Article
Comment
Mental Health
Podcasts
4 min read

What all those BetterHelp ads say about ourselves

Podcasting and therapy alike scratch our itch to be inquisitive about things, even our own inner worlds.

Jamie is Vicar of St Michael's Chester Square, London.

A podcaster speaks into a mic before a screen.
Soundtrap on Unsplash.

There's one dominion Amazon hasn't conquered. Jeff Bezos famously chose his company's name, in part, because it's the largest river in the world and he wanted to create the world's largest bookstore. And Amazon has flooded the market. But as the world of podcasting is taking over our commutes and leisure time, Amazon isn't taking it over. That top spot belongs to BetterHelp. 

Now that I've mentioned it, you probably know what I'm referring to: the ubiquitous ads offering online therapy, often reassuringly read by the podcast hosts themselves. Although Amazon is the second largest ad buyer on podcasts, BetterHelp spends more. A lot more. In the US, BetterHelp spent $22million in the second quarter of this year, followed by Amazon with $13million. . BetterHelp has pretty much been the top spender on podcasts Clearly, BetterHelp thinks the demand for therapy is right up there with the convenience of getting stuff delivered to your door. 

The message of online therapy, and the medium of podcasts makes for a neat match. It seems our wants and needs are more and more solo endeavours. Our desire for entertainment and help are becoming something we access alone, behind headphones and closed doors.  

Overhearing people talking about their therapist in a metropolitan café is now as as common as the extra-hot flat whites themselves.

I was stunned when I heard recently that Saturday Night Live celebrated fifty years on TV. It was a reminder of an age when families and friends would diarise prime-time weekend entertainment together in front of the glow of the screen. But common experiences are diminishing. Harvard fellow Flynn Coleman highlights that the third spaces  where we have customarily congregated, found community, and ourselves, are vanishing.   

She is, of course, right. We are just beginning to scratch the surface of the damage our atomised online worlds have created. But where the CDC health report last year tragically detailed the harm social media causes teenage girls, the online space is not without hope. Krish Kandiah writes, 'Instead of demonising new technology as the problem, perhaps we need to find ways to turn it into the solution.'The online world isn't going away, so it must be at least part of the solution. Teletherapy is now available on the NHS, and while there are questions over the affordability and availability of online mental health care, and I cannot vouch for BetterHelp, making therapy more accessible by taking it online plays an important part in winning the battle of declining mental health. 

Far from an echo chamber, an online therapist can challenge presumptions at right angles and enable clients to access worlds they previously only dreamed of. And, any good therapist wouldn't encourage you to isolate yourself. We still need community. 

Therapy isn't as much a solo endeavour as we might first think. Of course, the therapeutic relationship itself is between two people, however objective one party might be. And just as the old adage goes, 'a problem shared is a problem halved', overhearing people talking about their therapist in a metropolitan café is now as as common as the extra-hot flat whites themselves.  Therapy is losing its stigma, and the benefits of it are shared just as we want to share a podcast that's stimulated or amused us.

That elusive arrival at contentment, of happiness, of satisfaction is quite the claim for an online service provider to make. 

Some things are sacred, though. James Marriott recently argued in The Times that the burden on those in the public spotlight to overshare isn't always helpful. How, where and with whom we share our inner thoughts matters. The Christian tradition sees that growth happens through relationship, rather than through broadcasting. Spanish mystic St Teresa of Avila wrote almost half a millennia ago about a journey inward, inside of ourselves to a space where only God dwells, if we choose to let him enter. On that journey, she wrote ‘It is a great advantage for us to be able to consult someone who knows us, so that we may learn to know ourselves.’  

On that journey of self-knowledge, the online world can enhance our lives, but not replace it. Just as The Rest is History podcast can give you details about ‘greatest monkeys' that your friend can't, specialist help from an online therapist will help you in ways friends won't. But BetterHelp wants to be your friend. The main heading on their website mimics what we've probably all heard from someone we know: 'You deserve to be happy'. They've learnt from the Steve Jobs school of marketing: don't sell the product or service; sell how it will make them feel. That elusive arrival at contentment, of happiness, of satisfaction is quite the claim for an online service provider to make. 

Podcasting and therapy alike scratch our itch to be inquisitive about things, even our own inner worlds. Where podcasting has challenged the old powers that sought to control the flow of information, we also do well to listen to external expert help. In this age, the online stream can flow information to us which, like the Amazon, might overwhelm us. It’s worth us asking: is there an external source of even better help available? One that will overwhelm us too – but instead overwhelm with the love we crave in our deepest selves? 

Article
Assisted dying
Comment
Politics
4 min read

The assisted dying bill is an undignified mess

Literally life-changing legislation needs a parliament at its best not its worst.

George is a visiting fellow at the London School of Economics and an Anglican priest.

A parliamentary committee meets, sitting at wooden raised desks in a wood panelled room.
The bill committee meets.

The first clue came when MP Kim Leadbeater’s private members’ bill passed in the House of Commons at the end of November. She came outside to greet pro-euthanasia campaigners like she was emerging as a winner from the Big Brother house, in tears of joy, whooping and hugging and high-fiving, with prime minister Keir Starmer gurning awkwardly in her wake. 

For her and her supporters, this was indeed great news. But these optics were far from great. It was as though she was celebrating the consequence of the legislation she’d introduced: “Whoa! Wonderful news everybody! We’re going to be allowed to help people to kill themselves.” 

It’s not a good look, even to those who may wish for such assistance. Where was the dignity, the key word that assisted-suicide lobbyists have appropriated for their cause? Not in this carefree triumphalism, this cork-popping celebration of the prospect of death-on-demand. 

Since then, the bill’s faltering passage through parliament has been characterised by this absence of dignity, a kind of cowboy rustler pushing a herd of supporters in a single direction, towards statute. And this lack of dignity matters. Not just because it is, literally, the most life-changing legislation any of us will see in our lifetimes, but because the dignity of parliament matters very much indeed. 

I don’t mean the ritual flummery, the state opening by the monarch, people marching about with wigs and sticks, Black Rod and all that. I mean dignity in the sense with which we honour our democracy, the way in which we frame our legislature seriously and with due process. 

Leadbeater presents as a good person and there is no apparent evidence to the contrary. But she is an inexperienced parliamentarian. Her selection for the seat of Batley and Spen, now Spen Valley, was rushed through in 2021, memories remaining acutely sharp of the murder of her older sister, Jo Cox, in the constituency in 2016. And, naturally, she has sat on the Government’s backbenches for less than a year. 

 Her inexperience of parliamentary process and scrutiny has shown. Committee hearings have been rammed with those who support assisted suicide and held in unseemly haste, such is the rush to get it into law. Before her bill’s second reading, she described it as having the strongest safeguards in the world, each patient requiring a sign-off from a High Court judge. When this proved impractical, the judge was replaced with a social worker, which apparently was “even safer”. So, safer than even the strongest safeguards in the world?   

But more worrying still is how the passage of the bill has been factionalised. Leadbeater has alienated the mild-mannered by calling opposing voices “noise”, which is a bit like lamenting that a debate should have two sides at all. And she’s called those who disagree with her “unconstructive” and complained that opponents have “mobilised”. Well, duh. That’s how parliament works. Indeed, it’s part of its dignity, rather than a simple inconvenience for an MP in a hurry. 

The media have noticed this lack of respect for procedure. I’m not sure that there’s ever been such resistance to proposed assisted-suicide legislation in the public prints before. Even the Guardian, which might be relied upon to see it as a progressive cause, has turned more than ambivalent. Only columnist and assisted-suicide flagbearer Polly Toynbee is available for a piece that amounts to saying we should move along, there’s nothing to see here and Leadbeater’s bill is doing just fine. 

She, too, claims absurdly that opposition is only coming from people who oppose assisted suicide. Well, blow me down. Try as I might, I can’t trace her complaining that Lord Falconer’s supposedly independent Commission on Assisted Dying of 2011 was both funded and packed with his cause’s supporters.  

In passing, it should be noted what an underminer of parliamentary dignity is Falconer too. He has claimed that justice secretary Shabam Mahmood’s opposition to the bill should be discounted because of her “religious beliefs”. Mahmood is a Muslim. For a constitutional lawyer, Falconer shows scant regard for our constitution. We might as well say that his views should be discounted because he’s a progressive secularist.  

One might expect PM Keir Starmer to bring some quality to this, as an alleged stickler for legal procedure. It remains a mystery, as a supporter of the principle, that he’s left assisted suicide to a private members’ bill. If he really wanted it, it should surely be a Government bill. Cynics among us wonder if he has honoured a promise given to the terminally ill Esther Rantzen with token support for a private members’ bill, but knows it will fail.  

Again, lack of dignity. If dignity in dying means anything since it was misappropriated as a campaign slogan for assisted suicide, then it should be accompanied by dignified debate and amendment in parliament. This bill has provided precisely the opposite. Let it die.

Join with us - Behind the Seen

Seen & Unseen is free for everyone and is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.

If you’re enjoying Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?

Alongside other benefits (book discounts etc.), you’ll receive an extra fortnightly email from me sharing what I’m reading and my reflections on the ideas that are shaping our times.

Graham Tomlin

Editor-in-Chief