In 2019, when Sophie* was 12, her classmates sent her “extreme and traumatising” videos that included an al-Qaida beheading, pornography and bestiality. She recalls an adult player in an online game persuading her to meet in person. Although her dad worked in IT, looking back she thinks: “My parents’ generation simply didn’t have a clue.”
Now aged 18 and a student at the University of Edinburgh, she wouldn’t allow her children to have a smartphone until they’re adults. “As a teen I would have been the biggest advocate on everyone having a phone, but I’ve 100% changed my opinion,” she said.
“Until you’re an adult and able to recognise the many ways in which people act deviantly to advance their own interests, you should not be online. The minute there is instant messaging I think it gets dangerous.”
Social media fuelled bullying at Sophie’s school, including competing for likes and using anonymous confession apps to share cruel comments. She also wonders what else she might have done with the time wasted.
Sophie is one of many so-called digital natives who are growing sceptical of the largely unfettered access to technology that they grew up with. A poll this week suggested that almost half of young people would rather live in a world where the internet does not exist, and a similar number would support a digital curfew, while more than three-quarters felt worse about themselves after using social media.
Meanwhile, Netflix’s hit four-part series Adolescence has sparked a wide-ranging conversation about the harms to children of social media and the online misogyny that has taken root on some platforms.
Izzy Bouric, 24, an artist from Brighton living in Paris, thinks part of the problem is the way the boundaries between child and adult spaces have blurred on platforms such as Instagram, TikTok and Roblox in recent years.
“I was on [online children’s game] Club Penguin at their age – what you could actually say and type was limited and you got banned for using bad words because it was a child-friendly space, and now you have 12-year-olds on Instagram reading Nazi comments,” she said.
Despite this, Bouric says, “I was definitely exposed to things I shouldn’t have been, growing up”, adding that “everyone from my generation has an experience of being on chatrooms and getting solicited by someone who is much, much older”.
She would only allow her children to have a smartphone from age 17. “It’s not for children, it’s not for people who don’t have developed brains,” she said, adding: “Your parents not knowing what you’re doing is not the safest thing in the world.”
She feels that in recent years social media has become oppressive and “cannibalised by advertisements and corporations” as well as spreading misinformation around sensitive topics such as mental health and neurodivergence. “Suddenly, instead of my friends, my phone was filled with tiny people shouting at me, saying I was doing everything wrong, and then begging me to buy something from them.”
The shift left her feeling anxious and unwell and prompted her to opt for a flip phone, which she feels is a breath of fresh air that has allowed her to reclaim time and mental space.
Tobias, 20, from Austria, received his first smartphone aged 11 or 12, and noticed a change in his classmates. “You just sat down and started scrolling and you didn’t really talk to the person one row behind you, you texted them.”
Although his school had a policy to keep phones turned off, teachers soon gave up on enforcing it. “They were just buzzing and there were notification sounds all the time,” he said.
In his late teens, he began watching videos on YouTube and Instagram. “I found myself in moments of despair after watching short video content for two to three hours straight and wondering, ‘Wow, that went fast and I have no time left for things I actually want to do.’”
Tobias was particularly unnerved to see his interest in first-person shooter games resulted in his algorithm showing content from creators showcasing real guns and violent acts. He now concludes: “The longer children and teens have restricted contact with smartphones, the better.”
Lethe, 20, a student paramedic from near Birmingham, England, wouldn’t allow her child to have a smartphone until they were 16 and would only allow restricted media access.
She didn’t get her first smartphone until she was nearly 18, but she noticed how her friends who had them were bullied, had reduced attention spans and spent their time scrolling through social media rather than chatting or being creative.
Two years on from her first phone, she says: “It definitely has changed me. I’m less good at being bored, and my attention span has decreased. I struggle to live in the moment. Algorithms on social media have led to me seeing things I wouldn’t really wish to see.”
Nora, 23, a project manager from Spain, wouldn’t allow social media access until age 13 and would restrict use and install content filters, although she would want to open a dialogue with her child, explaining the risks. “I would hope to have built enough trust and understanding for them to feel comfortable coming to me if they ever encountered something scary or unsettling,” she says.
She remembers this growing up. Aged 13, she and other girls in her school started receiving messages from a stranger on Google Messages. He convinced some to send inappropriate images and was eventually imprisoned for paedophilia.
She also recalls classmates bullying people on messaging services. “I struggled with some nasty messages,” she said.
Later, she found that social media exacerbated her eating disorder through comparing herself to other girls and watching weight-loss transformation videos, which can promote unhealthy habits. She also chased likes on Instagram, which she has since deleted. “It was not very healthy for me.”
Now, she fears for her 16-year-old brother. “His TikTok is filled with super misogynistic ideas and toxic masculinity – his friends say very nasty things about women’s bodies. That wasn’t a thing for me and my friends.”
* Name has been changed
