When Vijay Mallya, embroiled in years of legal controversy and financial disputes, chose to share his side of the story on Raj Shamani’s podcast, it wasn’t a news outlet or court forum that first carried his voice — it was a creator-led platform on YouTube. The result: 20 million views in under a week, frenzied debates across social media, and a collision of influence, access, and accountability.
For some, it was a triumph of alternative media: a long-silenced businessman speaking without mainstream filters. For others, it was a worrying sign of platforming without scrutiny — a polished narrative, uncontested. Either way, it marked a turning point in how we understand influence, storytelling, and the evolving relationship between power and platforms.
The Mallya episode isn’t the story — it’s the signal.
The original promise of influencers was disarmingly simple: they were us. The YouTuber filming in their bedroom. The Instagrammer trying thrift fashion hauls. The creator who cried on camera, celebrated milestones with followers, and navigated life with openness.
That relatability became their capital. It built communities, not just audiences. Trust, not just impressions.
But influence, once scaled, tends to morph. With success came brand deals, lifestyle upgrades, and eventually — distance. The same creators who once posted “raw, unfiltered” content now share luxury holidays, skincare routines sponsored by conglomerates, and curated personas more brand-safe than bold.
Relatability, the currency of early digital creators, has been inflated to the point of collapse. And as creators become media institutions in their own right, the question arises: Can you still be relatable when you become the machine you were meant to disrupt?
The media landscape is no longer ruled by newsroom gatekeepers. Today, a 24-year-old podcaster can land interviews with billionaires, while reporters struggle for access. But access alone does not equate to rigour. And influence, unchecked, can blur into indulgence.
The Mallya interview showed the potency of this shift — a conversation that felt intimate and human, yes, but also one that skipped basic journalistic checks: no cross-examination, no independent data, no contradiction. For many, it felt less like a journalistic coup and more like a reputation reset — storytelling without scrutiny.
This raises a central question: What happens when creators become couriers of contested narratives — without the infrastructure of verification, editorial judgment, or accountability?
Influencers have reach. But journalism isn’t reach — it’s method. It’s interrogation, context, follow-up. It’s serving the audience’s right to truth, not the subject’s need for image.
That doesn’t mean influencers shouldn’t tell stories. It means the how matters as much as the who.
Social platforms promised democratization. Anyone could publish. Everyone could speak. Podcasts, in particular, revived longform dialogue in an age of attention fragmentation. But they also became shelters for narratives too slick to challenge, too convenient to dissect.
Podcast culture today often rewards harmony over tension. Hosts are friends with guests. Questions are “respectful.” Truth becomes one perspective among many.
Joe Rogan’s rise is illustrative: his show enables hours-long conversations rarely seen in broadcast media, but it’s also been accused of false equivalence — placing misinformation and expert science on the same moral footing. In such formats, what is said often matters less than who is allowed to say it without challenge.
We must ask: Are platforms enabling transparency, or simply giving well-lit stages to those with the biggest following?
Authenticity is Broken. Trust is in Rebuild.
The influencer economy was built on authenticity — but what does that even mean anymore?
If everything is branded, where is the line between passion and payment? If every vulnerability becomes content, where is the line between disclosure and performance? The truth is, most followers now read influencer content with a filter: What’s the angle? What’s being sold?
Influence without credibility is theatre. And consumers are increasingly aware of the backstage mechanics — the ghostwritten captions, AI filters, fake followers, undisclosed deals.
In this climate, the new premium isn’t relatability — it’s reliability. Audiences are gravitating toward creators who:
It’s no coincidence that YouTubers like Marques Brownlee or TikTok doctors like Dr. Idz Dietitian are gaining sustained trust — they bring knowledge and transparency, not just presence.
Influencer marketing isn’t fading — it’s evolving. The follower-chasing frenzy is giving way to a more discerning era where trust, not trend, defines impact. For brands, this demands a fundamental shift: from transactional campaigns to reputational alignment. Today, influence is not just about reach — it’s about relevance, credibility, and long-term resonance.
Audiences have matured. They no longer fall for loud aesthetics or passive celebrity. Instead, they gravitate toward voices with lived expertise, ethical consistency, and a real connection to their communities. This is where creators like Dolly Singh and Kusha Kapila initially found their magic — by offering an honest, humorous lens into urban Indian womanhood. But even they have faced backlash when the authenticity line feels blurred. Likewise, the meteoric rise (and mixed public perception) of creators like Ranveer Allahbadia (BeerBiceps) shows how credibility must evolve with scale — especially when dabbling in topics like finance, politics, or health.
Globally and locally, the lesson holds: virality without values is a reputational risk. Emma Chamberlain transitioned into high fashion by growing with her audience, not abandoning them. MrBeast built an empire on philanthropic transparency. Logan Paul reinvented himself through consistency. Andrew Tate’s influence, by contrast, became radioactive for any credible brand.
In India, the recent wave of creator–founder hybrids (think: content-led entrepreneurs) adds new complexity. These individuals are not just endorsing brands — they are brands. Which means partnering with them is no longer marketing — it’s co-ownership of perception.
For brands, the imperative is clear: don’t just rent influence — invest in trust. Vet for integrity, not just engagement. Seek creators with skin in the game, not just a face on the feed. Because in a media economy where every voice can go viral, only those grounded in expertise, values, and relational depth will endure.