Although no one likes a know-it-all, they dominate the internet.
What started as a vast online library quickly became a breeding ground for self-proclaimed experts chasing what everyone wants: recognition and money.
Today, anyone with an internet connection and a bit of confidence can pass themselves off as a subject matter expert. Education, credentials and experience are optional. From relationship advice and career coaching to health tips and pseudo-journalism, the internet is flooded with what I call “talking heads” — people offering insights that are often just guesses without the grounding of real expertise.
The internet has become a 24/7 sitcom where armchair experts imagine themselves as the star.
It wasn’t always this way. Not long ago, it took years — sometimes decades — of study, work and credibility-building to be considered an expert. Doctors, scientists and historians earned public trust through knowledge and achievement. Now, all it takes is a social media account, some flair for drama and an eye-catching headline. Fame can be monetized, and credibility can be faked.
Almost every piece of content online is self-serving in some way.
The line between actual expertise and confident opinion has become as fuzzy as a bad selfie. Social media has created a strange kind of informal degree program, where likes and shares are the new credentials. Watch a few TikToks, skim a few blog posts, and someone is suddenly calling themselves a herbal medicine specialist. Soon, they’re telling thousands of followers that panda dung tea — one of the world’s most expensive teas and not what its name implies — can cure everything from hypertension to existential dread.
Meanwhile, real dietitians are left wondering how to compete with that kind of confident nonsense.
Even more concerning are those peddling conspiracy theories with religious fervour. They blog endlessly about how Elvis is still alive or how the moon landings were staged. Their posts are stuffed with links to obscure videos, disreputable websites and endless circular reasoning. Whatever wild idea you hold, there’s someone online who’ll confirm it.
Misinformation has become the internet’s currency, traded for likes, shares and engagement. It spreads fast. Consider the clickbait headlines:
- You won’t believe what Taylor Swift says about climate change!
- This bedtime drink melts belly fat while you sleep!
- In one week, I turned $10 into $1 million!
And
- How fake experts took over the internet. And your wallet.
These outrageous titles are designed to grab attention and generate clicks. The more views, the more revenue from ads, affiliate marketing and product placements. That’s how you end up watching a video of a self-declared nutrition guru claiming that a mix of raw eggs, cinnamon and apple cider vinegar will melt belly fat, as long as you drink it before bed for two weeks straight.
Our craving for shortcuts and easy answers is precisely what propels these talking heads into influencer status. We’re wired to seek low-hanging fruit and convenient truths, especially if they come with a smile and a promise of easy success.
But there’s an even more troubling trend: unqualified people handing out financial advice. I’ve seen people lose real money after following the “strategies” of online personalities who have never actually built wealth themselves. Let’s be clear: Anyone claiming to have a foolproof system for making easy money online is lying. If it worked, they wouldn’t be selling it.
Truly successful people rarely broadcast how they made their money.
Social media algorithms don’t promote truth; they promote engagement. The more emotionally charged the content, the more visible it becomes. That’s why your feed is full of talking heads going viral. The moment something hits a nerve — whether it’s fear, hope or outrage — it snowballs.
Picture this: You’re scrolling TikTok and land on a video of a “scientist” claiming to predict the weather using aluminum foil, copper wire, sea salt and baking soda. You laugh — until you see it has thousands of likes, hundreds of shares and a flood of comments. Maybe, you think, he’s onto something.
That’s how absurdity becomes belief.
Anyone can call themselves an expert. That’s why critical thinking has never been more important. While the weirdness of the internet can be entertaining, misinformation has real consequences.
The next time you read a headline that seems too good to be true, ask yourself one question: Is this someone making an educated guess, without the education, hoping for internet fame and a few ad dollars?
Nick Kossovan, a self-described connoisseur of human psychology, writes about what’s on his mind from Toronto.
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