By: Natalie Johnson

In the middle of the country, far from Silicon Valley’s techno-optimism or D.C.’s policy debates, Dayna Guido has been quietly shaping one of the most consequential conversations in healthcare today: how mental health professionals can stay human in an age increasingly defined by artificial intelligence.

A licensed clinical social worker, educator, and author with decades of experience, Guido’s influence reaches far beyond therapy rooms and classrooms. Her work—spanning ethics, supervision, and emerging technology—challenges the field to rethink what it means to care for others responsibly. She isn’t interested in panic or blind enthusiasm when it comes to AI. Instead, she’s asking a deeper question: How do we hold on to empathy, judgment, and authenticity as our tools and systems evolve?

A Life Built Around Listening

Guido’s approach to leadership was born not in policy think tanks or startup incubators, but in the daily practice of listening. As a clinical supervisor, she has spent decades guiding new generations of social workers and counselors through the complex terrain of professional ethics.

She is known among peers for her blend of compassion and candor, helping clinicians recognize not just the rules of ethical conduct, but the moral reasoning behind them. “Ethics is not compliance,” she often says. “It’s curiosity. It’s the ongoing practice of asking better questions about what’s right, what’s fair, and what truly helps.”

This philosophy runs through her writing and teaching, positioning her as both a traditionalist and a reformer. She believes in the enduring power of human connection. Yet, she’s unafraid to interrogate how that connection must adapt in a world where algorithms can draft clinical notes or simulate empathy.

The New Ethical Frontier

The introduction of AI tools into clinical settings —think note-taking assistants, diagnostic algorithms, and chatbots— is raising profound ethical questions. Who owns client data when an AI records a session? How can clinicians maintain confidentiality when software systems evolve faster than regulatory standards?

For Guido, these questions aren’t theoretical. They are the next frontier of ethical supervision. “Technology can be a tremendous ally,” she explains, “but only if clinicians are equipped to use it with the same mindfulness they bring to human interactions. We can’t outsource our judgment.”

Her writing on this topic, including her recent features in TechBullion and The Coaching Magazine, has struck a nerve in the mental health community. Clinicians are hungry for guidance that acknowledges the complexity of AI without descending into fear. Guido offers precisely that: a framework rooted in ethics, curiosity, and emotional intelligence.

She encourages practitioners to approach technology the way they approach clients—with empathy and boundaries. It’s an idea that sounds deceptively simple, but in an industry often pulled between innovation and caution, it’s quietly radical.

The Teacher’s Lens

As an educator, Guido sees ethics not as a set of prohibitions but as an evolving practice of reflection. Her supervision style is known for being both challenging and supportive. She teaches emerging therapists to engage in what she calls ethical presence: an awareness that extends beyond following rules to embodying integrity in every decision.

“Supervision is about growth, not grading,” she says. “It’s about helping professionals develop the confidence to think for themselves when no one is watching.”

This idea has resonated with clinicians navigating burnout, identity shifts, and institutional pressures. Guido’s blend of structure and openness allows people to rediscover their purpose in work that can easily become procedural. It’s no surprise that she’s become a sought-after mentor for professionals who want to reconnect to the soul of their practice.

Ethics Meets Innovation

Guido’s current work sits at the intersection of two worlds often portrayed as opposites: human care and machine intelligence. She insists they are not incompatible. “AI doesn’t threaten empathy,” she says. “What threatens empathy is forgetting that it’s a skill we must continuously practice, whether we’re talking to a client or training a model.”

Her perspective reframes the conversation about technology from fear to stewardship. Rather than resisting innovation, she advocates for ethical fluency: the ability to adapt one’s principles to new contexts without abandoning their essence.

For mental health professionals, this means staying informed, asking hard questions, and recognizing when technology enhances care rather than replacing it. It means developing policies for privacy and transparency while remembering that no algorithm can replace genuine human regard.

Beyond the Office

What makes Guido’s voice especially relevant is that her vision of ethics extends beyond professional boundaries. Her earlier work in parenting education and social advocacy shows a throughline: a belief that curiosity and compassion are the twin pillars of moral action. Whether mentoring young therapists or guiding parents, she emphasizes reflection over reaction—a discipline increasingly rare in today’s polarized, fast-moving world.

In her view, the same principles that make for ethical clinical work —like humility, self-awareness, and courage —also make for better leadership, families, and communities. “We can’t talk about ethical systems without talking about the people inside them,” she reminds her audiences.

The Next Chapter

As AI continues to transform healthcare, Guido’s work is becoming more urgent. She is collaborating with educators, technology developers, and policymakers to develop frameworks that help the mental health field navigate these changes without losing its humanity.

Her message is not about resisting progress but about redefining it. Progress, she suggests, should be measured not only in terms of efficiency and scale, but also in the preservation of empathy, trust, and accountability.

In a moment when the ethics of technology often feel abstract or reactive, Dayna Guido offers something rare: moral clarity grounded in lived experience. She reminds clinicians —and, by extension, all of us —that the future of care will not be written by machines alone, but by the humans who choose how to use them.

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any affiliated organizations. The content is intended for informational purposes only and should not be construed as professional advice.