One realization I had recently while reading about remote psychological assessment is that COVID 19 did not simply introduce teleconsultation and remote mental health services. It legitimized them.
Before the pandemic, seeking psychological help through a screen felt unusual. Today, it is normal.
As a college dean, I have encountered students who have presented psychological reports obtained through online consultations. A few years ago, that would have been uncommon. Today, it barely raises an eyebrow. Students are comfortable seeking help remotely, and professionals are increasingly comfortable providing services remotely.
Personally, I am not opposed to this development. In fact, I welcome it. Access has always been one of the biggest barriers to mental health care. Distance, cost, stigma, and the limited number of professionals have prevented many people from seeking help. Technology has lowered some of those barriers. For many Filipinos, especially those outside major urban centers, remote services may be the difference between receiving help and receiving none at all.
But while access has improved, I have noticed another trend emerging among students. Increasingly, students arrive with mental health language already in hand. They know terms like ADHD, anxiety, trauma, depression, autism, attachment styles, and burnout. They are more informed than previous generations, but they are also consuming information from sources that did not exist in the same way ten years ago.
Like many people, I occasionally find myself scrolling through TikTok. What fascinates me is how much mental health content now appears on a typical feed. Some creators explain symptoms. Others share coping strategies. Some openly discuss their diagnoses. There are even licensed professionals conducting question and answer sessions or offering advice through livestreams.
In many ways, this is a good thing. Mental health is no longer hidden. Conversations that were once considered taboo are now taking place publicly. Students are becoming more aware of themselves and more willing to seek help.
But I also see a potential danger. A sixty second video can raise awareness, but it cannot provide a comprehensive assessment. A livestream can offer general advice, but it cannot fully account for an individual's history, environment, relationships, and circumstances.
And sometimes, I worry that young people are being encouraged to identify with diagnoses before they fully understand what those diagnoses mean.
As someone who works closely with first year college students, I have encountered situations where students genuinely believed they had a particular condition because of something they saw online. Sometimes they were correct. Sometimes they were not. But what stood out to me was how quickly information became identity.
The challenge is that algorithms are designed to maximize engagement, not accuracy.
The more content a person watches about anxiety, ADHD, trauma, or depression, the more similar content they are likely to receive. Over time, the line between education, entertainment, advocacy, and diagnosis can become blurred. Now add artificial intelligence into the equation.
Today, people can describe their symptoms to an AI chatbot and receive an immediate response. They can ask for explanations, interpretations, or even possible diagnoses. While these tools can be useful for increasing awareness and directing people toward resources, they also create new questions about accountability, accuracy, and professional responsibility.
And this is where I believe policy enters the conversation. We often assume that innovation is the difficult part. In reality, technology tends to move much faster than institutions, regulations, and professional standards. Mental health services are experiencing what public administrators often refer to as policy lag. Society changes first. Policy follows later.
Teleconsultation expanded rapidly. Mental health content exploded across social media. Artificial intelligence entered the public sphere. Yet discussions about standards, safeguards, consumer protection, professional accountability, and quality assurance are still catching up.
The answer is not to resist innovation. The answer is to govern it responsibly. Accessibility should not require sacrificing validity. Convenience should not require sacrificing quality. Greater reach should not require sacrificing professional accountability.
If legitimate mental health services become more accessible and affordable, fewer individuals may feel compelled to rely solely on self diagnosis, social media content, or artificial intelligence for answers to complex psychological concerns.
Technology should serve as a bridge to professional care, not a substitute for it. Because ultimately, the issue is not whether mental health services will become increasingly digital. They already are.
The real question is whether our policies, standards, and institutions can evolve quickly enough to ensure that access, innovation, and public trust grow together.