How TikTok exposed a crisis of competence in Congress

In March 2023, TikTok CEO Shou Zi Chew testified before Congress in what was meant to be a serious national security inquiry. Instead, the hearing turned into a social media spectacle. Lawmakers posed questions that revealed startling technological ignorance—one asked if TikTok accessed the home Wi-Fi network, as if this were unique or suspicious. Another seemed unsure how the internet even worked. The five-hour session went viral, but not for the reasons intended. It exposed a digital knowledge gap in America’s highest lawmaking body.

What should have been a substantive conversation about surveillance, data sovereignty, and algorithmic control instead became a soundbite-fest. Clips of lawmakers fumbling through questions circulated on TikTok itself, turning Congress into a meme. The irony was not lost on viewers: a platform accused of undermining democracy had just unmasked the dysfunction of the very institution trying to regulate it.

Beyond the embarrassment, the incident reflected something deeper. Congress isn’t just struggling with TikTok. It’s struggling with tech governance as a whole. Decades-old institutional practices, generational divides, and partisan posturing have created a policy vacuum—one that powerful tech firms are only too willing to fill.

At the root of the issue is a profound mismatch between how quickly digital platforms evolve and how slowly Congress responds. Legislative inertia is not new, but the stakes are different in an algorithm-driven economy. Lawmakers are often years behind in understanding emerging technologies—let alone writing enforceable regulations. The average age in Congress hovers near 60, and while age doesn’t determine capability, the lack of digital literacy is increasingly evident.

This isn’t just a problem of poor optics. Without functional knowledge of how platforms operate—how content is served, what data is collected, how algorithms shape attention—Congress cannot meaningfully regulate digital ecosystems. This vacuum is filled by industry self-regulation, which tends to prioritize growth and engagement over safety and accountability.

Even when bills are proposed—like the RESTRICT Act, designed to limit foreign adversaries' control over digital infrastructure—they often conflate legitimate cybersecurity concerns with vague techno-nationalism. These efforts are met with skepticism from both privacy advocates and tech-savvy critics. The result: delay, dilution, or outright inaction.

TikTok has been positioned by some in Washington as a Trojan horse for Chinese influence. While its ties to ByteDance and the Chinese data law regime raise legitimate concerns, focusing solely on TikTok misses the bigger issue. The platform’s popularity among younger Americans—over 150 million users in the US—has made it not just a cultural force, but a political one.

News consumption is increasingly shaped by short videos and algorithmic curation. Political narratives, election disinformation, and ideological bubbles don’t spread in newspapers anymore—they metastasize on platforms like TikTok, YouTube Shorts, and Instagram Reels. Congress’s failure to grasp this shift is not just a technical failing—it’s a generational one. Lawmakers are still operating in a communications environment built for cable news and press briefings, while voters under 30 get their information through decentralized feeds driven by engagement metrics.

Ironically, even the congressional hearings themselves became TikTok content. The institution trying to assert control became a meme factory. This illustrates the depth of the platform's cultural reach—and the urgency of crafting policies grounded in understanding rather than fear.

The problem isn’t TikTok alone—it’s the exposure of deeper dysfunction in American governance. Congress has failed to pass meaningful legislation on digital privacy, AI ethics, content moderation, or tech monopoly power. Hearings are increasingly used as performative moments for partisan posturing rather than substantive debate. And because they are livestreamed and chopped into clips, they often serve more as campaign material than policy inquiry.

Lobbying power compounds this. Major tech firms spend millions annually to influence lawmakers, often outmatching the government’s own technical advisory capabilities. Without a robust institutional structure to translate complex technical realities into public-interest legislation, Congress ends up reactive rather than proactive.

This has long-term implications. If the public perceives Congress as out of touch or performative, trust in democratic institutions erodes. Young voters in particular—many of whom view TikTok as a primary platform for news, expression, and community—see little alignment between their lived digital reality and Washington's policy focus. The danger isn’t just policy stagnation—it’s generational alienation from the democratic process.

For businesses operating in the digital space, the congressional stalemate offers both opportunity and risk. In the absence of robust federal regulation, companies have greater freedom to experiment—but also greater exposure to public backlash and legal uncertainty. A lack of standardized rules means platforms are left to define what’s acceptable, often until a scandal forces sudden overcorrection.

For policymakers, the TikTok episode is a warning. Tech literacy must become a baseline competency in government. That means staffing offices with digital experts, investing in nonpartisan tech analysis teams, and holding more targeted briefings that avoid grandstanding. Otherwise, national conversations about digital sovereignty, youth safety, and algorithmic bias will be dominated by viral clips, not credible policies.

For the public—especially young users—the hearings offer a mixed message. On one hand, they reveal how disconnected Congress is from digital life. On the other, they underscore the need for civic literacy that goes both ways: users must also learn to critically engage with political narratives across platforms, and push for smarter digital governance.

TikTok didn’t break Congress—but it did show the cracks. If American democracy is to survive the algorithm age, it must modernize not just its tools, but its mindset. That means rethinking how oversight works in a hyper-connected world and refusing to treat viral spectacle as a substitute for institutional competence. A government that cannot understand the platforms its citizens rely on is a government losing the mandate to lead. The hearings should be a wake-up call. What happens next will show whether Congress has the will—and the humility—to evolve.

Congress must invest in its own digital literacy infrastructure. That means hiring technologists, creating bipartisan tech task forces, and empowering independent advisory bodies that can translate complex concepts into actionable legislation. More importantly, lawmakers must shed the belief that cultural relevance is a threat to their authority. In today’s fragmented media landscape, legitimacy is earned not by control, but by fluency—by showing up in the spaces where the public actually lives.

If Washington continues to confuse governance with performance, it risks becoming a relic in the eyes of a generation raised on swipe-speed information. The question isn’t whether Congress can regulate TikTok—it’s whether it can still regulate at all. That answer will shape the future of democratic legitimacy.