In a development that reads like a Black Mirror script but draws from very real grief, Russian families are using generative artificial intelligence to create digital simulacra of soldiers killed in Ukraine. These AI ‘resurrections’ communicate with loved ones via text, voice, and even video, raising profound ethical questions about mourning, consent, and the weaponisation of memory. The UK’s Ethics and Innovation Commission has launched an investigation into the practice, warning it could normalise the manipulation of bereavement.
The technology, reportedly built on open-source large language models and deepfake tools, allows users to upload photos, voice recordings, and personal messages of the deceased to train a custom AI model. The resulting avatar can then generate new conversations, offer comfort, and even issue ‘updates’ from the afterlife. A circulated video shows a mother tearfully speaking to a screen where her son’s face mimics her expressions and reassures her he is ‘in a better place’. Hundreds of such memorials have been shared on Russian social media platforms, often accompanied by hashtags glorifying the ‘immortal regiment’.
The implications are staggering. On one level, this is a coping mechanism for families who never received a body or closure, as the Russian government has been opaque about casualty numbers. But AI ethicists warn of darker distortions. The digital soldier can be programmed to never criticise the war, to endorse the Kremlin’s narrative, and to encourage siblings to enlist. ‘This is not resurrection. It is a puppet show,’ says Dr. Elena Vasilieva, a digital rights researcher at the University of Helsinki. ‘The dead cannot consent. Their data has been harvested without permission, and now it is being used to create propaganda tools while families believe they are talking to their loved ones.’
The UK’s Ethics and Innovation Commission, a statutory body set up to oversee emerging technologies, confirmed it has opened a preliminary inquiry. ‘Our concern is the export of this technology and its potential to be used by extremist groups or in British contexts,’ a spokesperson stated. ‘We are also examining whether the companies hosting these avatars are in breach of data protection and human rights law.’ The Commission has invited testimony from bereaved families, ethicists, and representatives from major AI labs. Notably, this investigation comes amid a broader push in the UK to regulate AI-generated content, with the Online Safety Act already targeting deepfake abuse.
Technically, the process is depressingly straightforward. Platforms like MemoryAI and EternalYou offer subscription services where users upload gigabytes of data. The AI learns the deceased’s speech patterns, emotions, and memories. Then, using models similar to ChatGPT but fine-tuned for grief, it generates replies. Voice cloning adds another layer: a five-second audio sample can reconstruct a person’s cadence and inflections. Video avatars, currently less common due to compute costs, are emerging, driven by open-source foundation models from Chinese and Russian developers.
But what happens when the AI runs out of data? Worse, what happens when it contradicts itself or fabricates memories? Early adopters report that the avatars become increasingly robotic and even give conflicting accounts of the soldiers’ deaths. This can reopen wounds or create psychological dependency. ‘When the AI said my son died instantly, I felt peace,’ one Russian widow told an independent journalist. ‘But when it later described his last minutes with details that contradicted the official report, I started to doubt everything.’
The Commission’s investigation will likely hinge on whether these platforms are offering therapy or manipulation. The UK has seen a rise in AI grief counselling tools, but they are regulated under medical device and data protection laws. If Russian companies refuse to cooperate, international sanctions may complicate enforcement. However, the wider question looms: is this the future of mourning? As AI becomes cheaper and more powerful, anyone with a smartphone could preserve a digital ghost of a loved one. But at what cost to our shared humanity?
For now, the avatars remain a window into a grieving nation’s soul, a window that the UK ethics watchdog is determined to peer through before it opens onto a world where the dead never truly leave.
