Uneducated Advice: Should There Be Some Kind of System to Hold Influencers Accountable?

Gen Z influencer Emma Chamberlain and her cat

I am a true Chamberlain. I’ve been a Chamberlain since before scrunchies and blue plaid Brandy Melville skirts were canceled. Yes, that long. I started watching Emma Chamberlain way back in 2017 when she posted her first YouTube video, and in more recent years, I’ve moved over to her podcast Anything Goes, where she shares thoughts on literally everything. Fashion, burnout, coffee, mental health. She talks like a friend- or maybe more like an older sister.

For those who don’t know, Emma Chamberlain is for sure one of the biggest influencers in the world. She’s collaborated with major brands like Cartier and Vogue, launched her own coffee company, and built a multi-platform empire from the ground. She’s also known for switching up her style so often that even Lady Gaga might want to take notes. With 14.4 million followers on Instagram and 12.1 million on YouTube, her reach is massive. I started thinking about what makes Emma Chamberlin someone people genuinely want to follow, and I realized that her advice sounds like expertise. Like a professional you can trust. The only thing is, she doesn’t have a diploma beyond high school. Is that a problem?

This topic came up in a conversation with my dad the other day. Okay, more like a debate. It was late and we were FaceTiming. Mom was in the background trying to sleep. The exact beginning of the discussion is blurry, but I do remember him at one point saying:

“I hate bloggers.”

I shot back, half-joking

“What about me? I’m a wannabe blogger.”

Immediately, he answered

“Yeah, but you don’t give health advice.”

His tone was sharp. He wasn’t really joking.

I tried to explain that blogging and influencing have changed. It’s not just kale smoothies and miracle herbs to “reduce cellulite” anymore. Influencers talk about everything now.

At the same time, it was clear what he was referring to: Belle Gibson. The Australian wellness influencer who gained massive fame in the early 2010s by claiming she had cured her terminal brain cancer through clean eating. She made books, apps, and brand deals, all based on a lie. She never had cancer. People trusted her, followed her advice, skipped medical treatment, and some died. Influencers like Belle Gibson are dangerous, I agree with my dad on that one. Her influence came not from education or expertise, but from a pretty Instagram feed. So, if anyone with a ring light and a confident voice can say anything online, how are we supposed to know what’s true?

It’s hard to even count the number of times someone has leaned in confidently and said, ‘I saw it on TikTok,’ as if dropping those four words settles the entire argument. It should be a red flag. The fact is that when you start taking advice from unqualified people on serious topics, it becomes hard to tell the difference between real guidance and dangerous misinformation.

This isn't to say every travel blogger needs a degree in tourism. But if you’re giving health advice? Financial guidance? Mental health tips? There should be something - like a verification mark that says: “This person is qualified.” It could work like the new Instagram feature that labels AI-generated content. Why not label influencers based on where their advice is coming from too? Is it lived experience, certified knowledge, or just pure opinion?

If I were to run for president, I would introduce a rule: once you hit 10,000 followers, you are required to verify your expertise in a certain area. If you can’t verify? Then you can’t get over 10,000 followers. Simple. But if you still want to increase your follower number, then you go get the education or qualification to support it. We already do this in other areas of life. You can’t be a personal trainer without a certificate, and you can’t teach in school without a degree. So why are we letting just anyone teach online? Of course, this hypothetical system isn’t perfect, but it’s a starting point.

Whether we like it or not, we have created this weird kind of “aesthetic authority.” If something or someone looks good, speaks well, and has well-edited videos, we automatically trust them. Sometimes even more than doctors, journalists, or certified researchers.

If schools aren’t teaching us digital literacy and social media has become the new classroom, have influencers taken on the role of our teachers?

We are a generation raised on content. Gen Z scrolls through 15-second Reels and lets ChatGPT explain the world instead of reading the news. Prove me wrong. Even more concerning is Gen Alpha, those kids born between 2010 and 2025, and the first generation raised entirely on this kind of information. To them, it isn’t even scary. It is normal.

One can always argue that social media has created new paths to success, ones that don’t require a college degree or a traditional nine-to-five job. That argument isn’t wrong. For people who (for economic, social, or geographic reasons) don’t have access to higher education, this kind of freedom is clearly empowering and even life-changing. However, pointing to these success stories does not address the core question. It’s like being asked “Do you prefer pizza or tacos?” and respond with “Fries.”

I still like Emma Chamberlain, and I won’t stop watching her even though she doesn’t have a college degree- which she, by the way, is consistently transparent about. She was the first person to use the phrase “uneducated advice,” which has since become a personal favorite. Emma stays in her lane, talking about life as she experiences it, and never claims to be a therapist, a doctor, a financial expert, or a cancer victim like a certain Australian.

Not every influencer takes this responsibility seriously, and that is exactly why we need a new set of digital guidelines to protect people from those who do not know where their lane ends. Advice without education is not just noise; it is power, and power should come with responsibility.

Opinion piece

1000 words

The Cut