Fake Volvo Spy Photos Led to Widespread Confusion on Facebook. This is Just the Beginning.

      This image isn’t authentic—but the buzz it generated on social media this month suggests otherwise, with countless individuals genuinely believing they were viewing spy shots of two new Volvo models and expressing enthusiasm for the brand’s revival of boxy, retro designs. Then came the counter-reaction: many commenters insisting it’s clearly an AI-generated image, questioning how anyone could be foolish enough to think different. However, the truth is that it’s neither of those. The excitement and outrage surrounding this topic highlight a troubling trend regarding how AI can disrupt even the most trivial social exchanges, like two car fans examining a picture together.

      The images are actually renders made by digital artist Jordan Rubinstein-Towler, who shared them on his Instagram account on January 28. He has been creating sketches and 3D models for years, primarily for fan service, like redesigning the new Acura Integra to resemble its third generation. The two Volvos are his latest creations. Over the past six months, he has enjoyed showcasing them through design sketches and camouflaged spy photograph scenarios on Instagram.

      So how did this lead to widespread misinformation? I will explain, but the key takeaway is that relying on AI—to create, solve, or filter our surroundings—erodes our already declining critical thinking abilities. This isn’t just my opinion; it aligns with a recent study by Microsoft (the company investing $80 billion in AI this year). As society grapples with these emerging technologies, issues will arise in unexpected areas. This includes disrupting the previously enjoyable distraction of amateur 3D renders in the car community, which should have never been sources of false rumors or frustration.

      In the last decade, advances in graphics cards and the proliferation of open-source modeling software have fostered a cottage industry for creators of fake car renders. Artists “fix” poorly redesigned cars (like the ongoing critique of BMW’s increasing kidney grilles), dream up extravagant builds, or use actual spy photos to create future models. Talented creators can build a significant following and make decent earnings from their work.

      Until now, renders rarely sparked major issues. When one unexpectedly reached an unaware audience, the confusion was usually resolved quickly. You could argue that Jordan, like many artists, somewhat hoped viewers would mistake his work for real photos, if only to boost engagement. His original caption—“Volvo 240 sedan and kombi high performance prototypes spotted at the Nürburgring”—certainly doesn’t help matters. If you knew the inside joke on his profile, fine, but lacking that context only complicates today’s problem.

      Now, when an accurate render gains traction, it encounters an audience (especially on Facebook) inundated with purely AI-generated content, struggling to distinguish the two and relying on an algorithm that favors AI-generated content to influence their next viewing choices. This creates a volatile situation.

      That’s exactly what transpired here. Jordan’s renders were quickly screenshotted by someone—whether they believed the caption or not is beside the point—and uploaded to Facebook without the essential context. Users seized upon them, assuming they were real, and circulated them across numerous enthusiast groups. Others quickly declared the images to be generative AI nonsense, but those fact checks couldn’t keep pace with the number of people being misled and excitedly sharing them. By the time the confusion cleared, after the images had already spread to Reddit and other platforms, they were accepted as genuine by millions. How many simply went about their lives believing something false?

      This isn’t a new phenomenon; rather, the speed of dissemination is what has changed, even for something as harmless as a 3D car model. One could argue that mistakenly believing Volvos will appear in a certain way isn’t life-altering and that this is all ultimately benign. However, the anger directed at those who mistook the images for AI-generated content showcases why it is concerning. Previously, confusion regarding a render led to simple corrections: “Uh, that’s a render, guys.” It’s a subtle distinction, but that phrasing acknowledges the creation as something made by a person who may not have intended to deceive, placing more responsibility on the viewer. In contrast, claiming THAT’S AI, ARE YOU KIDDING ME, IDIOTS? implies that this is meaningless content created solely to mislead people, and you should be condemned if you fell for it.

      I understand why many assumed it was AI, as most visuals resembling these photos today are AI-generated: the overly precise shadows, peculiar depth of field effects, and mismatched body lines on the vehicles serve as red flags. However, that viewpoint shifts the focus. Not only has AI content made it challenging for less tech-savvy individuals to discern what’s real, but it has also conditioned those on alert to have a new default assumption. If something seems artificial but attempts to appear genuine, it’s assumed to be AI. The notion of someone spending hours crafting a 3D scene as a form of art is no longer a common