Why AI Video Deepfakes Are Unethical

---

As artificial intelligence tools become increasingly sophisticated and accessible, a growing number of people are using them to create synthetic videos of deceased celebrities. These AI-generated deepfakes, often labeled as “tributes,” have featured stars like Farrah Fawcett—digitally resurrected, their faces reanimated and their legacies repurposed. On the surface, many of these projects appear harmless or even heartfelt. They’re not commercial ventures. There’s no profit motive. They are, ostensibly, created out of love, admiration, and a sense of nostalgia. But even when intentions are pure, the actions are problematic. The absence of profit does not equal the presence of consent.

Farrah Fawcett never agreed to become a deepfake. She never gave her blessing for her image to be fictionalized versions of her identity to be distributed online. She never chose to have her likeness placed in fabricated scenes in moments that never occurred. And she never consented to her identity being treated as raw material for digital video experimentation. And even though AI-generated tributes may claim to “honor” her, they do so by overriding control and use of her image.

​There’s a dangerous illusion at play in AI deepfakes: the illusion of presence. These creations simulate a person’s likeness so convincingly that viewers may feel as though they are seeing something authentic, even intimate. But these aren’t authentic performances. They’re synthetic approximations. They are scripts without souls. Movements without memories. Voices without volition.

To recreate someone’s face and voice without permission is not just ethically questionable—it’s invasive. And when the person in question is no longer alive to consent, question, or object, the offense becomes even more serious. It’s a posthumous violation of autonomy.

Some might argue that a well-intentioned video tribute can’t do harm. That admiration, in and of itself, is a kind of permission. But admiration without boundaries becomes entitlement. And well-meaning efforts can still leave wounds in their wake.

A synthetic performance has real-world implications. It can distort how we remember a person. It can rewrite cultural memory. It can even change the narrative of a public figure’s life and legacy by presenting fictional versions of them as plausible, even authentic. Over time, these simulations risk overshadowing the real person, replacing history with fan-made fiction.

Farrah Fawcett wasn’t just a pop culture icon—she was a multidimensional human being. While she first rose to fame as the poster-perfect blonde in Charlie’s Angels, she spent much of her career challenging that image. Her powerful, dramatic roles in The Burning Bed and Extremities showcased a woman pushing against the limitations of how Hollywood saw her—and how the public expected her to be.

To use AI video deepfakes to resurrect her solely for entertainment—especially without nuance or context—risks reducing her once again to just a surface. A digital puppet, rather than a complex, real person. This isn’t a step forward in preserving her legacy. It’s a step backward into the very box she spent her life trying to break out of.

For the people who truly knew Farrah—her family, her friends, her colleagues—these AI videos may be more unsettling than celebratory. Watching someone you love and miss be digitally revived without consent can feel like a desecration, not a dedication. It can prolong grief, confuse closure, and twist memory into something uncanny and hollow. We must remember that just because something is possible doesn’t mean it’s ethical.

AI can do remarkable things. But we must ask not only what it can do, but more importantly, what it shouldn’t. Creating a digital deepfake of someone who never consented to it—no matter how well-intentioned—is not a tribute. It’s exploitation masked as homage. It may come from a place of love, but that love must be informed by respect. Farrah Fawcett deserves to be remembered—not reprogrammed.

​Farrah Fawcett's legacy lives on in the performances that made her a cultural icon, in the interviews where her voice and personality shine through, and in the powerful impact she had on both the entertainment industry and the fight against cancer—a cause she championed with conviction. Honoring her means revisiting the real moments she shared with the world, recognizing the barriers she broke, and celebrating the lasting influence of her genuine work, not fabricated images or videos.

To those who have created AI videos out of admiration, this post is not meant to shame, but to challenge. To encourage reflection. To ask: If we truly love someone’s legacy, shouldn’t we preserve it as they left it? Because real tributes don’t speak for the dead. They listen to what was already said—and let that speak for itself.