From Keto Clickbait to Carnivore Cults

Poor nutrition is now the leading preventable risk factor behind the global rise in non-communicable diseases (NCDs). We know what works — reputable bodies like the World Health Organisation, EAT-Lancet Commission, and national dietetic associations agree that a diet rich in fruits, vegetables, whole grains, nuts, and seeds, with limited red meat and saturated fat, improves longevity and reduces disease risk. Yet, in the hyper-charged world of Instagram, evidence-based guidance is losing the popularity contest to emotive, personality-driven content that promotes extreme, exclusionary, and often dangerous diets.

A major investigation by Rooted Research Collective examined over one million Instagram posts tied to 52 hashtags linked to nutrition misinformation. They identified 53 “super-spreader” accounts whose reach collectively exceeds 24 million followers. These aren’t just random people sharing questionable recipes — they’re influencers with finely honed personas, powerful storytelling tactics, and, in 96% of cases, clear financial incentives to keep their audiences hooked.

The Misinformation Machine

Super-spreaders aren’t pushing fringe theories to a handful of sceptics — they’re shaping the food choices of millions. The study categorised them into three archetypes:

The Doc – Wears the authority of a medical title, whether earned in a relevant field or not. This credibility veneer makes their extreme diet claims seem more legitimate.

The Rebel – Frames themselves as an anti-establishment truth-teller, pushing conspiracies and “us vs. them” narratives that paint mainstream science as corrupt.

The Hustler – Packages misinformation in a glossy, aspirational wellness brand, selling lifestyle along with supplements, courses, and branded snacks.

The content is rarely one-dimensional. Over 90% of these influencers weave together multiple misinformation themes — carnivore and keto diets, seed oil conspiracies, anti-plant rhetoric, and “ancestral” eating tropes — creating a coherent-sounding ideology that feels emotionally and culturally compelling.

Strategies That Stick — and Spread

The research identified three dominant messaging tactics:

1. Fear-mongering – Playing on distrust in institutions and exaggerated health threats. Docs use this most, warning that everything from seed oils to tofu is “poisoning” you, while positioning meat and animal fat as the antidote. Alarmism fuels urgency — and urgency sells.

2. Joy-mongering – Using positive emotion, personal transformation stories, and abundant imagery to market restrictive diets as liberating. Hustlers thrive here, presenting keto or carnivore as the key to glowing skin, boundless energy, and personal empowerment.

3. Sprinkling – Weaving dietary misinformation into unrelated content like gym tips, parenting posts, or lifestyle reels. This subtle repetition makes extreme diets feel normal, even aspirational, while flying under the radar of casual viewers.

All three methods are emotionally charged, designed to bypass critical thinking and foster a sense of trust and relatability.

Why People Believe Them

Influencers know that facts alone don’t win hearts — stories do. By using personal anecdotes, motivational language, and an “us vs. them” framing, they recast misinformation as liberation from corrupt systems. “Natural” and “traditional” diets are pitched not just as health choices but as acts of rebellion, identity, and even morality.

The appeal is heightened by visual branding — from the Rebel’s rugged homestead aesthetic to the Hustler’s curated smoothie bowls and gym selfies. In a scroll-driven world, this emotional and aesthetic packaging makes misinformation more clickable and shareable than dry, evidence-based infographics.

The Credibility Problem

The most followed group, the Docs, averaged nearly 745,000 followers each. Yet 59% of all super-spreaders had no formal health or nutrition qualifications at all. Of the small number who were verified medical doctors, only one was an internist specialising in conditions like cardiovascular disease or diabetes. Many used “Dr” titles from unrelated or alternative fields — chiropractic, dentistry, biomedical engineering — without disclosing their specialism.

This strategic ambiguity plays on the public’s trust in medical authority. When a self-branded doctor claims a carnivore diet cures fatigue, or that seed oils cause hormonal collapse, the information carries more weight — and more risk — than if it came from a self-identified layperson.

The Money Motive

Misinformation is lucrative. Of the 53 super-spreaders:

❗️26 ran their own businesses, from supplement lines to “biohacking” therapies.

❗️25 earned through affiliate marketing.

❗️18 sold coaching or courses, often blending general wellness with extreme dietary advice.

❗️13 posted sponsored content for brands aligned with their messaging.

One Doc reportedly earns $100,000 a month from social media alone, on top of their professional income. Coaching rates of $100–$250 per hour are common, with high-ticket “programmes” running into tens of thousands. The emotional pull of their messaging directly feeds the sales funnel.

Narratives That Undermine Public Health

Many influencer narratives stand in direct opposition to the nutritional baseline agreed upon by major health bodies worldwide. Examples include:

❗️Meat as medicine / plants as harmful – Rejecting decades of evidence linking plant-forward diets to reduced risk of cardiovascular disease and certain cancers.

❗️Glorifying saturated fat – Promoting butter, tallow, and fatty meats while dismissing guidance to keep saturated fat below 10% of total energy intake.

❗️Seed oil conspiracies – Painting heart-healthy oils as “toxic” to stoke distrust in public health advice.

❗️Masculinity through meat – Equating red meat consumption with strength, virility, and independence.

These ideas don’t just mislead — they contribute to confusion, undermine trust in scientific institutions, and encourage eating patterns that increase the risk of NCDs.

The Risk Beyond the Screen

Medical professionals reviewing the findings warned of real-world harm. Diets high in animal-sourced foods are linked to higher rates of cardiovascular disease, type 2 diabetes, certain cancers, and premature death. The damage isn’t always immediate — symptoms can take years to develop, meaning followers may not connect poor health outcomes to influencer-driven advice until it’s too late.

The problem is compounded by the fact that many influencers promoting these diets are physically fit and active, masking potential dietary risks in their own health profiles while their average follower may be far more vulnerable.

Why This Matters for Plant-Based Advocates

For animal advocates and plant-based nutrition communicators, this study is a warning. Anti-plant messaging isn’t a side effect — it’s a core pillar of many high-engagement influencer brands. Carnivore and keto influencers aren’t just selling a diet; they’re selling a worldview that frames animal-heavy eating as morally right, culturally authentic, and physically superior.

If we leave this messaging unchallenged, it will continue to erode confidence in plant-based diets — not because the evidence is lacking, but because the emotional storytelling is winning.

Countering the Misinformation

The report’s calls to action highlight that fact-checking alone isn’t enough. Effective counter-strategies must:

1. Start early – Embed nutrition education and digital literacy into school curricula. Teach young people how to assess sources, spot persuasive techniques, and check credentials.

2. Change the messenger game – Support qualified nutrition professionals to communicate on social media with the same clarity, relatability, and emotional pull as misinformation super-spreaders.

3. Match their emotional intelligence – Use storytelling, visual branding, and accessible language to make evidence-based advice appealing and shareable.

4. Scrutinise false authority – Regulate misleading use of medical titles and ensure transparency about qualifications and affiliations.

The Bigger Picture

Nutrition misinformation thrives because it exploits the same weaknesses that drive other forms of online disinformation — distrust in institutions, identity politics, and the human preference for simple answers to complex problems. In this ecosystem, carnivore diet advocacy isn’t just about food — it’s a cultural signal.

If public health communicators want to compete, they need to stop playing purely defensive and start meeting audiences where they are, with content that is not just accurate but compelling. For those advocating plant-forward, ethical, and sustainable diets, the challenge isn’t just to present the evidence — it’s to own the narrative.

Bottom line: The battle for public health on social media isn’t fought in academic journals — it’s fought in newsfeeds. And right now, misinformation is winning on both style and substance. The question is whether those committed to evidence-based nutrition are ready to fight for the same ground.

At Herbivore Club, we refuse to trade truth for clicks. We don’t dress up misinformation as empowerment or sell you a lifestyle built on deception. Sticking to evidence-based, plant-forward facts makes financial security harder — but it keeps our integrity intact. We answer only to the animals and the truth, and that’s a currency we’ll never compromise.