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Tag: sitting president

  • How Hur Misled the Country on Biden’s Memory

    How Hur Misled the Country on Biden’s Memory

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    First impressions stick. After a big story hits, the initial conclusions can turn out to be wrong, or partly wrong, but the revisions are not what people remember. They remember the headlines in imposing font, the solemn tone from a presenter, the avalanche of ironic summaries on social media. Political operatives know this, and it’s that indelible impression they want, one that sticks like a greasy fingerprint and that no number of follow-ups or awkward corrections could possibly wipe away.

    Five years ago, a partisan political operative with the credibility of a long career in government service misled the public about official documents in order to get Donald Trump the positive spin he wanted in the press. The play worked so well that a special counsel appointed to examine President Joe Biden’s handling of classified documents, Robert Hur, ran it again.

    In 2019, then–Attorney General Bill Barr—who would later resign amid Trump’s attempts to suborn the Justice Department into backing his effort to seize power after losing reelection—announced that Special Counsel Robert Mueller had not found sufficient evidence to indict Trump on allegations that he had assisted in a Russian effort to sway the 2016 election and had obstructed an investigation into that effort. Mueller’s investigation led to indictments of several Trump associates, but he later testified that Justice Department policy barred prosecuting a sitting president, and so indicting Trump was not an option. Barr’s summary—which suggested that Trump had been absolved of any crimes—was so misleading that it drew a rebuke not only from Mueller himself but from a federal judge in a public-records lawsuit over material related to the investigation. That judge, Reggie Walton, wrote in 2020 that the discrepancies “cause the court to seriously question whether Attorney General Barr made a calculated attempt to influence public discourse about the Mueller report in favor of President Trump despite certain findings in the redacted version of the Mueller report to the contrary.”

    As my colleague David Graham wrote at the time, the ploy worked. Trump claimed “total exoneration,” and mainstream outlets blared his innocence in towering headlines. Only later did the public learn that Mueller’s report had found “no criminal conspiracy but considerable links between Donald Trump’s campaign and Russia, and strongly suggested that Trump had obstructed justice.”

    Now this same pattern has emerged once again, only instead of working in the president’s favor, it has undermined him. Hur, a former U.S. attorney in the Trump administration, was appointed by Attorney General Merrick Garland to investigate Biden for potential criminal wrongdoing after classified documents were found at his home. (Trump has been indicted on charges that he deliberately mishandled classified documents after storing such documents at his home in Florida and deliberately showing them off to visitors as “highly confidential” and “secret information.”)

    In Hur’s own summary of his investigation, he concluded that “no criminal charges are warranted in this matter,” even absent DOJ policy barring prosecution of a sitting president. But that part was not what caught the media’s attention. Rather it was Hur’s characterization of Biden as having memory problems, validating conservative attacks on the president as too old to do the job. The transcripts of Hur’s interviews with Biden, released yesterday by House Democrats, suggest that characterization—politically convenient for Republicans and the Trump campaign—was misleading.

    Sparking alarming headlines about Biden’s mental faculties, Hur had written that Biden “would likely present himself to a jury, as he did during our interview of him, as a sympathetic, well-meaning, elderly man with a poor memory” and “diminished faculties in advancing age.” As with Barr’s, that conclusion set off a media frenzy in which many mainstream outlets strongly reinforced conservative propaganda that Biden was mentally unfit to serve, a narrative that reverberated until the president’s animated delivery of the State of the Union address last week.

    In press coverage following the report, Hur’s phrase was frequently shortened to an “elderly man with a poor memory,” turning the evaluation of a potential legal strategy into something akin to a medical diagnosis. A cacophony of mainstream-media coverage questioning Biden’s age and fitness followed, while conservative politicians and media figures outright declared Biden incapacitated and demanded he be removed from office according to the Twenty-Fifth Amendment, which provides for succession in case a president is “unable to discharge his duties.”

    The transcripts of Hur’s interviews with Biden illuminate Hur’s summary as uncharitable at best. As a report in The Washington Post noted, “Biden doesn’t come across as being as absent-minded as Hur has made him out to be.”

    Hur wrote that Biden “did not remember, even within several years, when his son Beau died.” Yet the transcript shows Biden remembering the exact day, May 30, after which staffers offer the year—2015—and Biden says, “Was it 2015 he had died?” In another exchange Hur singled out as indicative of Biden’s poor memory, he said Biden mischaracterized the point of view of an Obama-administration official who had opposed a surge of combat troops to the war in Afghanistan, but left out that Biden correctly stated the official’s views in an exchange later that day. The transcript also shows Biden struggling with other dates while answering questions about when he obtained certain documents or in the interval between the Obama and Biden administrations, when he decided to run for president. But as The New York Times reported, “In both instances, Mr. Biden said the wrong year but appeared to recognize that he had misspoken and immediately stopped to seek clarity and orient himself.”

    The transcript does not completely refute Hur’s description of Biden’s memory, but it is entirely incompatible with the conservative refrain that Biden has “age-related dementia.” Indeed, both Barr and Hur framed their conclusions with a telltale lawyerly touch that would push the media and the public toward a far broader conclusion about Trump’s supposed innocence or Biden’s alleged decline while allowing them to deny that they had been so explicit.

    There’s no question that both Biden and Trump are much older than they used to be. To watch clips of either of them from 20 years ago is to recognize a significant difference. But the transcript shows Biden exactly as he appeared in the State of the Union last week, as someone who has lost a step or two as he’s aged but is fully capable of grasping the politics and policy implications demanded by the presidency. “Mr. Biden went into great detail about many matters, the transcript shows,” the Times reported. “He made jokes over the two days, teasing the prosecutors. And at certain points, he corrected his interrogators when they were the ones who misspoke.” During an exchange about Biden’s home, Hur remarked that Biden had a “photographic understanding and recall of the house,” a remark Hur acknowledged in yesterday’s testimony before the House that he had left out of his original report.

    People with serious cognitive decline do not simply have verbal flubs or memory lapses of the sort both campaigns are constantly highlighting on social media. They avoid asking questions they fear might betray their loss of memory; they struggle to recollect the season, the time of day, the state they are currently in. They awkwardly attempt to hide their inability to recall recently relayed information in ways that simply underline its absence. They repeat innocuous statements that they do not realize they made minutes earlier. They pretend to know people they’ve never met and fail to recognize people they’ve known for decades. The late Democratic Senator Dianne Feinstein of California, the clearest recent example of this in politics, was reported to have had incidents such as a meeting at which lawmakers had to “reintroduce themselves to Feinstein multiple times during an interaction that lasted several hours,” as the San Francisco Chronicle reported in 2022.

    During his testimony before the House, Hur insisted that “partisan politics had no place whatsoever in my work.” He tried to have it both ways, insisting that his report was accurate while refuting the most uncharitable right-wing characterizations of Biden’s memory. But as legal experts pointed out after the report was released, Hur’s description of Biden’s memory was not a necessary element of his duties, and it is unlikely that someone with as much experience in Washington as Hur would be so naive as to not understand how those phrases would be used politically.

    Yet Hur’s report is itself something of a self-inflicted wound for Democrats, a predictable result of their efforts to rebut bad-faith criticism from partisan actors by going out of their way to seem nonpartisan. The age story caught fire in the press, not only because of genuine voter concern over Biden’s age but because this is the sort of superficially nonideological criticism that some reporters feel comfortable repeating in their own words, believing that it illustrates their lack of partisanship to conservative sources and audiences. Coverage of the Hillary Clinton email investigation reached saturation levels in 2016 for similar reasons.

    There are more parallels between those stories. Then-President Barack Obama appointed James Comey, a Republican, to run the FBI, in an effort to illustrate his commitment to bipartisanship; Attorney General Garland’s decision to appoint Hur probably had similar intentions. Comey, like Hur, declined to press charges but then broke protocol. In Comey’s case, he did so by first holding a press conference in which he criticized Clinton, and later, during the final days of the presidential campaign, announcing that he was reopening the investigation into Clinton while keeping the bureau’s investigation into Trump a secret. A 2017 analysis published by FiveThirtyEight makes a compelling argument that the latter decision threw a close election to Trump.

    For reasons that remain unclear to me, Democrats seem to have internalized the Republican insistence that only Republicans are capable of the fairness and objectivity necessary to investigate or enforce the law. Any lifelong Republican who fails to put partisanship above their duties is instantly and retroactively turned into a left-wing operative by the conservative media. Acting to prevent complaints of bias (as opposed to actually being fair) is ultimately futile: Comey’s last-minute gift to the Trump campaign didn’t prevent Trump from smearing him as a liberal stooge.

    These efforts to work the refs pay off. Right-wing criticism of Obama probably influenced him to pick a grandstanding Republican to head the FBI, an agency that has never been run by a Democrat, just as it likely influenced Garland to pick a grandstanding Republican to investigate Biden. Conservative criticism of the mainstream press leads too many journalists to attempt to prove they aren’t liberals, which results in wholesale amplification of right-wing propaganda to deflect criticisms that the media aren’t objective; the facts become a secondary concern.

    Fairness, objectivity, and due process are important values, but there is a difference between upholding them and seeking to convince everyone that that’s what you’re doing. Performatively pursuing the latter can easily come at the expense of the former. If you try too hard to convince people you are doing the right thing instead of just doing the right thing, you often end up doing the wrong thing.

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    Adam Serwer

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  • Can Biden Win a Primary He Ignored?

    Can Biden Win a Primary He Ignored?

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    As he stood on a frigid New Hampshire street corner on Saturday morning, Jim Demers was trying to persuade me that the fate of the republic hinges on today’s presidential primary—specifically, whether more people write “Joe Biden” on their ballot than fill in the bubble next to the names of his Democratic challengers. “This is an election like we’ve never seen before. This is one where democracy is on the ballot,” Demers, a lobbyist and former state representative, told me. “This is bigger than New Hampshire. This is about the future of America.”

    It all sounded a bit overwrought. The Democratic Party has declared New Hampshire’s primary “meaningless,” and no delegates will be awarded based on the outcome. Democracy might be on the ballot, but the sitting president and the party’s all-but-certain nominee is not. Biden declined to file for the election or campaign in the state because of last year’s decision by the Democratic National Committee to ditch Iowa and New Hampshire as the earliest-voting states in favor of South Carolina. New Hampshire insisted on holding its first-in-the-nation primary anyway.

    To Demers and a small but energetic group of party activists, the fight over the primary calendar is beside the point. As they see it, the results of today’s vote carry outsize significance—both to Biden’s viability in the fall and to the future of New Hampshire’s century-old tradition as a presidential proving ground. They are the organizers of the “Write-In Biden” campaign, a statewide grassroots effort aimed at offering the president a show of support—even if symbolic—to help him avoid an embarrassing result that could deepen Democratic worries about his electoral standing.

    Given the unusual nature of the primary, the line between victory and humiliation remains murky. But Biden’s backers want to see him easily hold off Representative Dean Phillips and Marianne Williamson. “We want to make sure that headlines the day after the election are ‘He Wasn’t Even on the Ballot, and He Won. That’s Amazing!’” Donna McCay, a volunteer who was holding a Write-In Biden sign in Hampton, New Hampshire, told me.

    Spending $70,000 over the past three months, Demers and a small group of operatives have mailed postcards, taken out ads, and issued yard signs instructing Democratic and independent voters how to cast a ballot for Biden. (It’s pretty simple: Fill in the oval next to “Write-In” and scrawl in “Joe Biden,” or even just “Biden.”) They’ve received help from a parade of local and national Democrats seeking to boost their own profiles in New Hampshire, but none officially from the Biden campaign.

    Over the weekend, dozens of New Hampshire Democrats packed house parties and braved near-zero wind chills to stand outside and hold up signs alerting drivers to the write-in option. Many of those standing in the cold were almost as old as the two candidates likely to face off in the general election.

    Polls in New Hampshire have shown a big advantage for Biden over Phillips and Williamson, but few people know what to make of them—incumbent presidents generally don’t rely on supporters to wage a write-in campaign on their behalf. One Democrat involved with the effort told me they wanted to see Biden crack 50 percent, which would match Donald Trump’s showing in Iowa, where the former president spent millions of dollars campaigning.

    New Hampshire is fertile ground for a campaign like this. Its population is among the nation’s most highly educated and civically engaged—candidates in New Hampshire like to joke that “politics is the state sport.” It also helps that Biden is not a particularly hard name to spell.

    Yet the write-in campaign is battling a number of obstacles in addition to Biden’s challengers. Anti-Trump independent voters, who can participate in either primary, must decide whether to back Biden or cast their ballot for Nikki Haley in the GOP contest. Biden allies argue that Haley’s chances of overtaking Trump are already shot. “You can try to game this process, but Biden is the only person who can beat Donald Trump,” John Carty, a Biden backer, told me. “A vote for Haley here might improve her showing in New Hampshire, but will it improve her chances of being the nominee? Most of us tend to think not.”

    Then there is the lingering anger over Biden’s abandonment of the state. When the DNC told the state’s party chair that its primary would be “non-binding,” “meaningless,” and “detrimental,” New Hampshire’s Republican attorney general sent the national party a cease-and-desist letter.

    Biden’s decision to stand by the DNC and skip the primary risks alienating constituents in a swing state whose four electoral votes could matter in a close presidential race. “It was a stupid political decision, equivalent to shooting yourself in the foot,” Colin Van Ostern, the Democratic nominee for governor in 2016, told me. “But I also vote for people I don’t agree with 100 percent plenty of times. And to me, it’s not complicated: Our democracy is at risk, and he is the one who can beat Trump.” (Both the Biden campaign and the DNC declined to comment.)

    Phillips has tried to capitalize on Biden’s absence, occasionally to the point of hyperbole. “What was done to all of you is one of the most egregious affronts to democracy I’ve ever known in my lifetime,” Phillips told a packed audience at a restaurant in Hampton on Sunday, drawing applause. “A write-in vote for Joe Biden is a vote for Donald Trump, because he will lose to him.” As he spoke, a family in the front row held up posters distributed by Phillips’s campaign with an image of Biden on one side under the word MISSING. The other side read, Joe wrote you off. Why write him in?

    The showing for Phillips—more than 100 people crowded in, shoulder to shoulder—suggests that his campaign has some momentum. But the turnout might reflect as much political tourism as electoral support: Of the first dozen or so people I encountered, I found residents of Massachusetts and Connecticut, visitors from Denmark, and a student group from Macon, Georgia, but not a single registered New Hampshire voter.

    If nothing else, the Biden write-in campaign has succeeded in generating publicity for its cause; plenty of reporters and cameras trailed its volunteers and surrogates throughout the weekend. The risk, of course, is that a strong result for Phillips—a close second, say, or more than 40 percent of the vote—would seem more meaningful than it might have otherwise, making his candidacy more of a genuine threat to Biden.

    But the president’s backers were growing more confident as the election neared. Despite his snub of New Hampshire, general-election polling in the state has shown Biden ahead of Trump and in far better shape than in other battlegrounds. Some Democrats are hoping that a decisive win for the presidential non-candidate will put New Hampshire back in the national party’s good graces and perhaps even restore its first-in-the-nation position for 2028. “If Joe Biden has a good win on a write-in effort, that gives New Hampshire a whole new story to tell,” Demers said.

    As we spoke, more than 30 volunteers were holding up signs by the road. Some drivers honked in solidarity; others jeered in opposition. Representative Ro Khanna of California, a Biden surrogate, came over with donuts and kibitzed with the volunteers and reporters. Compared with the grand tradition of New Hampshire primaries, the display was enthusiastic but tiny.

    If New Hampshire’s show of support was so crucial, I asked Demers, shouldn’t Biden be here? “I just want the president to be here next fall,” he replied.

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    Russell Berman

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  • Nikki Haley’s Dilemma Is Also the Republicans’ Problem

    Nikki Haley’s Dilemma Is Also the Republicans’ Problem

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    Republicans have had 10 months to hammer out a coherent post-Roe message on abortion. You would think they’d have nailed it by now.

    Yet on Tuesday, Nikki Haley set out to declare her position on the issue—and proceeded to be about as clear as concrete.

    She began with plausible precision. “I want to save as many lives and help as many moms as possible,” the former South Carolina governor and ambassador to the United Nations told reporters gathered at the Susan B. Anthony Pro-Life America headquarters, in Northern Virginia—a press event billed as a “major policy speech.” But her statements quickly got squishier. It’s good that some states have passed anti-abortion laws in the past year, she said. And as for the states that have reacted by enshrining abortion-rights protections? Well, she wishes “that weren’t the case.”

    And then she seemed to channel Veep’s Selina Meyer. “Different people in different places are taking different paths,” Haley said, with a self-assurance that belied the indeterminacy of her words.

    Questioning whether any national anti-abortion legislation would ever pass, Haley did gesture at a need for some action. “To do that at the federal level, the next president must find national consensus,” she said. As for what that might look like, she had no words. And she took no questions.

    Some people seemed to like Haley’s speech, in a tepid way. She sounded human when she described how her husband had been adopted, and how she’d struggled with infertility. “Ms. Haley deserves credit for confronting the subject head on, with a speech that wasn’t sanctimonious or censorious,” The Wall Street Journal’s editorial board wrote, before concluding, “The party could do worse than Ms. Haley’s pitch.” But it could do better—or at least do with something more specific.

    Leaders of the self-described pro-life movement were predictably annoyed at Haley’s conciliatory-sounding vagueness. “Disappointing speech by @NikkiHaley today. Leads with compromise & defeatism, not vision & courage,” Lila Rose, who heads the group Live Action, tweeted. “We agree that consensus is important, but to achieve consensus we will need to stake out a principled position,” wrote Kristan Hawkins, the president of Students for Life of America.

    Even Haley’s hosts seemed on the wrong page. “We are clear on Ambassador Haley’s commitment to acting on the American consensus against late-term abortion by protecting unborn children by at least 15 weeks,” Marjorie Dannenfelser, the president of Susan B. Anthony Pro-Life America, said in a statement sent to me. But a few hours later, Team Haley emailed me to correct the record: “She committed to working to find a consensus on banning late-term abortion. No specific weeks,” Nachama Soloveichik, Haley’s communications director, wrote. Not only did Haley alienate both sides—she confused them!

    Haley is in a tough spot, as are all of the Republican presidential wannabes. They each have their own personal convictions on abortion; former Vice President Mike Pence, for example, has been outspoken in his support for a national ban. But they’re up against an issue that seems to have cost their party a string of recent elections. Most Americans believe that abortion should be accessible, with some limits.

    The “consensus” position, then, is somewhere in the foggy zone between no abortion ever and abortion whenever. But primary elections tend to push candidates toward one extreme or another. “The gap between what the base demands and what swing voters will tolerate has gotten really wide,” Sarah Longwell, the publisher of the Never Trump site The Bulwark, told me. “Nowhere is this more true than on abortion.”

    What all politicians need to do “is settle on a position they believe they can defend, and they need to repeat it consistently and clearly,” Whit Ayres, a Republican strategist, told me. “Any politician whose position on abortion is vague will be wrapped around the axle eventually with questions and doubts about where they actually stand.”

    Some GOP candidates have followed Ayres’s advice. But much axle-wrapping has occurred already in the early days of the 2024 primary season.

    Asked on the campaign trail whether he’d support a 15-week federal ban on abortion, Senator Tim Scott of South Carolina told CBS, “I do believe that we should have a robust conversation about what’s happening on a very important topic,” before pivoting so hard to an anecdote about Janet Yellen that I thought he’d need a neck brace. In a follow-up interview, Scott backtracked, clarifying that as president, he would “literally sign the most conservative pro-life legislation” Congress sent to his desk.

    Florida Governor Ron DeSantis, who is expected to mount a presidential bid, did approve a very conservative state law recently—a six-week abortion ban. But he signed that legislation in the dead of night earlier this month, while most people in Tallahassee were probably in bed. (By contrast, last year, he celebrated the signing of a 15-week ban with a big party at a church.) The following day, DeSantis gave a speech at a Christian university full of students who are opposed to abortion, yet said nothing about his major legislative achievement. He’s mostly stayed quiet about it since—even at glad-handing events in early primary states.

    So far, the only confirmed presidential candidate who seems clear on his position and keenly aware of the political optics is Donald Trump. Despite being hailed by anti-abortion activists as the “most pro-life president” in history, Trump has never been rigid on abortion (probably because he supported abortion rights for most of his life as a public figure), and he doesn’t talk much about the issue now. But a spokesperson told The Washington Post recently that Trump “believes that the Supreme Court, led by the three Justices which he supported, got it right when they ruled this is an issue that should be decided at the State level.” Shorter Trump: I’ve done my bit—it’s up to the states now. God bless.

    If any national consensus on abortion exists, the GOP strategist Ayres said, Trump’s position “is pretty close” to it. Trump has always seemed to have “a lizard-brain sense of where the voters are,” Longwell said. “He has a relationship to the base, and he doesn’t have to pitch what he believes.” And, unlike DeSantis, Trump has never signed a law banning abortion at any stage, so it’ll be harder to pin him down. Sure, there’s an activist class that would like to see abortion banned in all cases. To them, Trump could reply, You got your justices. You’re welcome.

    Right now Trump and his lizard brain have a commanding lead in the GOP primary. His victory would set up an interesting general-election situation—a fitting one for our complicated post-Roe country: a former president who once personally supported abortion rights and is now politically opposed to them running against a sitting president whose own position on abortion is the exact opposite.

    Until a Republican presidential nominee emerges, we’ll hear many more Haley-esque platitudes that sound thoughtful and weighty but ultimately aren’t.

    “Whether we can save more lives nationally depends entirely on doing what no one has done to date,” Haley told reporters on Tuesday, before wrapping up her speech with—you could almost hear a drumroll—“finding consensus.” The waffling will continue, in other words, until the primary concludes.

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    Elaine Godfrey

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  • The Next Big Political Scandal Could Be Faked

    The Next Big Political Scandal Could Be Faked

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    Is the clip stupid or terrifying? I can’t decide. To be honest, it’s a bit of both.

    “I just think I would love to get Ratatouille’d,” a familiar-sounding voice begins.

    “Ratatouille’d?” asks another recognizable voice.

    “Like, have a little guy up there,” the first voice replies. “You know, making me cook delicious meals.”

    It sounds like Joe Rogan and Ben Shapiro, two of podcasting’s biggest, most recognizable voices, bantering over the potential real-world execution of the Pixar movie’s premise. A circular argument ensues. What constitutes “getting Ratatouille’d” in the first place? Do the rat’s powers extend beyond the kitchen?

    A friend recently sent me the audio of this mind-numbing exchange. I let out a belly laugh, then promptly texted it to several other people—including a guy who once sheepishly told me that he regularly listens to The Joe Rogan Experience.

    “Is this real?” he texted back.

    They’re AI voices, I told him.

    “Whoa. That’s insane,” he said. “Politics is going to get wild.”

    I haven’t stopped thinking about how right he is. The voices in that clip, while not perfect replicants of their subjects, are deeply convincing in an uncanny-valley sort of way. “Rogan” has real-world Joe Rogan’s familiar inflection, his half-stoned curiosity. “Shapiro,” for his part, is there with rapid-fire responses and his trademark scoff.

    Last week, I reached out to Zach Silberberg, who created the clip using an online tool from the Silicon Valley start-up ElevenLabs. “Eleven brings the most compelling, rich and lifelike voices to creators and publishers seeking the ultimate tools for storytelling,” the firm’s website boasts. The word storytelling is doing a lot of work in that sentence. When does storytelling cross over into disinformation or propaganda?

    I asked Silberberg if we could sit down in person to talk about the implications of his viral joke. Though he didn’t engineer the product, he had already seemed to master it in a way few others had. Would bad actors soon follow his lead? Did he care? Was it his responsibility to care?

    Silberberg is in his late 20s and works in television in New York City. On the morning of our meeting, he shuffled into a TriBeCa coffee shop in a tattered sweater with an upside-down Bart Simpson stitched on the front. He told me how he had been busy making other—in his words—“stupid” clips. In one, an AI version of President Joe Biden informs his fellow Americans that, after watching the 2011 Cameron Crowe flop, We Bought a Zoo, he, Biden, also bought a zoo. In another, AI Biden says the reason he has yet to visit the site of the East Palestine, Ohio, train derailment is because he got lost on the island from Lost. While neither piece of audio features Biden stuttering or word-switching, as he often does when public speaking, both clips have the distinct Biden cadence, those familiar rises and falls. The scripts, too, have an unmistakable Biden folksiness to them.

    “The reason I think these are funny is because you know they’re fake,” Silberberg told me. He said the Rogan-Shapiro conversation took him roughly an hour and a half to produce—it was meant to be a joke, not some well-crafted attempt at tricking people. When I informed him that my Rogan-listening friend initially thought the Ratatouille clip was authentic, Silberberg freaked out: “No! God, no!” he said with a cringe. “That, to me, is fucked up.” He shook his head. “I’m trying to not fall into that, because I’m making it so outlandish,” he said. “I don’t ever want to create a thing that could be mistaken for real.” Like so much involving AI these past few months, it seemed to already be too late.

    What if, instead of a sitting president talking about how he regrets buying a zoo, a voice that sounded enough like Biden’s was “caught on tape” saying something much more nefarious? Any number of Big Lie talking points would instantly drive a news cycle. Imagine a convincing AI voice talking about ballot harvesting, or hacked voting machines; voters who are conspiracy-minded would be validated, while others might simply be confused. And what if the accused public figure—Biden, or anyone, for that matter—couldn’t immediately prove that a viral, potentially career-ending clip was fake?

    One of the major political scandals of the past quarter century involved a sketchy recording of a disembodied voice. “When you’re a star, they let you do it,” future President Donald Trump proclaimed. (You know the rest.) That clip was real. Trump, being Trump, survived the scandal, and went on to the White House.

    But, given the arsenal of public-facing AI tools seizing the internet—including the voice generator that Silberberg and other shitposters have been playing around with—how easy would it be for a bad actor to create a piece of Access Hollywood–style audio in the run-up to the next election? And what if said clip was created with a TV writer’s touch? Five years ago, Jordan Peele went viral with an AI video of then-President Barack Obama saying “Killmonger was right,” “Ben Carson is in the sunken place,” and “President Trump is a total and complete dipshit.” The voice was close, but not that close. And because it was a video, the strange mouth movements were a dead giveaway that the clip was fake. AI audio clips are potentially much more menacing because the audience has fewer context clues to work with. “It doesn’t take a lot, which is the scary thing,” Silberberg said.

    He discovered that the AI seems to produce more convincing work when processing just a few words of dialogue at a time. The Rogan-Shapiro clip was successful because of the “Who’s on first?” back-and-forth aspect of it. He downloaded existing audio samples from each podcast host’s massive online archive—three from Shapiro, two from Rogan—uploaded them to ElevenLabs’ website, then input his own script. This is the point where most amateurs will likely fail in their trolling. For a clip to land, even a clear piece of satire, the subject’s diction has to be both believable and familiar. You need to nail the Biden-isms. The shorter the sentences, the less time the listener has to question the validity of the voice. Plus, Silberberg learned, the more you type, the more likely the AI voices will string phrases together with flawed punctuation or other awkward vocal flourishes. Sticking to quick snippets makes it easier to retry certain lines of the script to perfect the specific inflection, rather than having to trudge through a whole paragraph of dialogue. But this is just where we are today, 21 months before the next federal elections. It’s going to get better, and scarier, very fast.

    If it seems like AI is everywhere all at once right now, swallowing both our attention and the internet, that’s because it is. While transcribing my interview with Silberberg in a Google doc, Google’s own AI began suggesting upcoming words in our conversation as I typed. Many of the fill-ins were close, but not entirely accurate; I ignored them. On Monday, Mark Zuckerberg said he was creating “a new top-level product group at Meta focused on generative AI to turbocharge our work in this area.” This news came just weeks after Kevin Roose, of The New York Times, published a widely read story about how he had provoked Microsoft’s Bing AI tool into saying a range of unsettling, emotionally charged statements. A couple of weeks before that, the DJ David Guetta revealed that he had used an AI version of Eminem’s voice in a live performance—lyrics that the real-life Eminem had never rapped. Elsewhere last month, the editor of the science-fiction magazine Clarkesworld said he had stopped accepting submissions because too many of them appeared to be AI-generated texts.

    This past Sunday, Sam Altman, the CEO of OpenAI, the company behind the ChatGPT AI tool, cryptically tweeted, “A new version of Moore’s Law that could start soon: the amount of intelligence in the universe doubles every 18 months.” Altman is 37 years old, meaning he’s of the generation that remembers living some daily life without a computer. Silberberg’s generation, the one after Altman’s, does not, and that cohort is already embracing AI faster than the rest of us.

    Like a lot of PEOPLE, I first encountered a “naturalistic” AI voice when watching last year’s otherwise excellent Anthony Bourdain documentary, Roadrunner. News of the filmmakers’ curious decision to include a brief, fake voice-over from the late Bourdain dominated the media coverage of the movie and, for some viewers, made it distracting to watch at all. (You may have found yourself always listening for “the moment.”) They had so much material to work with, including hours of actual Bourdain narration. What did faking a brief moment really accomplish? And why didn’t they disclose it to viewers?

    “My opinion is that, blanket statement, the use of AI technology is pretty bleak,” Silberberg said. “The way that it is headed is scary. And it is already replacing artists, and is already creating really fucked-up, gross scenarios.”

    A brief survey of those scenarios that have already come into existence: an AI version of Emma Watson reading Mein Kampf, an AI Bill Gates “revealing” that the coronavirus vaccine causes AIDS, an AI Biden attacking transgender individuals. Reporters at The Verge created their own AI Biden to announce the invasion of Russia and validate one of the most toxic conspiracy theories of our time.

    The problem, essentially, is that far too many people find the cruel, nihilistic examples just as funny as Silberberg’s absurd, low-stakes mastery of the form. He told me that as the Ratatouille clip began to go viral, he muted his own tweet, so he still doesn’t know just how far and wide it has gone. A bot notified him that Twitter’s owner, Elon Musk, “liked” the video. Shapiro, for his part, posted “LMFAO” and a laughing-crying emoji over another Twitter account’s carbon copy of Silberberg’s clip. As he and I talked about the implications of his work that morning, he seemed to grow more and more concerned.

    “I’m already in weird ethical waters, because I’m using people’s voices without their consent. But they’re public figures, political figures, or public commentators,” he said. “These are questions that I’m grappling with—these are things that I haven’t fully thought through all the way to the end, where I’m like, ‘Oh yeah, maybe I should not even have done this. Maybe I shouldn’t have even touched these tools, because it’s reinforcing the idea that they’re useful.’ Or maybe someone saw the Ratatouille video and was like, ‘Oh, I can do this? Let me do this.’ And I’ve exposed a bunch of right-wing Rogan fans to the idea that they can deepfake a public figure. And that to me is scary. That’s not my goal. My goal is to make people chuckle. My goal is to make people have a little giggle.”

    Neither the White House nor ElevenLabs responded to my request for comment on the potential effects of these videos on American politics. Several weeks ago, after the first round of trolls used Eleven’s technology for what the company described as “malicious purposes,” Eleven responded with a lengthy tweet thread of steps it was taking to curb abuse. Although most of it was boilerplate, one notable change was restricting the creation of new voice clones to paid users only, under the thinking that a person supplying a credit-card number is less likely to troll.

    Near the end of our conversation, Silberberg took a stab at optimism. “As these tools progress, countermeasures will also progress to be able to detect these tools. ChatGPT started gaining popularity, and within days someone had written a thing that could detect whether something was ChatGPT,” he said. But then he thought more about the future: “I think as soon as you’re trying to trick someone, you’re trying to take someone’s job, you’re trying to reinforce a political agenda—you know, you can satirize something, but the instant you’re trying to convince someone it’s real, it chills me. It shakes me to my very core.”

    On its website, Eleven still proudly advertises its “uncanny quality,” bragging that its model “is built to grasp the logic and emotions behind words.” Soon, the unsettling uncanny-valley element may be replaced by something indistinguishable from human intonation. And then even the funny stuff, like Silberberg’s work, may stop making us laugh.

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    John Hendrickson

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