When Donald Trump, with his usual nationalism and sharp rhetoric, threatens to impose taxes on films not produced in the United States, he redraws the contours of the film world’s future. His vision: a Hollywood that is not just a dream factory but a cultural stronghold to be protected from the erosion of globalization.
But in an age where AI can generate entire worlds, recreate Dover, Berlin, Versailles, or D-Day without anyone stepping outside a studio in Burbank – what does it really mean when a nation wants to tax culture and control what is considered “authentic film”?
AI's Infiltration into Filmmaking
AI has revolutionized film production. From recreating deceased actors to simulating historical places with stunning detail, entire films can now be created without physical locations. Dover in England? AI can recreate the cliffs with dreamlike precision. The Roman Empire? Just one prompt away.
But with this technical freedom come moral and legal questions. Can anyone recreate the storming of the Bastille in Paris? Who actually owns the visual rights to Versailles? Can Germany say no when someone wants to digitally recreate the fall of the Berlin Wall?
A New Form of Digital Colonialism?
History has long been written by the victors. Now it risks being recreated by algorithms. With AI as the tool and Hollywood as the engine, American companies can make films about European history, shaped by American values, interpretations, and agendas.
This raises the question: Are we moving toward a new form of digital colonialism, where cultural memories and national traumas are translated into entertainment by someone else? What happens when these images become more real than reality for future generations?
Historical Rights: A Future License War?
It’s not unlikely that countries will begin creating “cultural licenses” to regulate AI’s use of their history and landmarks. Just as the EU introduces geo-blocking for digital content or defends its gastronomic products with origin protection (e.g., “Champagne” must come from Champagne), it may soon require permissions to create digital representations of national events.
A film team wanting to recreate Gustav Vasa’s entrance into Stockholm in 1523 using AI might have to pay a license to the Swedish Film Institute. Or an American company wanting to make an action thriller about Germany’s reunification may first need to negotiate with the cultural ministry in Berlin.
Trump, Film, and the Defense of the American Narrative
Trump’s statements about “keeping the heart of film in the USA” are not just economic—they are ideological. Hollywood is part of America’s soft power: a factory for identity, ideals, and norms. If other countries begin producing more content of higher quality and with broader distribution, the U.S. loses influence.
In an AI-driven world where physical limitations barely exist, the “film war” becomes a global battle over narrative dominance.
Devil’s Advocate: Isn’t It Good That History Is Being Democratized?
To play devil’s advocate: Isn’t it a good thing that more people can tell historical stories, offer new perspectives, and shed light on unknown events? In the past, only Hollywood or the BBC had the resources to visualize history. Now, a small team in Sofia, Nairobi, or Medellín can create epic films that rival the biggest studios.
AI can be a tool for democratization—for telling the history of minorities and alternative viewpoints we’ve never seen before. But that also requires responsibility.
Final Thoughts: Who Writes Tomorrow’s History?
History is not just what happened—it’s what we choose to remember. As AI begins producing our collective memory banks, we face questions that are not only technical but existential.
Who owns history?
Who has the right to recreate it?
And what happens when algorithms—not humans—decide which images survive?
In an AI-generated future, we may need to defend our history all over again.
Not with weapons.
But with code.
By Chris...
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