Tech With Heart: My Love Affair With Digital Humanity
By Taimi Allan
I’ve spent years building technology that tries to make us more human, not less. The best digital mental health tools don’t replace connection; they hold us gently until it returns.
Building tools that feel human
I don’t believe in shiny tech for the sake of it. I believe in tools that serve people’s real lives.
My love affair with tech started in the early 90s, sitting in a lecture where a geeky Tim Berners-Lee showed us that computers could talk across the world. It felt ridiculous then, but it changed everything. My fascination hasn’t been about the machines themselves, but what they can do for our humanity.
When used well, technology gives power back to people. It helps us understand ourselves and the world around us.
Like knowing where your food comes from makes you a better conservationist, knowing how your mind works makes you a better caretaker of it.
Designing for the younger version of me
I build things I wish existed when I was told I was broken. I don’t fix people; I don’t think anyone can. But I build tools that help us thrive, systems that feel less like concrete labyrinths and more like choose-your-own-adventure novels.
When I design something, I always ask: would this have helped the younger version of me? If the answer’s no, it goes in the bin.
One of my earliest digital projects was recoVRy, a virtual reality experience built to spark empathy for people living with psychosis. You didn’t just watch someone talk about their mental health; you became them, for a few minutes. We launched it nearly a decade ago, when VR still made people queasy. But it worked. It helped people feel what another’s reality might be like, and that kind of empathy can’t be taught with a slideshow.
Low-tech empathy bombs and open-sourced AI
I believe in gamification, but not just the digital kind. The Bias Card Game is one of my favourite tools—a deck of cards designed to make people talk about bias, power and prejudice in the kindest possible way.
No logins, no Wi-Fi, no password resets; just people sitting together, getting curious. It proves you don’t need flashy tech to build emotional intelligence. You just need good design and permission to ask uncomfortable questions.
At the other end of the spectrum, I’ve built an AI health coach that tracks my mood, inflammation and energy, suggesting ways to live better without being punitive. It’s smart, flexible, and open-sourced because if something works for me, I want others to take it, adapt it, and make it better.
Hoarding is for dragons, not humans.
Ethics, empathy and data dignity
AI has the potential to do enormous good and enormous harm. The idea that we can solve human distress with code alone is deeply flawed. It should augment care, not replace it. What worries me is how profit drives the wrong kind of innovation: billion-dollar companies designing AI companions that exploit loneliness or sexualise children. That should terrify us all.
We need ethical guardrails and something I call data dignity.
- The right to own our story,
- Control our information,
- See how it’s used.
Tech as bridge, not gatekeeper
What frustrates me most is seeing digital tools built for people, not with them. If your app doesn’t work with dodgy Wi-Fi and a cracked Android screen, it doesn’t work. If your chatbot can’t understand the needs of a First Nations elder or a teen in foster care, it doesn’t work. Tech shouldn’t be a gatekeeper. It should be a bridge.
I love AI. I use it daily. But I fear what happens when we let it replace human thinking, or worse, human relationships. The best AI tools are the ones we build ourselves: ethical, supportive, designed for real humans doing hard work.
Digital mental health can be delicious
Digital mental health doesn’t need to be dry. It can be delicious, curious, weird, and wildly creative. Using tech should feel like a great night in with friends: warm, surprising, safe, odd, and meaningful.
