It is strange to think that, had the government imposed its new social media ban on under-16s when I was a teenager, I would not be writing this column today. Back when the internet was full of promise, it was where I found my sanctuary as a nerdy misfit adolescent. My evolution took me from The Lord of the Rings forums (like I said: nerd) to blogging sites, then to a nascent social network known as Facebook. Under an array of pseudonyms I discovered politics, debating, and who I was. I also learned how to write. My bosses at the New Statesman have those tens of thousands of hours spent arguing about elvish lore and intersectional feminism to thank for the searing insights I deliver now. You’re welcome.
I am neither nostalgic nor naive. I know the online landscape has changed beyond recognition in the intervening two decades. My parents worried about strangers luring me to meet them in remote locations; today’s parents contend with the internet’s risks of isolation, bullying, radicalisation and addiction. There have been tragic deaths linked to use of social media. A ban may not be perfect, the argument goes, but if it saves one child from harm, surely it is worth it?
As someone who remembers what it was like to be in my bedroom, online, unsupervised, deep into the early hours of the morning, there are two things I think are missing from this narrative. The first is practical: will banning social media for young people actually reduce harm? The evidence from Australia’s ban is mixed: determined teenagers are finding their way on to the sites adults think should be blocked, using workarounds from the technical (VPNs) to the old fashioned (drawing on fake moustaches to fool age-verification software). So far, no one from the UK government has explained how a British ban would actually work. A law that cannot be enforced is a suboptimal law.
But I have a more radical objection: social media can be good. If you don’t believe me with my rose-tinted view of the past, look at the government’s own report on children’s social media use and attitudes. Polling by Savanta for the Department for Science, Innovation and Technology found four in five young people say social media helps them feel connected to others, and twice as many agreed with positive statements about it than negative ones. Strikingly, their parents were on board too: 42 per cent agreed that, for their own child, the benefits of social media outweigh the risks, compared with just 25 per cent who thought the opposite.
That doesn’t mean they are blasé. Parents and young people alike favour safety features such as time limits and restricting location sharing. And clearly many parents do feel their children are at risk. But the results suggest the conversation is skewed. Instead of seeking to protect children from the internet, we should be thinking about how to make the internet safer – for everyone.
Because every time a politician laments the perils of social media for young people – platforms that send users spiralling into toxic echo chambers, facilitate abuse on an industrial scale, wreck sleep patterns and manipulate emotions to keep people trapped and isolated online – we should ask: what is that doing to the rest of us? If these spaces are so harmful to children, aren’t they harmful to adults too? And should we maybe try to fix that?
Admittedly, that’s a much tougher challenge than implementing a blanket ban for under-16s. But it’s an approach that would improve online spaces for people of all ages, without denying teenagers something they and their parents recognise as a positive. I wouldn’t be who I am now if the government 20 years ago had tried to protect me from any risk of online harm. Today’s young minds deserve the same opportunities for exploration and self-discovery. If we won’t build a better internet for our own sake, we should do it for theirs.
[Further reading: Burnham’s supporters are still nervous]
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