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Unilever bets big on influencers as corporate trust fades

From Tinder campaigns to billion-dollar brands, Unilever's radical shift proves human voices now sell better than corporate slogans. But can influencers outlast AI's credibility crisis?

The image shows a blue and white poster with a line graph and a megaphone with the words "28%" and...
The image shows a blue and white poster with a line graph and a megaphone with the words "28%" and "24%" on it, along with logos and text, indicating that the poster is advertising a social media marketing strategy.

Guest Article by Andrea Beninde

Unilever bets big on influencers as corporate trust fades

On March 23, 2026, Unilever announced that it had appointed the social-first agency Samy to handle its global influencer mandate for its food business—covering Hellmann's and Knorr across 13 markets, including Germany. One year after CEO Fernando Fernandez declared plans to multiply the influencer budget twentyfold and increase social media's share of the media mix from 30% to 50%, the strategy has moved from promise to practice. The industry is watching—and divided.

So am I. But not in the way you might expect.

Where Fernandez Gets It Right

At the 2025 CAGNY Investor Conference, Fernandez said something rare for a corporate CEO: Corporate messages are no longer believed. People trust people. That's why, he argued, he needed "an army of people talking for your brands." Frankly, it's one of the clearest diagnoses I've heard in a long time. And he backed it up with numbers.

Vaseline was a stagnant brand with an image problem among younger consumers—until social-native formats flooded the product into the feeds of a generation that knew it only as "Grandpa's hand cream." In March 2025, Vaseline Verified launched: viral social media hacks were tested in labs, their real effects confirmed. With 450 creators worldwide and 136 million views, the campaign delivered three consecutive years of double-digit growth. The brand surpassed the billion-dollar mark for the first time in 2023. Fernandez calls this the blueprint. Given these figures, it's easy to see why.

Then there was Dove x Crumbl, the collaboration with the viral U.S. cookie chain, which provided another compelling case: the six-month sales target was hit in just one month, with 52% of buyers being first-time Dove customers. Produced without a studio, rolled out across 14 markets—from brief to live in some regions within 48 hours. This is a production logic no traditional campaign setup could match.

Fair enough: for certain categories, with the right insight and a truly fitting creator network, this works. Frankly, it's impressive. Who would have thought a 150-year-old petroleum jelly classic could become a social media phenomenon?

Where It Gets Complicated

The question was never whether social-first works in general. It's: for what goal, for whom, for which product, in which market? Beauty is highly visual, explanation-driven, and experience-based. A creator can demonstrate how Vaseline jelly defines lashes—something tangible, shareable, and replicable. Purchasing decisions in this category follow exactly that logic: someone you trust shows you how it's done.

Knorr is a different story. A bouillon cube isn't a viral moment. The #UnlockYourGreenFlag campaign was clever, no doubt: positioning cooking as a dating signal, targeting Gen Z on Tinder, with 79% of singles aged 18–35 associating culinary skills with attractiveness. That's a strong cultural insight. But "being able to cook" and "buying Knorr" are two different things. Sales figures remain undisclosed.

What worked as a blueprint for Vaseline doesn't automatically translate to all 400+ brands in Unilever's portfolio. Food purchasing decisions follow different rules: price, habit, availability, distribution. No creator can replace shelf placement at Edeka. And then there's the question no press release addresses: What remains of the brand when the creator is gone? Creator markets are volatile, platforms change their algorithms, and faces you've bet on can suddenly become embroiled in scandal. Brands that have learned this the hard way know: reach can be bought, but trust cannot.

What Changes in 2026

This is where things get interesting. Consumer enthusiasm for AI-generated content has plummeted from 60% to 26% in just two years. Half of all consumers didn't buy a single product based on an influencer's recommendation last year. And as of August 2026, the EU AI Act will require—at least in Europe, and thus for Unilever's new Samy mandate—that AI-generated content be clearly labeled: text, images, voices, videos.

In a feed increasingly cluttered with mandatory AI disclaimers, a real person who genuinely believes in a product and speaks about it in their own voice becomes rarer—and more valuable. Creator content, by definition, is human content.

A Structural Advantage—No Question

But only if the credibility of these individuals isn't squandered by over-commercialization. Three hundred thousand creator partnerships sound like scale. Yet scale and credibility are rarely compatible. The more brands tap into the same pool of creators, the more human recommendation turns back into "paid media"—just with a different face.

What Remains When the Platform Is Gone?

Fernandez identifies the right issue. But "social-first" is the wrong label for it.

"Social-first" is a channel strategy. It answers where, but not who?Why credible?What endures when the platform disappears? The real shift isn't a social strategy—it's a human strategy.

Social is the infrastructure; the lever is the people. This has implications that go far beyond media mix decisions. Creators don't belong at the end of a marketing presentation—they belong in the growth conversation, alongside product development, packaging, and distribution.

When I talk about internal faces, I don't mean the usual ambassador programs with PR figures on LinkedIn. I mean people with deep expertise in the product and category—people you believe because their knowledge is authentic. Consistency doesn't mean everyone posts the same thing. It means everyone tells the same truth about the brand, in their own voice.

Social without human is just a change of channel. Human without social is a monologue. Together, they form a strategy.

And what a brand builds itself—its own formats, its own communities, voices that truly stand for something—is no less important than its network of external creators. Otherwise, you're just trading TV dependency for creator dependency. Paid reach remains paid reach.

Unilever is currently doing something with significant investment and remarkable consistency that should make the industry pause and reflect. Respect for that. But the next sentence we should hear won't come from Samy or the Maia platform with its 120 million influencers: Social without human is just a change of channel. Human without social is a monologue. Together, they form a strategy.

About the Author

Andrea Beninde advises brands as a strategic communications consultant, helping them make their substance visible—to people and to algorithms. Previously, she spent many years at Carat, the media agency under Dentsu. From 2012 to 2022, she served as Managing Director of Carat Germany.

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