In 2024, the Australian Federal Government announced plans for a blanket social media ban for young people under 16, scheduled to take effect in December 2025. The policy will require platforms to verify users’ ages and block existing underage accounts. The policy (Online Age Assurance and Safety Bill, 2024) is framed as a response to rising public concern about online harms, including cyberbullying, online grooming, and mental health impacts, drawing heavily on high-profile cases and media coverage. Parliamentary inquiries, advocacy reports, and media exposés have highlighted claims that excessive screen time contributes to anxiety, depression, body image issues, and online bullying. Research also suggests that platforms may exploit young people through algorithmic targeting and addictive design (Montag et al., 2021; Valkenburg et al., 2022).

In public statements, the Australian Prime Minister has framed the bill as necessary to protect children from online predators, inappropriate content, and the mental health harms of social media use (Nogrady, 2024). However, the policy was proposed with minimal youth consultation; no publicly available records indicate youth advisory input, youth-led research, or co-design processes involving young people. This absence reinforces longstanding critiques of adult-dominated interventions and policy design (Corney et al., 2022; de St Croix, 2016). Such political framing is not unusual, and similar debates are emerging globally, reflecting wider tensions over how to balance young people’s protection, participation, and rights in digital spaces. Importantly, Australia’s proposed ban should not be seen in isolation, as similar debates are unfolding internationally while governments grapple with how to regulate young people’s use of social media. In the UK, for example, the rollout of the Online Safety Act (2023) reflects parallel concerns over harmful online content and the role of tech companies in safeguarding young people. Although the UK approach relies less on outright prohibition, both contexts illustrate the global tension between child protection, digital rights, and meaningful youth participation in policy design.

The speed and certainty of political messaging, coupled with limited youth input, raises concerns from a youth work perspective. While political and media discourse emphasises the policy’s protective intent, this article critically examines the proposal through the lenses of moral panic theory (Cohen, 1972; Goode & Ben-Yehuda, 1994) and critical youth work (Batsleer & Davies, 2010; Batsleer et al., 2023; Sercombe, 1998). It interrogates whether the ban represents a proportionate, evidence-based intervention or a symbolic political gesture rooted in adult anxieties about young people’s digital engagement.

Theoretical frameworks

Moral panic theory emerged from Cohen’s (1972) seminal study of youth subcultures in 1960s Britain, where young people were constructed as threatening societal order. A moral panic involves the identification of a perceived threat, or ‘folk devil’, whose behaviour is portrayed as harmful to dominant social values and interests. This process is fuelled by media amplification, which heightens public anxiety and political condemnation, often resulting in demands for heightened social control. Goode and Ben-Yehuda (1994) further systematised the theory by identifying five key indicators of a moral panic: concern, hostility, consensus, disproportionality, and volatility. Importantly, moral panics need not be entirely baseless; they typically exaggerate or distort legitimate issues, framing them in ways that rationalise coercive responses. In contemporary debates on social media, young people and the platforms they use have been cast as folk devils; figures held responsible for a wide range of perceived social harms, from declining mental health to the erosion of traditional community values.

Critical youth work challenges deficit-based constructions of young people, foregrounding their rights, agency, and capacity for participation in shaping the conditions that affect them (Batsleer & Davies, 2010; Jeffs & Smith, 1999). Rather than positioning young people as problems to be managed or risks to be contained, critical youth work recognises them as resourceful actors with valuable insights into their own lives and social contexts. This approach resists interventions that frame young people primarily as passive objects of protection and instead advocates for their recognition as active societal members whose experiences represent a vital source of knowledge for policy development (Batsleer et al., 2023; Shier, 2001). A critical youth work framework is therefore inherently political: it interrogates the power relations that structure young people’s marginalisation and seeks to amplify their voices in decision-making processes. It also draws on traditions of social justice, collective empowerment and participatory democracy, situating youth work as a practice of solidarity rather than control (Jeffs & Smith, 1999; Sercombe, 1998). In this sense, critical youth work is not only about supporting individual young people, but also about challenging the systemic inequalities and structural conditions, such as class, race, gender, and digital exclusion, that shape their opportunities for flourishing.

Does the policy logic hold?

Several characteristics of the Australian social media ban align with Cohen’s (1972) and Goode and Ben-Yehuda’s (1994) criteria for a moral panic. The element of concern is evident in media and political discourse, which has frequently centred on worst-case scenarios built on limited or selective evidence. Hostility emerges in the way young people are implicitly positioned as vulnerable, irresponsible, or naive digital citizens requiring strict control with little to no consultation or policy co-design. Societal consensus is also apparent, as a wide range of political actors, commentators, and parents have embraced the narrative that social media is inherently harmful to young people under 16 (Nogrady, 2024). The criterion of disproportionality is evident in the scale of the proposed intervention, which appears far greater than the evidence justifies. Studies linking social media use with harm to wellbeing in young people typically find overclaims of causation, cite small effect sizes, and conclude that findings are too insignificant to justify policy change (Blake et al., 2025; Orben & Przybylski, 2019; Przybylski & Weinstein, 2017; Valkenburg et al., 2022). Finally, the debate reflects volatility, with public interest intensifying rapidly in response to high-profile tragedies and media investigations, yet likely to decline once the legislative moment passes. Viewed through this lens, the social media ban operates as a form of symbolic reassurance; a highly visible political gesture that offers limited substantive protection while diverting attention from systemic solutions, such as stronger regulation of platform design and targeted digital literacy programs (McAlister et al., 2024).

The relationship between social media use and youth mental health is complex and contested. Some studies have identified correlations between heavy use and increased risks of anxiety, depression, and poor sleep quality (Twenge et al., 2018; Keles et al., 2020). However, meta-analyses and longitudinal studies have found these claims to be minimal and highly variable between individual young people (Heffer et al., 2018; Orben, 2020). Crucially, harm is not evenly distributed, with factors such as socio-economic status, gender, sexuality, disability, and geographic isolation mediating both the risks and benefits of online engagement (Livingstone & Third, 2017). For many young people, social media serves as a crucial source of social connection, exploration, activism, and peer support, particularly for marginalised groups (Byrne et al., 2016). A blanket ban risks disproportionately impacting young people for whom online spaces are among the few accessible avenues for social participation.

The problem of proportionality

From a critical youth work standpoint, the proposed social media ban reflects the concept of adultism, where adult authority is privileged at the expense of young people’s agency (Corney et al., 2022). This orientation frames protection as something enacted for young people, rather than with them, sidelining their capacity to contribute to solutions. By excluding young people from the consultation process, the policy undermines participatory principles and contradicts youth work ethics that emphasise co-agency, empowerment, and partnership (Corney et al., 2022; Sercombe, 2010). In doing so, it risks entrenching paternalistic approaches that limit young people’s civic participation instead of fostering the critical digital literacy required to navigate online spaces safely and confidently.

From a youth rights perspective, the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) affirms young people’s rights to freedom of expression and association, as well as their right to be heard in all matters affecting them (United Nations, 1989). According to international human rights standards, any restriction on these rights must be lawful, necessary, proportionate, and directed toward a legitimate aim (United Nations Human Rights Committee, 2011). A blanket prohibition for all people under the age of 16, without scope for individual assessment or opportunities for informed consent, falls short of meeting the proportionality standard. Such a broad measure risks overriding the principle that young people’s rights should be balanced carefully against protective concerns, rather than curtailed in sweeping terms. Concerns about the disproportionate nature of the policy naturally extend to its practical effects, influencing how youth workers can meaningfully support and connect with young people.

Implications for youth work practice

For youth workers, the proposed social media ban carries significant implications for ethical and effective practice. Social media currently serves as a vital engagement channel, enabling youth workers to connect with young people, promote services, and sustain relationships. Its removal would create barriers to connection, particularly for those in remote or underserviced areas where online platforms often compensate for limited face-to-face opportunities. The policy also risks driving young people toward less regulated or obscure platforms or encouraging the uptake of newly emerging platforms designed to evade legislative control. Such shifts could render harmful interactions less visible and more difficult for youth workers to identify and address, compounding rather than reducing risks. The ban also undermines broader educational and ethical commitments within the profession. Restricting access denies opportunities for guided learning around critical and responsible online engagement, central to fostering digital literacy required in the modern world (Cooper et al., 2020; Vermeire et al., 2023). Moreover, the policy conflicts with youth work ethics, which emphasise working alongside young people within their social contexts (Sercombe, 2010). By excluding digital environments from this scope, the ban disrupts youth work’s foundational orientation toward relational and contextual practice, reducing the capacity of youth workers to engage meaningfully with young people in the spaces where they already participate, form connections, and learn informally (Jeffs & Smith, 1999).

Beyond the ‘panic logic’

A critical youth work approach to online safety centres young people as co-researchers and co-designers of digital policy, ensuring their perspectives and lived experiences directly inform decision-making. It prioritises systemic solutions such as stronger regulation of platform algorithms, data harvesting, and access to harmful content, addressing structural drivers of risk rather than focusing solely on individual behaviour. Concurrently, this approach calls for expanded resourcing for digital youth work, equipping practitioners to provide education, guidance, and support in the online environments where young people are most active (Cooper et al., 2020; Vermeire et al., 2023). Underpinning this approach is a commitment to evidence-led policymaking, with transparent evaluation of outcomes to ensure that measures are both effective and accountable. By foregrounding young people’s rights and agency—consistent with the UNCRC and principles of participatory empowerment in critical youth work (Cooper et al., 2024; United Nations, 1989)—this approach promotes safer, more inclusive, and critically informed online participation. It also strengthens the capacity of youth workers to support meaningful engagement with young people through informal education processes (Jeffs & Smith, 1999).

Conclusion

Australia’s proposed social media ban exhibits the hallmarks of a moral panic, including the construction of a clearly defined threat, a disproportionate response, and the sidelining of young people’s voices. If the policy’s aim is genuinely to protect young people, the first step must be to listen to them and involve them meaningfully in decision-making. From a critical youth work standpoint, the ban risks eroding youth rights, undermining professional practice, and diverting political attention away from more systemic reforms. A rights-based, participatory approach offers a more sustainable and equitable path to enhancing young people’s safety and wellbeing in digital environments. By enforcing a blanket restriction, the policy infantilises and homogenises young people, setting a precedent for future exclusionary policies, such as raising the legal age to vote or obtain a driver’s licence. It is also likely to generate new challenges, such as the rise of less regulated or legally circumventive social media platforms.

These dilemmas are not unique to Australia. In the UK, the Online Safety Act (2023) reflects similar anxieties but pursues a different approach, placing greater responsibility on platforms rather than banning young people outright. Both cases highlight a global struggle to balance protection with participation, safety with rights. These developments raise broader questions: Have we learned nothing from past attempts at prohibition and ‘protective’ policies? Will other countries follow this world-first political measure? Should they? Panic logic would say yes; critical youth work argues otherwise.