What has become of the grow scene?

How cannabis influencers, brands and consumption hype are changing a culture—and why we need more knowledge, sustainability and community again

The grow scene has probably never been as visible as it is today.

Every day, YouTube, Instagram and other platforms feature new videos about cannabis, cultivation methods, genetics, products and supposed secrets of successful grows. People with tens or hundreds of thousands of followers explain how plants should be fed, flowers dried, cultivars evaluated and problems solved.

At first glance, one might think this development is exclusively positive.

More visibility. More information. More people openly engaging with cannabis.

But when we look more closely, an uncomfortable question arises:

Are the people who know the most really the most visible today—or merely those who are best at marketing themselves?

Our experience at CannaSelection is becoming increasingly sobering.

Never before has so much been said publicly about cannabis. At the same time, it has rarely been so difficult to distinguish genuine expertise from professionally presented half-knowledge.

The grow scene is increasingly represented externally by people whose greatest achievement does not lie in cultivation, breeding, product development or political engagement.

Their actual product is their own reach.

And reach is not expertise.

Not every public figure is an influencer

We would like to make a clear distinction here.

A grower does not automatically become an influencer because they document their work publicly.

A breeder is not an influencer because they present their genetics.

Authors, activists, scientists, developers and manufacturers can also have a large reach without reach being their actual achievement.

For us, the difference is not the number of followers.

It lies in what came first.

A "subject-matter expert" becomes visible because they have learned, built, developed or documented something over many years. Public attention arises from their actual work.

A classic influencer, by contrast, first builds their own visibility. They then look for topics, collaborations and products with which that attention can be monetized.

One contributes something to the scene and becomes known as a result.

The other processes what already exists into content and turns their fame into a business model.

A "subject-matter expert" becomes visible because they can do something. An influencer produces visibility in order to generate economic value from it.

This does not mean that every form of content is worthless.

It does mean, however, that we must stop automatically treating visibility as a professional qualification.

Loudness is not knowledge

Almost anyone can appear to be an expert on social media today.

A well-lit setup, a professional microphone, a few technical terms and a confident presentation are enough to appear highly convincing, especially to beginners.

Statements are expressed in absolute terms.

There is supposedly always one clear cause, one obvious solution and often the right product to go with it.

The uncertainty usually begins only when someone asks more specific questions.

Why does this recommendation apply?

For which cultivation system?

Under what conditions?

Which other causes have been ruled out?

What are the limits of the statement?

What experience has actually been gathered firsthand?

In personal conversations, it then becomes apparent all too often that behind the very confident public presentation lies little reliable understanding of processes.

The statement was heard somewhere, adopted or prepared by an artificial intelligence. It sounds professional but can neither be contextualized nor defended.

This is precisely where expertise separates itself from reproduced content.

Those who understand a topic can explain connections. They can name conditions, put exceptions into context and allow for uncertainty.

Those who merely repeat finished statements, on the other hand, usually become uncertain as soon as the conversation leaves the prepared content.

AI makes half-knowledge sound more professional

Generative AI has made this problem even more pronounced.

With ChatGPT, Claude and similar systems, it is now possible to generate a complete video script, a supposed plant analysis or a technically worded Instagram post within just a few minutes.

The person does not need to fully understand the content themselves.

The result still sounds logical, structured and scientific.

Technical terms are used. Biological processes are described. Recommendations for action are formulated.

Only someone who possesses the necessary knowledge themselves can recognize whether this information actually fits together.

A false or incomplete AI response can therefore quickly become supposed expert content. This content is then passed on by people who cannot fact-check it professionally and consumed by viewers who have even fewer ways to assess it.

AI has not eliminated missing know-how. It has merely phrased it more professionally.

The problem is not that AI is fundamentally without value.

It can structure information, present connections and support research. However, it cannot replace missing understanding.

Anyone who cannot assess whether an AI response is correct also lacks a sufficient basis for passing that response on to thousands of people as expert knowledge.

We discuss in detail why general AI systems regularly reach their limits when analyzing plants in our Grow Lab article on AI and plant diagnostics.

Social media rewards attention, not accuracy

An honest expert answer is often unremarkable.

For example:

“The available information does not allow for a definitive assessment.”

Or:

“This method can work in a particular system, but may be counterproductive in another.”

Or:

“We first need to understand what happened previously.”

Such statements are correct.

However, they work poorly as clickbait.

Promises such as these work much better:

“Almost every grower makes this mistake.”

“Double your yield with this trick.”

“You absolutely need this product.”

“Here’s how to spot every deficiency immediately.”

Social media favors strong statements, quick solutions and clear conflicts. Plant cultivation, by contrast, requires context, patience and differentiated analysis.

This creates a fundamental contradiction:

The more strongly content is optimized for reach, the greater the pressure often is to leave out crucial connections.

Individual cases become universally applicable rules.

Personal experiences are presented like scientific findings.

Uncertain assessments become definitive diagnoses.

The viewer receives a quick answer. But they do not necessarily understand more afterward than they did before.

Attention is confused with authority

Another mechanism within the scene also needs to be addressed openly.

Attention does not always arise from expertise.

It can be generated through entertainment, provocation, lifestyle, status symbols or sexualized self-presentation.

There is nothing inherently wrong with that. Everyone can decide for themselves how they want to present themselves publicly.

However, it becomes problematic when the reach gained in this way is subsequently treated as professional authority.

Especially in the cannabis sector, we repeatedly see people quickly achieving large follower numbers because of how they present themselves and then explaining products, cultivation methods or even medical connections.

In these cases, public recognition is not necessarily based on demonstrable professional work.

A body is not proof of competence.

A luxury setup is not proof of competence.

A large harvest in a picture is not proof of competence.

Nor are a place on a large stage or a paid brand collaboration proof of competence.

Attention initially proves only that someone can generate attention. It does not prove that this person understands plants, genetics, products or health-related connections.

Our criticism is not directed against women, men or particular forms of self-presentation.

It is directed against a market that buys reach and then presents it to inexperienced consumers as professional expertise.

The brand buys reach. The influencer sells trust.

Influencer marketing works because it does not look like traditional advertising.

People follow someone over a longer period. They experience their everyday life, hear their opinions and develop trust.

When that person subsequently recommends a product, it does not feel like an anonymous advertisement. It feels like advice from someone in their own circle.

That trust is precisely what is monetized.

The influencer receives money, products, commissions, trips, discount codes or access to events.

The brand receives attention, credibility and direct access to a community.

The follower receives a recommendation whose independence and professional basis they can scarcely verify.

The brand buys reach. The influencer sells trust. In the end, the grower bears the risk.

Paid collaborations are not inherently wrong.

Experts, trade media and companies must also be able to operate economically.

The decisive question is whether a person acts transparently and can explain professionally why a recommendation makes sense.

Are disadvantages also mentioned?

Does the product fit the system shown?

What specific problem does it solve?

Would the recommendation also be made without payment?

Or is a problem constructed after the fact for every new collaboration—one that supposedly makes the advertised product indispensable?

These questions are asked far too rarely today

A culture became a target audience

For many people, cannabis was never simply a consumer product.

The grow scene did not emerge because large companies had discovered an attractive market.

It emerged from curiosity, personal responsibility, political resistance and a fascination with a plant that was persecuted and criminalized for decades.

People exchanged knowledge.

They preserved and shared genetics.

They partly built their own equipment.

They experimented, documented their work and supported one another because reliable information was difficult to access.

Of course, not everything was better in the past.

There was bro-science, ego, poor products and profiteering back then too.

Nevertheless, the underlying attitude was often different.

The aim was to become more independent.

Today, we increasingly experience the opposite.

Growers are confronted with ever-new products, devices and supposedly indispensable trends.

Another controller.

Another sensor.

Another booster.

Another app.

Another limited seed pack.

Another exclusive collaboration.

Another solution for a problem that may not have existed in the first place.

Technology can be useful.

Automation can improve processes.

Good genetics and high-quality equipment may cost money.

But not everything that can be sold is actually needed.

A functioning lamp does not need to be constantly adjusted via an app simply because a controller is available. A good system does not automatically improve because more and more devices and inputs are added.

Sometimes the professionally correct decision is to buy nothing new.

A scene that wanted to be independent

This change is particularly visible at large events.

There, people sometimes stand in line for a long time at the booths of large companies to collect free papers, lighters or other promotional items.

The individual lighter is obviously not the problem.

It is the symbol behind it.

A scene that once wanted to be independent now waits at corporate booths for free advertising.

At the same time, smaller developers, experts, activists and projects receive significantly less attention. Not because their work is inferior, but because they do not have access to the same budgets, stages and marketing mechanisms.

As a result, the loudest players become even more visible.

Those making the greatest professional contribution, by contrast, often remain in small communities, workshops, grows or laboratories.

This creates a distorted picture of the scene from the outside.

Perception is not shaped by the people with the most knowledge.

It is shaped by the people and companies with the greatest ability to buy attention.

Genetics are not a luxury accessory

The genetics market is also increasingly following the mechanisms of fashion, sneaker and lifestyle brands.

Limited drops, striking packaging, famous names, giveaways and artificial scarcity create an impression of exclusivity.

A high price is not automatic proof of quality.

Limited packaging is not proof of quality.

A prominent collaboration is not proof of quality either.

When it comes to genetics, other questions should be decisive:

How traceable is the breeding work?

Which parent lines were used?

Which traits were selected?

How stable—or deliberately variable—is the line?

What experience actually exists?

What is the buyer paying for?

Years of work and traceable selection—or primarily hype, packaging and a name?

Genetics are an essential part of this scene’s history and culture.

They have been preserved and passed on across generations under considerable personal risk.

They should be accessible, documented and offered fairly.

Genetics are part of the grow scene’s cultural heritage, not a sneaker drop.

Sustainability also means doing without

The grow scene uses the term sustainability very frequently today.

At the same time, the market for disposable products, short-lived technology, constantly changing inputs and increasingly complex systems is growing.

Sustainability does not begin with a green label, however.

It begins with the question:

Do I actually need this product?

A sustainable grow can mean using substrates for longer and continuing to develop them, buying durable technology, reducing packaging and using inputs deliberately rather than reflexively.

It can also mean understanding a simple system instead of having to stabilize an unnecessarily complex system indefinitely with additional technology.

Not every plant needs more products.

Not every setup needs more electronics.

Not every new trend improves the result.

Sustainability begins where we start questioning what we really need—not where the next product is sold to us as a sustainable innovation.

A conscious market does not emerge because we buy every product in environmentally styled packaging.

It emerges because we consume less, more selectively and with a longer-term perspective.

From community cultivation to the major market

The economic structure of the legal cannabis market is also changing the scene.

Medical supply is important. Patients need reliable access to tested products.

At the same time, it is obvious that large commercial structures have different capabilities from non-commercial community projects, small manufacturers or cultivation associations.

Capital enables large trade-show booths, advertising campaigns, influencer collaborations and professional distribution.

Community structures, by contrast, often work with limited resources, complex requirements and a high level of personal commitment.

As a result, the market is not automatically shaped by those who have carried cannabis culturally, politically or practically for decades.

It is often shaped by those who can scale fastest and buy the most attention.

This is not a conspiracy.

It is the normal logic of an emerging market.

That is precisely why a scene must defend its values itself.

Because a market has no memory.

It does not know who preserved the genetics, passed on the knowledge or fought for social change.

A market initially recognizes demand, target audiences and revenue potential.

A scene must be more than that.

A scene is more than a sales market

A vibrant grow scene does not emerge because everyone buys the same products.

It emerges because knowledge, experience, genetics and responsibility are passed on.

People do not all have to grow in the same way.

Not everyone has to grow organically, mineral-based or in Living Soil.

Not everyone has to prefer the same products, cultivars or political positions.

A scene thrives on different experiences, discussions and approaches.

What connects it, however, should be more than consumption.

We want a grow scene in which knowledge is not deliberately withheld so that a course, membership or product can be sold later.

A scene in which failures are documented as openly as successes.

A scene in which people explain why a method works and are equally honest about when it does not.

A scene in which quality matters more than packaging.

In which genetics are preserved and made fairly accessible.

In which sustainability is a genuine principle rather than a marketing term.

And in which the loudest person does not automatically determine what is considered truth.

CannaSelection is also a commercial market participant

Anyone who criticizes other market participants must state their own position openly.

CannaSelection sells products.

We want to grow, operate commercially and earn money from our work.

Earning money is not the problem.

The decisive question is whether a company emerges from the scene, assumes responsibility and delivers genuine value—or whether it views cannabis solely as an attractive market.

We are growers who built a company.

We did not first see a growing market and then look for a suitable story.

That is why we consciously try to make knowledge accessible independently of a purchase as well: through our Grow Lab, the Grow Doctor, mixing instructions, cultivation concepts, cultivar reviews, community work and political projects.

No one has to buy MicroBio+ or any other CannaSelection product to use this information.

We want to develop products that fulfill a clear, traceable function.

They should solve a specific problem or meaningfully complement a system.

They should not exist merely because a new trend can currently be marketed.

And they must not replace the grower’s own thinking.

Commercial activity is legitimate. It becomes problematic when the trust of a scene is monetized without giving anything professional, cultural or political back to it.

A strong community does not emerge because people become dependent on a brand.

It emerges because people learn to make their own decisions.

The scene does not need to return to the past

We are not calling for a romantic return to earlier times.

The old grow scene was not perfect.

There was misinformation, poor genetics, questionable products and people primarily interested in money or recognition back then too.

Professionalization is important.

We need good companies, transparent products, reliable analytics, professional advice and responsible medical care.

The scene does not need fewer companies.

It needs better companies.

It does not need fewer public figures.

It needs credible people with demonstrable expertise.

It does not need less content.

It needs content that empowers people instead of making them permanently dependent on the next recommendation.

Professionalization must not mean that follower counts become qualifications and marketing budgets become truth.

Perhaps we are more than it currently appears

Anyone scrolling through Instagram, opening YouTube or walking through a large trade show today can quickly get the impression that the grow scene consists only of self-promotion, discount codes, overpriced drops and new products.

But perhaps that is not the whole scene.

Perhaps people with a different attitude are simply less loud.

Perhaps there are still many growers for whom cannabis is more than consumption.

People who want to understand plants instead of merely showcasing maximum yields.

People who share knowledge without first converting every answer into reach or revenue.

People who want to preserve and make genetics accessible instead of turning them into luxury products through artificial scarcity.

People who would rather build a durable, functional system than chase every new trend.

People who understand sustainability as responsibility toward resources, plants and their own community.

We hope these people still exist.

And we believe there are considerably more of them than social networks currently make visible.

What kind of grow scene do we want to be?

The grow scene does not have to be defined by the largest accounts, the loudest people or the biggest advertising budgets.

It is also shaped by the people who decide whom they listen to, whom they trust and what they spend their money on.

That is why we should ask more often:

What is this recommendation based on?

What has this person developed, documented or learned themselves?

Can they explain connections, or do they merely repeat finished statements?

What specific benefit does the advertised product provide?

Do I really need it?

Which values do I support through my consumption?

And what kind of grow scene do I want to help shape?

Our conclusion

A large community is not evidence of expertise.

A professional video is not evidence that a statement is correct.

A brand collaboration is not a quality certificate.

And a confidently delivered statement does not become true simply because 200,000 people are listening to it.

Reach is not expertise.

Loudness is not knowledge.

And not everyone who talks about our scene is automatically part of it.

We want a grow scene in which knowledge matters more than reach.

In which quality matters more than hype.

In which genetics are preserved, documented and made fairly accessible.

In which sustainability matters more than the next sale.

And in which people are viewed not as a target audience, but as part of a community.

Perhaps considerably more people think this way than it currently appears.

If you also want a grow scene that is more than a sales market, share this post.

Not merely to serve an algorithm.

But so it becomes visible that there are still people who stand for knowledge, conviction, sustainability and genuine community.