A few months ago, I was scrolling through TikTok when I came across a video. In a brightly lit room with brown décor, a doctor in a checkered shirt was discussing PCOS, a common condition that affects many women globally. As he shared medical insights and opinions, he repeatedly recommended herbal supplements, claiming they would help manage the condition. The more I watched, the more I sensed something was off. The man’s movements were unnatural, with odd shadows and swirling effects, while the panelists beside him sat perfectly still. Only then did I realize the image was AI-generated.

Once I understood what was happening, I left a comment to warn others that the video was AI-generated. Many users had been sharing their experiences, asking questions, or expressing relief at the apparent solution. The account owner would promptly direct them to a page where they could pay for and receive supplements. Comments like mine were deleted, and I suspect I was eventually blocked, as I could no longer find the account.

On 5 December 2025, Full Fact published an investigative article on the rise of deepfakes spreading healthcare misinformation, highlighting the case of Professor David Taylor-Robinson, whose likeness was manipulated to appear as though he was discussing menopause and supplements. The BBC also reported that a hospital in South London raised the alarm about videos falsely claiming their clinicians had endorsed weight-loss products.

Generative AI is reshaping how people connect and communicate online. Tools that once required specialist knowledge are now available to anyone with a smartphone and a few coins to spare. This new accessibility has dramatically increased the potential for misuse. With few barriers in place, scammers can now easily create and share fake voices or images, often using them to impersonate real people and spread misleading information.

The danger of deepfakes lies in their ability to mimic authority figures, like doctors, to sell questionable products or push false narratives. A year ago, most people could spot a fake video by looking for odd details, maybe a hand that didn’t look quite right, or a face that moved awkwardly. Today, those telltale signs are fading, replaced by technology that can fool even careful viewers. As fake videos spread across social media, it remains unclear whether government regulators can keep up.

Despite the rapid rise of AI, Kenya’s laws haven’t caught up. Acts such as the Data Protection Act and the Computer Misuse and Cybercrimes Act offer some protection but don’t address all the risks that come with new technology. Now, lawmakers are considering the Artificial Intelligence Bill 2026, which aims to address the spread of AI-generated disinformation. Critics argue the bill was drafted with little input from outside experts and that it leans too much on harsh penalties rather than supporting those who might be harmed.

To understand why deepfake doctors gain traction in Kenya, it is important to consider the state of its healthcare system. Globally, healthcare faces rising inequality, workforce shortages, and, according to the World Health Organization, a surge in deaths in low- and middle-income countries due to poor quality of care. The Ministry of Health reports that most Kenyan health facilities cannot provide adequate outpatient services, and every year, Kenyans pay out of pocket for medical care. For those on lower socioeconomic rungs, significant barriers to accessing essential services persist. Many choose to self-medicate rather than risk hospitalisation and debt. Public scepticism towards the Social Health Insurance Fund remains high, fuelled by opaque procurement and worries over the use of AI to determine contributions.

Medical negligence remains a major issue in Kenya and has fostered widespread distrust of healthcare practitioners. The prevalence of malpractice stems from weak regulatory oversight, limited accountability, and inadequate legal recourse. Pursuing a malpractice claim is costly and given the imbalance of power between patients and doctors, most Kenyans opt for alternative treatments rather than challenging the system.

This is where the deepfake doctor comes in. Using supposed authority, they recommend affordable “solutions,” claiming the medical establishment hides simple cures to keep patients dependent on pharmaceutical drugs. This resonates with people who have long felt the medical establishment is indifferent and extractive. The consistent framing of deepfake scams as a problem of personal gullibility is wholly inadequate, as it is convenient for AI platforms that profit from the engagement, and for governments with no real interest in regulation. The deepfake doctor is a product of platform capitalism, which is in a continuous search for new frontiers of accumulation perpetually expanding into realms once considered protected: health, trust, and medical authority. Where there is uncertainty and pain, there is demand, and platform capitalism will engineer a supply regardless of whether it causes harm.

The deepfake doctor trend overlaps with the global rise of anti-science movements. From anti-vaxxers to wellness influencers, the anti-medicine industry is thriving, and many Kenyans are being swayed by right-wing, anti-science voices online. This trend could result in more parents refusing to vaccinate their children, risking the return of diseases like polio. A 2024 study in Public Understanding of Science found that several retracted COVID-19 articles are being repurposed by anti-vaccine advocates. Deepfake doctors fit into this landscape, lending apparent “expert” support to ideas rejected by mainstream healthcare. The supplements they promote are often marketed as inexpensive but require ongoing purchases or subscriptions, and most troubling, they target people already burdened by a failing healthcare system.

The American Medical Association has proposed that the practitioner’s identity be considered a professional asset, banning the use of AI-generated content featuring doctors without their consent. The association has also advocated for mandatory labeling of AI-generated media and stronger accountability for tech platforms. Kenya’s AI Bill 2026 adopts the labeling requirement and imposes criminal penalties for unlabeled content but does not address individual protection substantially. From a Kenyan perspective, both frameworks fall short, as neither acknowledges the phenomenon as a sign of a deeper public healthcare crisis.

Tackling the problem of deepfake doctors will take more than a few updates to existing laws. Kenya needs to rebuild trust in public healthcare and make sure it’s accessible to all. Many people, left without reliable options, have turned to online sources, sometimes falling victim to scams. Unless the government addresses the deeper issues in the healthcare system, new rules for deepfakes will be only a short-term fix.

I remain a doomscroller on TikTok. Now, I pass by videos of doctors on the platform with a hard-earned sense of caution. I still report suspicious accounts or warn people in my circle, but these actions alone are not enough. Consumer vigilance cannot replace justice or meaningful change. What’s needed is political mobilization to hold digital platforms accountable and to rebuild public health systems people can truly trust. The real question is: will we keep scrolling or take action?