Influencers are the new cultural power brokers, so says every article you see online. They shape taste, dictate trends, and, in some cases, even influence what the news covers.
But this cultural dominance was not always the case. For much of modern history, power over what people read, watched, or heard lay firmly in the hands of traditional media and its stars. Television anchors, fashion editors, and celebrity figures were the ones who decided what mattered. They filtered culture for mass audiences, and their judgments carried immense weight.
The old gatekeepers
IN the old media order, influence was concentrated. Journalists and celebrities acted as cultural gatekeepers, their platforms large but limited in number.
Take Anna Wintour, longtime editor in chief of Vogue. In the early 1990s, her endorsements of Marc Jacobs, Alexander McQueen and Proenza Schouler translated the designers’ runway vision into retail success.
In sports, broadcaster Howard Cosell helped shape Muhammad Ali’s public image. He narrated not just Ali’s fights but also his larger-than-life persona, turning him into a global cultural figure.
News anchors carried similar authority. Walter Cronkite of CBS News for nearly two decades was considered ‘the most trusted man in America.’ His coverage of events like the Cuban Missile Crisis, the assassination of John F. Kennedy, the Vietnam War, and the Apollo 11 moon landing made him synonymous with American history itself. When Cronkite spoke, Americans listened-and believed.
In the Philippines, too, broadcast journalists commanded public respect and attention. Anchors, like Angelo Castro Jr. and Jessica Soho shaped
political discourse. ABS-CBN, GMA, and the government-run PTV carried the narratives that defined national life, while newspapers framed the news of the day.
For decades, this was the landscape: a relatively small circle of voices with the power to decide what was worth paying attention to and what could be ignored.
The turn of the millenium
THE balance of cultural power began to shift in the early 2000s. The internet lowered the barriers to entry, giving anyone with a computer and a connection the tools to publish and distribute content. What once required a newsroom, a studio, or a printing press could now be done from a corner of one’s house.
Blogging platforms, like Blogspot, WordPress, and LiveJournal gave ordinary people a way to share opinions and connect with others who cared about the same things-whether it was fashion, politics, or even Korean dramas. Communities formed around shared interests, many of them global in scope. A beauty enthusiast in Manila could swap tips with a reader in New York. A political blogger in Mindanao could debate policy with an audience halfway across the world.
Social media accelerated this change. Friendster, MySpace, and later Facebook, Twitter and YouTube transformed audiences into participants. People no longer waited for the morning paper or the nightly news; they could seek, share and decide how they consume content themselves. The rise of smartphones placed this power literally in their pockets.
Out of this democratization of media rose a new type of cultural figure: the influencer. Or, as many prefer to call themselves today, content creators.
The early influencers
Influencers came in many forms. There were lifestyle bloggers who documented their daily routines; beauty gurus who filmed makeup tutorials from their bedrooms; tech reviewers who unboxed gadgets for curious viewers; and travel bloggers who built entire communities around wanderlust. By the 2010s, a new wave emerged: ‘momfluencers’ who shared parenting tips, podcasters who built loyal followings around niche topics, and eventually
TikTok creators who mastered the art of short-form video.
Unlike traditional media figures, these creators built their audiences from the ground up. They did not rely on TV networks or film studios to make them visible. Instead, they cultivated followings by sharing slices of their everyday lives-their morning commutes, their shopping hauls, their frustrations at work.
This intimacy proved to be their advantage. Audiences related to them not as distant stars but as peers. Their content mirrored the daily experiences of their followers, creating a bond that traditional celebrities often struggled to replicate.
‘Part of the appeal of influencers is the possibility that you, as the average person, could be one, too,’ said Dinna Chan Vasquez, lifestyle columnist at BusinessMirror.
By the mid-2010s, these creators were no longer fringe players. They were starting to rival traditional media in reach and, more importantly, in credibility among younger audiences. The stage was set for their transformation into today’s trendsetters.
‘Influencers [or key opinion leaders and content creators] have made being a celebrity more democratic. In this day and age, an ordinary person can become a KOL and charge as much as a celebrity who has done movies and TV shows just to appear at an event. I remember once attending a mall event and the public was screaming the name of the influencer and not the actual celebrity who was there,’ Vasquez added.
What this means for traditional media
THE rise of influencers has not simply created new stars; it has reshaped the economics and authority of media itself.
A recent WPP media report shows how quickly global media is shifting as more people consume content through smartphones and digital platforms. According to the analysis, content on platforms like YouTube, TikTok and Instagram is set to attract more advertising income this year than content produced by traditional media companies, marking what experts describe as a ‘huge cultural shift.’
‘With [online search] referral traffic declining, the journalism sector has a huge battle on its hands,’ said Douglas McCabe, chief executive of Enders Analysis, in an interview with The Guardian. ‘Media will have to communicate the benefits of their methods and missions with a forceful clarity.’
The pressure is visible across the industry. ITV in the UK has cut daytime programming, while Channel 4 has announced plans to develop an in-house studio to diversify income streams. Both have turned to platforms like TikTok and YouTube in a bid to capture younger viewers. For many broadcasters, uploading clips to digital platforms is no longer optional but essential to survival.
This disruption is mirrored in the Philippines, where traditional media retains a strong foothold but no longer enjoys dominance. A 2024 survey by Publicus Asia found that 65 percent of Filipinos browse the internet as their main news source, with 61 percent specifically citing Facebook. At the same time, 65 percent still watch television news.
A 2021 study by the Ateneo School of Government also showed that 79 percent of Filipinos often relied on random social media feeds for news. Television came next at 66 percent, followed by YouTube at 57 percent and news websites at 54 percent.
Still, platforms have given newsrooms wider reach. Outlets, such as Rappler, GMA News, and ABS-CBN News now stream on YouTube and Facebook Live, competing directly with independent creators for clicks and watch time. National dailies, such as The Philippine Star and Manila Bulletin have adjusted their strategies by posting regularly on TikTok and Instagram, incorporating trending audio and short explainer videos aimed at the Gen Z demographic.
Blurred lines
THIS convergence has redefined the boundaries between legacy outlets and digital creators. Traditional newsrooms are adapting to the formats and rhythms of social media, while influencers are stepping into roles once reserved for journalists.
‘Both work toward the same goal of shaping public opinion, albeit in different ways,’ said Alexei Villaraza, public relations executive at Bridges PR. ‘Traditional media brings depth and verification, while influencers bring relatability and community-both valued by brands.’
The distinction lies in approach. Traditional media relies on editorial oversight, newsroom structures, and fact-checking-which makes dissemination slower but, in principle, more credible. Influencers operate with fewer checks and far greater immediacy.
This speed carries risks. A 2022 Pulse Asia survey found that 58 percent of Filipinos believed influencers, vloggers, and bloggers spread false political information, compared with 40 percent who said the same of journalists. The figures highlight the double-edged nature of the shift: while influencers broaden participation and diversify voices, they also complicate the information landscape by blurring the line between opinion and fact.
One clear example is Toni Gonzaga. Formerly a mainstay of ABS-CBN and one of the country’s most prominent TV hosts, she shifted aggressively to digital platforms after leaving mainstream television. Her YouTube talk show Toni Talks regularly draws millions of views. A recent Pride Month episode featuring Ricky Reyes and Renee Salud faced backlash for presenting views opposing same-sex marriage and the SOGIE Equality Bill without clarification or counterpoints. Critics argue that Gonzaga’s approach can unintentionally legitimize misinformation and reinforce harmful narratives when fact-checking or critical engagement is absent.
On this note, Villaraza said that some outlets are experimenting with crossover roles. ‘I’ve seen media titles working with industry personalities as guest editors. While some may lack editorial training, influencers often share perspectives or fresher takes that editors might overlook.’
He adds that professionalization is another key development: ‘Top creators now have rate cards, payment terms, measurable KPIs [key performance indicators], and management teams. For agencies, this means we treat them more like partners than talents, involving them in long-term campaigns rather than one-offs.’
In practice, the media diet of a typical Filipino is fragmented. An average white-collar worker might watch news clips on YouTube, scroll through Twitter (now X) for real-time updates, then consume commentary through Facebook livestreams or TikTok explainers.
‘The future is likely to be complementary,’ Villaraza said. ‘Traditional media will remain vital for context, real facts, and credibility, while influencers will continue to shape cultural conversations, set trends, and drive engagement. Everyone should be careful in digesting what they see online. Sometimes what starts as a meme with false information ends up being validated by the media simply because it’s trending.’
The catch
FOR all the power they wield, influencers-particularly in lifestyle niches-often face contradictions that threaten their ‘relatability,’ the sense that followers are glimpsing the life of ‘someone like them.’ As they climb higher, their curated realities often diverge from the authenticity that first attracted audiences.
A common criticism is the ‘aspirational trap.’ Influencers promote lifestyles that appear attainable but are often sustained by brand deals and endorsements. The practice is not necessarily dishonest but raises questions about transparency.
In the Philippines, class divides sharpen these tensions. Children and relatives of celebrities and politicians-often dubbed ‘nepo babies’ or ‘nepo wives’ online-attract large followings on Instagram and TikTok. Their designer outfits, luxury cars, and overseas travel are frequently criticized against the backdrop of widespread poverty, creating a kind of ‘Instagrammified’ cultural disconnect.
Similar debates play out internationally. In Nepal, the lavish social media presence of politicians’ children fuelled youth protests over government corruption. In the United States, influencers have faced backlash for promoting luxury goods during economic downturns.
‘Faces and names come and go,’ said Vasquez. ‘But the rare ones can reinvent themselves and become more than just people who get the hottest invites.’
Not all succeed. Some influencers fade quickly, while others struggle with burnout. Algorithms demand constant content output, with even short breaks affecting views and earnings. Studies indicate that many full-time creators experience anxiety, exhaustion, and, ironically, pressure to maintain a polished public image.
Regulation, however, remains uneven. In the UK and US, advertising standards require clear disclosure of paid partnerships. In the Philippines, enforcement is inconsistent: sponsored posts are sometimes clearly labeled, but other times they blend into and look like regular content.
Who truly sets the agenda?
FOR decades, communication scholars have used the phrase ‘agenda-setting’ to describe the power of media to shape public discourse. The theory, first developed by Maxwell McCombs and Donald Shaw
in their study of the 1968 US presidential election, argues that while media may not tell people what to think, it tells them what to think about. By deciding which issues dominate headlines and broadcasts, journalists and editors set global and national conversations.
Today, that gatekeeping function has fractured. While traditional outlets still produce investigative reports, political coverage, and cultural commentary, influencers increasingly drive what gains traction online. The virality of a TikTok clip, a YouTube video, or an Instagram story can push topics into mainstream news-reversing the traditional flow where journalists once dictated the agenda and audiences followed.
During the 2022 Philippine presidential election, influencers were central in promoting ‘authoritarian nostalgia,’ a romanticized view of the Marcos dictatorship-as well as strongman leadership and conspiracy theories that undermined democratic institutions and rival candidates. These narratives were particularly effective on platforms, like TikTok, where influencers stylized political content to match trending formats and youth culture. Studies by fact-checking groups such as Vera Files and Rappler documented how narratives spread faster through influencer networks than through news reports, particularly among younger voters.
The dynamic is not unique to the Philippines. In the United States, political commentators on YouTube and Twitch have built massive audiences by dissecting current events live, often rivaling cable news ratings.
Hasan Piker, known online as HasanAbi, has emerged as one of the most watched political streamers globally. His live dissections of current events blend leftist critique with pop culture commentary, attracting a younger, politically engaged audience.
On the conservative side, figures such as the late Charlie Kirk, founder of Turning Point USA, and Candace Owens, commentator and author, have played huge roles in advancing the MAGA (Make America Great Again) agenda. Their content, often distributed via podcasts and social media, has helped galvanize right-wing youth movements and shape Republican messaging.
Across Europe, TikTok personalities have been tapped by governments to promote voter registration, public health campaigns, or climate awareness. But the decentralization of agenda-setting has consequences.
On one hand, it democratizes media by giving ordinary people a platform to amplify concerns that traditional outlets might ignore. Movements like #MeToo and #BlackLivesMatter gained momentum not through newspaper editorials but through viral posts shared by creators, activists, and everyday users. In the Philippines, campaigns around mental health awareness, divorce, sexual reproductive rights (particularly access to contraceptives) have also found strong footing on TikTok and Twitter.
On the other hand, this new ecosystem makes information ecosystems more fragmented. Different communities follow different influencers, each with their own biases. The result is not a single shared agenda but multiple competing ones. For news consumers, this means exposure to diverse perspectives but also heightened risks of echo chambers, misinformation, and polarization.
Brands and policymakers are adapting to this fragmented reality. Public relations firms now map influencer networks as carefully as they once tracked beat reporters, identifying who drives conversation in niches from fashion to finance to politics.
‘We check follower authenticity, engagement rates, demographics, and social sentiment,’ said Villaraza. Contracts now specify deliverables, usage rights, and accountability clauses, replacing the informal arrangements common a decade ago.
‘When we select influencers to work with, we make sure they are aligned with the personality of the brand. We don’t choose them just because they have x number of followers, although that’s one of the factors too. We make sure the content we ask them to create is also aligned with their own way of creating content,’ he added.
Government agencies, too, have experimented with partnerships: in 2021, the Department of Health tapped TikTok creators to promote Covid-19 vaccination among the youth. Such moves acknowledge a hard truth-to reach the public, you need to go where the public already is.
But for journalism, the challenge is existential. News outlets no longer control the top of the information funnel. Instead, they compete for attention in an ecosystem where creators remix their work into commentary, memes, or bite-sized explainers. While this can extend the reach of journalism, it also dilutes its authority.
The question, then, is no longer just ‘who sets the agenda?’ but ‘whose agenda dominates within each community?’ The answer depends on which influencers a person follows, which platforms they frequent, and which narratives resonate most with their lived experience.
Where once the evening news could unify a nation around a single story, today’s media landscape produces parallel conversations that may rarely intersect.
The result is an increasingly personalized public sphere, where no single institution can claim to ‘set the agenda’ in the way traditional media once did.