Australia has become the first country to ban social media for children under 16. This marks a decisive moment in global attempts to govern the digital lives of the young. Platforms such as Facebook, Instagram, TikTok and Snapchat, among others, must, according to the directive, take “reasonable steps” to prevent Australians under 16 from creating or keeping an account, or face fines of up to 49.5 million Australian dollars. The move has inspired policymakers elsewhere. Denmark has announced plans to prohibit the use of major social media platforms for those under 15; Malaysia intends to ban social media accounts for users under 16 from 2026; New Zealand is preparing to debate similar legislation for under-16s; and the European Parliament has urged a ban on social media for children under 16 unless parents explicitly opt them in.
It is not difficult to spot the compulsions driving these regulatory initiatives. Over the past decade, an expanding body of research has linked heavy social media use in adolescence to psychological harms, such as higher levels of depression, anxiety and emotional distress. The ill-effects are not limited to psychology only. Overuse of social media is associated with poorer sleep quality and shorter sleep duration in adolescents, which, in turn, are linked to greater risks of obesity, poor gynaecological health and a high incidence of other non-communicable diseases. Cognitive impairment is an additional concern. Add to these the documented effects of exposure to online harassment, appearance-focused content and pro-eating-disorder or self-harm material. Australia’s ban thus reflects a legitimate desire to address a public health crisis brought about by unregulated exposure to social media.
Yet age-based prohibition can be akin to the proverbial blunt instrument. Such a legislation treats all under-16s as equally vulnerable and all over-16s as suddenly resilient, even though research by the Mayo Clinic shows that vulnerability varies widely with individual temperament, family circumstances and pre-existing mental health conditions. Moreover, a blanket ban risks overlooking why so many children gravitate towards social media in the first place. For many adolescents, especially in urban nuclear families, life offers fewer stable, in-person communities than in earlier generations. Long school hours, heavy tuition schedules and shrinking community spaces make it harder to form friendships in real life. Social media has stepped into this vacuum, providing a sense of connection and belonging — however illusory — and an effortless way of staying in touch. That children are preferring to pour their hearts out to tech companions — bots powered by AI for instance — instead of family members is a testament to a significant rupture. For some adolescents, particularly those from LGBTQ or from minority constituencies, online fraternities provide anonymous refuge from discrimination and prejudice in real life. Cutting off access altogether without providing thoughtful, alternative support structures risks severing these fragile lifelines.
That social media poses serious risks to children is undeniable; the evidence is strong enough to justify policy interventions. But such interventions must be complemented by reflection on what makes social media irreplaceable in the lives of young — and older — adults. The answer lies there.
