Keywords: TikTok, app architecture, fandom, participatory culture, social media design
When I map out the “architecture” of my most-used app — TikTok — I don’t just see a social media platform. I see a system designed to direct my attention, condition my interactions, and shape cultural participation. At first glance, TikTok’s interface looks straightforward: swipe, watch, repeat. But as Shirky (2008) argues, the architecture of digital platforms is never neutral; it encodes values and power structures into everyday use.
How TikTok’s Design Shapes Behavior
The “For You Page” (FYP) is TikTok’s central architecture. Instead of following friends, users are funneled into a personalized stream generated by algorithmic tracking of watch time, likes, comments, and even pauses (Kaye et al., 2022).
This design has two consequences:
- Attention loops. Infinite scroll ensures that there’s always a “next video,” reducing friction and encouraging prolonged engagement. I often find myself intending to watch “just one more,” only to realize I’ve spent an hour swiping.
- Behavioral feedback. Creators quickly learn the system’s preferences: trending sounds, short edits, and hashtags that boost discoverability. The app’s architecture rewards conformity to algorithmic signals.
In this sense, TikTok is less about connecting with peers and more about training users to align with the logic of its recommendation engine.
Power, Access, and Agency
Lindgren (2017) notes that networked culture thrives on participation — but not all participation is equal. TikTok offers creators a pathway to visibility, but it is mediated by corporate interests. Content that sustains attention or generates sales through TikTok Shop is privileged in circulation (Montag et al., 2021).
For example, when I experimented with posting short videos, those that used trending audio and TikTok-native editing tools gained significantly more traction than original, slower-paced content. My sense of “agency” was actually shaped by what the system wanted. This illustrates Shirky’s point that platforms structure not only what we can do, but what we are likely to do.
At the same time, marginalized communities have carved out spaces of solidarity on TikTok. From disability awareness to LGBTQ+ micro-communities, users have leveraged participatory culture (Haenfler, n.d.). Yet, reports of shadow banning and uneven moderation show how precarious this agency can be (Cotter, 2021).
Fandom, Virality, and Culture
TikTok’s architecture also fuels fandom. Influencer marketing strategies capitalize on these dynamics by encouraging users to remix, duet, and replicate content, creating viral loops that strengthen brand loyalty (Digital Voices, 2022). Research even suggests that TikTok’s participatory features amplify emotional resonance, making communities feel “closer” than traditional networks (Johannes et al., 2021).
The Emotional Cost of Endless Engagement
While most critiques of TikTok focus on its addictive design, I’ve noticed the emotional cost in my own usage. After long scrolling sessions, I often feel overstimulated yet oddly dissatisfied — a reminder that not all engagement equals fulfillment. Research shows that excessive social media use can lead to decreased well-being and attention fatigue (Johannes et al., 2021). But in my experience, it’s less about the time spent and more about the quality of interaction. Watching ten quick videos leaves me emptier than one meaningful clip that sparks reflection or creativity. This tension between quantity and depth is built into TikTok’s architecture, and recognizing it has made me more deliberate about how I engage.
My Takeaway
TikTok is not just a platform — it is an architecture of power and participation. It democratizes creativity while also centralizing control in its algorithmic design. Every swipe is both entertainment and data production. For me, this demonstrates why technology should never be viewed as neutral. The architecture of apps like TikTok not only shapes how we interact but also determines whose voices rise and whose remain hidden.
References
Cotter, K. (2021). Shadowbanning and the euphemisms of platform governance. New Media & Society, 23(9), 2596–2613. https://doi.org/10.1177/1461444821992803
Digital Voices. (2022, May 10). The power of fandoms in influencer marketing: Driving engagement, loyalty and sales.
Haenfler, R. (n.d.). Fandom and participatory culture. Subcultural theory and theorists.
Johannes, N., Meier, A., Reinecke, L., Ehlert, S., Setiawan, D., Walasek, N., Dienlin, T., & Buijzen, M. (2021). The relationship between online media use and well-being: Evidence from a four-wave panel study. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 118(49), e2023301118. https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.2023301118
Kaye, D. B. V., Chen, X., & Zeng, J. (2022). The co-evolution of two Chinese mobile short video apps: TikTok and Douyin. Social Media + Society, 8(2). https://doi.org/10.1177/20563051221086259
Lindgren, S. (2017). Digital media & society. Sage.
Montag, C., Yang, H., & Elhai, J. D. (2021). On the psychology of TikTok use: A first glimpse from empirical findings. Frontiers in Psychology, 12, 578660. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2021.578660
Shirky, C. (2008). Here comes everybody: The power of organizing without organizations. Penguin Press.
