Truth, Beauty, and Goodness in the Era of the Influencer: A Sixty-Five Year Saga
© Howard Gardner and Annie Stachura, April 2025
Howard
Fall 1958
The groundwork for this essay began over sixty years ago. As a young teenager, I arrived on the campus of Wyoming Seminary—the five-day boarding school that I would attend for three years. I was not particularly well prepared, though I had reviewed my Latin language skill over the summer. Latin. I probably did not make anything of it at the time, but I took note of the school’s motto: Verum, pulchrum, bonum—The True, The Beautiful, and The Good.
2000
Decades later, as a scholar in psychology and education, I began to think more broadly about the purposes of education—and, indeed, even more broadly, about what constitutes a good life. At that time, the Latin phrase—now translated into contemporary English—kept cropping up. I resolved to contemplate the status of these three virtues at the start of the 21st century. As it happens, the trio of virtues captured succinctly the arc of my own scholarly research. In the late 1960s, I had begun as a young scholar probing the nature of the arts—accordingly, of beauty, pulchrum.
Then, a decade later, as I wrote a textbook in developmental psychology and began to teach, I focused on verum—established knowledge about the topic of human development.
Thereafter, in the middle 1990s, I undertook a year’s scholarly retreat with psychologists William Damon (a scholar of morality, with a particular interest in a sense of purpose), and Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (a scholar of personality, who had long probed the experience of flow). With these and other colleagues, I began a thirty-year study of bonum—what we consider to be good, and why. (Our research group focused particularly on “good work” and “good citizenship”—see The Good Project and its numerous associated sites and sources.)
In short, in my own work, as well as my collaborations, I was deeply involved with the substance of what I came to dub BEGOT for short: BEauty, GOodness, and Truth.
That said: It’s quite different to investigate a topic than it is to formulate it at a more abstract, conceptual level. About twenty years ago, in 2005, I assigned myself that task—the very time that I first began to reflect on the power and the uses/misuses of social media. Indeed, at that time, our research team at Harvard Project Zero began an extensive program of research, funded primarily by the MacArthur Foundation, on the ethical dimensions of the new digital media. That work continues today, at the recently launched Center for Digital Thriving, located at Project Zero, my professional home for nearly sixty years.
During a year as a visiting professor at New York University (2007-2008), I elected to share my incipient thoughts about BEGOT in a set of talks. The Museum of Modern Art, with whom I had worked for a number of years, kindly sponsored a trio of lectures on these topics, and I was fortunate to have three outstanding commentators:
❖ on TRUTH, historian of science Peter Galison
❖ on BEAUTY, MOMA’s senior curator of architecture and design, Paola Antonelli
❖ on GOODNESS, neurologist and noted author Antonio Damasio
The penetrating critiques by these scholars, along with the alert questions from the audience, sharpened my thinking. All too vividly, I remember a comment from my colleague Marcelo Suarez-Orozco: “Howard, you have left out the 800-pound gorilla—Religion.” Marcelo was on point—I had long refrained from pondering religious forces and tracts—subsequently, I have been trying to correct course ever since.
2011
In the next few years, I put together my thoughts in Truth, Beauty, and Goodness Reframed: Educating for the Virtues in the Twenty-First Century. I consider this to be one of my most important publications—an attempt by a psychologist and educator to grapple with millennia-old philosophical chestnuts. The book did not receive much attention, from either the lay or scholarly audience. But I was encouraged by a lengthy and largely positive review (linked here) from philosopher Alan Ryan in The New York Review of Books. Special thanks to editor, the late Robert Silvers, for arranging and then curating this effort to integrate philosophical, psychological, and educational perspectives.
Alert, alas!! Within a year, I realized that the book was already becoming a tad anachronistic. Even though our research team had been studying the new digital media, I had left them largely out of the book. A significant oversight! Accordingly, in the paperback version of this book, I inserted a new subtitle: Educating for the Virtues in the Era of Truthiness and Twitter. In a new preface, I introduced additional, complexifying factors:
“When social media are looming in the foreground—many, many millions of messages every day, each purporting to signal a virtue or vice (Twitter—now X); or, borrowing the clever neologism created by the insightful comedian Stephen Colbert—when claims to tell the truth are simply hand waving, without any serious attempt to figure out what is actually true, what is actually false, what cannot be determined at this time (e.g. the short-term effects of climate change), and what cannot ever be determined (e.g. whether the evolution of homo sapiens is guided by some kind of extra-terrestrial entity or formula).”
Fast forward to 2025
But now, nearly seventy years since I first encountered the three virtues, a quarter of a century after I revisited them in the course of my own scholarly activity, and over a decade after I confronted the threat to the virtues posed by ubiquitous social media and diverse claimants to authority, Annie Stachura and I revisit the virtues once again. What does it mean to declare truth (or falsity), beauty (or plainness, or ugliness) or goodness (or evil or irresponsibility), in the era of the influencer.
What, exactly, is an influencer?
Annie
Genesis, etymology, & modern-day meaning
We’ll begin with a brief history and working definition for the term influencer. Though its present-day use evokes the dynamic, rapidly sprawling ecosystem of social media, one can trace its lexical appearance back to the 1600s. As far as can be determined, the word was first used in English philosopher Henry More’s book, A Modest Enquiry into the Mystery of Iniquity. In describing a potent and compelling religious figure, More writes:
“Why may not then so sacred a Fountain be the Head and Influencer of the whole Church?”
Of course, the term influencer derives from the verb to influence, or “to affect or alter by indirect or intangible means,” (Merriam-Webster). To have influence, then, is to have the capacity to sway—minds, hearts, outcomes, etc.—without exerting force. If we briefly extricate the word influencer from its contemporary cultural context, it could logically be defined as any person who has influence, which would produce a rather unwieldy subset: celebrities, politicians, religious leaders, scholars, athletes, artists, but also managers, teachers, parents, siblings, friends—the list could go on.
When we talk today about influencers, most often we’re specifically referring to social media influencers, or “people who earn income as independent workers providing ‘authentically’ curated content to carefully cultivated online audiences,” (29) as described in Emily Hund’s The Influencer Industry. The term influencer is widely used, accepted to have the same meaning even outside of the English language—Spanish, Italian, and German are three examples of languages that have adopted the word. Today’s influencer-phenomenon matured alongside the rise of modern technology—in particular, the launch of the World Wide Web in 1991 created far-ranging new possibilities for internet connectivity (originally via web forums and bulletin board sites). For the very first time, like-minded communities could emerge entirely online, and everyday people could participate in discussions, build virtual audiences from the comfort of their own living rooms.
The turn of the century brought with it a new age of transmogrified social and consumer behavior. In 2001, a study published in Journal of Interactive Marketing found that “consumers who gathered information from online discussions reported greater interest in the product topic than did those consumers who acquired information from the market-generated sources,” (Bickart & Schindler 2001). Across the board, the study pointed to higher levels of perceived credibility on these forums. Quite sensibly, a backpacker seeking recommendations for new hiking gear would more readily trust the advice of a proclaimed seasoned backpacker over that provided by a branded advertisement. The trustworthiness of the “fellow consumer,” as Bickhart & Schindler invoke, derives from the belief that these online individuals “have no vested interest in the product and no intentions to manipulate the reader.” A combination of authority, altruism, and authenticity was the name of the game, a recipe for success in the bourgeoning e-kingdom that laid the groundwork for continued evolution.
Nowadays, with upgrades and advancements in technology and social networking, successful influencers have an acute understanding of their chosen platform(s)—sites like Instagram, TikTok, YouTube, and Twitch—and the ideological and consumerist landscapes therein. They can be found around the globe and across industries: beauty, fashion, fitness, travel, politics, sports, tech, etc. Their posts are designed with two main goals in mind: 1) to further develop an appealing “personal brand” and 2) to shift buying habits or spur other responses from their viewers. As they grow in popularity, some influencers’ posts become “sponsored,” meaning that the influencer is under contract with a brand/entity and being compensated for creating promotional content. Of course, such sponsorship may induce skepticism on the part of the standard audience, as it may detract from a viewer’s sense that the content is “authentic.”
Illuminating examples of influencers
To get a sense of how influencers operate within their respective industries, and may thereby affect the trio of virtues on which we’re focused, let’s reflect on a few examples of successful creators drawn from three different fields:
Emma Chamberlain
Emma Chamberlain is an American influencer, YouTuber, podcaster, business owner, and model. Her rise to fame took place on YouTube—a page she started as a teenager in 2016, but on which she remains active today. On her page, Chamberlain’s posts include cooking videos, fashion hauls, day-in-the-life chronicles, and collaborations with fellow YouTubers—but quintessential to her popularity is her irreverent, candid, and earnest online persona, which fans find funny and relatable. In 2025, her page has over 12.1 million subscribers, and Chamberlain herself has been called by The Atlantic, “the most talked about influencer in the world,” (Lorenz).
Keith Lee
Keith Lee is an American social media personality and food critic. Previously a mixed martial artist, Lee began by posting his reviews of Las Vegas restaurants to TikTok in 2021—since then, he has expanded his enterprise to cities around the country. His videos on the platform adhere to a consistent formula: Lee describes the experience of ordering his food and then rates each plate on a scale from one to ten. In 2024, his page reached 16.1 million followers. That same year, Lee himself was included on the Forbes 30 Under 30 list in the Food & Drink category.
Deja Foxx
Deja Foxx is a social media influencer who uses her platform to speak out about reproductive rights. She is also a political strategist, known for her position as the youngest staffer and first-ever “Influencer and Surrogate Strategist” on United States Vice President Kamala Harris’s 2024 presidential campaign. Her Instagram content is often related to social justice—and during Harris’s run, her Instagram page published content addressing the most pertinent issues of the campaign: informational videos, Q&As with politicians and voters from different regions—but also tongue-in-cheek promotional videos, like the one captioned “POV: You love the drama and you’re on the way to watch Kamala Harris deliver her closing argument speech at the same exact location as Trump’s Jan. 6 rally.”
In August of 2024, 24-year-old Foxx joined more than 200 influencers at the Democratic National Convention. For the first time, content creators were given media access at both the DNC and RNC (where 70 influencers were hosted and credentialed), ostensibly in a move to appeal to Gen Z voters. Foxx remarked to NPR, “It signals to young people a presidency that will listen to them, that will respond to them, and that has young people in the room.”
In the sparest—perhaps most reductive—determination, modern influencers are savvy advertisers, able to promote their own personal “brand” while simultaneously promoting a variety of products/ideas. And commercial brands are shrewd to continue making use of their services. Collaborative research done by Northwestern University and LTK (a service that brings together brands and influencers) documents that in America, almost 75% of Gen Z and 33% of the Boomers and Older group have previously relied on influencers to assist in choosing products to purchase.
Two important clarifications
❖ Though they certainly have influence, traditional celebrities are not influencers. Such well-known individuals (i.e. actors, models, musicians, comedians, athletes, politicians) accumulate fame and earn most, if not all, of their income from participation in their respective industry. They make movies, make advertisements, sell tickets to concerts or shows or games, win athletic competitions, run for high office, etc. On the other hand, the archetypal influencer accumulates fame and wealth from the enterprise of influencing—posting frequently, partnering with brands and engaging in sponsored online activities—thus becoming tastemaker for an audience on a social media platform.
As explained by contributor Paris Martineau in The WIRED Guide to Influencers:
“An actor, musician, or comedian can act as an influencer, sure, but it’s an auxiliary action, coexisting with—or, often, in spite of—the celebrity’s already established public brand. For influencers, the act of influencing and the public self are one and the same.”
At first glance, this distinction may cause some confusion. After all, celebrities often engage in influential activities on and off social media sites. What do we make of it when Yo-Yo Ma appears in an advertisement for Rolodex? Or when Taylor Swift records a commercial drinking Diet Coke while writing a hit song? Or when Selena Gomez posts on Instagram to promote her signature line of cosmetics? Though these brand deals typically boost sales of the product and result in income for the celebrity (or for a cause supported by the celebrity), we would not label these individuals as influencers.
Here’s why: When Taylor Swift endorses Diet Coke by appearing in an advertisement for them, the messaging is that you, the consumer, can be as extraordinary as Taylor Swift if you drink Diet Coke. Conversely, true influencers are meant to be seen as relatable, everyday people.
Notably, though they are necessary and powerful voices in contemporary times, young activists like Malala Yousafzai and Greta Thunberg would not be considered influencers by our definition. Though they may post about their respective causes on social media, their fame originates not in their online influencing, but in their activism—demonstrations, speeches, published books, etc.
❖ Not all social media influencers strictly advertise products, though many do. Some influencers promote ideas, or even political candidates, (see the above example of influencer Deja Foxx). Some influencers may establish themselves as thought leaders in a particular niche (i.e. sustainable living or achieving entrepreneurial success) and use their platforms to provide insights, advice, and opinions. Some may post comedic and/or conversational content and build their platform by appealing to their audience’s sense of humor or desire for companionship. Influencing itself is inextricably linked to consumerism—it results in financial gain for the creator and often inspires purchase behavior in the viewer—but these results stem from the influencer’s true skillset: appealing to a viewership and gaining their trust.
The influencer boom
As Hund suggests, in the past few decades, influencing has grown into an industry with its own success stories and failures, all-stars and underdogs. The idea that one could financially prosper as a full-time social media influencer may have seemed far-fetched at some point, but is now entirely plausible, as expounded on above. However, the top-earners out-earn the bottom-earners by leaps and bounds. While influencers with fewer than 10,000 followers earn $17,040 annually on average across platforms, as of 2023, those with over a million followers make $184,272—just about eleven times more. Another dose of reality: only 4% of aspiring influencers make an annual salary over $100,000 (Goldman Sachs Research).
Still, according to a 2023 survey done by Morning Consult, 57% of Gen Zers say that—if given the chance—they would like to become an influencer. Perhaps it’s the flexibility, creativity, and community components, or perhaps the gamble at attaining some greater reward—luxury, fame, a rapt, expansive and empathic audience for one’s thoughts and ideas. Whatever it is, the work clearly has a unique and appealing value proposition, particularly for those currently entering the job market and particularly for those disillusioned by the traditional “nine-to-five” work regulations. Fortunately for these aspirants, the barrier-to-entry into career-influencing is technically low (a smartphone, editing software, and reliable internet are the pre-requisites).
There are various tiers of “influencer-dom”: nano-influencers (1,000-10,000 followers), micro-influencers (10,000-100,000 followers), mid-tier influencers (50,000-500,000 followers), macro-influencers (500,000-1 million followers), and mega-influencers (over 1 million followers). And though these distinctions may sound frivolous at first, it’s undeniably true that influencing is a numbers-game (and like other games, it can be gamed!) Career influencers must pay careful attention to their own social media metrics and analytics; but they must also monitor broader market trends in order to become and stay relevant in a fast-paced, temperamental space. Those who aspire to make an income from influencing are advised: “…start by identifying your niche and target audience…and focus on creating content that resonates with that audience,” (Forbes).
A contract of trust
As noted, the barrier-to-entry into career-influencing is technically low. But in such a fast-paced, oversaturated marketplace as that enabled by social media, few will triumph the way the above three examples have.
At this point, a reasonable next question may arise: What makes one aspiring influencer within a given industry or sector or population more potent than another? The answer reinforces the findings of Bickhart & Schindler’s study on early Internet forums. The content posted must feel authentic.
To appear “real” online may initially seem an incongruous goal—after all, artifice and curation are so foundational to these platforms and the behaviors they typically inspire. Despite that, it’s clear that social media audiences are averse to phoniness.
Consider, for an extreme example, the poor reception of A.I. “travel influencers” on Instagram. These lifelike artificially-generated avatars claim to travel the globe, and “post”—typically, these accounts are run by country’s tourism boards—images of their many fake adventures. More often than not, they are met with widespread appall—scores of negative comments beneath their uploads to the platform. (You can read more about these AI influencers and their reception in this article published by the Washington Post.)
In a similar way, when a human influencer’s content feels too much like an advertisement or too out-of-touch with the average viewer’s lifestyle and experiences, the influencer is likely to face explicit backlash. Even more fraught is when an influencer is found out for the “crime” of fraudulence—advertising a product they don’t actually use or failing to disclose when a post of theirs is being paid for as part of a commercial deal.
As one example: in 2015, a group of Singaporean influencers was exposed for its involvement in a campaign and faced consequences. While badmouthing telecommunications providers in their region and claiming that these were their personal views, the influencers failed to admit that these posts were actually orchestrated advertisements. In the wake of the scandal, many of these influencers lost loyal followers and were compelled to post public apologies to their pages.
Abidin and Ots, who wrote extensively about this scandal, have claimed that there is an unwritten “contract of trust” between an influencer and their audience—one which is constantly at risk of being breached. Influencers build this trust by frequently and consistently posting quality content—content that feels original, authentic, relatable, and relevant to their audience’s interests. Once the contract of trust has been broken, it can be challenging for an influencer to recoup that lost credibility.
So much for an introduction to influencers—well-known by much of the population below the age of fifty and still mysterious to those who are older or do not frequent the Internet or social media.
Howard and Annie
How should we think of truth, beauty, and goodness in the era of the influencer?
On the account that we propose here, Beauty may seem to be the easiest of the virtues to consider. Beauty is about experiences—we deem beautiful those experiences that initially attract our attention, our interest, and that once encountered, motivate us to revisit those experiences, or ones like them.
Beauty is clearly relevant to the realm of social media influencers—after all, the platforms themselves are made up largely from visual content, which users can effectively scroll through in an endless stream in search of something that sparks the aesthetic pleasure (or in some cases, its opposite: rage, disgust, or annoyance), then swipe away when no longer captivated by the image or video at hand.
Luckily for the users, on social media, there is no shortage of beauty in its ordinary connotation. Breathtaking landscapes in destinations we’ve always wanted to visit, a stylish pair of sunglasses, a carefully organized desk. Many influencers have mastered the art of appealing to our desire for beauty—to be it, to have it, to live within it.
Over the course of life, it is natural for our conceptions of beauty to change, and perhaps to deepen—though if these conceptions remain constant, that’s fine as well. To the extent that influencers introduce us to new experiences—and perhaps share their account of how and why they value those experiences—in many cases, that’s fine and unproblematic. And of course, it’s equally valid for us as viewers to ignore or to disagree with experiences deemed beautiful by an influencer, or indeed, by a bevy of influencers. Though, as noted earlier, Howard remembers little of his schoolhouse Latin, he often finds himself quoting one of the most well-known Latin phrases: De gustibus, non est disputandum. Or, in plain English, when it comes to matters of taste, there is no right or wrong.
But to complicate that maxim for a moment, we must also acknowledge the more insidious underpinning of Beauty on these platforms. Consider the physical presentation—precisely how it’s decided and designated throughout time can have significant cultural impact. Sometimes for better, but often for worse, influencers have the power to affirm and/or alter our societal ideals around “conventional attractiveness.” This stance can and, throughout the history of social media, has promoted unrealistic beauty standards and unhealthy behaviors around food and exercise, while celebrating prototypes of attractiveness that are West-centric, racist, sexist, and classist.
Goodness and truth turn out to be even more complex—in ways that may be instructive.
Let’s first consider Goodness.
As Howard and colleagues construe the terrain, there are two primary spheres of goodness:
❖ Neighborly morality should be quite familiar to everyone. It consists of the basic social obligations and personal obligations recognized across the range of human cultures. Within Western societies, it is exemplified by the Ten Commandments; and while these specific Biblical edicts may not be universally known, societies everywhere emphasize the importance of telling the truth, treating others considerately, honoring one’s parents. By the same token, virtually every known society has its version of the Golden Rule: treat others the ways in which you would like yourself (and those closest to you) to be treated.
❖ The ethics of roles are far more complex, and far less likely to be universal. In the contemporary societies with which most of us are familiar, there are two major roles:
that of the professional (an individual inducted into the rules and processes of a particular line of work); and
that of a citizen (an individual with a stake in how the society is organized, the rules that should be honored, and above all, how one responds to opportunities and challenges that arise in one’s community).
To be sure, there may have been aspects of these roles that were long-known and honored. Consider, for example, the more privileged individuals in ancient Greece, imperial Rome, or for that matter, elite members of Confucian, Buddhist, or Hindu societies over the centuries. But if one considers, say, serfdom in medieval Europe, or the peasant population in Imperial China, or lower caste members in India, the ethics of roles is difficult to discern—indeed, even to stipulate.
Fixing again on contemporary society: Most individuals acquire the ethics of roles partly from family and those in the neighborhood, but far more from the communal or national educational system—broadly construed. Taking the United States as an example, in public but also in most private or religious schools, one learns about the system of government, particularly as stipulated in the Constitution (with its amendments), and in the current legal system(s). By the same token, in the later years of schooling—and particularly in collegiate or graduate institutions and their associated apprenticeships—one learns about the rights and obligations of members across the professional landscape, ranging from doctors and lawyers to teachers and journalists.
Let’s turn now to the new and increasingly powerful role of influencers—and what we might dub the “influencer culture.” Many of us will not remember well the traditional norms of American citizenship (as laid out in the Constitution) nor the traditional precepts of our chosen profession.(as laid out in Hippocratic or other vocational oaths) And even if we do, we could—and perhaps are—bombarded with novel and sometimes seductive perspectives put forth and propounded by influencers—whether or not that descriptor is explicitly invoked.
Accordingly, when it comes to deciding how to vote with respect to a proposition on a ballot, or whether (and if so) in what way to participate in a protest, it’s quite possible—and perhaps even likely—that our attention will be seized by the words and examples of influencers, particularly those influencers with whom we have an established relationship of trust. Or we may well be swayed by the most convincing and powerful influencer(s). Only those of us who have an alternative way of thinking about the topic-in-hand—one rooted in the traditional conceptions of citizenship or in the long-established and slowly evolved norms and regulations of the profession—will not easily be swayed.
Not to say that “traditional authority and authorities are always right”—or that “influencers are always wrong.” On the contrary: with respect to newly arising issues like rank order voting, influencers may well make more cogent arguments than ones based on our memories of 10th grade civics. By the same token, journalists trained only in traditional media and norms may navigate the current media landscape far less skillfully—and perhaps far less wisely—than those who have a grasp of the realm of influencers and the reach of social media. And indeed, most of us—whether trained or not—are well-advised to attend to influencers who can meld or nuance traditional norms in light of the fast-changing landscape of information, role models, and problematics of the second quarter of the 21st century.
Finally, on to Truth—in our view, the most important virtue in our time, and the one that is arguably the most challenging to establish with reliability and confidence.
As Howard (and many others) have long argued, truth is the property of statements, of propositions, usually in words, but also in symbols—for example, algebraic or chemical or computational ones. Some truths are virtually impregnable (2+2=4); others can be readily established (the weather forecast for tomorrow will be accurate 90% of the time); some can in principle be verified (the world of 2040 will be more—or less peaceful—than the world of 2020); and some are in principle and/or in practice not subject to verification (individuals who lived 20,000 years ago were less pleasant than individuals who will be living 20,000 years from now).
Of course, truths can be established—or challenged—in many ways. Over the millennia, they have indeed been subject to contention, revision, and resolution. Yet, in contemporary society, there exist specific disciplines and specific professions that have the knowledge, the responsibility, the tools, and the stature to establish what’s true, what’s false, what’s verifiable (and if so, how) and what’s not. As detailed in Truth, Beauty, and Goodness Reframed and in articles and blogs that followed its publication, we understandably and properly rely on those informed by scholarship and training to help us navigate the terrain of truth, falsity, and the cloudy terrains in between—see more of our work on these topics on The Good Blog.
Never easy, this navigation appears ever more challenging in our time. On the one hand, we have the vulnerability of established authority. While recommendations of “the best and the brightest” in the United States were largely followed in the period after World War II, we now know that much of what these highly-educated and widely trusted individuals claimed and what they preached was not accurate—or that, in some cases, they actually concealed what was accurate in order to promulgate what they wished to be the case. (Cases in point: The Vietnam War and other similar military and quasi-military operations, of which Howard blogged about in 2024—link here.) This state of affairs makes us far more suspicious of what the major promulgators of news tell us—and in a good number of cases, properly so. No longer do we nod in agreement should the successors of news anchor Walter Cronkite confidently announce: “And that’s the way it is.”
Instead, with the emergence of social media, we find ourselves in an era defined by a democratization of information that is often distinctly anti-expert. In the age of the influencer, many no longer rely on expert opinion to form their belief systems and are more interested to know what “ordinary” people are thinking. Distrust and anxiety about the possible ulterior motivations of professionals, the elite, political leadership, and major news outlets are not novel reactions—particularly in times of great social upset and uncertainty—but never before have we had available such an impressive microphone as social media, where theoretically any and all can post their perspective online, and be accessed and contemplated by an enormous audience.
There are certainly benefits to this democratization of information—greater transparency, more avenues toward being heard for those who have historically been silenced, an expedited spread of important and relevant information. But the dangers of this landscape cannot be ignored or understated—and particularly when it comes to the spread of misinformation and disinformation. In a space where information is accessible and plentiful, individuals and influencers may incidentally (due to a lack of expertise) or deliberately (with malicious intent) spread information that has not been verified or, even more problematically, is known to be untrue. In the echo chamber that is social media, this “fake news”—as it is sometimes called—can cause major damage: undermining the democratic process, promoting harmful conspiracy theories and hate speech, and engendering further distrust in the media. In recent years, the spread of misinformation on social media has done undeniable harm—take, just as an example, the resurgence of the anti-vax movement during the COVID-19 pandemic, which succeeded in creating an environment of extreme distrust and hysteria around a medically-necessary intervention during a global health crisis.
That’s the state of affairs confronted by the virtue of truth in the era of influencers.
Or to put the matter differently: If we have traditional experts in one sphere, and contemporary influencers in another sphere, we need to be able to identify where they differ, where they overlap, and—when there are differences—whom to believe (and with what degree of confidence), whom to challenge (and with what degree of confidence), and what to do (and not to do, going forward. A rather Hamlet-like enigma for a post-Shakespearean epoch, and a daunting task!)
Yet, it would be irresponsible—and perhaps even unacceptable—simply to end on this disturbing note.
For those who want to strive to become and to remain good citizens and good professionals:
❖ We should understand the principal rights and obligations of contemporary citizenship.
❖ We should understand the processes and standards of the major disciplines (e.g. science, history) and the major professions (e.g. law, medicine, teaching, journalism).
❖ We should be open to the claims and counterclaims of influencers—sometimes they will know more than the traditional experts and sometimes they will embrace new and useful methods. We cannot take their word for their expertise, but we can test it against the historical records and the influencer’s own prior performances and recommendations.
❖ And yet: while the popularity of particular influencers is worth noting, the number of followers is rarely a reliable index of either accuracy (truth) or proper behavior (goodness). Unless the influencer is willing to sacrifice a significant number of followers and a significant financial stake, in order to describe and endorse cogent examples of truth or goodness, that influencer merits neither our attention nor our support.
Put succinctly: merit over multitudes.
Concluding thoughts
In this essay, we have sought to present the contours—and to defend the continuing value—of the traditional classical virtues: truth, beauty and goodness. We have also pondered the impact, the effect—positive, negative, and to-be-determined—of influencers, individuals who perhaps constitute not an entirely new phenomenon, but one far more widespread and powerful than in earlier times. Certainly, we should not abandon the virtues, but we must be open to reconsidering their importance and their role—in the powerful and ever-expanding ensemble of influencers. Moreover, given the trends in our times, we also need to reflect on the status of the virtues in a society where democratic values and processes are being severely challenged.
That’s a task for another essay—hopefully, forthcoming.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
For their valuable comments on earlier drafts, we are very grateful to Shinri Furuzawa, Ellen Winner, Danny Mucinskas, Lynn Barendsen, Kirsten McHugh, Shelby Clark, and Wendy Fischman.
SELECT REFERENCES
Abidin, C. & Ots, M. (2016). Chapter 13: Influencers Tell All? Unravelling authenticity and credibility in a brand scandal. From Blurring the Lines: Market-driven and Democracy-driven Freedom of Expression (Eds. Edström, M., Kenyon, A.T., Svensson, E.) Nordicom.
Bickart, B. & Schindler, R. (2001). Internet forums as influential sources of consumer information. Journal of Interactive Marketing, 15(3), 31-40. https://doi.org/10.1002/dir.1014
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