The wording of a health message can be just as important as the facts it contains, according to new research from the University of Technology Sydney. Imagine scrolling through Facebook while worried about vaccinating your baby. One post reads, “Protect the community and your kids by booking their vaccinations today.” Another asks, “Do you know all the effects of childhood vaccinations on your babies?” Both messages link to the same reliable vaccination information. But in the researchers’ experiments, the second message was about 52 percent more likely to be clicked. The study, published in The Conversation, set out to test whether changing the presentation of factual information online could help it reach audiences who might otherwise ignore or distrust it. The answer, the researchers found, is that even when the information itself is identical, the tone, vocabulary, and emotional resonance of the text can make a major difference. In an era of online misinformation, disinformation, and growing skepticism toward institutions, simply publishing accurate material is no longer enough. The way reliable information is framed and delivered may determine whether it ever reaches the people it is meant to help.
Misinformation is generally defined as false information shared without an intention to cause harm, while disinformation is false information deliberately created and spread. In Australian Facebook communities studied by the researchers, discussions about childhood vaccination were often intertwined with personal concerns about protecting children, and the line between false claims and genuine emotional worry was blurred. But the researchers found that false claims are only part of the problem. In earlier work, they observed that far-right users also shared articles from moderate or mainstream news sources, a phenomenon that complicates simplistic attempts to label sources as good or bad. These users selected a narrow range of topics that fit their existing worldviews, meaning even mostly accurate news articles could reinforce those views when placed in a particular context. This not only makes it harder to get reliable information to people, but it can also affect their personal relationships. The research describes people withdrawing from loved ones and from mainstream information sources as they became more involved in fringe communities. Governments have responded by providing factual resources, while researchers and organizations investigate misleading claims and provide evidence. Fact-checking can help, but only if people trust the source and understand the explanation. Social media platforms have also tried removing false or misleading content, reducing its visibility, and adding warning labels. Meta’s pandemic response showed that many regulated Facebook pages declined in performance, although some continued to grow. Users found ways around restrictions, using coded language and links to less moderated platforms. In April 2025, Meta stopped using independent fact-checkers in the United States and introduced Community Notes, where users write and rate explanations that appear alongside posts. These approaches have had some impact, but the researchers argue that a critical question remains: how do you get reliable information in front of someone who is not looking for it?
To address that question, the researchers spent months observing Australian Facebook communities that shared anti-vaccination and far-right narratives. They noticed that, alongside information, these communities offered companionship and a sense of belonging. Messages could sound like a friend sharing worries about a child, rather than like official public health announcements. Using these observations, the researchers developed three fictional audience profiles, known as personas. Jennifer was a young mother concerned about vaccination. Patrick was a retired teacher worried about his grandchildren’s future. Aaron was a young man interested in fitness and technology. These personas helped the researchers select audiences for Facebook advertisements and write messages using styles familiar to those audiences. For Jennifer, they used personal and caring language, like a friend sharing worries about children. For Patrick, they used an authoritative, explanatory tone. For Aaron, they used a motivational tone that encouraged readers to take charge and check the facts for themselves. Each of these alternative advertisements was then compared with a neutral version of the same advertisement. Each pair used the same image and linked to the same government or government-affiliated resource. The sponsor and advertising settings remained the same, so the only difference was the wording. This careful experimental design allowed the researchers to isolate the effect of language style rather than confusing it with differences in graphics, source credibility, or audience targeting.
The results were striking. In 11 out of 12 comparisons, people were more likely to click on an advertisement when its wording reflected the language used in the communities the study was trying to reach. Ads about school education received clicks 6% of the time when they used familiar language, compared with only 1.1% when they used neutral wording. That means the language inspired by the communities the ads were trying to reach was roughly five times more likely to be clicked. For vaccination ads, those with familiar language were clicked 0.98% of the time, compared with 0.65% for neutral wording. Although these percentages may seem small, in the context of social media advertising, even fractional percentage-point differences can translate into thousands or millions of additional visits to reliable resources. The findings suggest that communication style can help attract attention to trustworthy information. The effect was not limited to a single topic or a single persona. It appeared across different issues and audience segments, from young mothers to retirees to younger men interested in technology and fitness. This consistency is important because it suggests that the underlying principle may be generalizable: people are more likely to engage with messages that reflect their own way of speaking and thinking. The researchers were careful to note that they did not measure whether the ads actually changed anyone’s mind, nor whether the people who clicked on the ads read the linked pages. Facebook’s delivery system also influenced who saw each advertisement, which limits the ability to attribute all differences solely to wording.
Despite these limitations, the study offers practical implications for public health teams, researchers, and communicators. One approach would be to listen to how people describe their concerns in online communities, then test different ways of presenting the same evidence. This does not mean impersonating community members or amplifying fear in order to attract attention. It means adopting language that speaks directly to the questions and concerns of the people being reached. For example, a vaccination campaign might test messages that acknowledge parents’ worries rather than simply instructing them to vaccinate. Instead of “Protect the community and your kids by booking their vaccinations today,” a message could ask, “You want to keep your little one safe. Wondering what vaccinations will mean for your baby?” This kind of wording is not sensational or deceptive; it simply mirrors the way many parents already think and speak. The study’s authors suggest that a follow-up study could examine whether readers who clicked through understood the information and felt better able to make a decision. That would go beyond click-through rates to measure actual learning, trust, and decision-making. The current findings should be seen as an early but promising indication that communication style can be an evidence-based tool in the fight against misinformation and disinformation. By testing and refining messages the same way scientists test drugs or interventions, public health organizations could learn what actually resonates with specific audiences.
Ultimately, this research highlights a subtle but important shift in how to think about misinformation. Fact-checking, content moderation, and platform policies are necessary, but they are not sufficient. The problem is not only that false information exists; it is also that reliable information can be ignored, misunderstood, or mistrusted because it does not speak the language of the audience. The study suggests that empathy and linguistic proximity may be just as important as accuracy. Public health authorities do not have to agree with misinformation, and they should not repeat false claims, but they can learn from the communication styles that make so-called fringe communities feel heard. In an environment where trust in institutions is fragile and algorithms reward engagement, meeting people where they are may be the most effective way to guide them back to evidence-based information. The research was carried out by Jooyoung Lee, a Research Fellow at the Behavioral Data Science Lab, Emily Booth, a Research Fellow at the Data Science Institute, and Marian-Andrei Rizoiu, a Professor of AI and Behavioral Data Science, all at the University of Technology Sydney. A version of the article originally appeared in The Conversation and was republished with permission. As social media platforms continue to evolve their moderation policies, findings like these offer a low-cost, scalable method for improving the reach of reliable information without relying on censorship or confrontation. The next step is to take these insights out of the research setting and into real public health campaigns, where the language of a single sentence could make the difference between a worried parent seeking help or turning away.