Contribution
I thank Kim Campbell and the petitioners, including almost 400 from East Hampshire, for bringing this debate to Parliament. There has been a lot of interest of late in Australia’s upcoming ban on social media for under-16s, and I was interested in how the Australians are going to implement it, considering some of the complexities and definitional difficulties. I recommend to colleagues a very good interview on American National Public Radio with Australia’s eSafety Commissioner, in which she said that it is not about flicking some big switch. She said that there was a possibility that some social media functionality could be removed, rather than an entire app being blocked; that
“messaging and gaming sites and anything that delivers education or health care information”
would be exempt; and that, ultimately, it would be for the Minister for Communications to
“decide which platforms are in and which are out.”
Well, I hope they have invested in their legal defence budgets.
It is true that parents vary widely in what they think is good or acceptable. Everybody agrees that their child should be able to call or text home to let mum or dad know that they are delayed or feeling worried, or that their club has been cancelled. Some also value things that can be done only on a smartphone—such as using a map to find the way home—and there is a whole other debate about education technology and the use of Show My Homework and all the rest of it. Some parents are totally happy with the entirety of the electronic world—smartphones and social media. Let us be honest: it is parents who often help children get around the minimum age limit to be on these platforms. Sometimes, we say that they do that only for fear of the child missing out, and that may be true, but we do not know that it is in the majority of cases.
In addressing these questions as legislators, we often fall back on saying, “Hang on, we’re not talking about banning all phones; we’re talking specifically about smartphones. And we’re not talking about getting rid of the good stuff; we’re only talking about getting rid of the bad stuff.” This, of course, is the easy stage in the legislative process, and things become much harder later, when we have to define precisely what we mean. I am about to recommit that sin: I am going to talk about an ill-defined “it” that we may in some way want to restrict. That “it” is something about smartphones and social media that I will today fail to define, but I hope to come back at the end to say a little about more precisely what I mean.
I am not in the business of trying to put new restrictions on how parents manage their families or of trying to do things to them that they could do for themselves. There is already a minimum age for using social media; it just happens to be an arbitrary age that is based on some legislation—not even from this country—from the 1990s. When the GDPR came in through the European Union, which we were in then, countries could choose an age anywhere between 13 and 16. Different countries chose different ages; we happen to have settled on 13. Most people would say that we have to set the bar somewhere, so the question becomes, where? Of course, we could, alternatively, say that the Government or a regulator have no role in setting an age at all. However, if that is not our view, and we accept that there should be an age, we have to ask the secondary question: what should it be? There is no ancient right to be on TikTok at age 13. These are novel technologies, and we are facing these questions now for the first time.
In this country, there are two main thresholds for the transition from childhood to adulthood, and they are 16 and 18. Those are not the only ones, but they are the main ones. In English law, there has never been a concept of an age of digital consent and nor, to my knowledge, was there a non-digital concept of consent in contract law previously for somebody under the age of majority. I grant that it is arguable, but it seems that 16 is the most appropriate threshold.