How TikTok Reshapes Political Engagement and Creative Economies

TikTok has emerged as a paradoxical force in modern politics. On one hand, many politicians publicly condemn the app – citing national security risks or inappropriate content – and have even pushed for bans. On the other hand, they eagerly use TikTok as a campaign tool to reach its massive audience (over 170 million U.S. users). This irony was on full display in 2024, when more than a dozen U.S. lawmakers who voted to ban TikTok nonetheless maintained active accounts on it – even President Biden’s campaign joined TikTok while he signaled he’d sign a ban into law (politico.com). Beyond just using TikTok, some political campaigns also quietly leverage paid engagement growth services (such as “Views4You”) to inflate their metrics. In essence, even as they decry TikTok’s influence, politicians recognize its power and have been willing to pay to play in order to appear more popular and influential on the platform.

Artificial Engagement & Political Perception

The availability of third-party services like Views4You allows politicians to buy artificial engagement – purchasing views, likes, or even followers – to create an illusion of organic popularity. For example, Views4You markets itself as a “reliable” growth provider of real TikTok followers and views, delivered in a way that “the advanced TikTok algorithm cannot detect” (views4you.com). In practice, this means a campaign can pay for thousands of extra video views or fake fans, making a candidate’s TikTok presence look far more popular than it truly is. A Vice investigation demonstrated how easy this is: for about $50, a reporter bought TikTok followers, likes, and views that boosted an unremarkable video to 25,000 views and over 1,000 likes. The clip even climbed the ranks of a popular hashtag, solely because fake engagement tricked TikTok’s algorithm into amplifying it (vice.com).

Such artificial virality can significantly distort public perception. Social media platforms reward content that already shows high engagement – TikTok’s algorithm, for instance, heavily favors videos with lots of likes, shares, and completions (sproutsocial.com). By injecting paid likes or views, politicians essentially game this system to secure more visibility. This manufactured popularity can influence how real users perceive the candidate or message. As disinformation analyst Ben Nimmo notes, inflating the numbers “can make a post look more popular than it otherwise would, and that can give it an air of credibility” (vice.com). In other words, people often interpret high view counts or follower numbers as a sign of broad support and legitimacy.

This “social proof” may sway opinions: citizens encountering a politician’s TikTok with seemingly huge engagement might assume the candidate is especially trendy or resonant with the public, even if much of that engagement is bought. The tactic thus reinforces existing media power dynamics. Communication scholar Manuel Castells argues that media networks are now the space “where power is decided.” Those who can dominate visibility and shape narratives on these networks wield influence (ijoc.org). By pumping up their TikTok stats, politicians attempt to harness this networked power – asserting dominance in the online conversation and leveraging the platform’s virality for political gain. In Castells’ terms, they are manipulating the “mass self-communication” channels of social media to project strength and popularity, thereby bending the network’s attention economy to their advantage.

Media Power & Digital Political Economy

The use of paid engagement on TikTok exemplifies the commercialization of political discourse that Jürgen Habermas warned about decades ago. Habermas lamented how modern public communication is increasingly engineered and commodified, rather than genuinely deliberative. He noted, for instance, that opinion polls could “produce something that passes as public opinion” even when authentic debate is absent. Similarly, buying TikTok followers produces something that passes as grassroots popularity, when in fact it’s a paid-for façade. Habermas described a “refeudalization” of the public sphere – a scenario where public displays are orchestrated by elites to legitimize their power, maintaining the illusion of public support only to sanction leaders’ decisions. Inflated TikTok metrics fit this description: the appearance of widespread public enthusiasm is manufactured to reinforce a candidate’s authority or appeal. Rather than an open democratic conversation, it becomes a staged display of popularity.

From a digital political economy perspective, this trend raises the question: Does high social media engagement actually translate into real-world political influence or voter behavior? Politicians clearly believe it helps – hence the investment in growth services and influencer marketing – but the evidence is still emerging. Some studies suggest a correlation between social media buzz and electoral success, pointing to a bandwagon effect. For example, research published in Social Media + Society found that engagement metrics (like likes and shares on Twitter) had predictive value for U.S. Senate race outcomes, indicating that candidates with a surge of online support often did better in elections (jou.ufl.edu).

The implication is that when people see one candidate “winning” in the online attention game, it can attract even more support, as voters jump on the bandwagon. Social media thus doesn’t just reflect popularity – it can help create it

However, it’s important to note that virality doesn’t guarantee votes. Inflated TikTok numbers might increase a candidate’s visibility, especially among younger demographics, but voters ultimately make decisions based on many factors (policy positions, credibility, offline campaigning, etc.). Some observers draw parallels to “slacktivism,” where online engagement (likes, shares) is easy to generate but may not translate into concrete action. A politician could trend on TikTok yet still fare poorly at the ballot box if the support is superficial. Moreover, savvy voters and journalists are learning to question digital metrics – sudden spikes in followers or oddly uniform comments can signal inauthentic activity. If a campaign’s use of fake engagement is exposed, it could backfire, damaging the candidate’s reputation. In essence, paid TikTok fame tests the assumption that social media influence equals real influence. It potentially skews the marketplace of ideas, as Habermas would argue, by letting those with more money amplify their voice disproportionately. Whether this actually sways elections is an ongoing debate, but it undeniably alters the dynamics of political communication online.

Case Studies & Ethical Implications

The practice of boosting political content with fake engagement has already surfaced in several notable cases, raising serious ethical concerns. In early 2018, an in-depth report by The New York Times uncovered a company called Devumi that sold fake followers to hundreds of thousands of clients – including celebrities, business leaders, and politicians. Following the exposé, New York’s Attorney General launched an investigation, condemning the scheme as turning social media into “an opaque, pay-to-play playground” where “those who can pay the most for followers can buy their way to apparent influence.” This scandal revealed how public figures (even a member of the UK House of Lords, in one instance) had inflated their follower counts by tens of thousands through purchases (news.sky.com). The Federal Trade Commission eventually fined Devumi for deceptive practices, signaling that such fake social media amplification is tantamount to consumer fraud. Yet despite the legal rebuke, the “social media influencer arms race” continues in politics, often under the radar.

On TikTok specifically, there is evidence that clandestine engagement boosting has been attempted around elections. During the 2024 Romanian presidential race, TikTok reported blocking over 400,000 spam accounts and preventing millions of “fake likes” and follower requests in the lead-up to the vote. In fact, Romania’s constitutional court annulled the first round of that election due to alleged social media manipulation – noting one candidate received disproportionate algorithmic “preferential treatment” that “distorted” the voters’ will. While TikTok claims these influence campaigns were “very small networks” of inauthentic activity, their impact was significant enough to call an election’s legitimacy into question (globalwitness.org). Likewise, in the United States, officials have raised alarms about bots and fake accounts being used to sway political discourse. Twitter acknowledged that armies of bots were deployed to try to influence the 2016 U.S. presidential election, flooding the online space with manufactured narratives. All these cases underscore a common pattern: political actors (or their allies) artificially amplify content to mislead audiences about how popular or credible a message really is (news.sky.com).

The ethical implications of these tactics are troubling on multiple levels:

• Authenticity and Honesty: At the most basic level, buying engagement is a form of political disinformation. It deceives constituents by portraying a candidate or idea as more broadly supported than it actually is. This violates principles of honesty in campaigning. A TikTok video bolstered by fake likes is essentially a lie about its own popularity. Such inauthentic presentation can undermine public trust if uncovered – citizens may feel manipulated when they realize a “viral” political moment was partly manufactured.
• Fair Democratic Discourse: Artificial boosting skews the public sphere, tilting the conversation in favor of those with the resources to purchase influence. As Habermas noted, this kind of manipulation maintains only the illusion of a genuine public dialogue. Real grassroots voices can be drowned out when political communication becomes a money-driven spectacle (news.sky.com). In a healthy democracy, ideas should compete on their merit and popular appeal; fake engagement subverts that by giving an unfair advantage to well-funded campaigns or malicious actors. It also blurs the line between authentic grassroots momentum and top-down propaganda, making it harder for voters to tell astroturf from reality.
• Accountability and Transparency: There’s also an ethical issue of accountability. Campaigns and politicians rarely disclose that they’ve paid for followers or views – doing so would obviously undercut the image of organic popularity they’re trying to project. This lack of transparency means voters are essentially subjected to covert advertising or propaganda. It’s analogous to a politician secretly paying people to appear at their rallies to make the crowd look bigger – if exposed, it would be scandalous. The digital nature of TikTok makes it easier to hide such tactics behind anonymized bot accounts and foreign “click farms.” This covert manipulation violates the spirit of open, transparent political competition. Some jurisdictions are starting to treat certain forms of fake social media activity as illegal (as with the Devumi case), but enforcement is difficult and inconsistent across platforms and borders.

In light of these concerns, many argue that using engagement-boosting services for political gain is fundamentally unethical, even if not always illegal. It prioritizes optics over authenticity and treats citizen influence as something to be bought and sold. By manufacturing consensus or enthusiasm, political actors risk misleading the media (which often report on social media trends) and misinforming the public. Ultimately, these practices force us to grapple with what counts as legitimate political communication in the digital age – and where to draw the line between savvy campaigning and outright manipulation.

Conclusion

The rise of TikTok as a political battleground – and the parallel rise of tactics like paid engagement – is reshaping how politicians communicate and how citizens perceive political momentum. The tactics of artificial amplification highlight a core tension in contemporary democracy: Does strong social media engagement equate to real political influence? On one side, the ability to rally large online audiences (or at least appear to) can translate into agenda-setting power, media attention, and a bandwagon effect among undecided voters. A carefully crafted TikTok presence can humanize candidates and inject them into youth culture, potentially energizing younger voters who might not engage through traditional channels (politico.com). On the other side, skeptics point out that clicks, likes, and follows are ultimately cheap signals – they can be bought or gamed, and they don’t always reflect genuine enthusiasm or commitment. High engagement numbers might mask a shallow or manufactured base of support.

What is clear is that social media has changed the optics of political campaigns. A candidate’s perceived popularity online can become a narrative in itself (“going viral” as a sign of momentum), which campaigns are keen to capitalize on. By using services like Views4You to pad their metrics, politicians treat popularity as another metric that money can buy, much like ad impressions or TV airtime. This strategy operates in the shadows of official campaign finance and advertising rules (since direct buying of TikTok engagement isn’t regulated like political ads are). The result is a kind of arms race for online clout, where numbers are sometimes more strategic than authentic dialogue.

In the grander scheme, these developments call for a reevaluation of how we measure political influence in the digital era. Is a candidate with a million TikTok followers (half of which might be bots or bought accounts) truly more influential than one with a smaller but organic following? The answer is not straightforward. Social media engagement can be fleeting and fickle – today’s viral sensation is tomorrow’s forgotten meme. Converting online interest into offline political action (like votes, donations, or volunteerism) remains the real test. There have been instances where candidates highly popular on social media failed to secure electoral wins, suggesting that digital hype alone is insufficient. Yet, there are also cases where an online movement did propel a candidate or cause to victory, especially at the local and grassroots level.

Ultimately, TikTok and similar platforms are double-edged swords for political communication. They can democratize media by giving politicians (and citizens) direct channels to communicate, but they also introduce new vulnerabilities to manipulation. The use of artificial engagement underscores that social media’s democratizing promise comes with the risk of a “fakery arms race,” where influence is a commodity for those willing to bend the rules. Moving forward, the challenge will be to foster genuine digital public spheres – where engagement is earned through authentic connection and content – rather than a hollow theater of inflated metrics. Voters and platforms alike will need to stay vigilant. As the saying goes, not everything that trends is true, and not everyone who “likes” is a real supporter. In a political landscape increasingly shaped by TikTok’s 60-second videos and algorithmic fame, meaningful influence will belong to those who can combine savvy online strategies with transparency and authenticity. Anything less risks turning political communication into just another numbers game, disconnected from the real convictions and concerns of the electorate.

Sources: Castells (2007); Habermas (1962); politico.com; views4you.com; vice.com; sporoutsocial.com; ijoc.org; jou.ufl.edu; news.sky.com; globalwitness.org.