AI is transforming marketing—but what about ethics? In this episode of The Backstory on Marketing and AI, we explore how ethical decision-making must evolve alongside AI-enabled market research and automation.
Maurie and Jim Beasley engage with Dayna to explore the intersection of AI and ethics. They discuss the evolving nature of ethical standards in professional practice, the impact of AI on humn relationships, and the importance of education in fostering AI literacy. The conversation emphasizes the need for ethical courage in decision-making and the significance of family values in navigating the challenges posed by technology.
Listen to the podcast here.
This article originally appeared in Financial Tech Times.
For more than forty years, Dayna Guido has sat across from clinicians in supervision, helping them navigate the gray areas of mental health practice: What do you do when a client discloses something outside the session? How do you manage the competing needs of confidentiality and safety? How do you know when your own reactions are clouding your judgment?
Now, she says, a new layer has complicated every one of those questions: Artificial Intelligence(AI).
“Supervision is where ethics becomes real,” Guido explains. “It’s the space where clinicians learn how to apply abstract codes to living situations. With AI, those situations have multiplied in ways we never anticipated.”
Guido is quick to point out that AI itself is not unethical. The dilemmas emerge when clinicians use it without awareness. A young practitioner might ask a chatbot for diagnostic clarity, or rely on an app to summarize therapy notes. But what happens if the information generated is inaccurate, incomplete, or stored insecurely? What responsibility does the clinician (and by extension, the supervisor) have for correcting, contextualizing, or even forbidding that reliance?
“These aren’t just technical questions,” Guido says. “They’re ethical questions. If a clinician types client information into a program, they’ve already made a choice about privacy. If they accept a diagnosis without critical evaluation, they’ve already made a choice about clinical responsibility. My role as a supervisor is to make those choices visible.”
Guido worries that the convenience of AI can short-circuit the learning process for early-career professionals. Supervision, at its best, cultivates discernment — the ability to sit with uncertainty, ask deeper questions, and arrive at ethical clarity through reflection. When AI provides immediate answers, that process is at risk of being skipped.
“The more we lean on AI to decide for us, the less we develop our own ethical muscles,” she says. “Supervision must resist that drift. It’s not about banning the technology. It’s about ensuring that clinicians don’t outsource the very judgment they’re supposed to be cultivating.”
To that end, Guido often brings AI directly into supervision sessions. She invites supervisees to share what they asked, what responses they received, and what they might have overlooked. Together, they dissect the gaps and biases in the machine’s output. “It’s not about shaming,” she notes. “It’s about showing how tools can be useful but never sufficient.”
Another area of supervision Guido emphasizes is informed consent. Just as clinicians had to update their policies during the pivot to telehealth, they now need to establish clear agreements with clients about AI use. “If you’re using AI to draft notes, to support interventions, or to manage records, your clients deserve to know,” she insists. “Consent is not a formality; it’s an ethical practice of transparency.”
In supervision, this translates to practical training. Guido coaches clinicians on how to draft policies that are HIPAA-compliant, how to explain AI use in plain language, and how to ensure clients truly understand what they’re agreeing to. “It’s not enough to bury it in a packet of intake forms,” she says. “Consent in therapy must be relational, not perfunctory.”
The introduction of AI has expanded the scope of what supervision must cover. Supervisors can no longer limit themselves to traditional areas like countertransference, boundaries, or cultural humility. They must now also ask: Which digital tools are you using? Are they secure? Are they distorting your clinical judgment?
Guido describes this as both a challenge and an opportunity. “Supervision has always been about staying attuned to the realities of practice,” she says. “AI is simply the newest reality. But it forces supervisors to expand their own competence, to be willing to admit what they don’t know, and to learn alongside their supervisees.”
This humility is crucial, she adds, because many supervisors came of age in an era before digital tools were omnipresent. Younger clinicians may be more comfortable experimenting with technology, while senior supervisors may feel uncertain about it. Bridging that generational divide requires openness, dialogue, and a willingness to hold ethical responsibility above personal discomfort.
Guido often frames AI as a test of professional vigilance. It is easy, she argues, for clinicians to assume that because AI provides quick answers, those answers are safe or objective. But that assumption can mask real risks: biased algorithms, privacy breaches, or the erosion of critical thinking.
“Supervision is where complacency gets interrupted,” she says. “It’s where someone asks: Did you double-check that? Did you consider what’s missing? Did you tell your client what you were doing? That accountability is what protects both the client and the profession. It’s important to remember that we are entrusted with the hearts of other human beings. AI can help us, but it cannot take that responsibility from us. Supervision is where we remember that.”
To learn more about Dayna Guido’s approach to maintaining ethics and supervision in the rise of AI, visit the official website.
This article originally appeared in Digital Journal.
In a field often focused on providing answers, Dayna Guido emphasizes the value of asking questions.
This might sound counterintuitive coming from someone who’s spent decades training therapists, running supervision groups, and writing books about ethics and parenting. But for Guido, a clinical social worker, longtime trainer, and quiet rebel in a world of rigid frameworks, she believes learning is most effective when it starts with self-reflection rather than direct instruction.
“Ethics isn’t something I lecture on,” she says. “I don’t give people answers. I help them think.”
That philosophy informs the structure and content of Creative Ways to Learn Ethics, her best-known book. It’s not a textbook. It’s a tool. Twenty chapters that double as workshops—games, media exercises, expressive arts prompts, each designed to make ethical concepts more engaging and relatable than traditional training formats.
Guido’s work is used in therapy settings, schools, churches, businesses, and retreats. It’s intentionally modular, designed to meet people where they are and to prompt further reflection and discussion. “There’s an approximate time listed for each training. Materials. Handouts. It’s very user-friendly,” she explains. “But it’s also meant to challenge people. To connect ethics to how they actually live and work.”
A defining feature of Guido’s teaching is her ability to maintain clarity without oversimplification. She brings depth without rigidity, helping to clarify complex ethical concepts and make them more approachable. Her approach is grounded in emotional honesty and practical application.
Her first book, The Parental Toolbox for Parents and Clinicians, co-written with her late husband, brings that same clarity to parenting. The book is structured more like a practical dialogue than a traditional guidebook.
Guido lives and works along the Blue Ridge Parkway, where she notes that working in a natural setting often brings unexpected inspiration, including observations from local wildlife. “They’ve taught me a lot,” she says. “About patience. About unpredictability. About not forcing anything.”
She notes that grief, in particular, has influenced her understanding of growth and ethical reflection. “Ethics has to include emotions,” she says. “It has to feel real.”
This integration of emotion, reflection, and adaptability is what ties her work together. Whether guiding someone through a professional dilemma or training future clinicians, Guido avoids rigid solutions. Instead, she encourages critical thinking and self-awareness.
Her upcoming projects include creative applications of ethics training and developing resources for educators and professionals. She emphasizes a consistent approach that values clarity, emotional awareness, and progress over perfection.
Guido describes her work as an ongoing process rooted in curiosity and continuous learning, rather than fixed outcomes.
This article appeared in CEO Weekly.
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?
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.