Editor’s Letter: Would you spill your secrets to a machine?

A journalist’s inbox is a bramble of news tips, requests, screeds and, most of all, pitches. So many pitches. Lately, I can’t help but notice how many companies describe their vaunted new gizmo or service as being “AI-powered.” Among the slew of examples are providers of AI therapy, which aim to supplant old-school, turtlenecked, chin-stroking shrinks with generative-AI chatbots that can listen, soothe and churn out empathetic, medically informed advice. What’s so wrong with that?

To the millions of customers who have already signed up for AI therapy, not a thing. Nor does anything seem off to the eager hive of investors, who see in the current $1.3-billion market the potential for exponential growth. Yet we know from experience that a lot of buzzy, newfangled things don’t deserve the hype. (Remember NFTs?) What no one really knows yet is whether these new services are any good.

When Olivia Stren began her career as a writer and editor at this magazine in the early aughts, she was in the throes of depression and anxiety. For her, therapy was a salve, and a psychiatrist guided her through the tumult of her 20s. Later, a series of life-altering events, including two late-term miscarriages, brought her back to the chaise longue.

As a long-term therapy client—not to mention a whip-smart writer and a keen observer of human behaviour—Stren was the perfect candidate to test-drive this new field of AI therapy bots for Toronto Life. As you’ll read in her engrossing feature, “The Chatbot Will See You Now,” these platforms are attempting to fill a chasmic societal need. An estimated one in three Canadians will experience a mental illness in their lifetime, and it stands to reason that every human on earth could benefit from the chance to air their problems to a friendly ear. Unfortunately, most don’t get the opportunity. In 2022, 1.5 million Canadians reported having mental health care needs that were either not met or only partially met. In 2023/24, one in 10 Canadians waited five months or more for community mental health counselling. And even for those who do have the good fortune of finding a therapist, the interpersonal match may not be right, and then they have to start the entire search process over again.

Therapy chatbots, by contrast, are available at all times, day or night. They always remember what you said last time, never have off days and never judge you. They also have access to virtually all medical literature ever uploaded to the internet and are shockingly affordable. In some cases, they’re free.

For a month this past summer, while her therapist was on holiday, Stren field-tested the leading AI therapy apps, including Ash, Wysa and Doro. It took a while, as it does IRL, to find the right fit, and then to get comfortable launching raw personal truths at her iPhone.

There were moments of profound discovery, but also outrage, resentment and hilarity. As Stren discovered, no matter how sophisticated their programming, bots cannot replicate the magic spark between therapist and client. They cannot build genuine trust, a fundamental component of therapy, and they remain susceptible to hallucinations and misfirings.

The verdict? There is a lot to like, especially when it comes to alleviating the global need for mental health support. But, when her flesh-and-blood therapist got back from vacation, Stren was thrilled and relieved. And her therapist was just as happy to see Stren. Genuinely.