Every so often, stories appear in the news about people being harmed by therapists who are untrained, poorly trained, or practising without appropriate oversight. These stories often highlight a particular issue in the UK, namely that the titles “therapist”, “counsellor”, and “psychotherapist” are not legally protected.

This means that, in theory, anyone can use these titles, regardless of their training, experience, or accountability to a professional body. When harm occurs, it is understandably upsetting and raises important questions about safety, responsibility, and regulation.

I am writing this at a particular moment in my own professional journey. I have recently qualified as a psychotherapeutic counsellor and am continuing my training towards qualification and accreditation as a psychotherapist. My training matters deeply to me, not simply as a credential, but because of what it represents.

Why training and accountability matter to me

For me, training is about more than learning theory or technique. It is about being held in a rigorous process of reflection, supervision, personal therapy, and ethical responsibility over many years.

I am currently a UKCP registered trainee, working towards full UKCP accreditation, and I am also in the process of applying for registration with the BACP. These memberships require ongoing supervision, adherence to ethical codes, and a willingness to be accountable for one’s work.

This accountability is important to me because therapy involves power, vulnerability, and trust. Clients bring parts of themselves that may not be shared anywhere else. I believe it is my responsibility to meet that trust with care, humility, and a commitment to ongoing learning.

The problem with unprotected titles

When the title “therapist” is unprotected, it places a significant burden on clients to assess safety for themselves. People seeking therapy are often already distressed or uncertain, and may not know what questions to ask or how to evaluate training pathways, professional bodies, or ethical frameworks.

This is not a simple issue of good and bad practitioners. Many people working under unprotected titles are thoughtful, caring, and well intentioned. However, without clear standards or accountability, there is little recourse when things go wrong.

At the same time, calls for tighter regulation often raise other important concerns.

The cost of training and accreditation

Advanced psychotherapy training and professional accreditation carry a significant financial cost. Training fees, supervision, personal therapy, professional memberships, and insurance all add up. Even for someone like me, who is relatively privileged, these costs have been challenging to meet.

It is not hard to imagine how these barriers affect people with less financial security. Economic status is not evenly distributed across society, and it is closely linked to race, class, and other forms of structural inequality.

If access to recognised training and accreditation is limited by wealth, then the profession risks becoming less diverse and less representative of the communities it serves. This has implications not only for practitioners, but for clients who may struggle to find therapists who understand their lived experience.

Holding complexity rather than certainty

I find myself holding a tension here. On one hand, I value training, supervision, and ethical accountability deeply, and I believe they are essential for safe therapeutic practice. On the other hand, I am concerned about systems that inadvertently exclude people based on financial means, and about the ways this can reinforce existing inequalities.

From a person centred perspective, this feels like a place where certainty is less helpful than reflection. Therapy, at its best, is about relationship, presence, and responsibility, not status or hierarchy. Yet responsibility does require structure, support, and accountability.

An open question

I do not have a simple answer to how this should be resolved. I do know that I want to practise in a way that is thoughtful, ethical, and transparent, and to continue engaging critically with the systems I am part of.

I am curious what others think.
How do we balance accessibility with safety?
How do we value training without making the profession inaccessible?
And what do you look for, or wish you had known, when choosing a therapist?