You’re so funny-”
“Thanks when I was 15 I got misdiagnosed with anorexia but at 19 they found out it was actually cancer then I got scammed by a woman who said she could cure it with green juice and now there’s a documentary and a TV show about it on Netflix.”
This is the caption on a recent video from Bella Johnston – self-described “cancer-surviving hot girl who loves doing stuff” – which quickly went viral on TikTok, clocking up 5.4 million views. Johnston was referencing Belle Gibson, the Australian “wellness” influencer who leapt to fame in the 2010s after claiming to have cured her brain cancer via alternative therapies and a healthy diet. She managed to garner a dedicated Instagram following, launch an award-winning app and publish a top-selling cookbook before the entire edifice came crashing down when it was revealed that Gibson did not have – and had never had – a terminal illness. The stranger-than-fiction story has risen to prominence once more a decade later following a hit Netflix adaptation, Apple Cider Vinegar, starring Kaitlyn Dever.
Johnston was an Australian teenager genuinely battling cancer at the time of Gibson’s ascendance. She underwent radiotherapy and major oesophageal surgery that left her permanently scarred. Constantly exhausted and deeply unwell, Johnston couldn’t help but compare herself to Gibson – and the glowing-with-health selfies that populated her polished Instagram profile – and wonder whether she was being punished for picking conventional medicine over juice cleanses and superfoods.
“I can’t even begin to explain how insane I felt all the f***ing time looking at [Gibson’s] feed,” Johnston says in another video. “Like, why was I so ugly? Why was I so tired? … I took that all on personally because I felt it was because I had chosen conventional medicine that all these bad things were happening to me.”
In hindsight, it perhaps seems obvious that Gibson was a delusional fraudster. But, at the time, Johnston was “so desperate to know that there was a cancer cure – and it was only green juice. Everything was going to be OK if we just ate healthy. I was desperate, my family was desperate, and that’s what she preyed upon – people’s desperation. We just wanted to live.” When the truth was exposed and Johnston learned of Gibson’s deception she was, naturally, unspeakably angry.
We might hear this story and think it could never happen a decade on – that Gibson was a product of the Wild West days of early Instagram, before becoming an “influencer” was seen as a viable career path and when the multibillion-dollar “wellness” industry was still in its infancy. But the stats suggest otherwise – and that, if anything, these days we’re even more prone to being duped by an attractive content creator on TikTok making promises about our health.
Some 61 per cent of Brits seek wellness advice on social media, rising to 91 per cent of Gen Z, reports new research from online supermarket Ocado and Holland and Barrett. Parasite cleanses, drinking olive oil on an empty stomach, doing apple cider vinegar shots, green juice cleanses and viral trends such as sea moss, lettuce water and chia seed water are currently among the most-tried health “hacks” for Brits – despite the fact that one in four people have experienced adverse side effects from following online “wellness” practices.
While many of these are ineffective yet largely harmless, some could actually pose risks to our health. NHS doctor and TikTok creator Karan Rajan has called out, for example, the use of coffee enemas, which “might damage the gut lining, disrupt the microbiome, and even lead to rectal burns or electrolyte imbalances.”
More concerningly, one in five Gen-Zers say they would trust social media over speaking to a doctor when it comes to health and wellness advice, according to the poll of 2,000 adults. It also found that more than a quarter (28 per cent) of Brits are now turning to AI platforms like ChatGPT for health info. It’s a particularly worrying trend, given the inconsistent nature of AI. Sure, if you ask it the capital of France you’re likely to get an accurate response; but when it comes to a trickier question, “chatbots like ChatGPT often fabricate information,” according to Android Authority. “This is because generative language models are designed to mimic the way humans write, not the way we think.”
Getting your advice from a human being can be just as risky, however, if they happen to be a “wellness influencer” or “health guru” rather than a qualified professional backed by science. A decade after Belle Gibson tricked the world into believing she beat a terminal brain tumour with organic foods, the issue of online personalities misleading their followers is as rampant and ever.
We’re even more prone to being duped by an attractive content creator on TikTok making promises about our health
Influencers are, in fact, promoting “overwhelmingly” misleading information about medical tests on Instagram and TikTok, according to a global University of Sydney-led study published in February. Researchers analysed almost 1,000 posts about five controversial medical screening tests that had been promoted by social media influencers to a combined audience of nearly 200 million followers. These included full-body MRI scans; genetic testing claiming to identify early signs of 50 cancers; blood tests for testosterone levels; the anti-mullerian hormone (AMH) test that surveys a woman’s egg count; and the gut microbiome test.
The experts found that most posts had no reference to scientific evidence, were financially benefiting the content creator in some way, and completely failed to mention potential harms.
“The vast majority of these posts were overwhelmingly misleading,” said Dr Brooke Nickel, who led the research from the Faculty of Medicine and Health’s School of Public Health. “They are being promoted under the guise of early screening, as a way to take control of your own health. The problem is they are unnecessary for most people and, in some cases, the science backing their efficacy is shaky.”
Among the 982 social media posts analysed, 87 per cent mentioned benefits of the tests, yet only 15 per cent mentioned potential risks. Only 6 per cent referred to scientific evidence – personal anecdotes were used in 34 per cent of influencers’ posts to promote the tests instead. And, in the majority of posts (68 per cent), the content creators had a clear vested interest; they were being financially compensated via a partnership, collaboration, sponsorship or other deal.
Not only is there limited evidence that any of the five tests benefit healthy people, but pushing them could lead to overdiagnosis and have a detrimental impact on people’s health (and bank balance). Take the “egg timer”, or AMH test. It’s heavily marketed to women by influencers as a way of measuring fertility, “but experts do not consider it to be reliable,” advises Dr Nickel. “There is the concern that a low result discovered outside the context of a specific medical issue may drive some women to unnecessary, costly fertility interventions.”
The testosterone test is similarly shady, often promoted to men using fearmongering tactics and used as a springboard to upsell them “testosterone-enhancing” products, promising to increase their manliness and improve their sexual prowess. “This is risky as the long-term safety of testosterone replacement therapy on cardiovascular health and mortality is still unknown,” adds Dr Nickel.
Co-researcher Dr Ray Moynihan, an honorary assistant professor at Bond University, puts it even more baldly: “These findings suggest social media is an open sewer of medical misinformation. This is a public health crisis that exacerbates overdiagnosis and threatens the sustainability of health systems.”
Some influencers have taken things even further. In December 2024, a BBC investigation found that content creators were selling fake cures for polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS) on social media. Capitalising on the fact that there is no real cure for this hormonal condition affecting about one in 10 women, Instagrammers have been profiting by flogging expensive “treatment” packages.
Social media is an open sewer of medical misinformation
Kourtney Simmang, for example, whose Instagram bio reads “Trauma, Hormones, Thyroid and Gut Health”, offered her 120,000-strong social media following a combo of laboratory tests, a diet and supplement plan and “coaching” for PCOS sufferers, all for the hefty sum of $3,600 (£2,800).
Tallene Hacatoryan, who has more than two million followers across TikTok and Instagram, has encouraged her audience to eschew birth control pills and diabetes drug metformin – both proven to help many women suffering from PCOS – in favour of “natural” healing and a healthy diet. Alongside, of course, her own packages of supplements, priced at $219 (£172), and a weight-loss app for $29 (£23) a month. (Tallene told the BBC she does not discourage the use of medications but provides “evidence-based information about their potential benefits and side effects”.)
A BBC World Service analysis of the most-watched videos with a “PCOS” hashtag on TikTok and Instagram last September, often peddled by medically unqualified, self-proclaimed nutritionists or “hormone coaches”, found that half of them spread false information. This included claims that PCOS can be cured with supplements or keto diets; that birth control pills cause PCOS or exacerbate symptoms; and that conventional medical intervention doesn’t address the “root cause” of PCOS. The truth is, there is no known root cause for PCOS. There are simply treatments for the symptoms, which include painful and irregular periods, excessive hair growth and weight gain.
Other modern media is not exempt from the scourge of misinformation. Over on his smash-hit podcast, The Diary of a CEO, Steven Bartlett has been accused of amplifying misleading medical information – some of it harmful. His guests have included controversial figures who have promoted, unchallenged by Bartlett, quack health claims such as that following a keto diet can “cure cancer” (eerily reminiscent of Belle Gibson’s rhetoric all these years later). Other false assertions given airtime have included that PCOS, autism and other disorders can be “reversed” with diet; that conventional medication is “toxic” for patients; and that the “Covid vaccine was a net negative for society”. A BBC investigation found that 15 out of 23 health-related episodes aired between April and November 2024 contained “potentially harmful claims”.
UK podcasts are not regulated by Ofcom, meaning they do not have to adhere to standards around accuracy and impartiality. And back over on social media, platforms are, if anything, moving further away from providing accurate information. X, formerly known as Twitter, largely swapped external moderators for “community notes” back in 2023, whereby social media users themselves refute posts or provide additional context. Following in Elon Musk’s footsteps, in January 2025 it was announced that Instagram and Facebook owner Meta would also be scrapping the use of independent fact-checkers in the US. Chief executive Mark Zuckerberg said third-party moderators who flag misinformation, inaccuracy or potentially harmful content were “too politically biased” and it was “time to get back to our roots around free expression”.
Free expression is all well and good, but fewer checks and penalties for spreading disinformation and misleading claims creates an ecosystem where bad actors like Gibson can multiply and thrive. Perhaps it’s time to stop entrusting our health to good-looking strangers on the internet, and swap TikTok for the actual doctor.
