to work.

But what we’re seeing right now on Xiaohongshu (RedNote) is something quite extraordinary. This sudden influx of users from all over the world has created a phenomenon where people are actively seeking connections outside of what the algorithm would normally push to them. It’s as if there’s this bottom-up, organic curiosity emerging—one that goes beyond the usual recommendation system and extends outward toward different cultures, and different realities.

In the waves of politicization, how can businesses navigate and survive within these complexities?

Jasmine 31:09

So, on one hand, users today are receiving information that has already been filtered and curated. On the other hand, businesses—especially global platforms—face immense challenges in navigating these complex environments. Both Alina and D1 have touched on content moderation, which brings us to the key question: How do companies make decisions in such a landscape?

Alina just mentioned how Meta’s apps tend to lean towards right-leaning perspectives (compared to TikTok). For example, in the Israel-Palestine conflict, the content that users see on Meta platforms may often appear to be pro-Israel. Meanwhile, D1 pointed out that TikTok has been banned in Pakistan four times due to content that didn’t align with local values. And then, of course, there’s TikTok’s ongoing political battle in the U.S., where Congress has expressed concerns about its Chinese ownership. Right now, the U.S. is essentially saying ban-or-sale while China requires it not to be to sold. This puts TikTok in an incredibly difficult position.

So, D1, could you share your thoughts on this? Specifically, as a business entity, how does TikTok navigate these political tensions and the varying value standards across different global markets?

D1 32:43

Yeah, I think when it comes to TikTok, two key aspects make its situation unique. The first is the platform’s strategy of depoliticization. As I mentioned in a previous article, this is actually a challenge faced by most multinational internet platforms. These companies don’t want to get entangled in political risks—whether it’s geopolitical conflicts between nations or domestic political issues within a specific market. Their overarching goal is to avoid political risks, and that’s reflected in their content moderation policies, which generally lean toward depoliticization.

For TikTok, one of the clearest examples of this is its ban on political advertising. During election seasons, platforms like Facebook, Meta’s other apps, or YouTube allow political ads and campaign promotions through formal channels. However, since 2019, TikTok has completely banned officially sanctioned political ads. Many believe this decision stemmed from an incident during the 2019 Indian general elections, where ByteDance’s platforms faced criticism from India’s election commission for running ads featuring political figures and elements. Following the tensions and conflicts in India, TikTok implemented a total ban on political ads later that year, positioning itself as an entertainment-driven platform.

Beyond this depoliticization strategy, TikTok has also been actively working on decoupling from China. Since the platform’s global expansion at the end of 2017, it has faced continuous political pressure—whether in the U.S., where it has been scrutinized for its Chinese ownership, or in India, where it lost its biggest market in 2020. It has also been banned on government devices in multiple countries and faced temporary or long-term suspensions in various South Asian and Southeast Asian markets due to local regulatory challenges. So, TikTok’s situation highlights both the unique pressures faced by a Chinese-founded internet platform and the broader struggles that multinational social media companies face when trying to mitigate political risks across different regions.

Jasmine 34:53

Right, I also remember reading in your article that TikTok—or rather, ByteDance—operates under a decentralized management model, which is quite different from the centralized management style of major Silicon Valley companies. Is that correct?

D1 35:10

Yes, I think this can be expanded into what we discussed earlier—what we might call cultural hegemony. For American multinational corporations, from Hollywood movies to global corporate exports, the goal has always been one of uniformity, a relatively centralized standard or model. The aim is to produce the same products and adhere to the same standards. But for TikTok, whether driven by its own initiative or in response to external pressures, its expansion is a relatively decentralized process. For example, TikTok has three regional centers: one in Dublin for Europe, one in Singapore for the Asia-Pacific region, and one in Los Angeles for the U.S. This decision itself is a form of regional decentralization. Beyond that, each national market or local team has a certain degree of autonomy. So, I think this approach demonstrates a more pragmatic and even somewhat low-profile strategy in dealing with different regional government regulations: TikTok actively cooperates and makes adjustments, but it doesn’t loudly proclaim its support for any particular set of values as a corporate entity. This approach reflects a cultural difference in policy-making, and that’s what makes TikTok different from other Silicon Valley companies.

Jasmine 36:39

Could you possibly give us an example of how TikTok practices this “low-profile” approach or how it works to depoliticize itself?

D1 36:45

In my research, I’ve spoken with many government officials from South Asia and Southeast Asia, as well as local employees of these platforms and civil society organizations. I chatted with them about questions like what have you found to be the biggest difference in how these large internet companies engage with your country compared to others? For TikTok, there seems to be a general consensus that they focus heavily on compliance. When dealing with government communications, TikTok demonstrates a proactive approach, actively engaging in dialogue to avoid escalating political risks. On the other hand, many American companies might push back, arguing that their content standards don’t align with local laws, but TikTok is much less likely to engage in this kind of pushback. So, I think TikTok’s response to the ban in the U.S. has been quite remarkable, especially in the symbolic actions they’ve taken, such as large-scale shutdowns, are definitely surprising.

Jasmine 38:00

Right, so in this whole ban situation, one of TikTok’s strongest cards to play has been freedom of speech. The platform itself has always positioned itself as something that transcends corporate culture or rigid corporate values, which makes it very natural for them to wield this argument.

Is the platform merely an intermediary, or does it carry responsibility?

D1 38:22

Yeah, I think the reason TikTok can play this card so effectively in the U.S. market is because freedom of speech is a deeply ingrained cultural and legal principle there. Whether it’s in law or in broader social norms, it’s something that resonates with people. But in a way, doesn’t this also reveal a kind of pragmatism? TikTok is strategically aligning itself with a narrative that the local audience finds compelling, using it as leverage to protect its own corporate interests.

And another point I wanted to add is something we touched on earlier—how governments and public discourse often scrutinize platforms for allegedly favoring left-leaning or right-leaning viewpoints, or for their approach to moderating content that violates certain norms. This all ties back to a bigger debate: should platforms that rely on user-generated content be legally responsible for what gets posted?

This is such an interesting issue because it challenges the traditional idea of platforms as mere intermediaries. If their algorithms and content distribution strategies actively shape public discourse, then to what extent should they still be granted legal immunity? That’s the real question here.

Jasmine 39:35

Just like the case of Uber.

D1 39:38

Yes, and the answer to this question varies depending on the country and its legal framework. In Europe, for example, regulations like the Digital Services Act require platforms to take on more responsibility for content moderation. And we’re seeing a lot of countries in South and Southeast Asia following this European model, implementing stricter oversight and expecting platforms to be more accountable for the content they host.

(Jasmine: That’s the case in China as well.)

Yeah, in China, the regulatory approach is more of a “platform responsibility system” where platforms are expected to take the lead in content moderation and actively ensure compliance with regulations. Meanwhile, in the U.S., over the past few years, platforms have largely operated under legal immunity protections—they’ve been shielded from liability for user-generated content under the banner of free speech. But with growing scrutiny, that model is now being challenged.

Jasmine 40:24

Yes, exactly! This ties directly into Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act, which has been a cornerstone of legal protection for tech platforms in the U.S.

D1

Yes, it is.

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