The Quiet Battle in Every Piece of Content
There’s a dividing line that runs through everything we consume. Content that serves addresses actual needs while content that sells manufactures desires. As creators, we often navigate this boundary unconsciously, shifting between territories without realizing it. The most sophisticated content today blurs this line so effectively that we may not recognize which side we’re on.
Content that Serves vs. Content that Sells
| Content that serves | Content that sells |
|---|---|
| Addresses actual needs | Manufactures desires |
| Isn't afraid to be wrong | Isn't afraid to be a talking head |
| Focuses on the individual | Focuses on the buyer |
| Born from natural curiosity | Born from productivity quotas |
| Doesn't ask for anything in return | Seeks to produce demand |
| Takes its time, breathes | Creates artificial urgency |
| Builds genuine community | Builds opportunity funnels |
| Explores topics fully | Limits perspective strategically |
There's a dividing line that runs through everything we consume.
Modern content creators have mastered the art of mimicking service while selling. HubSpot offers “free” marketing guides and tools that help businesses while funneling users toward their platform. The New York Times’ Wirecutter provides detailed product reviews with real value, yet earns revenue through affiliate links on recommended products.
To distinguish between content that truly serves and content that merely appears to serve, we can apply a simple test: If the company behind the content vanished tomorrow, would their content still matter to anyone? This reveals whether the content holds inherent value beyond its selling function.
But here’s the more unsettling question that’s been keeping me up at night: can we even know when we’re being sold to anymore?
Several factors make this self-awareness nearly impossible:
We justify our decisions after making them, reframing heavily influenced choices as entirely our own
Most decision-making happens below conscious awareness, triggered by cues we never register
When we trust a source, we drop our defenses, blurring the line between service and subtle selling
Content often plants seeds that influence decisions much later, disconnecting the persuasion from the action
The most sophisticated content seamlessly blends genuine value with persuasive elements until they become inseparable
Content Creation as a Human Experience
Amid all this analysis of content motives, I've been reflecting on my own relationship with creating. What happens when ideas emerge from lived experience rather than marketing calendars? Here’s how “observational content” might get created:
Observer’s Journey
It starts when you pay attention because you’re naturally drawn to understand the world around you. You feel the emotional undercurrents in public discourse. You sense the tensions people aren’t quite able to articulate.
Then comes that “a ha” moment, the connection between seemingly unrelated things, the question nobody’s asking, the perspective shift that suddenly brings clarity.
This creates an internal drive that says, “This needs to be expressed.” You shape your thoughts carefully, revise for clarity, and choose words that best express the nuance.
Sharing becomes an offering, where content exists primarily as a contribution to ongoing conversation. Success doesn’t need to be measured because by creating and sharing, you’ve already won.
The Invisible Authority Signals
The subtle ways we determine what’s credible fascinate me. We’re making split-second trust decisions based on cues we barely register.
In my definition (and I’m speaking from my own experience here, not anyone else’s research, to be clear), “inferred authority” is the process where we assign credibility without explicit credentials. These mechanisms bypass our conscious evaluation:
Design Authority: Professional design and consistent branding create immediate trust before we’ve processed a single word. We unconsciously equate visual polish with expertise.
Social Proof: We equate followers, shares, and comments with credibility, assuming that popularity signals quality.
Proximity Effect: Content positioned alongside recognized authorities borrows their credibility. Guest posts on prestigious platforms, partnerships with established brands, or even just being mentioned in the same context as trusted figures transfers their authority to you through association.
Jargon Fluency: Specialized terminology signals insider expertise even when the substance is thin. When someone effortlessly uses industry-specific language, we assume they possess deep knowledge of the field, often without verifying their actual expertise.
Confidence Bias: Information presented confidently reads as authoritative, even when unwarranted. Studies show we’re more likely to believe statements delivered with unwavering certainty than those expressed with nuance or qualification. (See what I did there?)
But even more subtle forms are harder to recognize:
Pattern Matching: Content that perfectly matches your industry’s vocabulary level creates an immediate sense that “this person speaks my language.” Your brain registers a feeling of alignment before your conscious mind can evaluate the actual substance. This is why certain content feels “right” even before you’ve fully processed it.
Strategic Vulnerability: Calculated disclosure of minor limitations paradoxically enhances perceived authority. When a source acknowledges small weaknesses or constraints, we perceive greater honesty and expertise. This is why phrases like “our solution isn’t perfect for everyone” actually increase rather than decrease trust.
Format Mimicry: Our brains instantly recognize formats associated with authority. Academic structures, case study layouts, or research report designs trigger automatic credibility responses. When content adopts these formats but doesn’t adhere to their methodological standards, we’re giving trust that hasn’t been earned.
Content structured to evoke déjà vu by mirroring trusted sources transfers that trust through pattern matching. Are you really in the right place?
The AI Complication
With all these authority signals operating in our everyday content consumption, artificial intelligence introduces an entirely new dimension of complexity. AI systems can now deploy these exact signals. Not just one or two, but all of them simultaneously and with unprecedented precision.
Claude tells me that large language models excel at vocabulary calibration, instantly analyzing context to match exactly what feels credible within any domain. They can shift between technical jargon and accessible language with remarkable precision, targeting that sweet spot that feels most authoritative to each specific audience.
AI can generate convincing-sounding references that seem specific and authoritative but may be fabricated. The Stanford study that never existed, the percentage that was never measured—these are difficult to spot without deliberate fact-checking.
Human creators make conscious choices based on lived experience within communities. There’s an understanding of cultural and professional signaling that comes from being embedded in the contexts they reference. AI systems, however, can perfectly mimic these signals without the underlying experiences that traditionally validate them. This raises profound questions about how we evaluate authenticity in an era where the tools of credibility are increasingly accessible to non-human systems.
The line needs to be drawn at fabricating evidence. Borrowing credibility through mimicking format and style is one thing; manufacturing facts is another.
Back to the Future of Authentic Content
Maybe the only path forward is developing a new kind of critical literacy, consciously examining content for its underlying incentives and techniques while acknowledging we’ll never catch everything. Like artists, we are similarly curators of ideas, presenting them in a fashion that finds connection with the world.
Making meaning is still an art and a science. In writing this very blog, I find myself returning to a simple question: If no one ever bought anything from me, would I still feel compelled to share these thoughts? The answer to that question might be the best measure of whether we’re creating content that serves or content that sells.
