The other day I got a message from a friend asking if a picture of President Donald Trump using a walker was real. Because they knew I spend most of my days working for very political groups, most prominently the anti-Trump organization The Lincoln Project, they figured I would be a good source for verification.
Despite wishing otherwise, I had to tell them it was not real. The image circulating the internet is AI-generated to make Trump look even older and weaker than he is.
The increased use of artificial intelligence has added jet fuel to deepfakes and conspiracy theories that have plagued the political landscape over the past decade. Once relegated to backwater, dark web corners of the internet, misleading photos and videos have inundated almost every area of our online lives.
Much of it now relies on stealing likenesses of popular social media influencers. For example, my colleague at The Lincoln Project, Rick Wilson, has hosted multiple podcasts and video streams for years. His tireless work has earned The Lincoln Project millions of podcast subscribers and followers on social meda sites like YouTube, Bluesky and Twitter/X.
When random YouTube channels began publishing videos of Wilson purportedly launching into one of his beloved tirades against Trump, we took notice. Everything about the videos seemed just a little off. Facial features too smooth; the voice just a pitch high; movements that were sometimes jumpy as if pixelating.
Each video had been AI-generated.
Not just a snippet or soundbite. Entire 15-, 20- and 30-minute videos. None of it was anything Wilson had ever said or filmed himself, but close enough in likeness that a casual observer may not realize the difference.
For people who may play podcasts in the background while they work — something I happen to be doing while writing this column — the general tone and subject matter were close enough that the fakes could easily go undetected by divided attention.
Using the thousands of hours Wilson has put into videos developing his following and brand, AI created something entirely new. A few directed instructions and it had weaponized his own content. Those videos garnered hundreds of thousands, cumulatively millions, of views.
The rapidity of content theft is juxtaposed by the sluggish response to the platforms where the electronic heists take place. For example, YouTube only accepts complaints from its standard online form submission. There is little space for explanation and it does not handle multiple videos on the same channel well.
Worse, it gets sent off into an abyss and whether or not anything comes of it, they do not notify you. In the best-case scenario, the videos disappear after several weeks.
Of course, it is not just Wilson and The Lincoln Project. If you want to see one of YouTube’s top legal influencers absolutely lose his mind over the same issue and the same treatment from YouTube, spend 15 minutes watching Devin “Legal Eagle” Stone. His voice goes up about an octave every minute or so as he gets more and more exasperated.
Really, anyone who has put in the time and effort to garner a large following becomes a target.
While these stories are very personal for the people who have their likenesses stolen — and potentially face financial losses and other repercussions — the problem becomes compounded when it corrupts the entire political ecosystem. Americans have long distrusted candidates and politicians; adding in actual fake content makes most simply throw their hands in the air in surrender.
The irony is much of the problem originated with people who fomented skepticism in trusted sources of news. For decades right-wing pundits have lambasted “mainstream media” in an effort to build their own loyal following. Trump supercharged the effort by denigrating any critical media outlet as “fake news” — a term he co-opted from reporters who were methodically debunking conspiracy theories of his ardent supporters.
As more and more people stopped getting their news from nightly broadcast anchors and seasoned newspaper reporters, they turned to Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. Originally each site invested heavily in combating lies and disinformation on their platforms. More recently, as Trump and his cronies recharacterized such efforts as “censorship,” they simply gave up. They could spend less money to leave people to their own devices.
Now we find ourselves drowning in a sea of inaccuracy and misleading posts. Both those looking to make quick money and those with more nefarious plans to affect election outcomes have found us easy marks.
They can churn out content without fear of accountability. And that is before we even start talking about chatbots, which MIT found to be more persuasive than political advertisements for candidates — and full of misinformation.
There are some bright spots.
I recently came across guidance on the Colorado Secretary of State’s website that references deepfakes. At least the state recognizes the danger and is doing what it can to make changes. Until then we can expect more questions from more voters — and fewer actual people with the answers.
Mario Nicolais is an attorney and columnist who writes on law enforcement, the legal system, health care and public policy. Follow him on BlueSky: @MarioNicolais.bsky.social.
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