Artificial intelligence is now being weaponised not on the battlefield but in the grieving rituals of war. Reports emerging from Russia reveal a disturbing trend: families of soldiers killed in Ukraine are turning to AI chatbots and deepfake technology to create digital replicas of the deceased. These ‘resurrected’ avatars can mimic speech patterns, recall shared memories, and even offer comfort to the bereaved. But the practice has drawn sharp condemnation from the UK government, which warns of psychological harm and exploitation by malign actors.
The technology itself is not new. Startups have long offered ‘digital immortality’ services, allowing users to upload photos, messages, and voice recordings to generate interactive personas. However, the scale and context here are uniquely troubling. In a country where the true casualty count is state secret, these digital ghosts offer a semblance of closure. Yet experts fear they are being manipulated to obscure the brutal realities of war and to reinforce propaganda narratives.
Dr. Katerina Volkov, a Russian psychologist who has treated several such families, describes the phenomenon as ‘grief hacking’. “The algorithm learns to say the right things, but it cannot truly grieve. Families become trapped in a loop of false hope, unable to move forward,” she told reporters. The UK Foreign Office has issued a statement calling the practice ‘morally bankrupt’ and ‘a cynical exploitation of human sorrow’. A spokesperson added that Russia is ‘commodifying death itself’.
Critics argue the Kremlin may be tacitly endorsing these tools to maintain public support for the war. By allowing families to ‘interact’ with fallen soldiers, the state deflects attention from the mounting death toll and the human cost of its aggression. Digital sovereignty here becomes a double-edged sword: control over one’s digital self cedes to algorithmic manipulation.
The ethical quagmire deepens when we consider consent. The dead cannot agree to be resurrected. Their digital personas are built from fragments of their lives, often scraped from social media without permission. This raises profound questions about privacy, identity, and the right to be forgotten. In a world where quantum computing and AI converge, these dilemmas will only intensify.
As a technology analyst who once championed the democratisation of AI, I find myself haunted by this latest application. We are building digital monuments to pain, and for what? To salve a wound that cannot heal. The user experience of a grieving society is not one we should optimise with algorithms. We must draw a line between innovation and inhumanity.
For now, the UK’s condemnation is symbolic. But it signals a growing unease among Western governments about the unregulated use of AI in times of conflict. The next battle may well be fought over our very definition of life and death in the digital age.
