Last year, Australia stepped onto the global stage as a pioneer in social media age restrictions. It sparked headlines, debate, and – perhaps most importantly – conversation at kitchen tables. Now other countries, including the UK and Canada, are watching closely and considering similar moves. But six months in, the reality is far messier than the initial optimism.
Despite the legislation, around 60 -70% of under-16s are still using social media. On the surface, that sounds like failure. But this was always going to be complex. The rollout has been staged and until now platforms have mainly removed users who openly declared their age. What comes next – biometric checks, behavioural analysis, deeper scrutiny – is far more sophisticated, and far more difficult to enforce.
Young people, as we know, are adaptive. They’re sharing workarounds: VPNs, false birthdates, borrowed identities. There’s almost no barrier to entry if a child is determined. A current ploy is to fake a double chin to evade facial rec software (you have to give credit for initiative!). Currently, there’s little incentive for them not to try, because the accountability sits with the platforms, not the user. This creates a constant cycle of regulation and circumvention.
So if the ban isn’t fully stopping access, what is success? Perhaps it was never about elimination. Perhaps success is the fact that we are finally naming the issue. Parents are talking. Schools are thinking. Communities are questioning how much is too much. That shift in awareness matters.
There is also a deeper tension in the current approach. The legislation blocks children from having accounts, but it doesn’t stop them from accessing content. In many cases, this means children may still consume what’s online – but without safeguards, without guidance, and without platforms targeting protective measures toward them. In trying to restrict access, we may have unintentionally removed a layer of protection.
Maybe the real question isn’t how we regulate children, but how we regulate the environments they are entering. The design of these platforms – endless scroll, algorithmic feeds, addictive loops – is not neutral. A stronger approach might focus on limiting harmful features and designing age-appropriate digital spaces, rather than relying solely on bans.
When children regularly work around laws – like social media bans – it can change how they view rules altogether. When rule-breaking becomes normal, respect for law begins to erode, especially in formative years when beliefs about authority are shaped. Children learn not just from what they’re told, but from what they see and what is tolerated – what we walk past, we accept. If parents, communities, or peers normalise small breaches, it signals that rules are optional, and that mindset can carry into broader law-abiding behaviour over time. This is an issue we face if the laws can’t be enforced.
From my perspective as both a parent and a teacher, I feel strongly that we are in a moment we will one day look back on with disbelief. In the same way we now reflect on smoking on aeroplanes and wonder how it was ever considered normal, I believe we will one day say, “Wow – we let children spend that much time on screens.” We are still too close to fully see it but the shift is coming.
In the meantime, the most powerful influence remains the relationship between parents and children. You don’t need to be a tech expert. You need to be present. Curious. Willing to listen. Talking regularly about what your child is doing online, what they’re seeing, how it makes them feel, and what it means to be a good person in any space – digital or otherwise.
Because children don’t become different people when they go online. They take their values with them. And that is where we still hold the greatest influence.
No law will solve this on its own. But if it continues to prompt reflection, conversation, and shared responsibility, then perhaps that is exactly where real change begins.
FromtheForest 
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