Five years previous, I penned a column critiquing the harmful habit of journalists using their children’s lives as content, during which I discussed my 13-year-old daughter and her yet-to-own smartphone predicament. At that point in time, there was an abundance of expert advice pervading the media outlets, advocating for control over kids’ internet behaviour. It ranged from monitoring their online actions to insisting on having access to their personal passwords. Besides this, we were also encouraged to discuss potential online hazards, such as explicit content and cyberbullying, as well as issues that propagate harm in subtle ways, like unrealistic expectations of body image and the lure of others’ seemingly flawless existence.
This advice was valuable, however, it lacked the simple instruction that I yearned for: a straightforward refusal. Saying no to smartphones for kids, because entrusting them with a device which provides a gateway to the ills of unregulated humanity might not be wise, especially for someone who you wouldn’t let shop alone at the corner store, seems bound to lead to problems. Instead, it appeared as if we were advised to set our children off, metaphorically, on a flight to an unnamed location packed with advice about guarding their emergency funds and applying sunscreen, but without guidance about the nature of their destination or survival instructions once there. Jonathan Haidt, in his eye-opening yet worrisome book, The Anxious Generation, compares this situation to launching our offspring to Mars as experimental travellers.
I authored that piece with a mix of fear and confidence that comes from being the parent of a teen just hitting adolescence. My standpoint was that I hadn’t found a compelling reason why a young teenager should necessitate a smartphone, apart from the argument, “because everyone else owns one”. In response to my article, I received numerous queries, words of support, gentle scoldings, and most prominently, predictions about our imminent surrender. I, too, suspected a capitulation was likely. And as predicted, we did succumb, but not until she was 15. Credit for this delay is more attributable to her rather than us, her parents.
In the years pre-smartphone, my daughter didn’t experience any horrifying incidents. She was accessible through texts on her antiquated Nokia device. The year she was born was sandwiched between the invention of the iPhone and the introduction of the ‘like’ button. While she had access to the internet, carrying it conveniently in her pocket was not an option. When she finally got her hands on a smartphone, it didn’t particularly fascinate her. The younger sibling had an easier ride – the arrival of the pandemic handed him the triple gift of a smartphone, social media, and Fortnite before he hit his 14th year. Did delaying their exposure to these technologies compared to their contemporaries benefit them? It’s difficult to say, as we’re just beginning to determine how to evaluate the potential damage that may have been avoided.
The future could see us moving towards AI extensions, with customers being charged extra because predictive algorithms believe they can manage it. Although rhetoric may seem exaggerated, it sheds light on how developers in Silicon Valley have intentionally aimed at two crucial psychological behaviours in teenagers. The first is the desire to fit in, which intensifies during puberty, and the second is the subliminal hierarchical structure through which individuals evaluate each other.
At present, we have amassed a wealth of information indicating a rapid deterioration in the mental health of youngsters from my daughter’s generation, starting around 2012. This pattern is evident across the UK, USA, northern Europe, Australia, and New Zealand. Haidt attributes this to a clash between the era epitomised by the dual technologies of smartphones and social media and what he has previously described as an age of maximal ‘safetyism’. Essentially, over-protective parenting resulted in children being confined to their rooms, where they spent hours in isolation. This solitary engagement with social media resulted in a collective ‘rewiring’ of their brains.
[ Should we keep children away from smartphones until they turn 14 for a blissful childhood? ]
The hyperbole aside, it’s evident that two particular psychological realms in teenagers have been exploited by Silicon Valley platform inventors – the desperate urge to fit in that’s especially strong during adolescence, and the implicit cachet system that humans use to rate each other. Cleverly capitalising on these vulnerabilities in youthful psyche, big tech firms exposed the quantity of likes, shares, retweets, and followers – cheekily named as such – an individual possessed. Sean Parker, an investor in Facebook, likened social media to a feedback network designed for societal validation, confessing that it’s a tool perfect for a scheming intruder like him to exploit psychological gaps.
Simultaneously, while younglings are gradually converted into submission in this realm – obediently endorsing, clicking, and incessantly comparing themselves unfavourably to others – they are spending significantly less time engaging in the physical world.
The most significant immediate action that the state could take is to encourage the school system to enforce a rule banning the use of smartphones during school hours. This is a call for prohibitions, not informal voluntary agreements. For emergency circumstances, parents have the option to reach the school administration via phone call or email. Begin by addressing the most achievable tasks such as initiating this in primary schools. Monetary assistance could be allocated for secure phone pouches or padlocked storages. Parental backlash is unlikely to be a substantial hurdle and it is thought that some kids may even welcome the change with concealed relief.
No longer is it adequate to delegate the issue of children with smartphones to parental accountability or the responsibility of schools alone – the problem is too large. We also stress about holding massive tech firms accountable, which we should, but we can’t afford to idle while they dodge, deflect, and deny demonstrating responsibility. A collective and assertive response from the government is the answer.
This week, I posed a hypothetical query to my own children about the right age for their younger sister, who hasn’t even reached her tenth birthday yet, to possess a smartphone. Would it be earlier than when they got theirs, later, or around the same time? My son, a typical 16-year-old who views technology as a necessity, responded instantaneously with a firm ‘never’. Meanwhile, my 17-year-old daughter suggested delaying it as long as feasible. A couple of days passed before she explained her reasoning – she doesn’t want her sister constantly engrossed in her phone, detached from reality. She believes it’s important for her to experience as much of the real world as possible for as long as she’s able to.