It’s 2026, and anyone with a smartphone and access to the internet can create a platform and sell their art.
The problem is that when everyone can do something, the can quickly becomes a should. More content is created, and more content is consumed. And wherever the eyes of the public lie, that’s where the money is.
In an attempt to balance out the stream of useless information that I consume online, I follow some of my favorite authors, poets, and singers on Instagram. While I enjoy following accounts that add a sprinkle of intention to my explore page, I can’t help but feel like I’m contributing to the expectation that artists must become content creators. When an artist knows the art will ultimately reach its audience through a reel, the art itself bends to fit the algorithm’s model. We’ve seen how musicians adapt their songwriting to suit the short-video format. They fill their songs with punchy lines and hope they will be used as the next trend’s soundtrack. TikTok music, it’s called. But this article is about TikTok journalism.
Because while it may be tragic that mainstream pop music gets uglier and dumber because of TikTok society, it’s probably not the end of the world. A devil’s advocate might argue that music is just as beautiful as the listener judges it to be. “The beauty of art is subjective,” so it may be. What scares me more than the degradation of people’s Spotify playlists is what TikTok does to journalism. What does social media do to the format? How does it alter the quality and accuracy of the news? How does it affect accountability? And what does it do to the reader?
Swedish journalist Lykke Eder-Ekman recently raised concerns that her colleagues at one of Sweden’s most prominent news publications are using TikTok to sell themselves out for online engagement. Two of the most memorable punchlines are “my biggest fear is to be forced to become a TikToker” and “creating a bad copy of your own text in video format is not going to tempt anyone to read the actual article.”
When I reflect on where I first learnt about major news events, I realize that Instagram is far too often my first source of information. Besides the obvious risk of believing in false information, there is a worrisome lack of depth and perspective even within the content that is true. When I still lived at home with my parents, I followed the news by reading the paper or watching public television. In the six years I’ve spent away from home, I’ve never bought a TV or subscribed to a print newspaper. I’ve probably lost something along the way. By reading longer articles or watching in-depth news reports, readers develop the attention span needed to be engage critically. And there’s a social component too; consuming news together (like when the family watches news on TV) means immediately discussing what you see, but that is not true when you’re scrolling alone and get hit with some take from an unknown “newsfluencer.”
That is not to say that public TV can’t be wrong. Last year, my best friend and her boyfriend were watching television news when they noticed that a featured clip was generated by AI, even though it was presented as real. They immediately sent an email to the news channel, and in the news broadcast the following day, presenters admitted their mistake and apologized.
This is where the SAIS Observer comes in. We will do our very best to deliver trustworthy information and high-quality content that will put your brain cells to work. Put your phone down, sit back and enjoy. And rest assured, if we don’t meet your expectations, at least you’ll know who to hold accountable!