Brands are quietly deploying AI-generated fake influencers to sell you products—and binding the people who build them with non-disclosure agreements so you never find out the difference. Meanwhile, the working-class communities who were promised economic relief are watching their livelihoods slip further away, whether the replacement comes from a server farm or a broken political pledge.
This is the next phase of the squeeze on ordinary people: not just offshoring your job, but replacing your face, your voice, your testimony with a simulation that costs pennies and never complains. Two Guardian investigations published within 48 hours of each other paint one unified picture—the people at the top keep finding new ways to manufacture consent, and the people at the bottom keep paying for it.
The technology investigation found that brands promoting products online are increasingly turning to AI-generated content that mimics genuine customer experiences—with zero disclosure that the "people" featured aren't real. Creators building these AI influencers are being forced to sign NDAs so they can't talk about their work.
One example: a photo app called Once posted Instagram videos showing what appears to be an AI-generated bride crying and praising the app at her wedding. "Everyone expected a no-phone wedding, so I gave them cameras instead," she says. Once didn't respond when asked about it.
Another video shows a woman who appears to be AI-generated promoting Maket, an AI housing design app. Maket admitted AI influencers have been "one of several ways for us to test creative concepts and marketing hooks at a small scale before investing in broader campaigns"—framing replacement as mere experimentation.
A Dubai-based fashion brand called Ashle posted photos of a woman wearing its clothes at a restaurant. The woman appeared to have an extra finger—a telltale AI artifact. After the Guardian asked about it, Ashle deleted the photos, claiming they were removed because "those particular designs are no longer part of the collection, not because they were AI-generated."
Consumer group Which? found that 70% of people cannot correctly identify all real and fake videos they were shown. "It is concerning that consumers are not able to trust" what they see online, said Lisa Barber, Which? Tech editor. The EU's AI Act will require labeling of AI-generated content starting in August—but that won't apply in the UK, and there is no equivalent requirement in the United States.
The same outlet's analysis of UK government data shows the communities most desperate for change got the opposite of what they were promised. Leave-voting areas saw foreign worker growth more than double in relative terms—Wigan went from under 5% non-UK payrolled employees to nearly 10%—while the national average grew just 40%. These same areas became relatively more deprived, falling further behind on health, housing, and services. Anand Menon, director of The UK in a Changing Europe, put it plainly: "People react to change. An extra 10,000 immigrants in central London might barely register, but 200 new arrivals in Boston might be noticed."
The Guardian notes the trends "should not be mistaken for cause and effect"—but the political reality is clear. People were promised one thing and delivered another.
The AI bride crying over a disposable camera app isn't real. The promise that voting the right way would fix your town wasn't either. The question now is who writes the rules for what's allowed to be fake—and whether anyone in power will ever have to tell you when they're doing it.
