Why passing off AI-generated work as our own might harm mental wellbeing
There have been several warnings about the potentially damaging effects of AI, and I’m about to issue one of my own. Some will dismiss it but those who value authenticity will understand the aim. I’m exploring what happens when we pretend to have created something.
Before delving deeper, let’s remind ourselves of other recent concerns. Experts have already cautioned against outsourcing too much cognitive work to computational intelligence and against developing overly emotional relationships with chatbots. They have also warned of the risks of using AI as a therapist, maintaining that mental health vulnerabilities can be amplified, highlighting cases of harmful advice for crises.
This article focuses on the inner distress and tension that passing off AI work as our own might create. I am not passing judgement but putting forward a theory. My claim is rooted in the therapeutic concept that when we aren’t authentic, we suffer distress. I’ll come to this shortly.
In the interests of transparency, I ask AI to check my work for ethical or professional standards issues in case anything has escaped my attention. It pays to have a second pair of eyes. My professional coaching and counselling bodies would take a dim view of any specious statements. And any spellchecker (UK setting) is a boon.
For clarity, I’m not writing about the likes of those AI automated email responses to say we’re out of the office for a few days and that messages will be forwarded and responded to as soon as practicably possible. I’m examining the wholesale use of an algorithm to write an article, post, or comment to make the communicator appear more expert, qualified, and literate.
Troubled by inauthenticity
Inauthenticity has troubled several Substack writers who have articulated their concerns. They argue that creating façades of expertise is not only ethically wrong, but it also damages self-development. They state that this masquerading closes off opportunities to grow and learn because it shuts out the gathering, evaluating, processing, and assimilating of information. I strongly believe this.
And heaven forbid we should surrender our ability to write for ourselves or refuse to learn on the grounds that it’s too difficult and, therefore, requires too much effort.
I’ve grown as much by struggling as I have from expert tuition. For instance, it took two painfully slow years before my writing style clicked (in my opinion, of course) as a newspaper journalist in the early years of my career. I imagine the subeditors rolling their eyes. I clearly recall the two separate Eureka! moments when I learnt how to write a punchy news story and an engaging feature. Although there was immense relief, the effort and pain made it worthwhile. My writing continues to develop.
The author George Orwell admitted that his early writing needed improvement and, so, he began to work on clarity, rhythm and precision, purpose, and simplicity. His guidelines for effective writing have been adopted by many writers.
The gap of incongruence
Drawing on the separate works of Rogers and Jung, I interpret the possibility that creating a writer’s façade can cause psychological issues for some people.
US psychologist Carl Rogers stated in 1959 that the greater the gap between the real self (who a person truly is) and the ideal self (who they believe they should be), the greater the risk of psychological distress.
He called this gap incongruence.
Incongruence leads to emotional distress, feelings of inadequacy, low self-esteem, and tension and anxiety. Not good. Rogers argued that human wellbeing is enhanced if we are congruent with our experience, ideal self, and self-image aligned.
Thirty years earlier, analytical psychologist Carl Gustav Jung had warned of the possible distress that can result from hiding behind a mask to gain acceptance and to protect against rejection. As the separation between appearance and reality grows, we fail to express who we genuinely are. There can be a psychological cost for maintaining this persona.
The aim of therapy is to reduce this incongruence and promote psychological wellbeing.
Idealised digital presence
Festinger’s (1954) Social Comparison Theory states that people form views about themselves and their abilities through comparison with others. Studies have already revealed the impact on self-esteem when we compare our lives to those we are led to believe are being lived on social media. I recently came across research on digital identity by Xiao (2025) which supports the long-held view of many that anxiety, self-doubt, and self-esteem difficulties can develop if we strive for an idealised social media presence.
Perhaps this explains why a person might use AI to write for them and pass it off as their own creation. They might be afraid to show their own writing because they feel it isn’t good enough, or they fear being judged if they use their own voice, or it’s because they want to impress others.
However, the problem is that the individual knows the truth, while maintaining this mismatch. This can erode self-esteem by evoking anxiety, self-doubt, and shame.
In summary
It is important to note that this is a theoretical argument. It is not an established AI research finding. However, psychological works tell us that authenticity means congruence and this supports positive psychological wellbeing. It seems logical to deduce that creating a writer’s façade is incongruent, and, for some, can lead to distress. Equally disturbing, as Substack members have warned, it impedes our ability to learn.
While AI was not around to tax the minds of Jung and Rogers, I suggest from aspects of their work that any technology that might distance us from our true selves must be used with caution.
AI has a place but not as a false representation of who we are.