DIGITAL LIFE

A new generation of digital lies worries experts

Lies have always existed, but something has changed radically. Today, a fabricated story can be accompanied by convincing images, a seemingly authentic voice, and even forged documents before reaching millions of people via social media. Once that happens, undoing the damage can be virtually impossible. Faced with this new landscape, a delicate debate is emerging in Argentina: at what point does a digital forgery cease to be mere misinformation and instead warrant a criminal response?

Artificial intelligence did not invent fake news. What it did was make its production faster, cheaper, and more sophisticated.

Manipulated information can circulate on social media in seconds, be amplified by algorithms, and reach thousands or millions of users before anyone can verify its authenticity. The problem does not end when the post stops going viral.

False content can remain available for years, reappear in search engine results, and even be incorporated into the responses of artificial intelligence systems, taking on a sort of digital "second life."

It is against this backdrop that Argentine criminal lawyer Jorge Monastersky proposes opening a legal discussion on what he terms "willful informational manipulation."

The idea is not to turn every lie into a crime. The focus would be on much more specific situations: instances where someone knowingly produces or disseminates false or manipulated information—presenting it as true—with the deliberate intent of destroying another person's reputation or credibility.

The proposal takes on even greater complexity with the advent of so-called "deep news."

This concept describes false, distorted, or artificially constructed content that manages to pass for genuine news.

Artificial intelligence has vastly expanded these possibilities. Today, it is possible to alter photographs, mimic voices, produce videos, modify documents, or create entire scenes with a level of realism that makes it difficult to immediately distinguish between what actually happened and what was fabricated.

A fake video can place a person in a situation that never occurred. Synthetic audio can make them utter words they never actually spoke. Artificially constructed news can combine true and false elements to produce a narrative completely divorced from reality.

For Monastersky, however, the mere use of artificial intelligence should not be enough to constitute a crime.

The difference lies in intent.

An image created for humor, a parody, a work of art, or even a journalistic report later proven incorrect would not automatically fall into this category. It would be necessary to demonstrate that the person responsible knew the content was false or manipulated yet decided to present it publicly as true with the specific aim of causing serious harm.

This distinction is crucial because it directly touches upon another sensitive issue: freedom of expression.

The boundary between combating fakes and protecting press freedom...Creating a new criminal offense related to disinformation carries obvious risks. Overly broad legislation could end up being used against journalists, political opponents, comedians, or anyone publishing information inconvenient to powerful individuals.

For this reason, the proposal draws a line between criticism and deliberate fabrication.

Political criticism, journalistic investigations, whistleblowing, satire, parody, opinions, and value judgments would remain protected. A news report containing an error would not, in itself, be sufficient to constitute the offense in question.

To establish liability, several elements would need to be present simultaneously: factually false or manipulated information, knowledge of that falsity, specific intent to cause harm, and the objective capacity to inflict serious damage on the victim's social, professional, or institutional reputation.

A single post can be enough to destroy a reputation...The impact need not involve celebrities or politicians.

For an ordinary person, a false accusation accompanied by a seemingly authentic video can lead to the loss of a job, clients, contracts, professional relationships, and personal ties. A career built over decades can be called into question by something produced in minutes.

When the target holds public office, the problem takes on a new dimension. A fabrication targeting a judge, prosecutor, legislator, or minister may not only harm that individual but also undermine public trust in the institution they represent.

The proposal discussed by the lawyer suggests a starting point for debate of two to four years in prison, though the final determination would rest with the legislature and depend on broader criteria regarding proportionality and criminal policy.

It would not necessarily require a massive disinformation campaign. Depending on its reach and severity, a single post, deepfake, or manipulated news story could trigger devastating consequences.

The real challenge begins once the lie goes viral...The discussion highlights a problem likely to grow as generative tools become more advanced.

For years, convincingly manipulating a video or imitating someone’s voice required technical expertise, equipment, and time. Now, similar capabilities are becoming available to millions of users.

At the same time, social media platforms provide the perfect infrastructure for distributing these creations at scale.

The result is an unprecedented combination: producing a fabrication has become easier precisely when spreading it has also become faster.

The legal issue, therefore, is not simply deciding whether lying should be a crime. It is about determining how to deal with someone who knowingly fabricates a false reality, presents that construct as true, and exploits the amplification power of platforms to try to destroy another person.

Artificial intelligence can create a fabrication in seconds. The internet can spread it even faster. The problem is that by the time the truth finally catches up with the lie, the damage may already be done.

mundophone