The TikTok creators profitting from medical misinformation

If you think seeking health advice on social media is a sign someone is "lacking critical thinking skills or in some way inferior", sociologist Dr Stephanie Alice Baker has two words - Belle Gibson.

Before she admitted faking cancer and persuading people not to take conventional cancer treatments, the Australian wellness influencer was regarded as an "inspirational role model" by many health practitioners and "very educated" people, Baker says.

Gibson's highly influential fakery is a reminder that with so many of us now on a quest to boost our health, wealth and relationships, no one is susceptible to "wellness misinformation", she tells Nine to Noon.

Ten years after Gibson confessed to lying to her thousands of followers, many other wellness content creators are blatantly hawking sham products while sharing "contrarian medical advice" on social media, Baker says.

"Anyone with this intention to profit from, say, cancer misinformation, can pretty easily create an account on TikTok and monetise a range of products."

To explore the kind of video content young people looking for a cancer cure are being shown on TikTok, Baker - who has spent nearly a decade researching wellness culture - analysed 200 of its top related videos last year.

She found 81 percent contained "false and misleading" content, often alongside "conspiratorial narratives" and spiritual themes, and most shared the same central message - "doctors can't be trusted".

In many videos, the creators - sometimes dressed in white coats to resemble medical doctors, sometimes appearing only as a voice speaking over a beautiful nature scene - shared personal anecdotes about their successful use of "natural remedies" such as soursop tea and apricot kernels as a cancer treatment.

For playing host to this plethora of "cancer misinformation", tech platforms need to be held to account, she says.

"I just don't understand how this content can be out there being monetised without any sort of regulation and government oversight."

Although a lot of health and wellness advice on social media is actually "pretty innocuous," Baker says, the real-world fallout from people advertising bogus cancer cures online - with an "air of legitimacy" - cannot yet be accurately tracked.

"How many people actually consume these products?"

Although it's conventionally attractive women who are often associated with the wellness industry, in the realm of "clean eating", male content creators are starting to wield influence, Baker says, and some have built a cult-like following they use "manipulative tactics" to retain.

Self-proclaimed carnivore and misogynist Andrew Tate is one influencer who uses "coercive" techniques with his followers similar to those employed by infamous American cult leaders of the '60s and '70s, says Baker, who also co-hosts the podcast21st Century Cults.

Although it's tempting for friends and loved ones to "disconnect" from someone who falls under the influence of a cult-like group, she says cutting the person off only fuels their sense of isolation from those outside the group and their attachment to those within it.

Witnessing hypocrisy from a leadership figure is often the catalyst for a person leaving a cult-like group, Steph says, and talking to someone "totally removed" can help them realise the group's failings.

"That is actually one of the biggest lifelines you can give somebody."

Dr Stephanie Alice Baker recently contributed to RNZ podcast The Lodge, which investigated a wellness retreat in Fiordland.