The digital landscape has become a double-edged sword for public health, particularly when it comes to sun safety. While social media platforms like TikTok serve as hubs for beauty tips and lifestyle trends, they have also become breeding grounds for dangerous medical misinformation. Science communicator Michelle Wong, a PhD chemist, has spent years observing this shift, noting that harmful claims—such as the unfounded assertion that sunscreen is “toxic” or linked to kidney disease—are gaining alarming traction. The core of the problem, according to researchers, is human psychology; we are biologically wired to respond more intensely to fear and contrarian “secrets” than to the sometimes boring, methodical pace of peer-reviewed science.
This psychological tendency is being exploited by algorithmic design. A significant study led by Alessandro Marcon at the University of Alberta analyzed nearly 1,000 viral TikTok videos concerning sunscreen, representing over 2.4 billion views. The findings were stark: while the majority of content was factually accurate, the posts containing misinformation—despite being fewer in number—garnered significantly more engagement. These videos were liked, shared, and commented on at a much higher frequency than accurate content. Because algorithms prioritize high engagement to keep users scrolling, they inadvertently act as a megaphone for controversial or extreme claims, effectively burying calm, evidence-based advice beneath a pile of inflammatory clickbait.
The stakes of this digital misinformation campaign are incredibly high, especially in places like Australia, where two out of every three people will be diagnosed with skin cancer in their lifetime. Sally Blane of the Cancer Council warns that when people turn to social media for health guidance, they often lack the tools to distinguish between a genuine expert and an influencer merely performing “expertise.” The concern is compounded by the “white coat effect”: users frequently encounter creators wearing scrubs or lab coats who use their perceived authority to fear-monger about chemical sunscreens. This confusion makes it increasingly difficult for the average person to navigate factual health advice, turning a simple self-care habit into a source of unnecessary anxiety.
Furthermore, the “parasocial” nature of social media—where influencers feel like trusted friends—deepens the impact of this misinformation. Brooke Nickel from the University of Sydney notes that when a creator with a strong, loyal following shares a controversial view, their audience is far more likely to accept it as personal, insider truth. Because these influencers often hold more sway than traditional public health organizations, the standard messaging of the “Slip, Slop, Slap” era is losing its reach. Even when public health campaigns are successful, they struggle to compete with the sheer velocity of viral, emotionally charged misinformation that characterizes today’s social media ecosystem.
The debate has now shifted toward the question of institutional accountability. While TikTok maintains that it prohibits harmful misinformation and encourages users to report offending content, researchers like Marcon argue that the burden of proof shouldn’t lie solely with the user. There is a growing consensus among health professionals that social media companies must move beyond passive moderation and take active responsibility for the types of content their algorithms promote. If platforms are designed to maximize engagement, and that engagement is driven by fear-based misinformation, then the platforms themselves are arguably complicit in creating a public health crisis that could increase cancer rates for future generations.
Ultimately, the goal is to bridge the gap between complex science and digital consumption. While the Cancer Council and experts like Wong continue to push for better public education, they recognize that “media literacy” is a tall order in an era of rapid-fire content. Until social media giants face meaningful pressure to prioritize accuracy over engagement, the responsibility falls on the individual to be a skeptical consumer. Moving forward, the conversation must evolve from simply asking what public health agencies can do to fix this, to asking how we can force the tech industry to stop turning life-saving medical advice into a vehicle for digital virality.