When we’re faced with a video recording of an event—such as an incident of police brutality—we can generally trust that the event happened as shown in the video. But that may soon change, thanks to the advent of so-called “deepfake” videos that use machine learning technology to show a real person saying and doing things they haven’t.

This technology poses a particular threat to marginalized communities. If deepfakes cause society to move away from the current “seeing is believing” paradigm for video footage, that shift may negatively impact individuals whose stories society is already less likely to believe. The proliferation of video recording technology has fueled a reckoning with police violence in the United States, recorded by bystanders and body-cameras. But in a world of pervasive, compelling deepfakes, the burden of proof to verify authenticity of videos may shift onto the videographer, a development that would further undermine attempts to seek justice for police violence. To counter deepfakes, high-tech tools meant to increase trust in videos are in development, but these technologies, though well-intentioned, could end up being used to discredit already marginalized voices. 

(Content Note: Some of the links in this piece lead to graphic videos of incidents of police violence. Those links are denoted in bold.)

Recent police killings of Black Americans caught on camera have inspired massive protests that have filled U.S. streets in the past year. Those protests endured for months in Minneapolis, where former police officer Derek Chauvin was convicted this week in the murder of George Floyd, a Black man. During Chauvin’s trial, another police officer killed Daunte Wright just outside Minneapolis, prompting additional protests as well as the officer’s resignation and arrest on second-degree manslaughter charges. She supposedly mistook her gun for her Taser—the same mistake alleged in the fatal shooting of Oscar Grant in 2009, by an officer whom a jury later found guilty of involuntary manslaughter (but not guilty of a more serious charge). All three of these tragic deaths—George Floyd, Daunte Wright, Oscar Grant—were documented in videos that were later used (or, in Wright’s case, seem likely to be used) as evidence at the trials of the police officers responsible. Both Floyd’s and Wright’s deaths were captured by the respective officers’ body-worn cameras, and multiple bystanders with cell phones recorded the Floyd and Grant incidents. Some commentators credit a 17-year-old Black girl’s video recording of Floyd’s death for making Chauvin’s trial happen at all.

The growth of the movement for Black lives in the years since Grant’s death in 2009 owes much to the rise in the availability, quality, and virality of bystander videos documenting police violence, but this video evidence hasn’t always been enough to secure convictions. From Rodney King’s assailants in 1992 to Philando Castile’s shooter 25 years later, juries have often declined to convict police officers even in cases where wanton police violence or killings are documented on video. Despite their growing prevalence, police bodycams have had mixed results in deterring excessive force or impelling accountability. That said, bodycam videos do sometimes make a difference, helping to convict officers in the killings of Jordan Edwards in Texas and Laquan McDonald in Chicago. Chauvin’s defense team pitted bodycam footage against the bystander videos employed by the prosecution, and lost.

What makes video so powerful? Why does it spur crowds to take to the streets and lawyers to showcase it in trials? It’s because seeing is believing. Shot at differing angles from officers’ point of view, bystander footage paints a fuller picture of what happened. Two people (on a jury, say, or watching a viral video online) might interpret a video two different ways. But they’ve generally been able to take for granted that the footage is a true, accurate record of something that really happened. 

That might not be the case for much longer. It’s now possible to use artificial intelligence to generate highly realistic “deepfake” videos showing real people saying and doing things they never said or did, such as the recent viral TikTok videos depicting an ersatz Tom Cruise. You can also find realistic headshots of people who don’t exist at all on the creatively-named website thispersondoesnotexist.com. (There’s even a cat version.) 

While using deepfake technology to invent cats or impersonate movie stars might be cute, the technology has more sinister uses as well. In March, the Federal Bureau of Investigation issued a warning that malicious actors are “almost certain” to use “synthetic content” in disinformation campaigns against the American public and in criminal schemes to defraud U.S. businesses. The breakneck pace of deepfake technology’s development has prompted concerns that techniques for detecting such imagery will be unable to keep up. If so, the high-tech cat-and-mouse game between creators and debunkers might end in a stalemate at best. 

If it becomes impossible to reliably prove that a fake video isn’t real, a more feasible alternative might be to focus instead on proving that a real video isn’t fake. So-called “verified at capture” or “controlled-capture” technologies attach additional metadata to imagery at the moment it’s taken, to verify when and where the footage was recorded and reveal any attempt to tamper with the data. The goal of these technologies, which are still in their infancy, is to ensure that an image’s integrity will stand up to scrutiny. 

Photo and video verification technology holds promise for confirming what’s real in the age of “fake news.” But it’s also cause for concern. In a society where guilty verdicts for police officers remain elusive despite ample video evidence, is even more technology the answer? Or will it simply reinforce existing inequities? 

The “ambitious goal” of adding verification technology to smartphone chipsets necessarily entails increasing the cost of production. Once such phones start to come onto the market, they will be more expensive than lower-end devices that lack this functionality. And not everyone will be able to afford them. Black Americans and poor Americans have lower rates of smartphone ownership than whites and high earners, and are more likely to own a “dumb” cell phone. (The same pattern holds true with regard to educational attainment and urban versus rural residence.) Unless and until verification technology is baked into even the most affordable phones, it risks replicating existing disparities in digital access. 

That has implications for police accountability, and, by extension, for Black lives. Primed by societal concerns about deepfakes and “fake news,” juries may start expecting high-tech proof that a video is real. That might lead them to doubt the veracity of bystander videos of police brutality if they were captured on lower-end phones that lack verification technology. Extrapolating from current trends in phone ownership, such bystanders are more likely to be members of marginalized racial and socioeconomic groups. Those are the very people who, as witnesses in court, face an uphill battle in being afforded credibility by juries. That bias, which reared its ugly head again in the Chauvin trial, has long outlived the 19th-century rules that explicitly barred Black (and other non-white) people from testifying for or against white people on the grounds that their race rendered them inherently unreliable witnesses. 

In short, skepticism of “unverified” phone videos may compound existing prejudices against the owners of those phones. That may matter less in situations where a diverse group of numerous eyewitnesses record a police brutality incident on a range of devices. But if there is only a single bystander witness to the scene, the kind of phone they own could prove significant.

The advent of mobile devices empowered Black Americans to force a national reckoning with police brutality. Ubiquitous, pocket-sized video recorders allow average bystanders to document the pandemic of police violence. And because seeing is believing, those videos make it harder for others to continue denying the problem exists. Even with the evidence thrust under their noses, juries keep acquitting police officers who kill Black people. Chauvin’s conviction this week represents an exception to recent history: Between 2005 and 2019, of the 104 law enforcement officers charged with murder or manslaughter in connection with a shooting while on duty, 35 were convicted. 

The fight against fake videos will complicate the fight for Black lives. Unless it is equally available to everyone, video verification technology may not help the movement for police accountability, and could even set it back. Technological guarantees of videos’ trustworthiness will make little difference if they are accessible only to the privileged, whose stories society already tends to believe. We might be able to tech our way out of the deepfakes threat, but we can’t tech our way out of America’s systemic racism. 

Riana Pfefferkorn is a research scholar at the Stanford Internet Observatory

Nearly every day for the last three years, Russian missiles, drones, and artillery fire have struck Ukraine, killing thousands of people and damaging power plants, schools, hospitals, and homes in what has become the largest conflict in Europe since World War II.

“You live in constant fear for your loved ones,” said Oleksandra Matviichuk, founder of the Center for Civil Liberties and a participant in a February 24 virtual panel discussion with Ukrainian leaders in Kyiv on the war’s impact on daily life, the global democratic order, and Ukraine’s path ahead. The Center on Democracy, Development and the Rule of Law hosted the event on the third anniversary of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022.

“It's very difficult to be in a large-scale war for three years. You live in total uncertainty,” Matviichuk said.
 

At a CDDRL weekly seminar, American University Political Scientist Keith Darden examined how the Russian-Ukrainian war is reshaping European institutions. The talk was part of the REDS seminar series, organized in partnership with The Europe Center and the Hoover Institution. While some expected that heightened military threats would drive greater European Union (EU) unity and integration, Darden argued that the war is instead reinforcing national institutions and re-nationalizing Europe.

First, the war has shifted power dynamics within the EU, strengthening newer member states, particularly those from post-enlargement waves in Eastern Europe. Unlike older Western European members, these states do not share the post-WWII commitment to anti-nationalism that has underpinned European integration. Countries such as Poland and Hungary have adopted nationalist policies that challenge the EU’s foundational ideals, treating European regulations as discretionary rather than binding. This shift has weakened the EU’s ability to act as a unified political entity.

Second, while the war has spurred European military rearmament, this has occurred along national rather than EU-wide lines. Defense spending has surged across the continent, yet procurement remains fragmented, with countries prioritizing domestic industries and bilateral agreements over collective EU initiatives. Military aid to Ukraine, rather than being coordinated by European institutions, has largely been managed through U.S.-led bilateral mechanisms. This reflects the EU’s limited role in security policy. Historically, existential threats have led to fiscal centralization—the concentration of taxation and spending powers at a higher level of government to fund collective defense. However, the EU is restricted by its treaties from directly allocating budgeted funds for military expenditures, limiting its ability to centralize security coordination or build stronger institutional frameworks in response to the war.

Third, the war has heightened national identity politics across Europe, further undermining European integration. Instead of fostering a shared European identity, the conflict has reinforced national distinctions. In Ukraine, the war has fueled policies emphasizing language, media control, and historical narratives rooted in nationalism. Within the EU, it has led to unilateral trade restrictions, violations of Schengen rules, and disputes over migration policies. These trends have strengthened sovereignty-based decision-making at the national level rather than pushing Europe toward deeper federalism.

Darden situated these findings within broader theories of state-building. Drawing from bellicist theories, he explained that war has historically driven state-building by centralizing fiscal capacity and consolidating power. However, unlike past cases where war led to greater political integration, the EU remains structurally constrained by its reliance on voluntary market-based cooperation rather than centralized security imperatives. Kelemen and McNamara (2022) argue that the EU’s fragmented institutional development results from the absence of war-induced fiscal consolidation. Even with the return of war to Europe, integration has not accelerated; instead, security responses have remained decentralized, with national governments taking the lead.

Darden concluded that the war is reinforcing the dominance of the nation-state rather than strengthening the EU as a collective entity. Despite increased military spending, European defense remains disjointed, and the war’s institutional impact is shaped by national identities, security alternatives, and EU governance constraints. Far from unifying Europe, the war may ultimately weaken the post-WWII European project.

In a recent REDS Seminar, co-sponsored by CDDRL and The Europe Center, University of Wisconsin-Madison Professor of Political Science Yoshiko Herrera examined the role of identity in shaping the causes, conduct, and impact of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.

Based on the groups they align themselves with, Herrera explained, individuals hold collective memories and similar interpretations of a shared past. These memories and interpretations are often central to our understanding of wars. In the Russian context, the narrative of humiliation by the West in the 1990s and the urge to show strength against NATO expansion fueled Russia’s violent drive to assert its national identity.

During conflict, identity is central to an individual’s assessment of who is an ally or enemy. According to the social identity theory, humans cooperate more within their ingroups than outgroups, or those they perceive as different. Importantly, it can be difficult to determine which identity markers prevail the most. Although identity is often viewed through the limited lens of ethnicity, factors like nationality, religion, or gender can anchor group cohesion. In Ukraine, for example, a concept of national identity has unified people across other markers, such as ethnicity. The fundamental denial of Ukraine’s national identity has been central to Putin’s devastating invasion of the country.

Group alignment, moreover, continues to affect political attitudes throughout a war, affecting, for instance, how invested the masses are in victory. The perception of a conflict as an assault on identity tends to deepen the public’s personal investment in that conflict, as evidenced by Ukraine’s high military mobilization since the onset of the war.

Identity is not only a driver of conflict; it also is a dependent variable, or a domain that is shaped by the experience of war. In Ukraine, a cohesive national identity has strengthened in reaction to Russia’s devastating aggression. Language, a crucial dimension of identity, demonstrates this pattern; as of 2023, 82% of Ukrainians identify Ukrainian as their “native tongue,” compared to only 57% in 2012. There has been a rapid evolution in how Ukrainians view themselves, extending beyond what even the most ardent nationalists could have hoped for a decade ago.

It is not just policy considerations and pragmatism that propel the decisions of political leaders; abstract and ever-evolving concepts of identity are motivating forces behind conflicts. Herrera’s research recognizes identity as a key factor influencing war, with the power to uniquely mobilize the masses. In the face of conflict, identities can change and strengthen; Russia’s construed narratives of national identity fuel its war conduct, while in Ukraine, there has been a corresponding maturing of a unified national identity. The role of identity in all aspects of conflict must not be underplayed, as it is manipulated by and motivates political leaders, especially in times of war.