TikTok is bad for you.
At least, that seems to be the conclusion reached by the Supreme Court. While other aspects of their unanimous opinion to uphold the law forcing the sale of the company may be highly controversial, this claim in particular is perhaps a bit less controversial. After all, it’s well known that TikTok’s format reduces attention spans and promotes addictive behavior. Even if users aren’t spending hours at a time scrolling away, there are still pressing concerns. Content presented to users, for example, is entirely determined by an algorithm: one whose workings is not openly transparent and subject to manipulation.
What’s worse, TikTok also collects stacks of data on its users. With information on over 170 million Americans, whoever wields that data could use it to seriously impact TikTok’s users. Though the app claims to be independent, there really is no way to know if data is going to a CEO or the Chinese government. Once in China’s hands, that data could be used to subtly influence Americans, surveil them, spread harmful misinformation, or even be used as a launchpad for espionage.
None of that sounds good. Surely the US, in all its infinite wisdom, should ban TikTok—right?
In my opinion, the answer is no, as much as the federal government might want to. While it sounds counterintuitive at first, there are a few reasons why banning the app would go about as well as the average teenager trying to quit TikTok.
First, let’s tackle the issue of data. There is a legitimate threat that TikTok could potentially hand its data to the Chinese government; however, there is also the threat that said data could be leaked—or purchased—from other sources. You know, sources such as most of social media, because data brokerage is a massive industry with profits to match. The banning of only one app to “protect user data” is absurd. To make things even more ironic, some Americans even moved to platforms like RedNote during the short-lived ban (another Chinese-owned app with similar privacy concerns).
In addition to data collection, there are cybersecurity arguments. TikTok, or so the thinking goes, could infiltrate devices it’s installed on, bypass firewalls, or threaten sensitive information. While theoretically, this is possible, there is not enough convincing evidence to confirm this in any way. There is certainly not enough to persuade the American public in the most divided and mistrustful state it has been within recent memory.
Beyond the practical issues of data, there also lie ethical concerns. Doesn’t the banning of one app among a sea of other alternatives, for no reasons other than hypothetical national security threats, constitute a violation of the First Amendment? While the subject is being hotly debated, most free-speech advocates would probably balk at the thought of banning Facebook or X (even when those two apps have demonstrated that their algorithms are equally as manipulative). What about the small business owners, creatives, and other posters who lost significant followings and have to rebuild on other platforms? The law, unfortunately, does not refresh fast enough to answer those questions.
Lastly, TikTok’s ban is bad not only for the people using the app, but also for the government itself. Banning the app will make a lot of Americans very unhappy (a fact shrewdly assessed by a certain president, who has since switched from TikTok’s opposition to a more pro-scrolling stance). Trust, as previously stated, is at an all-time low. And it is very easy to perceive this ban as a somewhat hypocritical geopolitical move.
More importantly, we must think of the precedent being set. Love or hate TikTok, most of us can agree on two things: the government should act within reasonable limits, and I don’t know what I would do without my phone. In the post-TikTok era, no app is safe.
If we accept that the government can ban anything without the consent of the people, under the most nebulous of suspicions, America will be setting a very dangerous precedent—and the Constitution is worth more than thirty seconds.
