The Problem of Believing Every Comment from Someone Who Says "I'm a Lawyer" on Social Media

Near midnight, a news alert drops into your feed: a case, an arrest, a court ruling. Less than ten minutes later, dozens of accounts with robes or scales as profile pictures are issuing confident, conflicting “definitive” judgments on the same event. One says “this ruling will be completely overturned,” another writes at the same time “this is clearly unlawful.” That night, you do not read to find out who truly knows, but who appears more certain—and you believe them.

This scene is now so familiar that we barely notice it. But upon closer reflection, a strange situation emerges: suddenly everyone is an expert, and none of these experts agree with each other.

Moreover, there is no way to verify whether someone behind the label “I am a lawyer” is truly one. We read comments from anonymous accounts without profile pictures or verified identities as if they were notarized documents. Yet there is no mechanism to confirm these titles—anyone can write “lawyer” or “legal expert” in their bio. This does not necessarily mean the person is lying—many are indeed professionals in the field. But as readers, we have no tool to distinguish between truth and embellishment. It is precisely this ambiguity that creates the conditions for the most assertive voice to be perceived as the most credible.

There is an interesting contradiction here. When it comes to a complex heart surgery or the static calculation of a bridge, most of us do not say “I know a bit about this”—we leave it to the expert. But with law, the situation changes. Because everyone has watched a court case, signed a contract, or heard about a legal right, discussing law feels more “accessible.” This leads to everyday impressions and genuine expertise being shared on social media with the same tone and same confidence. In the end, someone who says “I am a lawyer” can speak with the same authority on screen as someone who simply follows the news and forms an opinion.

Part of the problem is entirely algorithmic. Social media platforms prioritize content that is quickly consumed and triggers strong emotions, not long, cautious explanations. A legal comment’s “correctness” does not make it visible—its assertiveness and brevity do. Over time, this creates a kind of natural selection: cautious legal experts who say “it depends on the circumstances” fade into the background, while those who offer clear, firm opinions on every issue rise to the top. Viewers assume the voices the system promotes are “the most knowledgeable”—but these are merely the voices that match the platform’s preferred style of communication.

Graduating from law school is certainly a starting point. But law is a field so deeply divided into specialties that one person cannot speak with equal accuracy on every topic. A criminal law expert may not understand administrative law; a family law practitioner may lack deep knowledge of international law. A comment posted under the “I am a lawyer” label on social media is often about a subject far outside the person’s actual area of expertise. The title is there, but the accumulated knowledge is not—or at least, the reader cannot tell the difference.

Social media has its own dynamic: short, clear, and assertive sentences attract more attention. A comment saying “there are several possibilities here; we need to examine the file details” goes unnoticed. But phrases like “this ruling will definitely be overturned” or “this is clearly a crime” are both shared widely and appear convincing. Yet real legal processes cannot be predicted with such certainty based on the limited information we have. The sense of certainty we see on social media is often just an illusion produced by the platform’s own nature.

For a real lawyer to offer an opinion on an actual case, they normally need access to the file, evidence, and the reasoned judgment. Even a lawyer needs weeks of reviewing their own client’s file before reaching a firm conclusion. But on social media, the process is reversed: a person sees only a headline or a few seconds of video, and within minutes delivers a definitive verdict. This contradicts the very nature of the profession. Real legal evaluation is slow, cautious, and evidence-based, while the social media “lawyer comment” format rewards the exact opposite.

There is also a distinction often overlooked: there is a big difference between a lawyer explaining a general legal principle for educational purposes and making a definitive judgment on a specific, current case. Saying “in a lease agreement, an eviction commitment works like this” is informative. Saying “in this case, one side is definitely right” is a guess based on information that is not available—yet both are presented under the same “lawyer” label and with the same sense of credibility. For viewers, being able to distinguish between these two is crucial to understanding how seriously to take the content they are shown.

To be more explicit: gaining attention on social media is itself a form of gain. Followers, engagement, recognition—all these come more easily to accounts that appear knowledgeable and confident. In this context, for some accounts, what matters is not which opinion is correct, but which opinion gets shared the most. This does not necessarily mean these accounts are malicious; often, they simply adapt unconsciously to the tone the platform rewards. But the result is the same: readers confuse “the most seen opinion” with “the most correct opinion.”

There is also this: when people already hold an opinion about a current event, they are more likely to believe the “lawyer” whose comment supports that view. Two completely opposing “expert opinions” on the same event can circulate simultaneously, and everyone shares the one that aligns with their bias. This is not unique to any political stance or group—regardless of background, people tend to find the voice that confirms their beliefs more “legal” and more “objective.” As a result, law ceases to be a neutral source of information and becomes a tool that legitimizes existing polarization for both sides.

The solution is not to ignore legal commentary altogether. But a few simple habits can help:

• Check whether the person making the comment actually works in that field—not just whether they write “I am a lawyer.”
• Approach single-sentence, overly definitive claims with skepticism.
• Do not accept a comment as true until you have seen multiple perspectives—especially if the view simply confirms what you already believe.
• If possible, consult the original source—the court decision, official statement—before reading any commentary.

Social media has made law more visible, but this visibility has brought along a superficiality. Rather than believing every statement that hides behind a title, perhaps the most practical form of “legal awareness” today is to be a slightly more curious and slightly more skeptical reader.

The real issue here is not about distrusting lawyers—it is about directing trust to the right place. Just as we distinguish between a doctor giving general health advice and diagnosing a patient they have never seen, we must also distinguish between a lawyer offering general information and making a definitive judgment on a case they have never reviewed. A reader population capable of making this distinction preserves the value of real expertise and is less susceptible to the false certainty generated by social media.

Perhaps the simplest thing to do is this: the next time you see a post saying “I am a lawyer, let me speak clearly on this,” pause for a second and ask—does this person actually know this file, or do they only know what everyone else knows? This small pause is often enough to see the difference.