By Ikkz Ikbal

The first time I saw a ten-year-old with a phone in a Kashmiri village, she held it like it was part of her. 

Her eyes moved quickly from one picture to the next, fingers swiping faster than I could follow. 

Around her, apple trees swayed in the wind and the mountains stood still, but she was lost in a world I couldn’t reach.

Australia’s recent decision to bar social media for children under 16 suddenly made me wonder: could we offer our children a similar refuge?

This is no trivial regulation. The eSafety Commission in Australia reported that 96 percent of children aged 10 to 15 are active online, and seven in ten have encountered harmful content. 

Videos that shock, images that disturb, and words that wound are not anomalies but part of a daily digital diet. 

When a country responds by suspending under-16 social-media accounts and holding platforms accountable for age verification, it is asserting a profound principle: childhood cannot survive as a playground for algorithms.

The digital world has upended childhood itself. A child today does not simply grow up in a classroom or a street corner. He grows up inside a stream of content curated by machines that know nothing of care. 

Viral videos imprint on developing minds faster than a month of lessons, trends shape identity more effectively than books, and a parent’s counsel often feels faint against the lure of an endless scroll. 

In this light, Australia’s ban reads less as a restriction and more like a protective seatbelt.

Evidence from around the world reinforces the urgency. Exposure to harmful content is relentless, even passive. Experimental reductions in screen time show improvements in sleep, mood, and overall mental health. 

Platforms engineered for adults fail at structural safety for children, no matter how many parental controls they promise. 

The smoke of harmful content and the fire of manipulative algorithms are inhaled together by young users.

India faces a more complicated landscape. Its population is vast, digitally diverse, and mobile-first. Devices are shared. IDs are often absent. Parents are frequently unprepared to supervise. 

Social media here is not only entertainment. For many children, it is a lifeline to community, learning, and opportunity. 

A wholesale ban would stumble against these realities.

Instead, India could embrace the spirit of Australia’s move. The conversation should shift from prohibition to protection.

Algorithms, not children, require scrutiny. Toxic creators remain untouched if we only restrict minors. Kashmir must demand transparency, swift removal of harmful content, and consequences for platforms that amplify abuse.

Age-tiered access could help protect children. Kids under 13 could have restricted, carefully curated accounts. Those between 13 and 15 could use social media with parental approval and limited screen time. Full access could begin at 16, with platforms held accountable for safety.

Parents need guidance. Many do not know what their children consume, how to set boundaries, or recognize risks. Schools should teach digital literacy to adults as well as children.

Education itself must adapt. Media literacy, online ethics, cyberbullying awareness, and emotional resilience should be woven into the curriculum instead of being treated as side lessons.

Children need alternatives. Safe, creative digital spaces, as platforms for learning, storytelling, and hobbies, can offer growth without exposure to harmful content. 

Protection alone is insufficient without something constructive to replace what is removed.

Freedom has limits when maturity is absent. A child scrolling endlessly at midnight, witnessing vulgarity or cruelty, or absorbing anxiety from online ridicule is not free. They are vulnerable. Society has an obligation to intervene.

Australia’s ban signals swiftness that transcends borders. Kashmir may not replicate the law exactly, but it can adopt its seriousness, its recognition that childhood is at stake. 

The screens are raising children faster than adults can guide them. Ignoring that reality is an abdication of responsibility.

Children deserve time to explore, imagine, fail, and wonder. They deserve friendships, curiosity, boredom, and learning, rather than an endless cascade of algorithmic judgments shaping who they should become.

The choice is ours: let the digital wilderness raise the next generation or step in to protect the space that belongs to childhood itself.

Children deserve a childhood. Not an algorithm.

— The author is a principal and education advocate based in Kashmir. He can be reached at [email protected].