The government’s proposed bill is too late for my 16-year-old son, but it could be just in time for my 12-year-old daughter.

My daughter and her friends spend their spare time making food influencer videos. After school and on weekends, they press “record” on a phone propped up in the kitchen, introduce the segment, and hijinks ensue. They know all the right things to say, the trendy word combos to hit, and the kinds of poses and facial expressions that work for the camera.

Those videos do not make it online. My daughter is 12 and she does not yet have Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, Snapchat or YouTube accounts. She and her friends have learned these skills through osmosis, from siblings, class mates or family members logged into their own social media accounts, connected to the algorithms that guide this particular human experiment.  

They are dazzled by their allure but too young to be aware of the downsides. Yesterday, the harm those platforms could inflict on them were laid bare. Prime minister Christopher Luxon confirmed the Online Safety (Minimum Age and Child Safety Risk Assessment) Bill would be introduced to parliament, offering a social media ban for under-16s.

“One in three children aged between 13 and 17 are now spending at least five hours on social media a day,” he said. “Social media is exposing them to harmful content, addictive technology and pressures they are not equipped to deal with and it’s affecting their family life, mental health, sleep, and education… This is about making a meaningful difference now and changing the norm for future generations.”

Aotearoa is late to this particular party. Australia introduced its ban in December last year, and France, Canada and the UK all have fixed dates to follow suit. Yet the bill is already proving controversial, with coalition partners Act and NZ First both opposing it, and Labour also questioning whether or not it will support it. Luxon admits the bill can’t undo the damage already done. “We know that we will not get every single child off social media,” he says.

This comes too late for my 16-year-old son. Four years ago, we learned our lessons the hard way. On Instagram, I was offered the chance to follow a new account. It was my son, who, at the age of 13, had downloaded the app to his phone, set up an account and started posting photos and messaging his friends. Neither my wife or I had been asked by Instagram’s parent company Meta for approval. It had taken him just a few minutes. By the time we were aware, he was already hooked.

This was in those seemingly innocent days, before all the studies had come out, before we became aware of the potential harms, before multi-million dollar lawsuits by grieving parents regularly made headlines. At the time, we thought our son’s Instagram would be cute and fun like the Lego app he used to share photos of his most impressive builds. We later discovered, for a variety of reasons, including his desire to stay up all night to use it, that this platform was neither of those things. 

So, four years on, my daughter’s iPhone is locked tight. She only has access to text and calling services. Her iPad is greyed out, and she can only use that for reading books through the library app Libby and watching episodes of Gilmore Girls on Disney+. Her devices lock at 8pm and can only be used in emergencies. She needs our permission to download apps, or set up accounts herself. She has never pushed a “like” button in her life.

Until the social media ban bill passes (if it passes), decisions like this are entirely governed not by the platforms knowingly causing problems, but by parents desperately trying to make sure their kids aren’t fed problematic content. It could be makeup tutorials advertising expensive brands. It could be harmful wellness trends. It could be toxic Ariana Grande commentary. Or, it could be straight-up porn. It is the wild west out there, and our kids are the guinea pigs.

My daughter is nearing the age when she will begin to challenge our decisions, when peer pressure will start doing its thing and she will want to open accounts on those platforms, just like her friends. So, in our house, Luxon’s social media ban cannot happen fast enough. It would be nice to know that we could point to the government and tell our daughter it’s their fault she’s not allowed to use Instagram, rather than giving her another thing to battle us about.