Why I Refuse to Clone Dead People's Voices
- Jun 18, 2025
- 4 min read
Josiah Faison is a recognized voice in the intersection of technology and cultural preservation. He is the founder of Oria, an innovative platform designed to streamline the recording, safeguarding, and sharing of oral and human histories across generations.
As we enter a new era shaped by artificial intelligence, one question constantly resurfaces: what makes AI ethical, or not? It's not just about capabilities anymore. It's about consequences. And when you work in a space like I do, where stories, memories, and relationships are at the heart of the product, these questions hit differently.
At Oria, we help people preserve their life stories. It's deeply personal work. People often ask me, "Is this going to become the next Terminator? Are you recreating people's voices, their identities?" My answer has always been no. While it may seem comforting to hear a loved one's voice again, replicating someone through AI can blur the line between memory and attachment. You start to grieve a simulation, not a person. A longtime mentor once told me, "I wouldn't want to hear my son's voice again, it's never really him." That stayed with me. So we don't replicate voices. We stick to what's real: voicemails, videos, and stories. Not simulations.
This principle extends beyond personal grief into broader questions of authenticity. Generative AI, whether it's images, voices, or personas, can make people believe they're interacting with something real, and that's dangerous. I once sent a friend an Instagram meme I assumed was AI-generated. She thought it was a real person. That moment crystallized something important: we're not just entertaining ourselves anymore, we're shaping perception. The responsibility that comes with this power means we must consider measures such as labeling AI-generated content or limiting how realistically it mimics human beings. Because when people can't tell what's real, that's not innovation, that's distortion.
But here's where the conversation gets more nuanced. AI is not the enemy, far from it. The same technology that can deceive can also democratize. Take filmmaking. For years, brilliant directors and writers couldn't break into Hollywood because they lacked million-dollar budgets. Now, with generative tools, they can create entire visual productions from their laptops. That's not just technological progress, that's equity in action.
This democratization extends to entrepreneurship itself. As a founder, especially one who doesn't come from a technical background, you quickly realize how much exploitation happens behind closed doors. You're quoted $50,000 for a platform that someone could build in a matter of weeks. You're locked out of understanding what's possible because you're not in the room or don't speak the same technical language. The gatekeeping is real, and it's expensive.
AI changes this dynamic fundamentally. It levels the playing field by giving founders the ability to prototype their platforms, generate their own assets, and test ideas without being completely dependent on someone who may charge them ten times the market rate. This doesn't mean developers and designers don't deserve to be paid well; they absolutely do. But it does mean that inflated pricing based on asymmetrical knowledge, where someone charges more simply because they know you don't know better, can finally be challenged.
When I use AI tools to build aspects of Oria, I'm not just cutting costs, I'm reclaiming agency. I can understand what's involved in creating something, which makes me a better partner to the human experts I work with. It's the difference between being an informed collaborator and being at someone else's mercy.
The line between harm and help often comes down to how AI amplifies human intention. When it's used to deepen relationships, help someone open up, or support mental health, that's meaningful. Oria now uses AI to help users reflect on their lives, guiding them through story prompts that unlock memories and emotions. Some users don't want traditional therapy, but they'll tell their stories to our AI guide, and in doing so, they find healing. That's real value.
But we have to be honest about the trade-offs. While AI can protect creators from predatory practices and open doors that were previously closed, we must also protect the original artists whose work trains these models. Perhaps we need traceable metadata and compensatory frameworks, systems that let us build ethically, not exploitatively. The goal isn't to eliminate human creativity, but to expand who gets to participate in it.
I've seen the tension play out in real time. Small creators get criticized for using AI to tell their stories. I've felt it too. When I posted a reel about my life that used AI-generated visuals, some praised the storytelling. Still, others dismissed it: "That's not real." But here's the truth: there was still a person behind the screen, someone with a story to tell but limited tools to convey it. We shouldn't shame creators for using the tools they have. We should question power structures, not progress itself.
AI won't destroy society, but it will reshape it. The question isn't whether this transformation will happen; it's how we'll guide it. If we want a more equitable world, we must shape AI to serve human flourishing, not replace human agency. That means putting ethics at the center of development. It means saying no to voice cloning if it prevents healthy grieving. It means saying yes to creative tools if they give someone their first shot at storytelling. It means embracing innovation while demanding accountability from those who build and deploy these systems.
AI is neither villain nor savior. It's an amplifier of human intention and capability. The reflection we see in this technology depends entirely on how we choose to use it and who gets to make those choices. The future of AI ethics isn't just about the technology itself. It's about who has access to it, who benefits from it, and who takes responsibility for its impact.
That's the conversation we need to be having.
Read more from Josiah Faison
Josiah Faison, Innovator and National Speaker
Josiah Faison is a pioneer in preservation technology. After missing the opportunity to capture his grandmother’s memories, he established Oria—a platform that empowers individuals and organizations to capture and share oral histories. His mission is to connect generations, fight cultural erasure, and empower communities to never lose their narrative. Josiah has interviewed hundreds globally, with users of his technology from over 40 countries. Through innovation, he’s ensuring that the stories of today continue to inspire the generations of tomorrow.
