"Do your own research!"
What Medicare's annual open enrollment circus teaches us about the seductive trap of DIY health and science

A striking example of the dubiousness of that maxim is the annual rite of fall for seniors—Medicare's Open Enrollment period, which extends through December 7. The government opens the door for beneficiaries to compare dozens of plans, each with its own premiums, deductibles, drug formularies, and provider networks, and to choose the one that best fits their health and their budget. Tens of millions of older Americans are told, in effect, to do their own research about which plan to choose, but many people do not review their options at all.

A poll on healthy aging, released as Open Enrollment began, shows how daunting that "opportunity" can be. In a survey of Michigan adults age 65 and older, 27% said they did not review their Medicare coverage options for 2026 when given the opportunity last fall; another 35% reviewed them for less than an hour. 21% reported they had little or no understanding of key insurance terms, yet most felt confident making Medicare decisions and said they found plans easy to compare.

None of this suggests that beneficiaries chose badly. Nor does it establish overconfidence. The poll measured self-reported confidence and understanding, not people's plan-comparison skills or whether their choices were optimal. It does suggest that confidence and understanding are different things. Some of that confidence may reflect what decision researchers call "satisficing": settling on an option that seems good enough rather than weighing every alternative. Faced with too much complexity and too little time, that is a very human response. The poll does not address whether satisficing explains the confidence it found.

There is a useful distinction here: Comparing coverage for your own doctors, prescriptions, and budget is a personal decision, while deciding whether medical evidence overturns expert consensus is a technical one.

It is also the central tension in one of the most loaded phrases in American life: "Doing your own research." DYOR was once a hallmark of intellectual curiosity and democratic engagement. It signaled the commendable desire to think critically, seek out truth, and resist blind deference to authority. To others—particularly experts in health and science—it's now a red flag for amateur overconfidence, conspiratorial thinking, seeking sources that confirm your biases, and a dangerous rejection of scientific consensus.

What began as a call to inquiry has evolved into a symbol of skepticism, misinformation, and even political identity. But beneath the memes and mockery lies a more complex reality: Many people are not rejecting expertise out of defiance; they are searching for answers in a murky informational world where clarity is increasingly hard to find.

Why the surge in "doing your own research"

Modern health communication is in crisis. Millions of Americans face logistical and systemic barriers to accessing reliable medical guidance. More than 100 million people don't have regular access to adequate primary care, according to the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality. Getting an appointment may take weeks or months and many doctor visits are limited to brief, 15-minute encounters—scarcely enough for a harried physician to explore a single concern, let alone the complexities of chronic illness, therapeutic choices, vaccine risk, or emerging infections.

So, people turn elsewhere—to friends, social media, YouTube, X, Google searches, and increasingly to AI. In an increasingly fragmented information environment, "doing your own research" is not a fringe behavior. For many, it has become unavoidable.

Several factors drive this self-directed search for information:

1. Many trusted sources are too technical: During a recent radio interview on this subject, I recommended sources such as the CDC, NIH, Mayo Clinic, Cleveland Clinic, and Science Literacy Project (where I am a researcher and writer), but even accurate sources can be difficult to use. The Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality estimates the average U.S. adult reading level at ninth grade and notes that many health-education materials exceed it. That does not mean every page from these organizations is too difficult; it means credibility alone does not guarantee clarity and comprehension.
2. Advice can conflict: During evolving situations like the COVID-19 pandemic, scientific consensus can shift as new data emerge. But to the layperson, this looks like disagreement or unreliability, eroding confidence. Adding to the confusion, some of the available, non-mainstream advice was, and is still, unscientific, disingenuous, and dangerous, emanating from groups like the COVID-era misinformation spreaders, "America's Frontline Doctors," and the Robert F. Kennedy Jr.-founded Children's Health Defense, which consistently spread medical misinformation.
3. Information Overload Meets Institutional Distrust: Many people increasingly feel talked down to or manipulated by hidden biases or agendas and want to be their own fact-checkers and journalists. That shifts the traditional role of curating and contextualizing knowledge to individuals, who often lack the tools to do so accurately. Trust can be further strained when public officials make unsupported claims or appear to dismiss established evidence.

The most prominent and prolific source of unsupported health claims is Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr., whose statements about vaccines and other public health issues repeatedly contradict stablished evidence. The pattern extends beyond Kennedy and starts at the top: President Trump has echoed false claims about the childhood vaccine schedule and a non-existent vaccine-autism link. With Kennedy heading HHS, Jay Bhattacharya the NIH Director, acting FDA Commissioner Kyle Diamantas, and politically aligned advisers shaping federal health policy, traditionally reliable sources of science and health information can no longer be trusted. Scrutiny of information from such government (read: political) sources should distinguish political messaging and agency decisions from scientific evidence assessed across independent researchers and institutions.

The trouble with DIY science

"Doing your own research" is often an understandable response to frustration with institutions, information gaps, and the limits of the healthcare system itself. This genuine search for understanding is fraught with hazards, however. The internet provides not just more information, but also more misinformation—and often it is difficult to separate the wheat from the chaff. Researching complex health topics without formal training can easily go off track, for several psychological and epistemological reasons:

• Beginner's bubble. In early stages of learning, people's confidence tends to rise faster than their actual ability, a phenomenon known as the Dunning-Kruger effect. It is a cognitive bias in which people with limited knowledge or skill in a particular area may overestimate their competence. A 2026 study of UK adults showed that early learners in diagnostic tasks quickly grew more confident than they were accurate—a warning for amateur researchers navigating medical information on their own. Over-confidence combined with misinformation can be deadly. There is a wrinkle to Dunning-Kruger, however. A 2026 Royal Society Open Science study of UK adults found that COVID skepticism was associated with lower relevant knowledge, but not with overconfidence. Greater vaccine skepticism predicted lower overall confidence. Thus, the study cautions against using Dunning-Kruger as a catch-all explanation for skepticism. However, the narrower point remains useful.
• Confidence is not necessarily a reliable measure of competence, underscoring the breadth and complexity of the information crisis we face.
• Technical studies can be hard to evaluate. Although scientific reviews provide general critiques of articles, many are too scientifically complex for nonspecialists—like RFK Jr_.—to comprehend. In one of many examples, Kennedy cited a 2017 observational study in Africa reviewing data from the 1980s on DTP vaccination and all-cause mortality to justify ending U.S. support for Gavi, the international vaccine alliance. Setting aside the applicability of 40-year-old data, the study reported a mild "association," often referred to as a "link." Unconfirmed, that is weak evidence, and because it was observational, it cannot by itself establish that the vaccine caused deaths. Former CDC Director Tom Frieden has pointed to the study's limits and the need to weigh it against broader evidence, which points decisively to an opposite conclusion. Science requires repeatability and context, of no apparent interest to Kennedy and his followers.
• Mistrust of consensus. Some people assume that if a viewpoint is mainstream, it must be biased or incorrect–for example, the result of the influence of so-called Big Pharma, Big Oil, Big Food, or whatever. But consensus in science is usually the result of years of replicated studies and accumulated evidence, not groupthink. Confidence is stronger when evidence converges across independent teams and methods. Funding and conflicts of interest deserve scrutiny, but no claim should be accepted or dismissed on a derisive label alone, as science skeptics are wont to do.

What the data show about DYOR culture

There is limited research on the DYOR culture. A 2023 study of U.S. adults by two Harvard researchers examining perceptions of "doing your own research" found that positive attitudes toward DYOR were associated with lower trust in science institutions and more COVID-19 misperceptions over time. "Gut feelings" and "alternative facts" were often seen as more legitimate than evidence presented by science experts. The study measured attitudes toward DYOR, not what people actually researched, and cannot establish that a DYOR message caused later mistrust or misperceptions. The associations were modest. This is a warning about some anti-expert attitudes associated with DYOR, not evidence that every independent search is harmful.

Can doing your own research ever be beneficial?

The strongest case for DYOR is not that beginners can reliably overturn experts. Philosopher Neil Levy argued in a 2022 Springer Nature article that lay inquiry can deepen understanding, reveal questions or blind spots, and help affected communities shape research. In some of the online contrarian groups Levy reviewed, members gathered data, debated source credibility, and taught one another to analyze evidence. That challenges the caricature that almost all dissenters simply repeat or what they see as establishment claims; it does not prove their interpretations are sound or representative of all skeptics.

Levy pointed to AIDS activists who learned enough virology to be heard by researchers and influence the field. His distinction is between exploratory inquiry—trying to understand how evidence and explanations fit together—and inquiry aimed at proving experts wrong, as is the case with the Kennedy-led MAHA movement. A novice's difficulty in confirming a technical consensus should prompt more questions and consultation with knowledgeable people, not an instant verdict against the consensus.

It's not hard to see why. The phrase "Do Your Own Research" itself has deep roots in anti-establishment thought. American conspiracy theorist Milton William "Bill" Cooper popularized it in the 1990s. It gained traction with anti-vaccine activists in the 2010s and found new momentum through QAnon networks during the COVID pandemic. What was once a call for critical thinking now often functions as a political statement—a rejection of elites and a declaration of ideological autonomy.

How we got here—and how to get out

We now face a multi-faceted crisis: the collapse of trust in expert institutions, the easy availability of massive amounts of inaccurate information on the internet, the increasing influence of self-aggrandizing grifters, and the rise of information self-reliance without adequate tools. To resist these trends, perhaps we need a new social contract built around knowledge. Here is what it might look like:

1. Respect those trying to cope: The difficulty of navigating today's information (and misinformation) landscape is formidable. As much as possible, we should regard people trying to make sense of complex issues and contradictory messages with respect, not ridicule. For me, at least, that goal will sometimes be elusive. I cannot hide my disdain for the hard-core "mRNA vaccines killed more people than COVID" and "there has never been a safe and effective vaccine" crowd. Respect for people trying to make sense of confusing information does not require treating public officials' unsupported claims as beyond criticism and derision.
2. Buildtrust, don't demand it: "Trust me, I'm an expert" often is not persuasive. What matters now is transparency, empathy, and a willingness to explain — not just assert.
3. When possible, offer Information, not Instructions: Empower people with knowledge. A fact-based explanation may be more persuasive than a command, but mandates – such as, "you must be vaccinated" to serve in the military, or "you must wear a mask in healthcare facilities" may still be justified under exigent circumstances.
4. Acknowledge uncertainty honestly: Experts should resist the temptation to oversimplify. Admitting "we don't know yet" when appropriate may build credibility rather than eroding it — although the disinformation merchants will still claim certitude.
5. Explain without being dismissive: Telling people a study is "too complicated" to explain its deficiencies does not inspire confidence. Instead, invite them in: "Here is what the study found, what it did not establish, and how it fits with the broader evidence."

What comes next?

Doing your own research is neither inherently good nor bad. It depends on how it's done—which tools people have, and which sources they use. With sufficient media literacy, humility, and expert engagement, the phrase could once again reflect healthy skepticism and curiosity. Without those elements, it risks becoming a Trojan horse for misinformation and institutional distrust.

Secretary Kennedy has encouraged Americans to "do your own research" when making health decisions. He has compared vaccine research to parents researching baby products, describing DYOR as part of responsible parenting.

Wrapping himself in a flag of righteousness, he has called it a responsibility of living in a democracy. It is an appealing expression of individual autonomy, but without reliable starting points and help interpreting evidence, it can send people down a rabbit hole of disinformation.

For Medicare, doing your own research can mean checking whether a plan covers your doctors, prescriptions, and expected costs, then using the Medicare Plan Finder or a free State Health Insurance Assistance Program counselor to compare options. For a scientific claim, it means seeking reliable evidence from people with relevant expertise to help interpret it.

To no one's surprise, many of today's easily-accessible informational resources skew away from evidence-based science. Changing that may take time, and may never come close. Ultimately, the goal must not be to stop people from asking questions but to meet them where they are—offering context and clarity without condescension, and guidance without coercion.

Amidst a global world of cacophony, the challenge isn't getting people to do their own research, or discouraging them from doing it; it's helping them to do it well.

Henry I. Miller, a physician and molecular biologist, is the Glenn Swogger Distinguished Fellow at the Science Literacy Project. A veteran of the NIH and FDA, he was the founding director of the FDA's Office of Biotechnology. Find Henry on X @henryimiller