Social media: ‘Technology should enrich kids’ lives, not shrink them’

As I write this piece, I am at the BETT show in London, the world’s biggest edtech event.

I hover around the centre of this cavernous space for like a 13-year-old on his first day at senior school, staring into the seemingly chaotic maelstrom of activity and jostling with corporate leviathans and minnows all vying for position.

I am shoulder to shoulder with some of the most powerful voices in technology and education. It is a heady combination of hope, hype, high-energy and humanity. But a question forms: Are these companies driven by what is morally correct and wholesome, or are they almost entirely driven by the proposition of business success? Are they truly child facing?

Back to reality for a minute:

There is a moment, usually after supper, when a family home can start to feel like an airport departure lounge. Everyone is physically present. Yet everyone is mentally boarding somewhere else.

None of us is imagining it: We are all walking our own curated paths, quite separate from each other, sometimes walking further and further away from our loved ones without lifting a foot.

That is why the national conversation about social media and under-16s matters. The government’s new consultation puts big options on the table, including a potential ban for under-16s, raising the digital age of consent, stronger age assurance, curfews, and limits on compulsive design features such as infinite scrolling and streaks.

We are all walking our own curated paths, quite separate from each other.

There will be fierce debate. Some will say, “Ban it now.” Others will say, “It won’t work, and it will push harms elsewhere.” Both sides are trying to protect children. That is the key point.

But I think that we will make a mistake if we treat this like a culture war between the analog and the digital, or between “strict” and “soft”. At Cottesmore School, we have learnt to love our calling-card strategy: “The Art of And” and it applies beautifully to this situation.

We can hold tight both protection and preparation simultaneously.

The question beneath the question

On the surface, this looks like a policy argument about a minimum age. Underneath, it is about something older than any platform.

It is about attention. Sleep. Self-esteem. Friendship. The ability to be bored without panicking. The ability to think without being interrupted.

And it is also about something else: whether we are content to let childhood be shaped by systems designed, quite rationally, to maximise time on the device.

It is about attention. Sleep. Self-esteem. Friendship.

If we want children’s futures to be wholesome, should we put them in the driver’s seat of a machine that adults struggle to resist? We need to take hold of the steering wheel again. A system that has spent billions on hacking reward systems of all who use it. 

Bans, boundaries, and reality

A ban can sound refreshingly clear. And clarity has value, especially for families who feel they are negotiating with a force of nature.

Australia’s approach is already live. Their regime requires age-restricted social media platforms to take reasonable steps to prevent under-16s from having accounts. That is not a small statement. It is a reshaping of responsibility, away from parents and children, and towards platforms.

In the UK, the consultation is exploring a similar direction, while also looking at practicalities like how we improve age assurance and how we deal with workarounds. At the same time, regulators are sharpening their focus on age checks as a core protection tool.

But a minimum age limit is not a full education. It is a boundary.

So, yes, minimum age limits matter. They are part of the safety architecture of a modern childhood, just like seatbelts, pool gates, and film classifications.

But a minimum age limit is not a full education. It is a boundary. And boundaries work best when they are part of a bigger plan. And that is “phone-free by default” and “human-first by design”.

School culture

One practical area where we can move quickly is school culture. The government is explicit: schools should be phone-free by default, and Ofsted will look at policies and how they are implemented. That matters because schools create a shared reality in a way that apps cannot.

A phone-free school day is not anti-technology. It is pro-attention. Pro-conversation. Pro-play. Pro-eye-contact. Pro-learning.

The government is explicit: schools should be phone-free by default.

It is also profoundly fair. In a phone-free environment, children are not competing for status through devices during the day. They are competing, if at all, through effort, kindness, teamwork, creativity and a thousand other human things that schools exist to nurture.

And here is “The Art of And” again. We can be modern and traditional. We can teach coding and insist on face-to-face friendship. We can use AI to reduce administrative burdens and still defend the sanctity of human development.  

What we should demand from platforms

If we are serious, we must ask platforms to meet society halfway. That means:

• Effective age assurance, not box-ticking. The consultation is right to focus on accuracy and enforceability.  
•  A serious attack on addictive patterns. If infinite scrolling and streaks are part of the harm, they should not be treated as neutral design flourishes.  
• Responsibility that sits with adults and companies, not children. Australia’s model centres obligations on platforms, not on punishing young tech users.  

What we should do for children, regardless of what the law decides

Here is the part that does not depend on Westminster.

Whether there is a ban or not. children will still meet the internet. That means schools and parents doubling down on three things:

• Real-world richness: sport, music, drama, outdoor education, service, hobbies that create identity without an audience.
• Digital literacy that includes design literacy: teaching children how feeds hook them, how outrage travels, how comparison corrodes.
• Simple, consistent boundaries at home: phones out of bedrooms, time-boxed use, tech-free meals, proper sleep protected like vaulted gold.

None of that is glamorous. It is also wildly effective.

A final thought: joy is not a soft option

When we talk about protecting children online, it is easy to slip into fear. Fear is understandable, but it is not a strategy. Strategy is building a childhood worth looking up from your phone for.

Joy in learning. Joy in friendship. Joy in competence. Joy in being part of a community that expects your best and loves you all the while.

So, yes: let’s debate the age limit, the enforcement, the technology, and the law. Let’s do it properly, evidence-led, and with young people’s voices genuinely heard.  

But let’s also remember the deeper aim: Technology should enrich children’s lives, not shrink them.