In the northern regions of Syria, displaced people still endure narrow lanes and crowded alleys as voices of begging echo through makeshift camps. Across many stalls, children and adults alike repeat a simple plea for help, projecting their needs into the glare of smartphone screens. They offer requests to like, share, and send gifts in a perpetual stream of appeals. These scenes, streamed live on a platform trusted by millions, reveal a disturbing side of online fundraising where the act of sympathy becomes a commercial spectacle. A BBC investigation uncovered the grim reality behind these broadcasts, noting that TikTok keeps as much as 70 percent of donated funds for platform operations and monetization channels. This revelation raises pressing questions about how digital generosity is facilitated and who ultimately benefits from it.
A man identified as Dowkan reportedly received only fourteen dollars after eight days of direct livestreams on TikTok. He endured hours of recording without the possibility to eat or take essential medications. He, and many others, turned to the internet to fund critical medical needs for family members. In one shelter that functions as a home for a mother and her six daughters, a similar pattern emerged: TikTok livestreams were used to raise money for medical care, including procedures to address blindness. This family has faced immense hardship since a deadly airstrike claimed the life of their father. The mother has spent countless hours appealing from the linoleum floor of a refugee camp in Syria’s northwest, seeking relief through digital audiences.
It began to resemble a new kind of trend last June when questions started circulating on social media about this unusual form of fundraising. The online chatter highlighted numerous instances of video scams and suspicious campaigns during the early days of the phenomenon.
virtual gifts
The gifts viewers send carry real money value. Some gifts are digital items priced as much as 500 euros, while others, like virtual lions, are worth only a few cents. Viewers convert those gifts into cash through the application, enabling the recipients to withdraw funds. In displacement camps, so-called agents of TikTok have emerged to facilitate broadcasts. They provide families with the necessary devices and connectivity and often collaborate with agencies linked to the app. The involvement stretches across China and the Middle East as part of a broader global initiative. TikTok is known to hire streamers and to encourage longer time spent within the app to boost engagement and earnings.
One middleman described as Hamid reported selling cattle to acquire a phone, a SIM card, and a reliable Wi-Fi connection so he could coordinate with multiple families from a single device. He broadcasts for hours each day for around a dozen families. According to BBC reporting, a large share of profits goes to the middlemen, with TikTok retaining a substantial slice of the donations. Even when the platform takes its cut, families often receive only a fraction after intermediaries and operational costs are accounted for. In many cases, minor recipients remain in precarious situations with limited resources.
five-month investigation
The BBC followed thirty TikTok Live accounts broadcasting from Syrian camps over five months. The researchers estimated that millions of people, including long-term residents displaced by more than a decade of conflict, witnessed these appeals. Once the scale and nature of the exploitation were brought to light, TikTok issued a response stating that the content violated platform policies and that measures would be strengthened in the future. The company also indicated that while it continues to allow certain digital gifts to be purchased, payment of the actual funds to recipients would be reconsidered. After inquiries by the BBC, several accounts were banned and some local charities expressed a willingness to assist families, though monetization options remained limited and uneven.
Experts note that for many Syrians in camps, hours of persistent requests become a last resort. Begging online offers a precarious income source for families living in hand-to-mouth conditions. A mother described the impact of the broadcasts, saying her children prefer the attention and gifts received online, which brings a momentary happiness that they otherwise fear they might never taste. The visual echoes from screens act as a reminder that they exist and that strangers notice their plight, even as those same viewers may struggle to understand the full context behind the broadcasts. The cycle of online begging continues as long as audiences respond, and as long as the digital roses and other virtual tokens appear on the screens.