The deepfake video that infuriated Macron

Emmanuel Macron stepped to the podium in Marseille’s Palais du Pharo, the Mediterranean sun glinting off the sea behind him. His face was flushed, jaw tight. Journalists from La Provence and national outlets leaned forward, sensing the storm.

“Yesterday evening,” he began, voice sharp with fury, “I received a phone call from an African head of state—a serious, respected leader, a friend of France. He was extremely worried. He asked me, almost in panic: ‘Emmanuel, what is happening in your country? Are you safe? Is there a coup d’état?’”

A murmur rippled through the room. Macron paused, letting the disbelief settle.

“He had just seen a video circulating widely on social networks—a perfectly fabricated deepfake. A journalist, supposedly live from Paris, announcing that a military colonel had seized power, that the Élysée had fallen, that my fate was unknown. Tanks in the streets, helicopters over the Champs-Élysées… all fake, generated by artificial intelligence.”

He slammed his hand on the lectern.

“And this video, viewed millions of times, mainly in francophone Africa, was still online this morning. I alerted the platforms. Their response? ‘It does not violate our community standards.’”

🔴 INFO – #France : Emmanuel #Macron a alerté sur une vidéo truquée générée par intelligence artificielle, diffusée sur #Facebook, simulant un coup d’État en France. Toujours en ligne, elle cumule près de 13 millions de vues. 😳 pic.twitter.com/Xw1QJkSpPO
— FranceNews24 (@FranceNews24) December 16, 2025

His voice rose, incredulous and enraged.

“They refuse to remove it! These American platforms treat the sovereignty of democracies, the stability of our partnerships, the truth itself as nothing. They allow a lie that could destabilise relations between continents to spread unchecked, and they do nothing!”

In a quiet presidential palace thousands of kilometres away, President Amara Kouassi replayed the call in his mind. He had dialled Macron late at night, heart pounding after watching the clip shared by relatives in Paris. The footage looked so real—the urgent tone, the flickering lights on the Eiffel Tower, the breaking-news ticker.

When Macron answered, calm and amused at first, then reassuring – “Amara, mon frère, tout va bien ici, c’est une intoxication” – relief washed over him. But embarrassment followed. How had he, a seasoned leader who had survived real coups and attempted ones, fallen for a video?

By morning, Macron’s public outburst reached him via French radio. Amara smiled wryly. The French president was right to be angry. In an era where truth could be manufactured in seconds, even heads of state were vulnerable. And the platforms, indifferent giants, profited from the chaos.

Macron ended his speech with a warning: “We will not let these companies decide what is true or false in our democracies. Europe must regulate them – now.”

The journalists applauded. Somewhere in West Africa, Amara nodded in silent agreement – presumably.

Caption: The fake deepfake video announcing a military coup in France has amassed around 12 to 13 million views, primarily on Facebook.