The Risk of Being Seen: What AI Can’t Replace About Intimacy

By Kevin Bergen, LMFT

I recently came across a long-form essay that’s worth sitting with:
“Unseen: The Crisis of Human Beings Becoming Invisible” by Allison J. Pugh (Aeon)

Pugh’s core message is profound: people today aren’t just lonely—they feel invisible. As automation, standardization, and optimization reshape our lives, we’re no longer being seen—not truly, not meaningfully.

What struck me most in the essay was her focus on what she calls “human connective labor.” That’s the emotional effort of noticing, responding, and caring. It’s what therapists, teachers, and nurses do when they treat someone as more than a task or role. It’s interacting with people in a Relational sense.

And here’s where the warning feels so important to the work I do with clients: Pugh argues that the growing reliance on AI and systems thinking is gradually replacing this deeply human kind of work. Machines may be smart and convenient, but they lack the nuance, empathy, and—this word stood out to me—risk of human judgment.

I explore this idea further in another article I’m writing that’s about how AI tools like ChatGPT were shown to outperform human therapists. While that might sound impressive, it underscores a dangerous misunderstanding of what therapy—and human connection—actually is. As I explain in the other article I’m working on, AI can imitate helpful responses, but it can’t sit with you in silence, read your body language, offer moral presence, or build a long-term relationship that’s rooted in empathy and trust. (Yes, I realize there’s a lot of deep stuff packed into that sentence. Feel free to pause here and soak it in.)

In short, AI can’t risk with you. It can’t risk being misunderstood or misjudging a moment. And that’s exactly what intimacy—and healing—require. (Watch for my forthcoming article: “What Human Therapists Offer That AI Never Will”)

This word—risk—hit me hard, because I use it all the time in my work as a therapist. Not in a technological context, but when we talk about something else that machines can’t give us: intimacy.

What Intimacy Actually Is

If you ask most people what intimacy means, they’ll likely say it’s another word for sex. That’s just part of it. Intimacy is much, much bigger than just sex, though.

Intimacy comes in degrees, and it’s simply how well someone knows you. But in its deepest sense, it’s a unique kind of emotional and spiritual closeness. It’s the experience of being truly known. And here’s a basic requirement for intimacy that many people don’t know:

There is no intimacy without risk and vulnerability.

I’m not talking about reckless risk. But the risk of opening your heart: sharing fears, flaws, hopes, or shames—and not knowing what the response will be. That’s what the risk is about.

And when someone meets you there with understanding and compassion? That’s when deep intimacy is born. That’s when it feels sacred.

What Makes Intimacy Sacred

While writing this article, I drafted this line:

“When we risk and it’s met with acceptance, it’s what makes connection feel safe and satisfying.”

 
But it was still missing something, so I added one more phrase:

“When we risk and it’s met with acceptance, it’s what makes connection feel safe and satisfying—precisely because things could have gone badly, but they didn’t.”

 
That’s what makes intimacy feel good. It’s not just that someone accepted you. It’s that they could have rejected you, mocked you, minimized you—but they accepted you with compassion instead.

And because of that, the connection feels rare, even sacred.

This is why no AI, no matter how advanced, can offer real intimacy. If there’s no risk, there’s no possibility of being truly received with grace, with compassion.

Why We Struggle with Intimacy Today

Many of the people I work with—couples and individuals alike—have never experienced real emotional intimacy. But it’s not them that failed.

It’s because no one ever taught them how—or even what intimacy is.

Our society no longer teaches the slow, courageous work of being known. We’ve emphasized productivity over presence, achievement over attachment, self-sufficiency over interdependence, and physical intimacy over emotional intimacy. We’ve confused conversation with closeness, chemistry with trust, and sex with connection.

It’s no wonder people are longing for something more and don’t know where to find it—or even what’s missing.

And this is exactly why Pugh’s word “invisibility” seems so important to me. As a therapist, this concern has become central to my work—especially in how I teach communication.

The Deep Need to Be Seen

I developed a tool for clients called the Communication Formula. It centers on a principle most people skip right past:

When you’re the Receiver in an important conversation, don’t rush to agree or disagree. Your main priority is to make sure the other person (the Sender) feels heard, seen, and understood.

People think successful communication is about agreement. But what people really want is not to be agreed with—but to feel recognized.

That’s the core wound Pugh calls a “crisis of invisibility.” And I believe that helping the other person feel acknowledged, heard, and seen before anything else, is fundamental to healing our communication and growing it into genuine connection.

Recognition—feeling truly seen—is a deeper human need than being agreed with.

A Note About Physical Intimacy

This piece focuses on emotional intimacy, which is like the umbrella of all types of intimacy. But it’s important to note that physical intimacy also involves risk.

Not just physical risk—but emotional and relational vulnerability, too. Risk in physical intimacy deserves its own article (if not a full series!), because confusing sexual intimacy with emotional safety is one of the most common mistakes I see damaging relationships.

For now, let’s stay focused on emotional intimacy—the kind of connection that only grows through honesty, patience, and risk. (If you’re on my email list, I’ll let you know when I finish something about physical intimacy and risk. For now you may be interested in “Let’s Pull Back the Curtain on Sex.”)

What We Can Do Now

If Pugh’s concern is that machines are replacing our ability to see each other, then I don’t think the solution is just to ditch our phones or fear AI (let’s stay practical and reasonable). The answer is simpler—and harder: practice being human again.

Here are a few ways to begin:

• Ask how someone’s really doing—and pause long enough to hear the answer.
• Share something vulnerable with someone you trust.
• Open up a little and let someone see you—even your imperfections.
• Make space for some awkwardness and the vulnerability of being really present.

Because ultimately, intimacy is not a technique or a feature.

It’s a risk we take—and a sacred gift when we’re met with genuine acceptance and compassion.