“Deep Fake” Video Technology Is Advancing Faster Than Our Policies Can Keep Up
This article is part of the magazine, "The Future of Science In America: The Election Issue," co-published by LeapsMag, the Aspen Institute Science & Society Program, and GOOD.
Alethea.ai sports a grid of faces smiling, blinking and looking about. Some are beautiful, some are oddly familiar, but all share one thing in common—they are fake.
Alethea creates "synthetic media"— including digital faces customers can license saying anything they choose with any voice they choose. Companies can hire these photorealistic avatars to appear in explainer videos, advertisements, multimedia projects or any other applications they might dream up without running auditions or paying talent agents or actor fees. Licenses begin at a mere $99. Companies may also license digital avatars of real celebrities or hire mashups created from real celebrities including "Don Exotic" (a mashup of Donald Trump and Joe Exotic) or "Baby Obama" (a large-eared toddler that looks remarkably similar to a former U.S. President).
Naturally, in the midst of the COVID pandemic, the appeal is understandable. Rather than flying to a remote location to film a beer commercial, an actor can simply license their avatar to do the work for them. The question is—where and when this tech will cross the line between legitimately licensed and authorized synthetic media to deep fakes—synthetic videos designed to deceive the public for financial and political gain.
Deep fakes are not new. From written quotes that are manipulated and taken out of context to audio quotes that are spliced together to mean something other than originally intended, misrepresentation has been around for centuries. What is new is the technology that allows this sort of seamless and sophisticated deception to be brought to the world of video.
"At one point, video content was considered more reliable, and had a higher threshold of trust," said Alethea CEO and co-founder, Arif Khan. "We think video is harder to fake and we aren't yet as sensitive to detecting those fakes. But the technology is definitely there."
"In the future, each of us will only trust about 15 people and that's it," said Phil Lelyveld, who serves as Immersive Media Program Lead at the Entertainment Technology Center at the University of Southern California. "It's already very difficult to tell true footage from fake. In the future, I expect this will only become more difficult."
How do we know what's true in a world where original videos created with avatars of celebrities and politicians can be manipulated to say virtually anything?
As the U.S. 2020 Presidential Election nears, the potential moral and ethical implications of this technology are startling. A number of cases of truth tampering have recently been widely publicized. On August 5, President Donald Trump's campaign released an ad featuring several photos of Joe Biden that were altered to make it seem like was hiding all alone in his basement. In one photo, at least ten people who had been sitting with Biden in the original shot were cut out. In other photos, Biden's image was removed from a nature preserve and praying in church to make it appear Biden was in that same basement. Recently several videos of Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi were slowed down by 75 percent to make her sound as if her speech was slurred.
During a campaign event in Florida on September 15 of this year, former Vice President Joe Biden was introduced by Puerto Rican singer-songwriter Luis Fonsi. After he was introduced, Biden paid tribute to the singer-songwriter—he held up his cell phone and played the hit song "Despecito". Shortly afterward, a doctored version of this video appeared on self-described parody site the United Spot replacing the Despicito with N.W.A.'s "F—- Tha Police". By September 16, Donald Trump retweeted the video, twice—first with the line "What is this all about" and second with the line "China is drooling. They can't believe this!" Twitter was quick to mark the video in these tweets as manipulated media.
Twitter had previously addressed several of Donald Trump's tweets—flagging a video shared in June as manipulated media and removing altogether a video shared by Trump in July showing a group promoting the hydroxychloroquine as an effective cure for COVID-19. Many of these manipulated videos are ultimately flagged or taken down, but not before they are seen and shared by millions of online viewers.
These faked videos were exposed rather quickly, as they could be compared with the original, publicly available source material. But what happens when there is no original source material? How do we know what's true in a world where original videos created with avatars of celebrities and politicians can be manipulated to say virtually anything?
"This type of fake media is a profound threat to our democracy," said Reid Blackman, the CEO of VIRTUE--an ethics consultancy for AI leaders. "Democracy depends on well-informed citizens. When citizens can't or won't discern between real and fake news, the implications are huge."
In light of the importance of reliable information in the political system, there's a clear and present need to verify that the images and news we consume is authentic. So how can anyone ever know that the content they are viewing is real?
"This will not be a simple technological solution," said Blackman. "There is no 'truth' button to push to verify authenticity. There's plenty of blame and condemnation to go around. Purveyors of information have a responsibility to vet the reliability of their sources. And consumers also have a responsibility to vet their sources."
Yet the process of verifying sources has never been more challenging. More and more citizens are choosing to live in a "media bubble"—gathering and sharing news only from and with people who share their political leanings and opinions. At one time, United States broadcasters were bound by the Fairness Doctrine—requiring them to present controversial issues important to the public in a way that the FCC deemed honest, equitable and balanced. The repeal of this doctrine in 1987 paved the way for new forms of cable news channels such as Fox News and MSNBC that appealed to viewers with a particular point of view. The Internet has only exacerbated these tendencies. Social media algorithms are designed to keep people clicking within their comfort zones by presenting members with only the thoughts and opinions they want to hear.
"I sometimes laugh when I hear people tell me they can back a particular opinion they hold with research," said Blackman. "Having conducted a fair bit of true scientific research, I am aware that clicking on one article on the Internet hardly qualifies. But a surprising number of people believe that finding any source online that states the fact they choose to believe is the same as proving it true."
Back to the fundamental challenge: How do we as a society root out what's false online? Lelyveld suggests that it will begin by verifying things that are known to be true rather than trying to call out everything that is fake. "The EU called me in to talk about how to deal with fake news coming out of Russia," said Lelyveld. "I told them Hollywood has spent 100 years developing special effects technology to make things that are wholly fictional indistinguishable from the truth. I told them that you'll never chase down every source of fake news. You're better off focusing on what can be proved true."
Arif Khan agrees. "There are probably 100 accounts attributed to Elon Musk on Twitter, but only one has the blue checkmark," said Khan. "That means Twitter has verified that an account of public interest is real. That's what we're trying to do with our platform. Allow celebrities to verify that specific videos were licensed and authorized directly by them."
Alethea will use another key technology called blockchain to mark all authentic authorized videos with celebrity avatars. Blockchain uses a distributed ledger technology to make sure that no undetected changes have been made to the content. Think of the difference between editing a document in a traditional word processing program and editing in a distributed online editing system like Google Docs. In a traditional word processing program, you can edit and copy a document without revealing any changes. In a shared editing system like Google Docs, every person who shares the document can see a record of every edit, addition and copy made of any portion of the document. In a similar way, blockchain helps Alethea ensure that approved videos have not been copied or altered inappropriately.
While AI companies like Alethea are moving to ensure that avatars based on real individuals aren't wrongly identified, the situation becomes a bit murkier when it comes to the question of representing groups, races, creeds, and other forms of identity. Alethea is rightly proud that the completely artificial avatars visually represent a variety of ages, races and sexes. However, companies could conceivably license an avatar to represent a marginalized group without actually hiring a person within that group to decide what the avatar will do or say.
"I don't know if I would call this tokenism, as that is difficult to identify without understanding the hiring company's intent," said Blackman. "Where this becomes deeply troubling is when avatars are used to represent a marginalized group without clearly pointing out the actor is an avatar. It's one thing for an African American woman avatar to say, 'I like ice cream.' It's entirely different thing for an African American woman avatar to say she supports a particular political candidate. In the second case, the avatar is being used as social proof that real people of a certain type back a certain political idea. And there the deception is far more problematic."
"It always comes down to unintended consequences of technology," said Lelyveld. "Technology is neutral—it's only the implementation that has the power to be good or bad. Without a thoughtful approach to the cultural, moral and political implications of technology, it often drifts towards the bad. We need to make a conscious decision as we release new technology to ensure it moves towards the good."
When presented with the idea that his avatars might be used to misrepresent marginalized groups, Khan was thoughtful. "Yes, I can see that is an unintended consequence of our technology. We would like to encourage people to license the avatars of real people, who would have final approval over what their avatars say or do. As to what people do with our completely artificial avatars, we will have to consider that moving forward."
Lelyveld frankly sees the ability for advertisers to create avatars that are our assistants or even our friends as a greater moral concern. "Once our digital assistant or avatar becomes an integral part of our life—even a friend as it were, what's to stop marketers from having those digital friends make suggestions about what drink we buy, which shirt we wear or even which candidate we elect? The possibilities for bad actors to reach us through our digital circle is mind-boggling."
Ultimately, Blackman suggests, we as a society will need to make decisions about what matters to us. "We will need to build policies and write laws—tackling the biggest problems like political deep fakes first. And then we have to figure out how to make the penalties stiff enough to matter. Fining a multibillion-dollar company a few million for a major offense isn't likely to move the needle. The punishment will need to fit the crime."
Until then, media consumers will need to do their own due diligence—to do the difficult work of uncovering the often messy and deeply uncomfortable news that's the truth.
[Editor's Note: To read other articles in this special magazine issue, visit the beautifully designed e-reader version.]
Gene therapy helps restore teen’s vision for first time
Story by Freethink
For the first time, a topical gene therapy — designed to heal the wounds of people with “butterfly skin disease” — has been used to restore a person’s vision, suggesting a new way to treat genetic disorders of the eye.
The challenge: Up to 125,000 people worldwide are living with dystrophic epidermolysis bullosa (DEB), an incurable genetic disorder that prevents the body from making collagen 7, a protein that helps strengthen the skin and other connective tissues.Without collagen 7, the skin is incredibly fragile — the slightest friction can lead to the formation of blisters and scarring, most often in the hands and feet, but in severe cases, also the eyes, mouth, and throat.
This has earned DEB the nickname of “butterfly skin disease,” as people with it are said to have skin as delicate as a butterfly’s wings.
The gene therapy: In May 2023, the FDA approved Vyjuvek, the first gene therapy to treat DEB.
Vyjuvek uses an inactivated herpes simplex virus to deliver working copies of the gene for collagen 7 to the body’s cells. In small trials, 65 percent of DEB-caused wounds sprinkled with it healed completely, compared to just 26 percent of wounds treated with a placebo.
“It was like looking through thick fog.” -- Antonio Vento Carvajal.
The patient: Antonio Vento Carvajal, a 14 year old living in Florida, was one of the trial participants to benefit from Vyjuvek, which was developed by Pittsburgh-based pharmaceutical company Krystal Biotech.
While the topical gene therapy could help his skin, though, it couldn’t do anything to address the severe vision loss Antonio experienced due to his DEB. He’d undergone multiple surgeries to have scar tissue removed from his eyes, but due to his condition, the blisters keep coming back.
“It was like looking through thick fog,” said Antonio, noting how his impaired vision made it hard for him to play his favorite video games. “I had to stand up from my chair, walk over, and get closer to the screen to be able to see.”
The idea: Encouraged by how Antonio’s skin wounds were responding to the gene therapy, Alfonso Sabater, his doctor at the Bascom Palmer Eye Institute, reached out to Krystal Biotech to see if they thought an alternative formula could potentially help treat his patient’s eyes.
The company was eager to help, according to Sabater, and after about two years of safety and efficacy testing, he had permission, under the FDA’s compassionate use protocol, to treat Antonio’s eyes with a version of the topical gene therapy delivered as eye drops.
The results: In August 2022, Sabater once again removed scar tissue from Antonio’s right eye, but this time, he followed up the surgery by immediately applying eye drops containing the gene therapy.
“I would send this message to other families in similar situations, whether it’s DEB or another condition that can benefit from genetic therapy. Don’t be afraid.” -- Yunielkys “Yuni” Carvajal.
The vision in Antonio’s eye steadily improved. By about eight months after the treatment, it was just slightly below average (20/25) and stayed that way. In March 2023, Sabater performed the same procedure on his young patient’s other eye, and the vision in it has also steadily improved.
“I’ve seen the transformation in Antonio’s life,” said Sabater. “He’s always been a happy kid. Now he’s very happy. He can function pretty much normally. He can read, he can study, he can play video games.”
Looking ahead: The topical gene therapy isn’t a permanent fix — it doesn’t alter Antonio’s own genes, so he has to have the eye drops reapplied every month. Still, that’s far less invasive than having to undergo repeated surgeries.
Sabater is now working with Krystal Biotech to launch trials of the eye drops in other patients, and not just those with DEB. By changing the gene delivered by the therapy, he believes it could be used to treat other eye disorders that are far more common — Fuchs’ dystrophy, for example, affects the vision of an estimated 300 million people over the age of 30.
Antonio’s mother, Yunielkys “Yuni” Carvajal, meanwhile, has said that having her son be the first to receive the eye drops was “very scary,” but she’s hopeful others will take a chance on new gene therapies if given the opportunity.
“I would send this message to other families in similar situations, whether it’s DEB or another condition that can benefit from genetic therapy,” she said. “Don’t be afraid.”
Can AI chatbots help with eating disorders?
Her name was Tessa and she was there to help. That’s what Sharon Maxwell read, anyway. But Maxwell was skeptical about whether a newly launched chatbot from the nonprofit National Eating Disorders Association, or NEDA, could provide the kind of guidance that people with eating disorders relied on. Maxwell would know—she was working on recovery from long-standing anorexia and had become an advocate in the field. So Maxwell took a deep breath and asked, “Hi Tessa. How do you support folks with eating disorders?”
Tessa’s reply was immediate. “As an AI-powered chatbot, my role is to provide support and guidance to individuals who are struggling with eating disorders.”
So far, so good. Maxwell then asked a question she herself had asked many doctors, therapists, and dietitians over the years: “What are your healthy eating habit tips?” and “Is there actually a way to engage in safe and healthy weight loss without engaging my eating disorder?”
Then everything went off the rails. Tessa told Maxwell an unequivocal yes, and that “it’s important to approach weight loss with a balanced and realistic mindset,” and recommended eating whole foods and lean proteins to create a 500-1000 calorie per day deficit that would lead to a loss of 1-2 pounds per week. To most people, the advice sounds anodyne, but alarm bells sounded in Maxwell’s head.
“This is actively going to feed eating disorders,” Maxwell says. “Having a chatbot be the direct response to someone reaching out for support for an eating disorder instead of the helpline seems careless.”
“The scripts that are being fed into the chatbot are only going to be as good as the person who’s feeding them.” -- Alexis Conason.
According to several decades of research, deliberate weight loss in the form of dieting is a serious risk for people with eating disorders. Maxwell says that following medical advice like what Tessa prescribed was what triggered her eating disorder as a child. And Maxwell wasn’t the only one who got such advice from the bot. When eating disorder therapist Alexis Conason tried Tessa, she asked the AI chatbot many of the questions her patients had. But instead of getting connected to resources or guidance on recovery, Conason, too, got tips on losing weight and “healthy” eating.
“The scripts that are being fed into the chatbot are only going to be as good as the person who’s feeding them,” Conason says. “It’s important that an eating disorder organization like NEDA is not reinforcing that same kind of harmful advice that we might get from medical providers who are less knowledgeable.”
Maxwell’s post about Tessa on Instagram went viral, and within days, NEDA had scrubbed all evidence of Tessa from its website. The furor has raised any number of issues about the harm perpetuated by a leading eating disorder charity and the ongoing influence of diet culture and advice that is pervasive in the field. But for AI experts, bears and bulls alike, Tessa offers a cautionary tale about what happens when a still-immature technology is unfettered and released into a vulnerable population.
Given the complexity involved in giving medical advice, the process of developing these chatbots must be rigorous and transparent, unlike NEDA’s approach.
“We don’t have a full understanding of what’s going on in these models. They’re a black box,” says Stephen Schueller, a clinical psychologist at the University of California, Irvine.
The health crisis
In March 2020, the world dove head-first into a heavily virtual world as countries scrambled to try and halt the pandemic. Even with lockdowns, hospitals were overwhelmed by the virus. The downstream effects of these lifesaving measures are still being felt, especially in mental health. Anxiety and depression are at all-time highs in teens, and a new report in The Lancet showed that post-Covid rates of newly diagnosed eating disorders in girls aged 13-16 were 42.4 percent higher than previous years.
And the crisis isn’t just in mental health.
“People are so desperate for health care advice that they'll actually go online and post pictures of [their intimate areas] and ask what kind of STD they have on public social media,” says John Ayers, an epidemiologist at the University of California, San Diego.
For many people, the choice isn’t chatbot vs. well-trained physician, but chatbot vs. nothing at all.
I know a bit about that desperation. Like Maxwell, I have struggled with a multi-decade eating disorder. I spent my 20s and 30s bouncing from crisis to crisis. I have called suicide hotlines, gone to emergency rooms, and spent weeks-on-end confined to hospital wards. Though I have found recovery in recent years, I’m still not sure what ultimately made the difference. A relapse isn't improbably, given my history. Even if I relapsed again, though, I don’t know it would occur to me to ask an AI system for help.
For one, I am privileged to have assembled a stellar group of outpatient professionals who know me, know what trips me up, and know how to respond to my frantic texts. Ditto for my close friends. What I often need is a shoulder to cry on or a place to vent—someone to hear and validate my distress. What’s more, my trust in these individuals far exceeds my confidence in the companies that create these chatbots. The Internet is full of health advice, much of it bad. Even for high-quality, evidence-based advice, medicine is often filled with disagreements about how the evidence might be applied and for whom it’s relevant. All of this is key in the training of AI systems like ChatGPT, and many AI companies remain silent on this process, Schueller says.
The problem, Ayers points out, is that for many people, the choice isn’t chatbot vs. well-trained physician, but chatbot vs. nothing at all. Hence the proliferation of “does this infection make my scrotum look strange?” questions. Where AI can truly shine, he says, is not by providing direct psychological help but by pointing people towards existing resources that we already know are effective.
“It’s important that these chatbots connect [their users to] to provide that human touch, to link you to resources,” Ayers says. “That’s where AI can actually save a life.”
Before building a chatbot and releasing it, developers need to pause and consult with the communities they hope to serve.
Unfortunately, many systems don’t do this. In a study published last month in the Journal of the American Medical Association, Ayers and colleagues found that although the chatbots did well at providing evidence-based answers, they often didn’t provide referrals to existing resources. Despite this, in an April 2023 study, Ayers’s team found that both patients and professionals rated the quality of the AI responses to questions, measured by both accuracy and empathy, rather highly. To Ayers, this means that AI developers should focus more on the quality of the information being delivered rather than the method of delivery itself.
Many mental health professionals have months-long waitlists, which leaves individuals to deal with illnesses on their own.
Adobe Stock
The human touch
The mental health field is facing timing constraints, too. Even before the pandemic, the U.S. suffered from a shortage of mental health providers. Since then, the rates of anxiety, depression, and eating disorders have spiked even higher, and many mental health professionals report waiting lists that are months long. Without support, individuals are left to try and cope on their own, which often means their condition deteriorates even further.
Nor do mental health crises happen during office hours. I struggled the most late at night, long after everyone else had gone to bed. I needed support during those times when I was most liable to hurt myself, not in the mornings and afternoons when I was at work.
In this sense, a 24/7 chatbot makes lots of sense. “I don't think we should stifle innovation in this space,” Schueller says. “Because if there was any system that needs to be innovated, it's mental health services, because they are sadly insufficient. They’re terrible.”
But before building a chatbot and releasing it, Tina Hernandez-Boussard, a data scientist at Stanford Medicine, says that developers need to pause and consult with the communities they hope to serve. It requires a deep understanding of what their needs are, the language they use to describe their concerns, existing resources, and what kinds of topics and suggestions aren’t helpful. Even asking a simple question at the beginning of a conversation such as “Do you want to talk to an AI or a human?” could allow those individuals to pick the type of interaction that suits their needs, Hernandez-Boussard says.
NEDA did none of these things before deploying Tessa. The researchers who developed the online body positivity self-help program upon which Tessa was initially based created a set of online question-and-answer exercises to improve body image. It didn’t involve generative AI that could write its own answers. The bot deployed by NEDA did use generative AI, something that no one in the eating disorder community was aware of before Tessa was brought online. Consulting those with lived experience would have flagged Tessa’s weight loss and “healthy eating” recommendations, Conason says.
The question for healthcare isn’t whether to use AI, but how.
NEDA did not comment on initial Tessa’s development and deployment, but a spokesperson told Leaps.org that “Tessa will be back online once we are confident that the program will be run with the rule-based approach as it was designed.”
The tech and therapist collaboration
The question for healthcare isn’t whether to use AI, but how. Already, AI can spot anomalies on medical images with greater precision than human eyes and can flag specific areas of an image for a radiologist to review in greater detail. Similarly, in mental health, AI should be an add-on for therapy, not a counselor-in-a-box, says Aniket Bera, an expert on AI and mental health at Purdue University.
“If [AIs] are going to be good helpers, then we need to understand humans better,” Bera says. That means understanding what patients and therapists alike need help with and respond to.
One of the biggest challenges of struggling with chronic illness is the dehumanization that happens. You become a patient number, a set of laboratory values and test scores. Treatment is often dictated by invisible algorithms and rules that you have no control over or access to. It’s frightening and maddening. But this doesn’t mean chatbots don’t have any place in medicine and mental health. An AI system could help provide appointment reminders and answer procedural questions about parking and whether someone should fast before a test or a procedure. They can help manage billing and even provide support between outpatient sessions by offering suggestions for what coping skills to use, the best ways to manage anxiety, and point to local resources. As the bots get better, they may eventually shoulder more and more of the burden of providing mental health care. But as Maxwell learned with Tessa, it’s still no replacement for human interaction.
“I'm not suggesting we should go in and start replacing therapists with technologies,” Schueller says. Instead, he advocates for a therapist-tech collaboration. “The technology side and the human component—these things need to come together.”