The TikTok Trap
Why Workplace Learning Isn’t Just a Game of Short Attention Spans
Every so often, someone announces that “TikTok is the future of learning”.
And every time, I wince a little.
It’s not that I think short-form video has no place in L&D. Of course it does. A tight one-minute explainer, a task demo, or a quick reminder can be hugely effective, but the current obsession with TikTok as a model for workplace learning is more than misguided. It’s potentially damaging to our credibility, to our impact, and to the people we’re supposed to support.
TikTok isn’t a learning platform. It’s an entertainment engine. And it’s built on goals that are, quite literally, the opposite of what we need in workplace learning.
Note: TikTok is not a learning platform, but this does not mean people don’t learn there. I am not conflating the two things.
Attention, Addiction, and Algorithmic Drift
TikTok's business model is based on time-on-platform. The longer you scroll, the more ads you see. The more data it collects, the more refined its algorithm becomes. It thrives by disrupting intention, by keeping people watching things they didn’t set out to see, and it’s incredibly effective. Research shows that the platform exploits variable reinforcement patterns similar to those found in addictive behaviour (Montag et al., 2021). Every swipe is a gamble; maybe the next one will be even better.
This isn’t a side effect. It’s the product.
In contrast, workplace learning is about getting someone back to work better equipped than they were before. Our goal is not to keep people on our platforms for as long as possible. It’s to help them solve a problem, build a skill, or act differently, and then move on.
The underlying incentives couldn’t be more different.
Modalities Are Not Strategies
The second issue with the TikTok-for-learning fad is the conflation of modality with method. Just because content is short and video-based doesn’t mean it’s effective. It may be more engaging, but engagement, as ever, is not the goal.
We’ve seen this before. The shift from PowerPoint to flashy eLearning. The pivot from classrooms to mobile. The promise of gamification. All based on the same flawed assumption: that modality drives outcomes.
But modality is just the delivery vehicle. It only works when it's appropriate for the content, the context, and the constraints.
Need to teach a simple mechanical task? A 30-second demo might be perfect, but if you need to shift beliefs, analyse problems, or embed new habits? A carousel of dopamine-optimised clips won’t get you there.
In fact, short-form content can create an illusion of learning, a sense of familiarity without deep understanding. Known as the fluency illusion, this occurs when content feels easy to consume, leading learners to overestimate their comprehension (Kornell & Bjork, 2009). It’s the learning equivalent of mistaking scrolling for studying.
The Likeability Trap
There’s also something deeper going on here, something more cultural.
L&D, as a profession, has long wrestled with its desire to be liked. We want people to enjoy our content. We want the post-session feedback to say “fun” and “engaging” and “interesting.” We chase happy sheets like they’re indicators of success.
But the workplace is not school, and we are not here to win popularity contests. We are here to improve performance.
This doesn’t mean learning should be dull, but it should be designed to work, not to entertain. The desire to be liked is understandable, but in a resource-constrained, outcome-oriented world, being liked won’t keep you in the room; demonstrating value will.
Sociologist Zygmunt Bauman (2000) warned of a shift toward "liquid modernity", a state in which social structures become fluid, and the pressure to be liked replaces the pressure to be useful. I sometimes wonder if L&D is falling into this trap. We’re making content that gets clicks, but do those clicks lead to change?
The Real Role of Short-Form Content
None of this is an argument against short-form video. When done well, it can play a vital role in a wider learning ecosystem. It’s excellent for performance support, for just-in-time prompts, for refreshing known material, but it must be used with intent.
As Clark and Mayer (2016) note, effective learning design requires alignment between instructional methods and learning outcomes. There’s no one-size-fits-all solution, only tools that can be deployed, tested, and refined based on what they’re actually trying to achieve.
And that’s where our focus needs to be, not on what’s trendy, but on what works.
Final Thought: We’re Not Competing for Likes
TikTok is excellent at what it does. But what it does is keep people watching.
Our job is to help people act.
That’s a fundamentally different design challenge, and it requires us to stop chasing platforms and start solving problems. Select modalities based on purpose, not popularity, and prioritise impact over impression.
We don’t need to become influencers. We need to become more effective.
If we keep building for attention instead of performance, we won’t just waste our time; we’ll make ourselves irrelevant.
References
Bauman, Z. (2000). Liquid Modernity. Cambridge: Polity Press.
Clark, R.C. and Mayer, R.E. (2016). e-Learning and the Science of Instruction: Proven Guidelines for Consumers and Designers of Multimedia Learning. 4th ed. Hoboken: Wiley.
Kornell, N. and Bjork, R.A. (2009). A stability bias in human memory: Overestimating the effectiveness of study strategies. Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 138(4), pp.449–468.
Montag, C., Sindermann, C., Becker, B. and Panksepp, J. (2021). An affective neuroscience framework for the molecular study of Internet addiction. Frontiers in Psychology, 12, 1003.