How displaced Syrians are exploited on social media for food: ‘I have to be on my feet in front of the camera with other kids for hours so that the TikTokers can get donations’

A man looks at the screen, holding up a bottle of cooking oil, asking for help from viewers to feed the women and children that can be seen behind him, gathered around a table at a refugee camp in northern Syria. The image appears in one of the hundreds of live transmissions that proliferate on TikTok, all of them hewing to a similar pattern in which Syrian influencers direct groups of displaced people to request digital gifts that can be exchanged for real money. EL PAÍS has verified dozens of such videos published on the platform, which were later deleted. Their participants, according to testimonies compiled by this publication, receive some food in exchange for their appearances, while the clips’ monetary gains, which can reach up to $1,000, are shared between the TikToker and the digital platform itself, according to complaints from individuals who have been impacted, and as at least one influencer admits.

Prevalent poverty in northern Syria and the interruption of aid to the area have led some displaced individuals to turn to TikTok to feed their families. According to a recent report by Syria Response Coordinators, an organization that operates in the country’s northwestern region, humanitarian aid to the area is steadily decreasing, resulting in poverty levels above 91%, with 40.9% of the population suffering from hunger. Nearly 90% of the area’s working-age population is unemployed.

Ahmad al-Sarhan is 11 years old and lives with his seven-member family in the Sheikh Bahr camp, to the north of the city of Idlib. His father has cancer and cannot work. Al-Sarhan expresses his frustration with the TikTokers who ask him to pose for their live videos in exchange for a small amount of food. “I have to be on my feet in front of the camera with other kids for hours so that the TikTokers can get donations. If we move during the transmission, we run the risk of them firing us,” the young boy told EL PAÍS. According to his accounts, they are asked to pray for those who send gifts, while the content creator receives the funds and encourages them to repeat phrases like “thank you,” “I love you” or “God bless you.” The boy’s participation in these transmissions often prevents him from attending classes. “I have to follow the schedule of the broadcasts to get bread and vegetables. If I miss the transmission, I can’t get enough to feed myself and my family,” he explains.

The gifts the boy refers to are digital bonuses that viewers of the live TikTok broadcasts can send to the content creator, who can then trade them in for real money. These gifts range from virtual flowers worth a few cents to a gorilla that costs $450 and a lion worth $500. Each time one of these bonuses appear onscreen, the TikToker asks the children to repeat the earnest pleas and entreaties that they’ve had to memorize.

Hassan al-Daher (who prefers to use a fake name to preserve his anonymity) worked as a TikToker until approximately a month ago, when he decided to quit his social media gig in order to emigrate. The 32-year-old from Idlib, which is located in the northeastern area of Syria, explains that he started an account on the platform, bought gear that allowed him to connect to the internet for $100 and began to broadcast live to show the suffering experienced by the displaced individuals who live in the makeshift refugee camps of northern Syria, close to the Turkish border. “While it’s true that this exploits the displaced, it also provides me with a job opportunity and a way to help the internally displaced people to receive much-needed food supplies,” he tells EL PAÍS.

The money that al-Daher earned each day varied based on viewer participation and the people who appeared on the live transmission, usually young children, women and disabled people. On some days, his earnings did not rise above $20, but on others, he could collect up to $1,000, he says. Still, he emphasizes, TikTok is the biggest beneficiary, and takes “more than 50% of what is raised” in commission during each transmission. A BBC investigation carried out in October 2022 found that the platform received up to 70% of the money earned.

TikTok, which responded to the BBC’s questions after the report was published, said via email that it, “currently shares 50% of its net revenue from virtual goods with creators, after deducting required payments to app stores, payment processors” and other adjustments. The platform said that it, “does not allow content that promotes or facilitates human exploitation” and underlines its commitment to TikTok not being used “to take advantage of vulnerable people.” According to its data, in the first quarter of 2024, “81% of content that violated” its community guidelines was eliminated. This publication has confirmed that the social network has blocked some accounts that have transmitted from camps of displaced Syrian people.

When it comes to minors, TikTok says by email that, “account users must be 18 years or old to transmit live.” Minors also cannot send or receive gifts. But Syrian TikTokers evade this ban by operating accounts themselves, placing children in the background of their recordings.

Money “at the cost of dignity”

Hala al-Hassan, at 36 years old, is a displaced person living in the Batint camp in northern Syria. Her husband died in the war and more than four years ago, she fled the western countryside of Hama to Idlib with her five children — her youngest is now five years old — due to attacks by the Syrian regime in the area. She lives in extreme poverty and their tent lacks even the most basic necessities. Al-Hassan says that she is being exploited along with other women by TikTok influencers in order to land the creators both attention and a quick path to fame. “We have become their tool to make money and we have to accept it out of a lack of options and job opportunities that could help us to lead a decent life,” she says. The woman says that she tried to look for different ways to make a living and that TikTok is one of them. “But it comes at the cost of our dignity. Every day we stand in front of the cameras to participate in live transmission to try to get a loaf of bread or some food to ease our hunger,” she says, at the same time recognizing the “shame” the work provokes in her.

A report from the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) finds that humanitarian response in Syria continues to be impacted by a worrisome lack of funds. The organization has only received 6% of the necessary aid for 2024. According to data from the Syria Response Coordinators team, who specializes in statistics from the region, there are now 1,904 camps for displaced people in northeastern Syria, which are home to more than two million individuals. There are 918 camps that don’t receive any nutritional assistance and 437 receive it on an intermittent basis. 1,133 camps do not receive free bread.

Forty-four-year-old Alaa al-Kharoub, the head of a makeshift camp for displaced individuals in the city of Killi, north of Idlib, can confirm this shortage. “Conditions in these camps are very difficult and they need urgent assistance,” he says. According to him, the amount of food that is received by displaced individuals in the camp, particularly children, disabled people and seniors, is “extremely low,” and he says it’s important to remember that these camps are “made up of dilapidated tents, lacking basic infrastructure and essential services like clean water, sanitation and electricity.” During the Syrian war, al-Kharoub says that, “international agencies and humanitarian organizations have played a vital role in distributing aid to these camps, including the provision of food, water and medicine, as well as health and education services.” However, he continues, “with the suspension of most of this support, there are fears of a worsening humanitarian situation and severe shortage of basic resources and services.”

No one has the right to take this benefit away from them, given that, as simple or small as it may be, it’s always better than nothing.

Alaa al-Kharoub, head of a makeshift camp in the city of Killi

In terms of the TikTokers, al-Kharoub says that he does not block them from entering the camp he directs, nor does he stop families who live there from participating in the videos, because displaced people have few means of subsistence and he sees this kind of work as a positive. “No one has the right to take this benefit away from them, because, as simple or small as it may be, it’s always better than nothing,” he says.

Exposure of minors on social media via influencers can have a negative influence on the children’s development of their identity and increase their feelings of psychological pressure due to participating in activities that do not match up with their real desires or needs. Psychologist Barra Jumaa, who is from Idlib, considers these transmissions to be a form of exploitation of the children, who are in a particularly vulnerable situation due to their lack of resources. “Influencers receive sympathy and support that can earn them thousands of dollars. The poor and needy, on the other hand, only receive a small portion,” says Jumaa.

The psychologist urges content creators to share everything they receive with these children, and not limit their support to subsistence-level aid. Jumaa says that constant exposure on social media affects children’s mental health and leads them to isolate themselves from the real world and distance themselves from friends and family. “Children are also exposed to great psychological pressure due to negative comments and criticism on social networks, which can increase their feelings of anxiety and depression,” Jumaa concludes.

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