How LinkedIn Discovered Its Social Platform Era
A few months ago I opened my LinkedIn account to stalk an old colleague. What I saw surprised me:
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AND video interview with “Real Housewives of Beverly Hills” star Lisa Rinna offering career advice
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Video of a day in the life of a man’s morning commute, sponsored by a podcast company
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The writer rants about AI
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Data platform founder raving about AI
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A selfie from an unknown person announcing that his father has died
I put the chase aside because another thought occurred to me: Was LinkedIn getting more interesting?
The platform started in 2003 with the mission of “connecting the world’s professionals”. Over the years, users have relied on it to network, stay up-to-date on jobs, and share their resumes. As with other social networks, users could post thoughts, links and photos, although the emphasis was definitely on careers.
That hasn’t changed, at least according to the people who help run the site. LinkedIn isn’t trying to be “a normal social media network,” said Daniel Roth, its editor-in-chief. “The idea is: to help people connect to economic opportunities.”
Unlike some social media platforms, LinkedIn does not publish the number of users who are active on a monthly basis. But a 2026 survey by data and market research company Statista said 18 percent of about 60,000 people use the site regularly — far below the number of regular Instagram users, but on par with Reddit.
However, browsing LinkedIn today can bring up the kind of videos, sponsored content, and memes reminiscent of other media platforms. Has all this broadened its appeal or undermined its central mission?
Either way, the platform is undeniably huge; as of 2020, it has doubled its membership to more than 1.3 billion users and increased its revenue to more than $19 billion annually, the site said. Video content on the web is growing, and 18- to 29-year-olds are its fastest growing demographic.
“Few places are structured around the ‘official life story’ like LinkedIn,” said Bernie Hogan, an associate professor at the Oxford Internet Institute, adding that the site is a “welcoming environment” for people with a strong career focus. (Some users say that the site’s lack of anonymity sets it apart from other parts of the Internet. Now more than 100 million users are verified.)
Now, celebrities, athletes, and other content creators rely on their LinkedIn presence, and the usual business executives and “thought leaders” associated with it are getting more personal. Even one top executive at Blackstone posts while running.
During a recent book campaign, Ms. Rinna made the announcement she was creating a LinkedIn account because “hustling is a lifestyle”. In recent years, athletes like Kevin Durant and Stephen Curry have begun to visibly push their business endeavors, joining entertainers-slash-entrepreneurs like Snoop Dogg and Paris Hilton. (LinkedIn has said it works with high-profile users to help shape its content and pays some users to market LinkedIn on the web and other platforms.)
Influencers who have built a following on LinkedIn, as well as other social media sites, broker lucrative deals to sell products such as AI tools and jets. Others, weary of technical jargon and performative professionalism, hope to bring a more intimate quality to the site. The resulting dud suggests another question: Can you be authentic on LinkedIn if your primary mission is to boost your career?
New wave
Two years ago, Brooke Sweedar, a 30-year-old woman based in Baton Rouge, La., wanted to turn away from her recruiting job and become a software engineer. She had no industry contacts, so she started an inactive LinkedIn account to network and share her coding knowledge.
“I was under the impression that LinkedIn was very stuffy, you know, very corporate,” Ms. Sweedar said. “And I kind of found myself putting a lot of my real personality into it.
Ms. Sweedar refers to herself as “Technical Badass”, and shares selfies, memes, and cat videos in between coding jokes. “I’m showing myself as the multifaceted human being that I am,” she said, adding that she hopes it gives others permission to do the same.
That approach has landed her job interviews, nearly 30,000 followers and even, she said, offers from tech companies like Notion to publicize her products.
“We all have to make a living and pay our bills,” she said. “And it’s really, really hard to attract people when you sound like a corporate drone.”
Many LinkedIn influencers have built niches on business-friendly topics such as mastering artificial intelligence, business-to-business marketing, and office politics. Others share health advice, writing tips and satirical videos that could look right at home on TikTok. Those like Ms. Sweedar who amass a following can make being a LinkedIn influencer a full-time career. The number of such creators has increased, the website said.
LinkedIn aggressively pursues influencers and creators, said Brooke Erin Duffy, associate professor of communications at Cornell University. But she added: “What does this mean for the rest of us who live, work and spend time in these places where everything we see has an ethos of self-promotion?”
“Like any brand, we pay creators as part of our marketing efforts and that content appears on LinkedIn and other platforms,” the spokeswoman said.
Optimizing “crouching”
Amidst all these shifts, trying to stand out on LinkedIn can fail.
There’s the colloquialism of the site itself: Rapid line breaks, corporate jargon, and storytelling have coalesced into a genre some refer to as “bro-etry” or “LinkedIn-ese.” In addition, critics derided the inappropriate use of personal events for professional gain—fodder for Reddit message boards such as LinkedIn freaks. And users have gone viral for unintended reasons, including a CEO who was widely criticized as tone-deaf for posting a teary-eyed selfie after laying off staff.
“It’s this dystopian cycle of back-patting that encourages this really inauthentic behavior,” said John Hickey, creative director who runsThe best of LinkedIn“, an account mocking the posts. He admitted that the site was “unparalleled” for networking. “It’s just the other 40 percent of the noise on top that I can’t stand,” he said, “and I think a lot of people can’t stand it.”
“The problem is honesty,” said Dr. Hogan, adding that people’s intentions were compromised in front of potential employers or clients. “It withers people because if you can’t be honest, you can’t fully understand other people’s intentions.”
Juliana Chan, founder of a branding business in Singapore, does translated LinkedIn-ese on her account and said her content helped her find clients and co-workers. “You’re not going to cower to people who like what you have to say,” she added.
Elsewhere, unconventional professionals optimize this cringe. Ken Cheng, a London-based comedian with 220,000 LinkedIn followers, found a niche parodying over-committed corporate types. His bio smilingly declares that he wants to “connect emotionally” with you.
He was struck by the tension people feel between their aversion to workplace politics and their sense that participation is necessary for survival. “It’s quite strange to see how everyone has become this corporate shell to operate in this world,” he said.
As he gained popularity, some companies paid Mr. Cheng to make fun of them on LinkedIn for promotion or hired him to speak at conferences. He charges up to $4,000 per post.
“Brands Get It”
Power users of the site, even self-condemning ones like Mr. Cheng, are still relatively rare. Many people prefer to lurk, only stepping in to share a job update or congratulate colleagues on a promotion.
The web’s most talked-about topics may still sound more familiar in conference rooms than on social media, according to internal data: the place of artificial intelligence at work, leadership development, the startup founder’s journey and crypto trends.
“I think LinkedIn is just getting started because it wasn’t prioritized as a social platform until recently,” said Shama Hyder, founder of the Miami-based marketing agency. shares his business insights about 672,000 followers.
Ms. Hyder describes herself as a long-time “leader of sites with powerful users and divisive opinions” and believes that users are more likely to engage with profiles of people they find trustworthy than those of brands. It creates paid content for sponsors on the platform — its prices start at $20,000 for a single post — and said it has worked with brands like Adobe.
“Brands get it,” she said. “He’s waking up to it.”
LinkedIn is adding even more ways for influencers to make money, and expanded its own “paid creator partnerships,” the site said. That wave, which uses the hashtag #LinkedInpartners, included Fernando Mendoza, a football player who celebrated becoming the first overall pick for the 2026 NFL Draft. post on LinkedIn.
Dr. However, Hogan is skeptical that this expanding engagement will sustain LinkedIn audiences in the long term. “It will work in the short term until people get tired,” he said.
Power users like Ms. Hyder also don’t want LinkedIn to lose its professional utility. “I think they’re going to lose people if they continue to have a lot of the same content that you can find on other platforms,” she said.
After so many conversations with influencers, I couldn’t stop looking at my LinkedIn presence. I took the advice of some trainers and:
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I added a banner image to my profile
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I shared a vulnerable story about my past
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He sent a senior editor
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Let me use exclamation points and emoticons!!
Only a few people liked my posts, including a friend and a former teacher. However, I saw more users working with my profile every week; the website suggested that I continue to comment and post for even more reach.
I reached out to Mr. Cheng, a comedian who was recently paid to host a marketing conference. “I’ve become the thing I’m trying to destroy,” Mr. Cheng said jokingly. He had raised rates since our last conversation, he said, and expected to raise them further.
Matt Yan contributed reporting.