The paradox of authenticity in branded content
Here's the thing: brands are, by definition, constructions. They're carefully crafted narratives, visual identities, and value propositions designed to appeal to specific audiences. Yet, in 2025, authenticity has become the holy grail of marketing, the one thing consumers claim they want more than anything else. So we're left with this delicious paradox: how can something inherently artificial ever be truly authentic?
This tension isn't new, but it's become increasingly visible and, frankly, more complicated. As consumers grow more skeptical of traditional advertising, brands have scrambled to appear "real," "relatable," and "genuine." The irony? The effort to appear authentic often becomes the most performative thing of all.
The authenticity obsession
Let's start with the numbers. According to research by Morhart et al. (2015), brand authenticity has become a critical driver of consumer behavior. Their study found that perceived brand authenticity (PBA) influences emotional attachment, word-of-mouth recommendations, and purchase likelihood. In other words, consumers want to believe in authentic brands—they're willing to pay more for them, defend them, and evangelize them.
But here's where it gets tricky. The same research identifies three dimensions of how consumers perceive authenticity: credibility (does the brand deliver on its promises?), integrity (does the brand align its actions with its values?), and symbolism (does the brand represent something meaningful to me?). Notice what's missing? A fourth dimension that says, "Is this actually real?"
That's because authenticity, in the context of branding, isn't about objective reality. It's about perceived authenticity—a construction that feels real enough to matter.
The performative trap
This is where performative authenticity enters the chat. The Rise of Performative Authenticity perfectly captures this phenomenon: influencers and brands now carefully craft "unfiltered" content, messy photo dumps, candid moments, behind-the-scenes chaos, to signal authenticity. The effort to appear real, ironically, has become more calculated than ever.
Think about it. A brand posts a "raw" video of their team working late, complete with coffee cups and tired smiles. It's designed to feel spontaneous, but it was probably shot three times, edited, color-graded, and scheduled for optimal engagement. The authenticity is performed, not lived.
This becomes even more problematic when brands venture into social causes. Performative marketing occurs when a brand publicly promotes social or ethical values (like sustainability, diversity, LGBTQ+ rights), but fails to back them up with real action. It's what we call greenwashing, causewashing, or rainbow-washing: surface-level messaging that looks good on Instagram but crumbles under scrutiny.
When authenticity becomes a liability
The consequences of getting this wrong are brutal. Take Target's 2023 Pride Month campaign. The brand launched a rainbow-themed collection and in-store displays, but when conservative backlash escalated, Target pulled the products and left employees without clear guidance or protection. Consumers didn't see a brand standing by its values, they saw a brand that was never authentic about them in the first place. The campaign wasn't about genuine support; it was about capturing a market moment.
Or consider Pepsi's infamous 2017 protest ad, where Kendall Jenner handed a can of Pepsi to a police officer during a protest march, seemingly solving systemic racism with a soft drink. The backlash was immediate and global. Pepsi pulled the ad within 24 hours, but the damage was done. The brand had revealed that its engagement with social justice was purely transactional, a marketing play, not a genuine commitment.
These aren't isolated incidents. H&M's "Conscious" collection promised sustainability but used misleading environmental scorecards. Starbucks' #RaceTogether campaign asked baristas to discuss racial inequality without proper training or support. Bud Light's partnership with Dylan Mulvaney was abandoned the moment conservative backlash hit, leaving the trans community feeling exploited.
In each case, the brand tried to perform authenticity without actually committing to it. And consumers saw right through it.
The semiotics of fake realness
From a semiotics perspective, this is fascinating. Brands are essentially sign systems, they communicate meaning through symbols, narratives, and visual codes. When a brand tries to appear "authentic," it's not actually being authentic; it's using the signs of authenticity: unfiltered photos, casual language, behind-the-scenes content, vulnerability.
But here's the problem: once these signs become codified as markers of authenticity, they lose their authenticity. They become a language that any brand can speak, regardless of whether the underlying values are real. A luxury brand can use the same "raw" aesthetic as a grassroots startup. A corporation can adopt the same casual tone as an independent creator. The signs become divorced from their original meaning.
This is what Södergren (2021) calls the "authenticating act", the performance of authenticity through citational practices. Brands cite the language and aesthetics of authenticity without necessarily embodying it. It's authenticity as a style, not a substance.
So, can brands ever be authentic?
The uncomfortable answer is: probably not in the way we'd like them to be. Brands are inherently constructed, mediated, and designed for consumption. They exist to create value and meaning, not to be "real" in some pure, unmediated sense.
But that doesn't mean authenticity is meaningless. What matters is alignment: the gap between what a brand says and what it does. Beverland (2011) argues that authentic brands are those that manage "the tension between commercial imperatives and espoused values." In other words, authentic brands acknowledge the paradox. They don't pretend to be something they're not; they're transparent about their constraints and commitments.
This is why some brands succeed where others fail. Patagonia doesn't pretend to be a grassroots environmental organization, it's a for-profit company. But it backs up its environmental claims with real action: donating 1% of sales to environmental causes, using sustainable materials, and being transparent about its supply chain. The brand is still constructed, still designed for profit, but it's honest about the tension between those goals and its values.
Similarly, brands that engage with social causes need to do more than post about them. They need to invest in them, support them consistently, and be willing to take risks when it matters. Research on true versus performative allyship shows that consumers can distinguish between brands that express support through words only versus those that back it up with action. And they reward the latter with loyalty and trust.
The real paradox
The real paradox of authenticity in branding isn't that brands can't be authentic. It's that the more a brand tries to perform authenticity, the less authentic it becomes. Authenticity, in the context of branding, emerges not from the effort to appear real, but from the consistency between what you say and what you do, and the willingness to be transparent about the gaps.
In a world saturated with performative content, the most radical thing a brand can do is stop trying so hard to seem authentic and start actually being accountable. That's not authenticity in some pure sense. But it's something better: it's integrity.
