Imagine, for a moment, that governments around the world suddenly decided that young people were no longer allowed to read books.
Not bad books.
Not fraudulent books.
Not books printed in radioactive ink.
All books.
“Sorry, children,” announces a solemn official in a well-tailored suit. “You may resume reading at sixteen.
Until then, please enjoy this pamphlet about turnips.”
This is, more or less, what banning young people from social media sounds like when translated into human language.
Spain is doing it.
Australia has already done it.
France, Malaysia, Denmark and others are circling the idea like nervous parents around a suspicious-looking playground slide.
The logic is always the same: the internet is dangerous, therefore we must remove it, preferably with legislation and a flowchart.
“We will protect them from the digital wild west,” Spain’s prime minister declared.
Which is fascinating, because the actual Wild West never improved when the sheriff banned books.
The problem, of course, is not that young people encounter stupidity, cruelty, conspiracy theories, and emotional wreckage online.
The problem is that they encounter all of that everywhere.
It’s called civilization.
Banning social media is like banning mirrors because some people don’t like their reflection.
It doesn’t make anyone better.
It just makes them sneakier.
Teenagers are not going to respond to a government ban by saying, “Ah yes, regulation. How refreshing.”
They will respond by downloading seven VPNs, creating seven fake birthdays, and learning more about digital subterfuge than most intelligence agencies.
Congratulations: you have just turned puberty into a cybersecurity course.
Meanwhile, politicians assure us they are “reasserting democratic control.”
This is always what people say when they are nervous about losing control.
China does it because it fears dissent.
Russia does it because it fears truth.
Other countries do it because they fear angry headlines and parental WhatsApp groups.
Different motivations, same reflex: clamp down, smile confidently, hope no one notices the panic.
What makes this especially charming is the idea that governments possess superior moral wisdom.
Do they?
Have we missed the press release announcing that our agencies and departments have achieved spiritual enlightenment?
The same institutions that misplace billions, mismanage pandemics, and occasionally lose entire databases now want to curate adolescence.
Trust us, they say. We know what’s best for your children.
History suggests otherwise.
Europe once spent centuries slaughtering itself over who was allowed to translate the Bible out of Latin and into English. Entire wars were fought over who got to read what, in what language, and under whose supervision.
That was supposed to be a lesson.
Apparently, it was more of a suggestion.
Social media is chaotic. It amplifies idiots. It rewards outrage. It can damage self-esteem and distort reality.
So did gossip.
So did television.
So did tabloids.
So did talk radio.
So did most of human communication since fire was invented.
The difference now is that we can see it.
We can trace it.
Study it.
Confront it.
Argue with it.
Teach kids how to navigate it.
Which is far more useful than pretending it doesn’t exist.
Treating information as taboo has never made societies wiser.
It has only made them more gullible.
You don’t protect young people by locking knowledge in a cupboard. You protect them by teaching them how to handle it without setting themselves on fire.
That used to be called parenting.
It also involved extended families, schools, mentors, and communities — those quaint pre-digital institutions that apparently no longer count.
Instead, we now outsource moral responsibility to algorithms and agencies.
And when it fails — as it inevitably will — we will announce another ban.
Another law.
Another “coalition.”
Another confident speech.
All while teenagers scroll quietly in the next room, perfectly aware that adults have once again confused control with wisdom.
It’s not protection.
It’s fear wearing a badge.
And it always looks ridiculous.