attention economy

Hey digital skeptics—

Once upon a time, storytelling was a craft. Now it’s a KPI.

We’ve built an online world where the currency isn’t truth, but traction. Where facts have to beg for attention, and outrageous claims ride the algorithm like a golden chariot.

The Attention Economy didn’t just change how we sell—it changed what we say. And more dangerously: it changed what we reward.

We are no longer in the information age. We are in the invention age.

Let’s start with the obvious: social platforms reward content that gets engagement.

And what gets engagement? Outrage. Surprise. Emotion. In other words—distortion.

Facebook has known for years that posts that provoke anger or amazement outperform those that inform. YouTube’s algorithm, according to internal research, gradually pulls users toward more extreme content to boost watch time. TikTok—built entirely on AI curation—learns to feed users whatever keeps their thumb twitching. And that’s rarely nuance.

The result? A feedback loop where creators are incentivized to one-up themselves in absurdity. Headlines scream. Hooks lie. And somewhere in the background, a half-buried truth gasps for breath.

One viral tweet claimed that bees can recognize human faces and vote in groups. Another claimed that reading Shakespeare improves your immune system. Neither was true. Both went viral. Because, of course they did.

We’re living in an arms race of virality. And the arms are inflatable.

The LinkedIn Delusion Machine

Nowhere is this phenomenon more absurd than LinkedIn—the place where fake humility meets strategic fiction.

Every day, the feed is full of CEOs who started as janitors, interns who saved entire product launches, and founders who closed 7-figure deals in sandals at a gas station.

Take, for instance, the infamous “coffee interview” story: a young woman is offered a job because she brought her own reusable cup and impressed the hiring manager with her eco-awareness. The post garnered over 100,000 likes.

It was fiction.

Later traced to a ghostwriting agency that specializes in viral founder content.

LinkedIn has become a stage for career cosplay—an endless stream of moral fables dressed up as work experience. Because the algorithm doesn’t check references. It checks reach.

Medium: Thought Leadership or Thought Inflation?

Medium was born as a haven for thoughtful, long-form writing. But as the platform grew, so did the pressure to perform.

Writers learned that nuance didn’t trend. Bold claims did.

Titles like “Why Waking Up at 4AM Will Make You a Millionaire” or “The One Trick That Made Me Smarter Than 99% of People” started dominating the homepage. These aren’t essays—they’re bait.

A 2023 content audit showed that articles with “shocking” claims in the title (e.g. “X Will Change Your Brain Forever”) got 2.4x more views than balanced, well-researched pieces.

And here’s the real kicker: the internal ranking system favors “clap rate” (how many readers applaud your story) and completion rate. Which means the more you entertain—even if you fabricate—the better your post performs.

Medium’s monetization system reinforces it. Writers are paid based on reading time and engagement. That’s great for the top 1% of creators who can spin attention into gold, but terrible for readers who came for insights and leave with indigestion.

Medium became Medium-sized bullshit. Wrapped in serif fonts and self-help rhetoric.

The Psychology of Believability

But why do we fall for it?

Cognitive psychology offers a clue: the illusory truth effect. Repetition increases believability. If you see something multiple times, in different formats, from different angles—you’re more likely to believe it. Even if it’s false.

Add to this the fluency effect: information that’s easy to process (short, bold, emotionally charged) feels more true.

Now feed both of these into a system designed to maximize screen time, and you’ve got a perfect storm: bullshit that feels like gospel.

This isn’t just annoying. It’s dangerous.

It erodes trust. It numbs critical thinking. And in business, it creates a generation of founders, marketers, and creators who think storytelling is about whatever works.

Morning Brew vs Clickbait Bros

Let’s contrast.

Morning Brew, a business newsletter with over 4 million subscribers, grew fast by writing with clarity, not hype. Their editorial strategy is grounded in data, brevity, and (crucially) trust. They don’t need to pretend Jeff Bezos learned leadership from mushrooms.

Meanwhile, dozens of clone newsletters now churn out fake trends, imaginary productivity hacks, and stories about crypto-zillionaires who allegedly bought a llama farm to learn mindfulness.

Guess which ones get more shares on Twitter?

Yeah. The llama farm wins.

Because lies are more clickable than logic.

What Can You Do About It?

Let’s not pretend we’re immune. But we can resist.

Here’s your BHT toolkit:

1. Slow your scroll — If it sounds insane, pause before you share.
2. Reward nuance — Clap for the posts that don’t scream for it.
3. Build trust capital — In your own content, make truth your brand.
4. Audit your feed — Who are you amplifying? And why?
5. Call out performative lies — Especially on professional platforms.

You don’t need to be the loudest voice in the room.

You need to be the clearest.

The algorithm won’t save us. It was never designed to.

It’s not broken. It’s working perfectly. Optimizing for engagement. Prioritizing performance over provenance. And turning every creator into a carnival barker shouting across a digital midway.

But here’s the thing: people are getting tired. Of fake gurus. Of overhyped headlines. Of being manipulated.

And tired is good. Tired people change things.

The future won’t belong to the loudest. It’ll belong to the most credible.

Until next time, stay sharp.

Alex

If your brand is tired of screaming louder and ready to build lasting credibility, let’s talk. Kredo Marketing helps you craft strategies built on trust—not tricks.