Social media ban a lesson in playing the long game

The words got me thinking. Oftentimes we know who we are and where we want to go, even if we are not clear on the best route to get us there, and there are twists and tuns along the way. It doesn’t mean we are lost, or wrong.

As I try to keep to my new year resolutions this year by increasing the pace on the treadmill at the gym, I watch the news unfold on the TV screen and consider what life for me as a parent and for my children will look like this year.

I expect that in 2026, Australia’s under-16 social media ban will be widely criticised, unevenly enforced by parents and companies, and politically uncomfortable. It will nonetheless begin the slow and critical work of resetting expectations about childhood, privacy and responsibility, which is where its real power lies. It’s a good thing.

Although it sounds lofty, I try to think about this policy as a ban on entry to spaces driven by algorithms, rather than calling them “socials”, because one of the ironies of social media is that they can actually shrink young people’s social lives. When we name these platforms as algorithmic spaces, we’re naming something important: the way children’s social worlds have gradually shifted away from relationships and towards systems designed to maximise engagement and clicks.

This is a systems problem more than a parenting problem. That does not mean denying that online connection has been life-changing for some young people. I know teenagers who have relied on socials for real support at terrible moments. But governments need to look at the overall big picture as well as the individual exceptions. Of course, we should find solutions for the kids who really need the kind of help that socials can offer, but that support should not come at a high cost to general wellbeing.

I do not expect the conversation about the under-16 ban to die down any time soon. Parents of tweens are navigating messy territory where kids who have already had a taste of life online are now being told to step back. I feel for those parents. I consider withdrawing tweens from the algorithmic and addictive spaces to be more difficult than parenting kids who are still blessedly too young to know what they are missing.

The continued rollout of the ban will be imperfect and contested, and this will be used to call it a failure. But I believe if this government and subsequent governments can hold tight, the ban will quietly reset norms and might be one of the most consequential policy decisions of the decade – our future selves will love the hard work we invested in 2026.

Of course, compliance will be uneven. Some families will ignore it. Some platforms will find workarounds. Some kids will still access social media via older siblings, VPNs or grey spaces. Or provide a fabricated date of birth. Or use a parent’s passport as ID. Prohibition in 1920s America comes to mind. Public-health measures are rarely enforced perfectly, but when they work, it’s because they change what is expected, acceptable and normal.

Public debate will continue to be emotional, with the ban framed by critics as government overreach, anti-youth, anti-innovation or anti-“now”, and by supporters as a long overdue correction, a public health measure and an acknowledgement that we have all been learning technology by doing it, but have not been aware of the long-term damage we have let loose.

My hunch is that after they shut the front door, in the quiet of an evening away from friends and colleagues, most parents will be relieved that they no longer have to manage their young kids’ social media use alone. Even if they never say it out loud. I think that towards the end of 2026 and into 2027 and 2028, we will witness a reduction in social comparison, online pile-ons and constant digital mediation of relationships.

Giving younger children more time before they enter algorithm-driven spaces (“socials”) will help. It will give their critical thinking ability a chance to develop first. These benefits will possibly not show up quickly in statistics on anxiety and loneliness or even screen-time dashboards, because proper, solid, internalised culture change takes time.

I would love to see, over time, a re-normalisation of boredom in children and in the adults around them. I would love to see less ambient surveillance by peers of where their friends are and who they are hanging with (and why not me?). I would like to see all of us embrace the idea that not everything has to be shared to make it real or good.

The truth is, algorithms are designed to maximise engagement, and individual wellbeing is not the success marker we might want it to be. Expecting families to go up against attention engineering by billion-dollar companies on their own is unrealistic and unfair. I can barely give up sugar, even though I know it’s bad for me, but ingredient labels on processed foods help me make better choices.

Public health programs work when we stop blaming individuals for structural problems and create environments that encourage healthier decisions. For example, Australia has long acknowledged that problem gambling is not just a personal failing, and we know that vulnerable communities have more pokie machines than well-off ones. That change from individual to systemic issue has taken place over time.

The work of the Institute of Community Directors Australia is in governance and leadership. Leadership is often about setting norms. The social media ban for youth will reframe responsibility, and this matters to me more than how it is enforced. I think the policy, with bumps in the road, will overall succeed.

It moves the moral burden away from individual parents and children to governments and platforms (companies) so that when there are instances of bending the rules, as we know there will be, it will be commonly acknowledged that this is not something children should be doing yet.

I am a parent to teenagers, and I’m living the messiness of youth in 2026. Personally, I want to give them the boredom of long summer days, the noisy turn-taking, screaming hilarity of board games, card games, and made-up car games, with or without tangible objects in their reach. I hope they lose in those games as often as they win.

I hope they develop critical minds, so that when they encounter slogans, whether on “socials”, posters or placards, they will wonder: Who is trying to sell me something? What are they selling? An opinion, a lifestyle, a product? What will it cost me? My money, attention, individuality? Do I want it?

I hope they get the chance to wander, with or without an aim, maybe meet new people by accident when they’re not quite sure where their friends are, because as Tolkien observes in The Hobbit, “Not all those who wander are lost”.

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