I don't think it's working in Australia, and I'm continuing to talk to other governments
A society grapples with one of modernity's most intimate dilemmas: how to protect its youngest members from the architectures of attention without severing the connections that have become woven into the fabric of their lives. The British government, pressed by bereaved families and mounting evidence of harm, is consulting on whether to ban major social media platforms for under-16s or to surgically restrict the design features engineered to addict. The debate reveals something deeper than policy disagreement — it is a reckoning with how much of childhood has already been quietly colonised by commercial algorithms, and whether the state arrived too late, or just in time.
- Two families who lost children to social media's darkest corridors now stand on opposite sides of the same argument — one demanding a ban, one warning it would only push teenagers into darker, unmonitored spaces.
- Teenagers themselves are pushing back, insisting that adults are legislating against a version of social media they do not actually understand — one that includes homework platforms, news, and the ordinary texture of friendship.
- Australia's ban, held up as a model, is being quietly dismantled by its own evidence: teens are circumventing it, disappearing into unregulated corners of the internet where no safety net exists.
- The tech industry is lobbying for feature-level regulation over platform bans, while a former Meta engineer who helped build the addictive systems argues the companies have forfeited the right to self-govern.
- With the consultation closing and ministers promising swift action, the UK faces a decision that will define how millions of young people experience the internet — and no available option arrives without serious cost.
The British government is nearing a decision on how to regulate children's access to social media, and the debate has split into competing visions of what protection actually requires. Ministers are weighing an outright ban on major platforms for under-16s — modelled on Australia's approach — against more targeted restrictions on the design features that trap young users in endless scrolling: infinite feeds, autoplay, push notifications. The Online Safety Act already obliges tech companies to shield children from harmful content, yet campaigners and MPs argue it is not working.
The human cost anchors the debate. Molly Russell was 14 when she died by suicide after Instagram and Pinterest algorithms fed her a sustained diet of self-harm content. Her father, Ian Russell, has become one of Britain's most prominent safety campaigners — but he opposes a blanket ban, fearing it would create a hard line at 16 that simply drives teenagers toward unmoderated platforms with no protections at all. He wants a tiered system: only platforms meeting strict safety standards accessible to under-16s, combined with aggressive curbs on addictive design. Esther Ghey, whose transgender daughter Brianna was murdered in 2023, believes social media addiction deepened the isolation that preceded her death. She supports raising the age limit, while also calling for digital literacy education so young people eventually enter these spaces with the tools to navigate them.
Teenagers are largely unconvinced by the government's direction. Seventeen-year-old Fin describes a blanket ban as crude and unconsidered — social media is how his generation follows news, maintains friendships, and accesses information. He supports regulating addictive features, comparing infinite scrolling to enabling self-destruction, but sees the ban as punishing users rather than the companies that fail to enforce their own rules. NSPCC focus groups with teenagers across the country surfaced a consistent message: adults do not understand how young people actually use these tools. Participants wanted a layered approach — apps that adapt their features to a user's age, allowing gradual exposure in a controlled environment.
Experts are divided on whether Australia offers a model worth following. Colm Gannon of the International Centre for Missing and Exploited Children Australia argues the ban is not working: teenagers are finding workarounds and migrating to unmoderated spaces, while parents remain unaware because their children fear punishment. Chi Onwurah, chair of Parliament's science and technology committee, shares concerns about the cliff-edge problem and favours tougher enforcement of existing law, algorithmic restrictions, and stricter age verification over an outright ban.
The tech industry opposes a ban as too blunt, preferring universal standards applied across all platforms. Meta has proposed age verification at the device level. But Arturo Béjar, a former senior Meta engineer who testified that the company deliberately designed addictive products, believes the platforms have exhausted the trust extended to them and supports banning any platform that fails to meet clear safety standards by a fixed deadline. What the government ultimately decides will shape how millions of British teenagers experience the internet for years to come.
The British government is moving toward a decision on how to regulate social media for children, and the debate has fractured into competing visions of what safety actually means. Ministers have signaled they will act before the consultation closes on Tuesday night, with options ranging from an outright ban on major platforms for anyone under 16—modeled on Australia's approach—to more targeted restrictions on the design features that keep young people scrolling: infinite feeds, autoplay, push notifications. The pressure to do something is immense. Safety campaigners and MPs have lined up behind tougher rules, even though the Online Safety Act, passed just years ago, already requires tech companies to protect children from harmful content. Something, they argue, is not working.
The human cost of inaction sits at the center of this debate. Molly Russell was 14 when she died by suicide after spending time on Instagram and Pinterest, where algorithms had served her a steady diet of self-harm content. Her father, Ian Russell, has become one of Britain's most visible online safety campaigners, but he does not support a blanket ban. He worries it would create what he calls a "cliff edge"—a hard line at 16 that would simply push teenagers toward unmoderated platforms where they have no protection at all. Instead, he wants a tiered system where only platforms that meet strict safety standards can be accessed by under-16s, combined with aggressive restrictions on the algorithmic tricks designed to addict young users. Brianna Ghey, a transgender teenager, was murdered in 2023; her mother, Esther Ghey, believes social media addiction contributed to the isolation and mental health struggles that preceded her death. Ghey supports raising the age limit outright, though she also calls for digital literacy education so that when young people do eventually use these platforms, they have the emotional tools to navigate them safely.
But teenagers themselves are skeptical of the government's approach. Fin, a 17-year-old sixth-form student, finds a blanket ban "incredibly harsh." Social media is how he and his peers follow the news, stay connected with friends, and access information. He supports regulating addictive design features—he compares infinite scrolling to letting someone drink themselves to death—but he sees the blanket ban as crude and unconsidered. The government has not thought through how integrated phones and apps are into schooling itself; teachers assign work through Google Classroom and Microsoft Teams. When the NSPCC ran focus groups with teenagers across the country, a consistent theme emerged: adults do not understand the complexity of how young people actually use these tools. One girl said she uses her phone mainly for research and revision. Several teenagers in the groups felt that a ban would punish them rather than the companies that fail to enforce their own safety rules. They wanted a "layered approach," where apps adapted their features based on a user's age, allowing gradual exposure and the chance to make mistakes in a controlled environment.
Experts and policymakers are divided on the Australia model. Colm Gannon, chief executive of the International Centre for Missing and Exploited Children Australia, has studied the ban's effects firsthand and argues it is not working. Teenagers have found ways around it, pushing them into unmoderated spaces where parental controls and platform safety features do not exist. Parents do not know their children are still on social media because the teens fear punishment. "I don't think it's working in Australia," Gannon says, "and I'm continuing to talk to other governments and say to them: 'This is not the golden recipe.'" Chi Onwurah, chair of the science, innovation and technology committee in Parliament, shares his concerns about the "cliff edge" problem and the difficulty of defining what should be blocked. She wants tougher enforcement of the existing Online Safety Act, restrictions on addictive features, better data access for researchers, and stricter age verification—but not necessarily a ban.
The tech industry, represented by trade groups and the platforms themselves, opposes a ban on the grounds that it is too blunt an instrument. Doniya Soni-Clark of TechUK argues for "universal standards" applied across all platforms: if a feature is found to cause harm, regulate it everywhere, not just on certain apps. Meta has proposed that age verification happen at the device level—when someone sets up their phone or buys an app—with additional checks when they open an account, allowing the company to serve age-appropriate content. Arturo Béjar, a former senior engineer at Meta who testified in recent US trials that the company deliberately designed addictive products, takes a different view. He believes the platforms have "squandered all the trust we have given them" and supports an under-16s ban for any platform that does not meet a clear set of safety standards. His vision is stark: companies either comply by a deadline or lose access to teenage users entirely.
What emerges from this collision of voices is a government facing a genuine policy puzzle. A ban is simple to announce but difficult to enforce and may backfire. Feature-level regulation requires defining harm and policing compliance across dozens of platforms. Age verification technology exists but raises privacy questions. The Online Safety Act is already law but has not yet been fully implemented. The consultation deadline is days away, and ministers have promised swift action. What form that action takes will shape how millions of British teenagers experience the internet for years to come.
Notable Quotes
This is an opportunity to go much further than a blanket ban, which would offer a false sense of safety to parents and quickly unravel.— Ian Russell, father of Molly Russell and online safety campaigner
Young people in this generation have this ambition and the right to connect. We need to set up safety parameters around that.— Colm Gannon, chief executive of the International Centre for Missing and Exploited Children Australia
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why do the bereaved parents disagree on what should happen, when they've both lost children to social media harms?
Because they've learned different lessons from their grief. Ian Russell watched his daughter find harmful content on platforms that were supposed to protect her, so he wants those platforms reformed—made genuinely safe—before teenagers can access them. Esther Ghey saw her daughter become isolated and mentally unwell through addiction to the platforms themselves, so she wants the platforms off-limits entirely until 16. Both are trying to prevent what happened to their children. They just disagree on whether the problem is the content or the design.
The teenagers in the focus groups seem to think adults don't understand how they actually use social media. What's the disconnect?
Adults see social media as a leisure activity—something young people do for fun and entertainment. But teenagers use it for homework, research, staying informed, maintaining friendships that matter to them. When an adult says "ban it," they hear "ban the tools we need." They also know the platforms are flawed, but they've learned to curate their own experience—to make their corner of it safe. They want the platforms fixed, not removed.
Colm Gannon says the Australian ban is pushing teenagers into unmoderated spaces. Isn't that worse than the original problem?
Much worse, potentially. The platforms at least have some safety features, some moderation, some parental controls built in. When you ban the platforms, you don't ban the desire to use them. You just move the behavior underground, where there's no oversight at all. And parents don't know it's happening because their kids are afraid to tell them.
So what's the middle ground everyone keeps talking about?
Restrict the addictive features—the infinite scroll, the autoplay, the notifications designed to pull you back in—across all platforms. Verify age properly so fewer young children slip through. Enforce the safety rules that already exist. And maybe allow access to platforms that meet strict standards while blocking those that don't. It's more work than a simple ban, but it doesn't create the cliff edge problem.
Why does Meta's proposal about age verification at the device level matter?
Because if age is verified when you buy the phone or set up the account, then the platform can serve genuinely age-appropriate content without having to trust the user to tell the truth about their age. But it also means Apple or Google knows how old you are, which raises privacy questions that nobody's fully addressed yet.