The Everyone’s an Expert Era

I wrote this question in my journal not long ago:

Who are the experts?

I’ve spent much of my adult life in academia, in one way or another. And in academia, the experts are those who understand phenomena as a result of careful research. They know because they’ve conducted studies, written papers and books. Their work has been subject to the peer review process. Expertise is taken seriously in academia. It’s the product of years of a dedicated focus and the acquisition of a numerous degrees, and even after all the that, the study goes on. 

Of late, though, my assumptions around experts have been upended, or at least, I’m having second thoughts. This is largely because of the era we’re currently in, which I’ll dub ‘the everyone’s an expert era’. Picture Oprah on stage, enthusiastically waving her arms and calling out, “You’re an expert! And you’re an expert! And you’re an expert!” while pointing at each person in the crowd.

The digital age means: “You’re an expert! And you’re an expert!”.

Social media, or perhaps the internet more broadly, has created an environment in which just about anyone can claim an expertise in something. And honestly, I’m not quite sure how I feel about it. 

I’m all for finding and celebrating one’s strengths. I’m all for standing up for oneself and one’s beliefs, being strong, feeling empowered. We all have something to offer, certainly. But it seems the line between opinion and expertise has become a bit fuzzy.

I follow a social media personality – let’s call her Jade – who, in addition to sharing content on various social media platforms, writes a weekly newsletter. There is so much I admire about what she shares. The way she carries herself. Her eloquence. Her style and the careful details in her beautifully appointed and unique, home. Jade recently started an advice column as part of the paid portion of her weekly newsletter offerings, and it’s something I’ve thought a lot about. 

I suppose anyone can offer advice. This is not a new phenomenon: think Ask Ann Landers and Dear Abbey. However, the way or ways in which advice is internalized and acted upon can vary significantly. Personality, mental state, and socio-economic status likely each play a role in the way advice from a non-professional stranger is considered. And I wonder about the legitimacy of the advice being offered. For example, I recently saw an advice column that provided information to paid subscribers regarding sleep training for infants. The writer’s credentials? Motherhood and sleepless nights. 

Now, I am, of course, not a mother. So, before I lambaste a mother simply wanting to offer solace to someone in a similar situation who is, arguably, struggling, I should say that there is surely some benefit to hearing from those whose views, experiences, and methods differ from our own. And perhaps what this writer was offering was simply advice. But where is the line between advice and expertise, and further, does advice shared by social media personalities hold more weight? Maybe some responsibility lies with the audience too. Maybe it’s a reminder for us — the readers, the viewers, the listeners, the online content consumers — to be discerning when it comes to information shared online. 

I find that the internet opens the door for everyone to offer an opinion and claim that it’s expertise. Fitness “experts” without credentials. Nutrition “experts” with no more than an interest in weight loss. Mental health “experts” whose personal experiences alone contribute to their knowledge. I guess I’m wondering if someone expressing an opinion is maybe not quite the same as someone claiming to be an expert.

How expertism takes shape on line differs from platform to platform. On some platforms, like Reddit, users craft longform posts, whereas on platforms like Instagram and TikTok, expert information or opinions are limited to a single caption, a single post, or a 90 second video. I wonder about the type of knowledge, and more specifically, the depth of knowledge that emerges as a result of this form of information sharing. 

There is no doubt that social media platforms are rife with useful and educational information. But how does one decipher which content is valuable and which is just flat out inaccurate? And in an age where we want answers, content, information, purchases, and everything *immediately*, how do we welcome the inquisitive, discerning, and critical side of ourselves?

Sharing online is a privilege for me. It’s a creative endeavour, and it’s a joy to connect with people far and wide. At the same time, it is a vulnerable place, and sometimes it’s even scary. It requires ‘putting yourself out there’ and the knowledge that your content just won’t land with everyone makes the people-pleaser in me writhe in discomfort.  

Last year, I shared a video about an experience I had when an entire bottle of bear spray exploded on my exposed skin. In the video, I identified some tips and tricks I’d learned from a trip to the health centre here following the exposure. A few hours after the video had been shared, I received an email from a well-intentioned follower who informed me that I’d misidentified the primary ingredient in bear spray. I was mortified and immediately removed the video.

How could I possibly think I could pass as an expert on bear spray? I thought. 

But you know what? I later learned that I hadn’t been wrong after all. I acted on an impulse and removed the video. I hadn’t trusted my gut or the information I’d gathered. I hadn’t had the confidence to share information that was new to me. 

In a way, I admire the conviction the experts bring to the cyber-world table. There is a lesson to be learned from them. The lesson is confidence. Because without the confidence to learn, to share, and to possibly get it wrong, how can we ever grow? 

The theme of belief in one’s self is one that’s been notably present for me of late. I’ve questioned how belief in self, particularly when confronting a new project or a goal, can be sincere and at the same time, not delusional. Someone shared with me this week that belief in self does not automatically equate to ‘getting it right’. Instead, belief in self simply means that we’re able to move forward and feel compassion toward ourselves regardless of whether or not the project or the goal or the whatever is actualized. 

So maybe being vulnerable is key. Confidence with a willingness to fail. I like that.