Copyright dailymail
He's jacked. He's loud. He's everywhere online. And for millions of young men desperate to 'get shredded,' Dr Mike Israetel is nothing short of a digital messiah – a muscle-bound guru whose booming Renaissance Periodization (RP) brand has made him one of the biggest faces in modern fitness. But behind the Michigan-based 41-year-old's swaggering persona and scientific branding, a darker picture is emerging. A growing chorus of fellow influencers, analysts and critics say the Russian-born powerlifter is not the iron-clad expert he claims to be – branding him an arrogant 'Alpha Bro' and the 'biggest academic sham in fitness.' Israetel shoots from the hip and hides nothing. He posts. He flexes. He brags. He lectures. And he does it all while running a fitness empire reportedly earning up to $5million a month from his flagship RP app, supported by millions more in sponsorships, book sales, academic gigs, and YouTube revenue. But the louder he gets, the louder the backlash becomes. At first glance, Israetel's credentials look rock-solid. He holds a doctorate in Sport Physiology from East Tennessee State University, has served as a professor at several universities and has consulted at a US Olympic Training Site. He's 5ft 6in and typically weighs around 230lbs – a compact slab of muscle with a bodybuilder's bulk and a fighter's aggression. He wrestled in high school. He lifts like a man possessed. He jokes like a man who knows his audience. His RP brand, built on 'scientifically grounded' training and diet plans, dominates the online fitness world. The RP YouTube channel has 3.8million subscribers. His personal social-media accounts add another 1.5million. Among his fans are other big names in the industry, from US weightlifter Jes Franklin to his frequent collaborator Dr. James Hoffmann. Israetel refers to himself as both a genius and a pioneer. And sometimes he goes even further. 'I'm both on a raw IQ scale, smarter than almost every coach, maybe every coach,' he declares in one video. 'And I know more about physiology, body responses, than they do.' Those kinds of claims have turned Israetel into a hero for some – and a red flag for others. What truly unnerves critics is Israetel's open discussion of anabolic steroid use, a topic that shadows every corner of the online fitness world. Unlike many influencers, he doesn't hide it. He speaks bluntly about his own steroid use. He explains exactly why he takes them. And he never pretends they're safe. In one video, he frames performance-enhancing drugs as a kind of superpower. 'The ability to use chemicals, pharmaceuticals, atoms and molecules to upgrade your abilities is straight up comic book,' he said. 'I'm 100 percent for it.' He tells his followers that steroids build muscle fast – fast enough to feed what he openly calls his 'nerd' side. But then comes the opposite message, equally blunt and far more troubling: He admits to 'foggy' thinking, anxiety, and mental strain. 'All I feel is rage and frustration and anxiety, that's my daily life,' he says in another video. He warns that steroids can shorten lifespans, damage the liver, wreck mental health, and raise blood pressure. They're a controlled substance under US law, meaning it's illegal to possess, use, or distribute them without a valid prescription. And yet – even with these warnings – his critics say the subtext is irresistibly seductive for young men: If you want to 'get jacked' fast, drugs work. The Daily Mail reviewed dozens of Israetel's videos, posts, and interviews. A consistent theme emerged: a fixation on gaining muscle as the gateway to female attention and social status. In one clip filmed on the gym floor, Israetel shrugs off personality and intelligence as irrelevant. 'Nobody out here likes intelligence. I've never met a single girl who I was convinced was actually attracted to intelligence,' he said. Critics say this rhetoric – tying masculinity, romance and self-worth to extreme physical development – is deeply problematic for the millions of young men in his audience. His RP training system sells the promise of transformation: 'Get jacked fast' for his subscription fee of $30 a month. It is straightforward, simple and seductive. But to his disillusioned viewers who come away without miracle results, a chilling underlying message can be inferred: If natural training doesn't get you there, chemicals will. Israetel has long made a sport of mocking rivals. He calls out 'fake natties' – those who secretly uses performance enhancing drugs, but claim their muscles are down to 'natural' exercise, diet and protein powder. He ridicules other experts. He blasts what he sees as stupidity in the fitness world. But now the backlash has arrived – hard. In September, fitness commentator and industry analyst Solomon Nelson released a scathing one-hour takedown of Israetel's academic history, calling him the 'biggest academic sham in fitness.' Nelson took aim at Israetel's PhD dissertation, calling it 'sloppy, shallow and confused,' accusing it of adding nothing to science, containing writing errors, and even featuring allegedly 'copy-pasted' data. He described the paper as 'a morass of conceptual confusion' and said Israetel suffers from 'delusions of grandeur.' 'How is it that a purported exercise scientist with a PhD in the field can make such unscientific, irresponsible and absurd claims?' Nelson asked. Israetel fired back, insisting critics were reviewing an early draft, not the final dissertation. Speaking with fellow YouTuber Dr Milo Wolf, he described his dissertation as 'decent,' calling it a collaborative effort with others and just one step on his academic and professional career. But the online damage was done. Reddit threads exploded. YouTube analysts pounced. And suddenly, the man who mocked everyone else was under the microscope himself. Israetel's rise – and the furor around him – highlights the chaos of the modern fitness world. For every evidence-based coach teaching sustainable habits, there are viral personalities selling 'hacks,' extreme transformations and supplements of dubious value. There are steroid-enhanced influencers who refuse to admit drug use while preaching discipline. There are programs promising six-packs in two weeks; and coaches encouraging excessive bulking, starvation cuts, or dangerous SARMs, the next-generation of steroid-type drugs. And the casualties – psychological and physical – are real. Young men scroll for hours, comparing themselves to chemically-enhanced bodies maintained only for photoshoots. The results are everything from body dysmorphia to injuries, disillusionment, unrealistic expectations and shattered dreams. In this world, Israetel is both a symptom and a symbol: A brilliant marketer, a charismatic educator, a provocative showman, a steroid user who warns about steroids, and a scientist whose science is disputed. He's a guru to millions – and a growing target for critics. Whether Israetel is a misunderstood expert, an overconfident provocateur, or something far more concerning depends on who you ask. Israetel's team did not respond to our requests for comment. What's certain is his influence is enormous – and his message reaches young men at a time when body image, masculinity and mental health are more fragile than ever.
