TikTok Takeover: Short-Form Video’s Impact on Young Voters in 2025

TikTok’s rise to prominence is no fluke. Launched in 2017 by ByteDance, the app ballooned from 40 million monthly U.S. users in early 2020 to 150 million by 2023, fueled by a pandemic-driven appetite for quick, digestible content. By 2025, that number is projected to climb even higher, with estimates suggesting it could reach 170 million U.S. users, according to eMarketer’s forecasts. For context, that’s more than half the U.S. population—and a hefty chunk of them are young voters.

Gen Z (born 1997–2012) and Millennials (born 1981–1996) are TikTok’s lifeblood. Pew Research data from 2023 showed that 67% of U.S. teens use the app, with 16% admitting they’re on it “almost constantly.” Fast forward to 2025, and those teens are now voting-age adults, joined by Millennials who’ve hopped on the bandwagon. Together, these cohorts could make up nearly 49% of eligible voters this year, per DoSomething.org’s analysis.

So why does this matter for politics? Because young voters have historically been tough to mobilize. In the 2016 election, only 47% of 18- to 29-year-olds voted, according to the Harvard Youth Poll. But by 2022’s midterms, that number jumped to a record-breaking level for a non-presidential year. TikTok, it turns out, might be the secret sauce—and campaigns are taking notice.

Let’s rewind to 2020 for a moment. That year, TikTok wasn’t just a distraction; it was a battleground. Progressive groups like Tok The Vote racked up 11 million hashtag views to register first-time voters, while conservative creators built followings like @TheRepublicanHypeHouse, nearing 900,000 followers by year’s end. Both sides saw the app’s potential to turn idle scrollers into ballot-casters.

Fast forward to 2025, and the stakes are higher. With the U.S. midterm elections looming and a potential presidential race heating up, TikTok has become a must-have tool in every campaign’s playbook. Kamala Harris’ 2024 campaign account, @KamalaHQ, pulled in 1.5 billion views with just 5 million followers, outpacing Donald Trump’s 1 billion views across 12 million followers, per eMarketer data. The lesson? It’s not just about reach—it’s about resonance.

What makes TikTok so effective? For starters, it’s fast. A 60-second video can distill a candidate’s vibe, vision, or jab at an opponent into a bite-sized nugget that sticks. “You can capture a vibe much more easily than you can explain the child tax credit,” Jen Golbeck, a University of Maryland professor, told CNN in 2024. And young voters? They’re eating it up.

Take Voters of Tomorrow, a left-leaning youth advocacy group. In 2024, they jumped on the “I’m passing the phone to…” trend, using it to highlight down-ballot races for National Voter Education Week. Communications director Marianna Pecora explained, “We wanted to reach young people with info that’s not always front and center.” The result? A viral hit that made local elections feel as cool as a dance challenge.

Then there’s the entertainment factor. Gen-Z for Change, another progressive outfit, teamed up with creators like Nia Ivy in 2024 for a skit about reproductive rights—framed as an FBI drama. “It had to be fast-paced and digestible,” Ivy told CNN. The video racked up views because it didn’t feel like a lecture; it felt like TikTok.

Contrast that with traditional campaigning—think glossy ads or stump speeches. Those still have their place, but they’re losing ground with the under-35 crowd. A 2023 Pew survey found 32% of 18- to 29-year-olds get news from TikTok, up from single digits in 2020. By 2025, that figure’s likely closer to 40%, making the app a primary info hub for young voters.

Campaigns aren’t just posting and praying, though. They’re tapping influencers—TikTok’s royalty—to amplify their message. In 2022, RUN AAPI poured $75,000 into five creators with 6.7 million combined followers to boost Asian American turnout. By 2025, this strategy’s gone mainstream, with both parties courting creators who can sway niche communities.

Harris’ 2024 team, dubbed “feral 25-year-olds” by deputy campaign manager Rob Flaherty, mastered this art. They churned out meme-heavy content—think “Project Coconut” nods to her viral speeches—racking up views by leaning into internet culture. Trump’s camp, meanwhile, went darker, focusing on economic woes with a gritty edge that still hit 1 billion views.

But it’s not all rosy. TikTok’s algorithm, a black box of virality, can amplify misinformation just as easily as it boosts a campaign. A 2022 Heinrich Böll Stiftung report flagged the app’s struggles with Spanish-language election misinformation—a big deal when Latino voters are a growing bloc. By 2025, TikTok’s beefed up its Election Center, but gaps remain.

National security’s another thorn. In April 2024, President Biden signed a law forcing ByteDance to sell TikTok by January 19, 2025, or face a ban. Critics, like ex-Rep. Mike Gallagher, warned it could become “an instrument of propaganda” for China. As of March 2025, legal appeals are stalling any shutdown, but the uncertainty lingers.

Still, candidates aren’t backing off. Why? Because TikTok’s where the voters are. A 2024 Forrester survey found over half of U.S. adults under 25 use it weekly. When TikTok pushed a “call your rep” alert to protest the ban, Congress got flooded with teen calls. That’s raw influence—and campaigns want in.

For Gen Z and Millennials, TikTok’s appeal is personal. “It’s how they talk to friends, share laughs, and express themselves,” Colton Hess of Tok The Vote told Time in 2020. By 2025, that hasn’t changed—it’s just gotten political. A first-time voter like Elise Joshi, who went viral in 2020 with a Biden endorsement, embodies this shift.

The data backs this up. A 2024 Pew study found 48% of TikTok users under 30 cite keeping up with politics as a reason they’re on the app. Another 45% say it’s “mostly good” for democracy—way more optimistic than the 66% of users over 65 who see no impact. Young voters feel seen here.

Campaigns are adapting fast. John Fetterman’s 2022 TikTok run mixed comedy with straight talk, earning millions of views. By 2025, candidates like Cheyenne Hunt in California are using it to break down issues like a vlogger, not a suit. “It’s a tool in our belt,” Hunt told NPR.

The right’s in on it too. Trump’s 2024 posts leaned on humor and jabs at opponents, while creators like Liam Rafizadeh of Today Is America built conservative hype houses. “We appeal to the youth,” he told Time in 2020. Five years later, that audience is voting.

But does TikTok actually drive turnout? Evidence suggests yes. Loyola Marymount researchers found in 2023 that young TikTok users were more likely to share political posts, donate, or volunteer than peers on other platforms. By 2025, that trend’s likely amplified.

Critics, though, worry about depth. Short-form video excels at vibes, not policy nuance. “Participation isn’t enough,” Vox’s Christian Paz wrote in 2024. Hyper-partisan echo chambers could deepen divides—a risk as real in 2025 as ever.

Still, the upside’s hard to ignore. NextGen America’s 2024 push used “unlikely creators”—think student athletes—to hit young feeds. By 2025, this guerrilla tactic’s standard, blending entertainment with a polling nudge.

TikTok’s also a trust-builder. Linh Nguyen of RUN AAPI told Politico in 2023 that the app’s authenticity cuts through disinformation fatigue. In 2025, when young voters distrust institutions (80% feel unheard, per DoSomething.org), that’s gold.

The gender split’s telling too. Pew’s 2023 data showed women under 30 outpace men on TikTok usage. By 2025, campaigns targeting abortion or healthcare—like Ivy’s 2024 skit—lean into this, knowing it’s a female-heavy audience.

Economic issues dominate too. CNN’s 2024 talks with young voters pegged cost of living as their top motivator. TikTok’s quick takes—like Trump’s grim econ rants or Harris’ hopeful clips—hit that nerve perfectly.

Then there’s the global angle. In 2022, Colombia’s Rodolfo Hernández nearly won the presidency via TikTok. Germany’s FDP crushed it with youth in 2021. By 2025, U.S. campaigns are borrowing these playbooks, tailoring them to American scrollers.

The ban threat looms large, though. If TikTok vanishes by late 2025, campaigns lose a lifeline. “Democrats could lose every voter under 35,” Commerce Secretary Gina Raimondo warned in 2024. Even a partial shift to Instagram or YouTube wouldn’t fully replace it.

Yet young voters might not sit it out. “They’ll show up if it threatens their world,” Alex Bruesewitz told Yahoo in 2024. A ban could galvanize them—ironic blowback for policymakers.

Legal limbo helps TikTok thrive for now. Axios’ Sara Fischer predicted in 2024 that appeals would delay any ban past November. As of March 2025, that’s holding true, giving campaigns a window.

The app’s quirks—like hashtag co-occurrence—supercharge reach. A 2024 arXiv study mapped #voteblue and #maga clusters, showing how TikTok’s algorithm fuels ideological silos. Campaigns exploit this daily.

For candidates, it’s about authenticity. “People want engaging, not repurposed ads,” Annie Wu, Fetterman’s 2022 strategist, told NPR. In 2025, stiff talking heads lose to creators who vibe.

Voters feel it too. “The status quo’s unacceptable,” Hunt said on TikTok in 2023. By 2025, that’s the rallying cry for a generation raised on short-form rebellion.

TikTok’s not just a megaphone—it’s a mirror. In 2025, it reflects young voters’ priorities: climate, guns, debt. Campaigns ignoring that risk irrelevance.

The data’s still rolling in. A 2024 arXiv dataset of 3.14 million election videos hints at TikTok’s scale. By year’s end, we’ll know more about its 2025 impact.

Misinformation’s the flip side. Shadowy firms paying influencers—think People First in 2020—blur lines, per The Hill. TikTok’s fighting it, but virality’s a double-edged sword.

Yet the app’s youth focus is unmatched. Forrester’s 2023 survey pegged Gen Z as its core—hard-to-reach elsewhere. In 2025, that’s a marketer’s dream and a campaigner’s jackpot.

Biden’s team learned this late. Joining TikTok in 2024, they faced Gaza backlash but gained traction. By 2025, incumbents can’t skip it.

Trump flipped too. After pushing a 2020 ban, he embraced TikTok by 2024. In 2025, he’s all in—proof the app’s too big to ignore.

The grassroots vibe matters. “It’s real people, not bots,” Main Street One claimed in 2020. Five years later, that’s still TikTok’s edge.

For young voters, it’s empowerment. “The ballot box shapes society,” DeNora Getachew of DoSomething.org told Yahoo. TikTok’s their megaphone.

Critics call it shallow. Maybe. But in 2025, it’s where democracy’s pulse beats loudest—15 seconds at a time.

So what’s the takeaway? TikTok’s not just a trend; it’s a takeover. In 2025, it’s rewriting how campaigns win young hearts—and votes.

One swipe at a time, Gen Z and Millennials are steering the ship. TikTok’s the wind in their sails—bumpy, bold, and undeniably here.