Last month, film star-turned-politician Vijay Vasanth was campaigning under the unforgiving sun in an open jeep in Kanyakumari, a sleepy fishing town on mainland India's southernmost tip. He periodically waved to the fishermen lining both sides of the street. Sometimes, as the car slowed down, children would climb onto the hood and tug on his sleeve to get the candy he kept in the container in front of him.
It's a typical election campaign. And it's hard work.
But in a hyperwired world, that is no longer considered enough.
Vasant's campaign manager, a man in his 20s, pulls out his cell phone and shows a video of a gentleman in a crisp white kurta and a neatly folded scarf leaning back in a high chair. gave. He is the candidate's father, a local businessman and his H. Vasanth Kumar, a former MP from this constituency.
Except Kumar is no longer alive. He passed away from COVID-19 four years ago.
Kumar, who started his career as a salesman before starting a successful consumer goods company, usually had billboards with his image advertising his business posted all over Kanyakumari. His son's campaign team hopes to recreate those familiar images. “Even though I die, my soul is still with you,” Kumar explains in Tamil in the video. He went on to extol his son's virtues and said, “I assure you that his son Vijay will work for the betterment of Kanyakumari and the progress of our children.”
As elections are in full swing in India, the country's leading politicians and brand gurus are turning to artificial intelligence to revive the past and manage the future. Digital rights activists are questioning the ethics of using the voices and images of deceased politicians in elections. There is a rights issue. Who owns their legacy?—But more importantly, there is a humanizing side to so-called “soft fakes.” No one wants to speak ill of the deceased. Particularly in India, a culture has formed that only honors those who have passed away.
In January this year, M. Karunanidhi, a senior politician from the southern state of Tamil Nadu, appeared in an AI video for the first time at a meeting of the party's youth wing. In this clip, he wore the look he is best remembered for: a bright yellow scarf and oversized dark glasses. His head was also tilted slightly to one side to mimic a posture common in real life. Two days later, he reappeared at a ceremony to commemorate the publication of his colleague's memoir.
Mr. Karunanidhi passed away in 2018.
“The idea is to excite the party cadre,” Salem Dharanidharan, a spokesperson for the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK), the party that Mr. Karunanidhi led until his death, told me. “This excites older voters, including Mr Kalaignar.” [“Man of Letters,” as Karunanidhi was popularly called] You already have followers. It spreads his ideals among young voters who don't see enough of him. It also has an element of entertainment in recreating popular leaders who have passed away. ”
Countries around the world are struggling with similar dilemmas.
For example, Americans have banned robocalls, or AI-generated voice calls. A fake robocall imitating President Joe Biden's voice was used to persuade people not to vote in the New Hampshire primary. This cloning was likely done using his Eleven Lab, one of Silicon Valley's most successful startups. The company's technology was also used to generate an AI video of imprisoned former Pakistani Prime Minister Imran Khan. And it is open to everyone and does not require prior permission from the person being imitated. Eleven Labs separately classifies cloning used for “non-commercial purposes” such as politics or public debate.
But in India's hectic election season, all this is completely arcane and academic.
No one wants to speak ill of the deceased. Particularly in India, a culture has formed that only honors those who have passed away.
According to Dharanidharan, AI for politicians is just a mechanism, just like newspapers and printing presses were back then. “In the 1920s, our party used newspapers as a medium to spread its ideology. From the late 40s until the 80s, movies and movies were used. In the 90s, we used cable TV. But now AI is being used.
Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi is an early user of an AI app called Basini that translates his voice from Hindi to other languages in real time. Shashi Tharoor, a minister from the opposition Indian National Congress party, conducted an interview using an AI avatar. And as AI becomes mainstream, the first major spat between the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party and the Congress party led to police summons. Home Minister Amit Shah has altered a video of recently elected Telangana Chief Minister Revanth Reddy in Congress using deepfake technology to distort Shah's views on affirmative action quotas.
Unsurprisingly, a new business that prides itself on offering the ultimate guide to creating deepfakes is suddenly in high demand.
But as the lines between what's real and what's fake become blurred, manipulation is rapidly becoming more difficult and far more dire than when misinformation was exchanged through text messages and WhatsApp forwards. There is. Two of India's biggest movie stars had to deny that they had sent messages urging people to vote against the ruling party.
Voters are currently receiving phone calls from people who appear to be their local representatives and are having serious conversations about the most pressing issues in their area, but they are not actually making phone calls.
The full impact of AI on voting choices may not be understood this election cycle. But if effective public communication was once about human connection and authenticity, generative AI seems to have turned that assumption on its head.
