Why LinkedIn’s Top Voices Is Probably (Not a Legal) Scam – But That’s Not the Real Issue
Linkedin Has Fallen. From being a network of professional dialogue to becoming a platform of managed perception.
She just fell for the hustle — the invisible one. The one where success is gamed, sincerity is optional, and authenticity is manufactured like a product line.
What she describes isn’t a scam in the criminal sense. It’s a system-level illusion. One that turns effort into shame, and aspiration into burnout.
Her story is quietly devastating. Not because it’s dramatic — but because it’s normal.
Her article describes how she fell into the LinkedIn influencer trap — and what it felt like to realize the entire system is, in her words, “all fake.” She followed all the growth rules, poured herself into content without making a dent, and eventually paid for a high-ticket coaching session by a LinkedIn influencer — only to be casually told that the real key to success was buying comments from other influencers. Packages were available.
This system doesn’t just mislead. It breaks people.
I was torn reading it: I sympathize with the emotional shock, the sense of betrayal; yet part of me wonders — how could this possibly come as a surprise? And herein lies the problem — and her article is one example: we often debate how fake news amplified by social media could manipulate democratic outcomes, but there is another cost, a quiet price impacting people in a more pervasive way, and it undermines mental wellbeing. It is a dimension I hadn’t really given much thought to previously.
In her comments, somebody noted something fascinating with respect to a similar experience at another workshop. They were being advised to
, the person commenting, described it as indoctrination. It reminds me, I suppose, of the business model underpinning the sale of addictive drugs.“Delete all the nice things you wrote and write new things that you will delete again in 30 days.”
But it’s all yesterday’s news really.
There have been media articles under the banner ‘Linkedin Mafia’ describing how some LinkedIn influencers use engagement pods – private groups (often on WhatsApp or via automation tools) where members agree to mutually like and comment on each other’s posts. This artificially boosts visibility. Reddit discussions claim “Basically no one on LinkedIn becomes an influencer by accident... it’s almost always pay for play”. Beyond pods, there are reports of paid click farms to amplify posts or artificially inflate follower counts.
LinkedIn officially prohibits such “artificial inflation” tactics probably has varying success at enforcing it seems to be doing something (although impossible to say how effective this is):
LinkedIn has been tweaking its algorithm to prioritize quality.
In mid-2023, it adjusted its feed to recognize content based on a writer’s expertise and to amplify posts that spark meaningful conversations, rather than shallow viral hits. Posts rooted in personal knowledge — or that elicit thoughtful comments — are now more likely to be widely suggested. This was partly in response to complaints about low-value content dominating feeds.
In 2024, LinkedIn introduced “Suggested Posts,” where high-quality content can resurface to new audiences for months or even years. The goal, according to LinkedIn engineers, is to “collect the sum total of professional knowledge” and give evergreen posts a longer life. Again, the emphasis is on substantive value over short-term engagement.
The algorithm also claims to down-rank blatant “engagement bait” — content that aggressively asks for likes or uses emotional clickbait. LinkedIn has publicly said that Facebook-style virality is being actively demoted.
But here’s the question:
If the engagement is fake, the influence is hollow.
Bots don’t buy products.
Pods don’t generate loyalty.
Fake likes don’t start real conversations.
If an influencer has inflated numbers but:
No real audience
No community that pushes back or reflects
No feedback loop of learning or dialogue
Then they’re just trading in empty signals. Their own business practice — to withhold validation and monetize access to visibility — reveals the logic: the temporary uplift in likes or followers has no bearing on their relevance in actual discourse.
And in the long term, we are all dead.
I can hypothesize a raft of potential indirect harms: a distorted sense of credibility, false role models, deteriorating trust in public dialogue — but ultimately, it's speculative.
So here’s another question:
If fake engagement doesn't equal real influence, why should this be a problem at all?
Marie’s pain or anger is partly self-inflicted. However, it is human — and to me, her comments feel authentic. It’s what happens when hope meets a rigged system. And we’ve all been there.
Should we demand more transparency, to avoid people being misled by illusions they didn’t know they were buying into? Perhaps. But where does LinkedIn promise genuine truthfulness? It doesn’t.
Making people liable for the hopes and dreams others project onto them is neither fair nor enforceable.
When Milli Vanilli were found out for lip-syncing, their careers were over — but I still enjoy listening to Ma Baker occasionally.
Freeze, I'm Ma Baker, put your hands in the air
Gimme all your money
Their fake music sounds just as good to me as if it were real, because if you think about it, it is real music — and no less original than whoever you like.
I find another aspect of concern that gets no attention at all. It is much more problematic, and the fact that it’s being ignored when the evidence is there and for everyone to see — I can only conclude that not only has LinkedIn already fallen from being a network of professional dialogue to becoming a platform of managed perception, but so have many users of such platforms.
Don’t get me wrong, I love all sorts of social media, including the latest dancing fad making its way through Instagram — which doesn’t educate me or make me a better person or add meaningfully to my life.
So what’s my problem? LinkedIn. But not for trying to weed out fake influencers or perhaps not making enough progress. It’s trying to weed out good stuff.
LinkedIn summarises the content to avoid:
“Refrain from posts that create negativity and discourage engagement.”
I suppose posting on LinkedIn about concerns with influencers would be both negative and discouraging.
And it goes on to say we should avoid being:
“Dismissive: content that shuts down or dismisses others' opinions, experiences, or identities, making them feel like their perspective doesn't matter.
Derisive: content that mocks or makes fun of people or groups, often using sarcasm or talking down to others.”
Nowhere here does it say the content has to be truthful, objective, and not misleading — but it frames it as a question of all opinions needing to be respected, as if any opinion deserves to be taken seriously.
The difficult question is that there is no objective way of saying what’s true or not — or under what assumptions. That’s why we have discourse in politics as much as in business. And considering the use of sarcasm as indicative of leading to:
“Unconstructive conversations [which] damage relationships, stifle dialogue and make it harder for our members to have meaningful discussion”
— is a sign of promoting shallow feel-good noise over actual progress.
Satire is (still) protected free speech in the US (see Hustler v. Falwell, 485 U.S. 46 (1988)). Not every sarcastic comment deserves this protection, and private companies enjoy certain freedoms regarding the circumstances under which they are willing to offer their services. But I am not interested in such legal questions. My point is much simpler.
LinkedIn says:
Even tone-based critique (like ironic understatement or dry pushback) is implicitly unwelcome.
If someone feels dismissed (or could possibly feel this way), then the content might be penalized — regardless of whether it was reasonable, fair, or evidence-based.
There is no standard of truthfulness — only tone management.
Share your perspective, but don’t contradict others in a way that feels dismissive.
In business circles — and LinkedIn is rather reflective of that and not necessarily the first to put out such rules —
challenging falsehoods too clearly is often seen as “not being a team player.”
Being analytical or precise can be misread as “being unkind.”
And truth becomes subordinate to feelings of inclusion.
And that is both nonsense and arbitrarily applied — creating opportunities for abuse of a policy that LinkedIn perhaps thought was a positive contribution, but which is just a sign of lacking critical thinking and awareness of the broader implications.
And let me demonstrate that this is the case for you:
LinkedIn says it promotes authentic thought leadership.
But the people it elevates — employees of listed companies, consultants, politicians, and public figures — are structurally forbidden from being truly authentic.
Why?
Because:
An employee can’t publicly admit a major mistake and share their life lessons without possibly triggering regulatory violations, lawsuits, or compliance reviews.
A consultant or “personal brand coach” depends on selling certainty, not vulnerability.
A politician or policy advisor can’t publish a post saying, “I got it wrong,” without becoming ammunition for their opponents.
Even a mid-level manager at a tech firm has to navigate internal media policy, PR concerns, and the risk of being screenshot into a viral HR case.
So what does LinkedIn really elevate?
Safe, curated, professional-feeling content
that mimics authenticity
without actually saying anything true that could get someone in trouble.
They’re performing risk-managed openness.
It looks like authenticity.
But it’s actually impression management.
I found some community guidelines that say this:
“Be Trustworthy. We require you to use your true identity on LinkedIn, provide accurate information about yourself or your organization, and only share information that is real and authentic.”
Even though the detailed description mentions that “content that is false, misleading, or intended to deceive” is not allowed, they’re talking about things like claiming the Holocaust didn’t happen or that America didn’t practice slavery in the past. Fair enough. But false information comes in much more gentle ways than that — for example, stating misleading facts whilst leaving out relevant context.
LinkedIn superficially looks like a place for ideas. But its rules create a deceitful environment which rewards:
Pleasant illusions over difficult truths
Emotional conformity over intellectual challenge
Polite consensus over uncomfortable accuracy
I see this happening not just on LinkedIn.
The language of manipulation has become soft, liberal, emotionally intelligent — and quietly authoritarian.
LinkedIn doesn't need to censor.
It just defines “professionalism” so narrowly that honesty becomes impolite, and critique becomes deviant.
I’m not giving up. It’s a big part of My Digital Truth®, and I cleverly called it my truth, so please — nobody’s feelings can get hurt by anything I wrote in the past or will write in the future, because it’s only my truth, and I make no other claim.
See? It’s so easy to be constructive. 😇
Nobody really wants free speech. They just performatively say they do until it disagrees with their ideology. I think LinkedIn could have phrased these guidelines better by saying that critiques should be constructive (rather than dismissive) and dissent should be expressed respectfully. They also could've just said, "Don't be an a**hole" which I think is what they meant, but positivity washing is the wrong way to go about it.