AI Generated
Social Media: Meet your new Facebook Fake Friend
|
Listen to this article
Getting your Trinity Audio player ready...
|
Social networks come in for a fair amount of criticism. They’re often blamed for fuelling populism in Western politics, and let’s not forget the few who refused a Covid jab because of something they read on Twitter. It’s tragic, and it’s exactly the opposite of what social platforms were ever intended to do.
This isn’t how it was ever meant to be. Social networks were supposed to bring people together. They sprang from a simple idea: reconnect with someone you knew in real life. Back in the day, Friends Reunited—a shoestring project started in a spare bedroom—helped old classmates, ex-colleagues, and childhood friends find each other. It was very British in its design, largely because it prompted a whole new wave of school reunions we all made up reasons to avoid.
Then came Facebook, which turbocharged the “find your old friends” premise for a global audience. Soon enough, a multitude of platforms—Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, TikTok—crowded our screens, each nudging us to share ever more about ourselves.
A truly social network
When Facebook started, you generally only connected with people you had encountered in real life: college friends, family, or that lost weekend Dutch stoner.
Yes, some of it was braggadocious—we wanted to show off holiday snapshots or throw parties for the envy of our social circles—but they were real circles. Later, when I set up my Facebook author page (and Instagram) to keep my readers updated on new releases, signings, and limited-time deals, it was surprisingly effective.
Over time, Facebook morphed into Meta, the commercial behemoth it is today. Authors like me came to rely on its advertising tools to target people who follow similar writers. No, it wasn’t cheap, but it worked for those of us seeking readers in a marketplace overflowing with options.
AI-generated users
Now, Meta has announced it will inject its platforms—Facebook and Instagram—with “AI-generated users” to boost engagement. These are not spam accounts you can report and get shut down. These paid-for bots will have believable names, charming bios, and they’ll even share or create content using Meta’s new generative AI tools.
They won’t have real human feelings or lived experiences, but they’ll sail through your feed looking and talking like any of us. Sure, Meta pledges to label these bots as fake friends. But how many of us simply click that button to ‘accept’ unread ‘Terms and Conditions’?
Why it’s a worry for authors
From a purely commercial standpoint, authors are at risk of paying for ad impressions and clicks that come from these bots. Indie authors and publishing houses work on a tight budget, carefully choosing “pay per click” or “pay per thousand views,” trusting that a real person, with real reading interests, is seeing our work. Add bots into the mix and we have no way of knowing if its money well spent. It’s not far-fetched to imagine a scenario where AI accounts inflate engagement metrics and drain authors’ advertising budgets with zero actual human interest to show for it.
Established, high-profile authors already enjoy wider recognition and alternative PR channels, so if a chunk of their online engagement goes to bots, it’s hardly their only route to the reading public. But for small to mid-list authors, or those just starting out, social media is one of the only shots at building an audience.
The bigger danger: social engineering
The second, arguably more serious, issue is social engineering. We already know how fast misinformation spreads on social platforms, influencing elections and shaping public opinion. Throw in an army of convincingly human-like bot accounts, and the potential for manipulation grows. They have the paid-for power to amplify certain viewpoints and suppress others, targeting just the right demographics with a convincing chorus of digital sock puppets.
People trust what they see their friends (or friends-of-friends) sharing. The more people in your circle expressing a given opinion, the more likely you are to give it head space. Imagine discovering that all those “people” are actually AI-generated nodes paid and programmed to nudge you in a specific direction.
The new big pharma
Big Tech appears to be the new Big Pharma. No longer in it for anything but the money, cosying up to anyone who can lighten regulation and open the door to more cash.
Meta recently donated significant money to certain political interests. TikTok is dogged by claims of Chinese state meddling. X (formerly Twitter) has become a haven for extremist content since Elon Musk bought a his new megaphone.
We hear how ‘mainstream media’ is bad. From a billionaire who wants to take its place.
Google and Amazon have their own controversies, from questionable labour practices to subtle algorithmic biases.
Where does that leave us if all the major tech players can twist reality on a whim
Finding refuge in BlueSky
One platform I’ve found appealing in light of these issues is BlueSky. It’s decentralised, meaning nobody can simply buy it and twist it into a mouthpiece for hateful or manipulative content. BlueSky doesn’t push ads, so there’s no hidden algorithm trying to grab your attention at any cost. You curate your own feed, follow who you like, and block or mute anyone you find problematic—no invisible powers decide what’s “better” for you to see.
It might not be the best short-term boost for authors’ ad-driven marketing, since there is no ad option (yet). But I’ve seen posts about my books garner more genuine interaction there than on the bigger, more established networks. When it’s just you and real people, the conversation feels honest, and authenticity shines through.
Antisocial media
Social networking started as a way to connect people: to reunite old friends, share pictures, rant about the mundane, and celebrate life’s milestones. Gradually, it has become a commercial venture. Authors like me rely on it to sell books. Entire companies exist just to feed us ads in every corner of our digital day.
Now, Meta’s plan to insert AI-generated “users” into the mix risks eroding the last scraps of authenticity. We might start seeing illusions of engagement rather than the genuine article.
It might be an interesting novelty to chat with a bot about your favourite TV show or baseball team, but when the lines between bot and human blur, the social part of “social media” becomes meaningless. We risk paying for phantom interactions inside echo chambers under the control of forces we can’t see.
If there’s a glimmer of hope, it’s this: we users still have the power to vote with our feet and our wallets. We can seek out platforms less compromised by commercial or political agendas. We can hold the giants accountable when they veer off course. After all, isn’t that why most of us started social networking in the first place—to connect with real people, share real stories, and stay in touch with those we genuinely care about?
Perhaps it’s time we remember that, and give our scroll-worn thumbs a moment to rest.
Mo Fanning is a Birmingham-based author who crafts deeply emotional, character-driven stories that blend humour, heartbreak, and hope. With a commitment to authentic LGBTQ+ representation, Mo’s work explores the messy, beautiful realities of love, loss, and resilience through characters readers can’t help but root for. His next novel, Rainbows and Lollipops, is a binge-worthy tale of three strangers brought together by grief and transformed by chosen family. Perfect for fans of contemporary fiction that leaves a lasting impact, Mo’s stories are as relatable as they are unforgettable.
