Grammarly just launched a feature that's raising serious questions about AI consent and impersonation. The writing assistant's new 'expert review' tool claims to improve user writing with feedback from 'the world's great writers and thinkers' - but those experts never agreed to participate. Instead, the company is using AI to simulate their writing styles and voices, including tech journalists, to generate automated critiques. The move puts Grammarly at the center of a growing debate about whether AI companies can ethically create digital replicas of real people without permission.
Grammarly thinks it's found a shortcut to expert writing advice - just simulate the experts themselves. The company's recently-added feature promises users feedback styled after renowned writers and thinkers, but there's a catch that's hard to ignore: those experts never signed up for this.
The feature works by analyzing user text and generating critiques that supposedly mirror how specific writers would respond. Tech journalists are among those being simulated, their distinctive voices and editorial perspectives reduced to algorithmic outputs. Users can apparently request feedback 'from' particular writers, receiving AI-generated suggestions that imitate each person's style and approach to writing.
What makes this different from generic AI writing assistance is the explicit invocation of real people's identities. Grammarly isn't just offering 'journalist-style feedback' or 'literary analysis' - it's attaching actual names and reputations to AI-generated content. That distinction is fueling concerns among the writing community about consent, attribution, and the boundaries of AI impersonation.
The timing couldn't be more fraught. AI companies are already facing mounting criticism for training models on copyrighted content without permission. But this takes the controversy a step further - from using someone's published work as training data to actively deploying their persona as a product feature. It's one thing to learn from a journalist's articles; it's another to present AI output as if that journalist themselves reviewed your work.
Grammarly has built its reputation on helping millions of users write more clearly and effectively. The company's core grammar and style checking tools have become ubiquitous in workplaces and schools. But this new feature represents a philosophical shift - from catching errors to mimicking expertise. The question is whether users understand they're getting algorithmic approximations rather than actual expert insights.
The legal landscape here remains murky. While you can't copyright a writing style, questions of publicity rights and misappropriation are less settled. Can a company commercially exploit someone's professional identity without permission? If the AI is generating feedback that users believe comes from a specific expert's perspective, does that cross ethical lines even if it's technically legal?
Tech journalists finding themselves simulated by Grammarly are in a particularly ironic position - they've spent years covering AI ethics issues, only to become unwitting participants in one. The feature essentially turns their professional judgment and editorial voice into a productized service they don't control and don't profit from.
This isn't happening in a vacuum. AI companies are racing to add personality and expertise to their tools, often by invoking real people. Some have created chatbots styled after historical figures or celebrities. Others have generated synthetic voices of actors without proper licensing. Grammarly's approach feels like a natural progression of this trend - but applied to the working tools millions use daily.
The broader implication extends beyond any single feature. If AI companies can freely create digital replicas of professionals' expertise and personas, what does that mean for knowledge workers whose value lies in their judgment and voice? Writers, consultants, and educators all trade on their distinctive perspectives. AI tools that simulate those perspectives without consent could undermine both their economic value and professional agency.
Grammarly hasn't yet publicly detailed how it developed these AI personas or whether it attempted to secure participation from the writers being simulated. The company also hasn't clarified what training data powers the feature or how accurately it claims to represent each expert's actual feedback style. Those details matter significantly for assessing both the ethical implications and the feature's utility.
For users, the appeal is obvious - who wouldn't want their writing reviewed by a celebrated author or respected journalist? But the value proposition assumes the AI can meaningfully replicate expert judgment, not just surface-level stylistic patterns. Real editorial feedback involves understanding context, audience, purpose, and nuance that extends well beyond grammar and word choice.
Grammarly's expert review feature crystallizes a tension that'll only intensify as AI capabilities expand. Companies want to offer users access to expertise and personality, but the easiest path - simulating real people without permission - raises fundamental questions about consent and identity in the AI age. Whether this becomes standard practice or sparks backlash could set precedents for how AI tools can ethically deploy professional personas. For now, users should understand that expert review without actual experts is really just sophisticated pattern matching wearing a familiar face. The writers being simulated deserve to know their voices are being productized, and users deserve to know what they're actually getting.
