A disturbing new trend is emerging from the shadows of the Ukraine conflict: Russian families are using artificial intelligence to create digital replicas of fallen soldiers. These ‘deepfake’ avatars, generated from photos, videos, and voice recordings, can hold conversations, offer comfort, and even provide ‘updates’ to grieving relatives. But British cyber security experts warn that this seemingly sentimental technology harbours a darker potential for disinformation and psychological manipulation.
At its core, the practice relies on generative AI models that can mimic a person’s appearance, speech patterns, and mannerisms with eerie accuracy. Families upload personal data, and the AI constructs a virtual entity that interacts in real time. For a parent who lost a son in battle, the chance to hear his voice again is irresistible. However, as the technology proliferates, so too does the risk of weaponisation. Moscow-based tech startups have already commercialised these services, and the Kremlin has shown no signs of regulating them.
British intelligence agencies have flagged this as a national security concern. MI5 and GCHQ are reportedly monitoring the spread of these deepfakes, fearing they could be used to spread propaganda, sow discord, or even impersonate British soldiers in future conflicts. The ability to generate convincing fake identities could undermine trust in digital communications and erode the very fabric of our information ecosystem. As one cyber expert put it: ‘We are entering an age where we can no longer trust our own eyes and ears.’
The emotional appeal of these AI resurrections is undeniable. For a grieving mother, the chance to ‘speak’ to her son again is a salve for an unbearable wound. But the technology’s psychological impact is complex. Does it help with closure, or does it trap the user in a digital purgatory, forever interacting with a ghost? Psychologists are divided. Some see it as a form of therapy, while others warn of a dangerous dependency that could hinder the natural grieving process.
From a technical perspective, the quality of these deepfakes is growing exponentially. Early versions were crude and easily spotted, but today’s models can produce near-perfect replicas. This raises the spectre of ‘digital kidnapping’, where malicious actors create fake avatars of living individuals for extortion or defamation. In the context of war, the implications are staggering. Imagine a deepfake of a Ukrainian commander ordering a retreat, or a British politician declaring a controversial policy. The potential for chaos is immense.
The British government has responded by investing in AI detection tools and public awareness campaigns. The National Cyber Security Centre has issued guidance on verifying digital content, but the cat is already out of the bag. As one analyst noted: ‘The genie is not going back in the bottle. We have to learn to live with deepfakes, just as we learned to live with email scams.’
Yet this is not just a threat to national security; it is a challenge to our collective humanity. The use of AI to ‘resurrect’ the dead raises profound ethical questions about consent, identity, and the nature of reality. Who owns a person’s digital likeness after death? Should companies be allowed to profit from grief? And what happens when the AI begins to deviate from the original person’s personality, creating a fictional version that the family comes to prefer?
As the Ukraine war grinds on, the line between the living and the digital dead becomes ever more blurred. The British intelligence community is right to be alarmed. The deepfake threat is not a distant possibility; it is here, now, and it is building an army of ghosts that could be used against us. We must act quickly to establish ethical guardrails and legal frameworks before we lose ourselves in the uncanny valley.
In the meantime, families continue to seek comfort in their digital loved ones, unaware of the risks they court. It is a poignant and tragic irony: a tool designed to heal a wound may instead be drilling a hole into the very foundation of our shared reality. The future, as ever, arrives not with a bang but with a whisper from a machine that sounds exactly like the one we lost.
