In January, Andrew Huberman, the podcaster and Stanford neuroscientist, wrote on X: “I think it’s fair to ask if the MD or scientist or public health official saying to do X or not do Y looks and sounds healthy and vital. I avoid going to a dentist with bad teeth. What do you think? I sense diverging opinions on this.”
Around three months later, New York magazine published a lengthy profile of Huberman that revealed details about his personal life, including how he was allegedly being dishonest with multiple romantic partners. While Huberman’s show presents a way of living guided by science and optimization, “the deeply reported piece suggests he’s running around being a hot mess”, Arwa Mahdawi wrote for the Guardian.
The profile prompted a thought experiment for the very question that Huberman asked. Some of Huberman’s fans responded to the piece saying that no matter what was going on in Huberman’s private affairs, his advice – even on relationships – was still sound.
In one Huberman Lab episode, Huberman discusses attachment theory, supplements for increasing libido and attraction. “I like to think that the people that we fall in love with are really special for us, that they could not easily be replaced with anybody else,” he says. On YouTube, responding to Huberman’s interview with David Buss about romantic partner selection, one commenter wrote: “I think his personal life might be a failure but some of what he teaches is useful for people.” Another replied: “How people treat other human beings privately should concern everyone if it is a question of unjust action, especially for a public advocate of mental and physical health.”
To some of Huberman’s listeners, this debate is not just about Huberman’s relationship content specifically. There’s also a perception that he presents a way of living based on control and informed health decisions through careful consideration of data – and a concern that his own life might not follow that philosophy. He “clearly lives by another set of rules”, as one person wrote on the Huberman Lab subreddit. “His one guilty pleasure is mango? Give me a fucking break!”
It’s awkward when a person is found to be doing the opposite of what they’re known for. Francesca Gino, a Harvard Business School professor who studied dishonesty and unethical behavior, was accused of and later found to have falsified results and used fraudulent data in her academic papers. The author of Girl, Stop Apologizing, Rachel Hollis, apologized (twice) on Instagram after comparing herself to Harriet Tubman. Marie Kondo, the author of The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up who told us to get rid of any object that doesn’t spark joy, admitted in 2023 that her home was messy after she had toddlers.
As we sift through endless opinions about how to behave, what to eat and how to live our lives, should we give more credence to people who practice what they preach? When it comes to lifestyle advice, how important is it for a person to adhere to the rules that they give to others? This question has concerned philosophers for thousands of years.
Ancient philosophers thought you should walk the walk
In 2014, Eric Schwitzgebel, a philosopher, wondered if professional ethicists behave more morally than other people. He tracked missing library books about ethics compared to other subjects, whether ethicists talked during conference presentations, and if they littered, skipped conference fees, ignored student emails or stayed in touch with their mothers. “On average, professional ethicists’ behavior is indistinguishable from the behavior of comparison groups of professors in other fields,” he and his colleagues found.
This would have troubled ancient philosophers, said Jules Evans, a historian of ideas and practical philosopher. In the days of the Greek and Roman philosophers, a person would be judged both by the quality of their arguments and on the quality of their life. If they said one thing but lived a different way, they could become an object of ridicule.
“It was understood that it was absurd if there’s a big gap between what you preach and how you lived,” Evans said, a stance that changed as philosophy became more professionalized in the early 20th century. Then, the act of philosophy became more about your ability to have certain kinds of professional discourse – not living virtuously outside of the lecture hall. Self-help and psychology filled the gap for life advice, but the same questions about such figureheads have remained.
People in the wellness world “are only too familiar with the gap between the serene, detached, Bodhisattva-like figures you see on camera, and the often bullying, obsessive, money-grubbing entrepreneurs that you see off camera”, Evans said.
Wellness figures use their personal lives to make money
Some health advice is good no matter who is giving it. A doctor is right to tell you not to smoke, whether or not she smokes, because this advice is based on straightforward evidence that smoking over time causes cancer. But lifestyle influencers do not require any standard qualifications and are often doing more than just promoting basic health truths.
“A content creator’s persona in public and private life is not easily separated,” said Stephanie Baker, a reader in sociology at City, University of London, and the author of Wellness Culture: How the Wellness Movement has been used to Empower, Profit and Misinform.
Lifestyle and wellness influencers give followers access to their personal lives, like their homes, what they eat and their morning routines. This helps them appear authentic and establishes trust and intimacy. “Most lifestyle gurus are selling a lifestyle,” Baker said. “Part of their appeal is that their life appears aspirational and also emulatable.”
From morning routines to what-I-eat-in-a-day videos, much of the health content we get online is directly tied to a person’s schedule and what they say they do. Colleen Derkatch, a professor of rhetoric at Toronto Metropolitan University and author of Why Wellness Sells: Natural Health in a Pharmaceutical Culture, agreed that influencers intentionally foster intimacy and open up their lives for observation. This makes moments of hypocrisy or inconsistency potentially more meaningful. “It does prompt us to ask: ‘What is the person’s motivation?’” Derkatch said.
What it means when a wellness figure doesn’t follow their own advice
It’s hard to be healthy all of the time. I’m OK with a public figure who gives advice being imperfect. In some cases, when people struggle, it gives them new insight into their area of expertise. But in the world of lifestyle content, a failure to live up to one’s own rules could be a sign that what they’re promoting is too extreme.
Wiley Brooks founded the Breatharian Institute of America; the Breatharians claim to not need to eat food, but survive on light and energy. In 1983, he was caught leaving a 7-Eleven in California with a hotdog, a Slurpee and a box of Twinkies.
In a more recent example, an influencer known as Rawvana, who for years ate a raw vegan diet, was caught in the background of another influencer’s video eating fish. Rawvana, who changed her channel’s page to her name, Yovana, made a video explaining that while she was eating only raw foods, her health started to decline.
If someone is espousing a lifestyle that they cannot maintain themselves, it might be a moment to ask yourself: is there something about this advice that’s impossible to follow?
When it comes to thinking critically about wellness figures, Derkatch thinks there are some useful concepts from her field of rhetoric, or the study of persuasion. When evaluating medical or health advice from a content creator, consider ethos, or the trustworthiness of the speaker. It’s certainly relevant to consider whether they walk the walk, but it’s also important to ascertain whether they have any other authority or expertise in the subject they’re talking about.
“Do they have the authority on the things about which they’re speaking?” Derkatch said. This could include medical training or clinical experience.
There’s no universal philosophical answer for how much advice should line up with how a person lives. That comes down to a matter of personal preference and subject area. Derkatch, for instance, feels uncommitted to holding people to the standards that they preach, even if she might want to. “I know that I don’t always follow the advice I give to my daughter,” she said. “I don’t always follow the advice I give to my students.”
I tend to align with the ancient philosophers on this, and Evans does too. “I personally think it’s legitimate to look at how someone lives,” said Evans – “OK, what kind of self are you?” This especially applies if they are telling you how to transform yourself. If someone isn’t living a life I admire – one that is well-rounded, makes room for mistakes, but is on the whole healthy – it’s difficult for me to want to take their advice on how to live my own.
