The idea is no longer hypothetical. The UK has now announced a ban on social media for under-16s, following Australia’s world-first restriction that took effect in December 2025. In both countries, the pitch is the same: children should spend less time scrolling, less time meeting strangers online, and less time being pulled into algorithmic feeds that can intensify harm. 

In Bangladesh, the debate over children’s social media use is already moving beyond parenting advice and into law. In May, a legal notice sought a ban on social media use for under-16s, warning that children and adolescents were increasingly misusing platforms and suffering physical and mental health problems. That concern landed in a city already under strain. An icddr,b study found that 83 per cent of Dhaka schoolchildren spent more than two hours a day on screens, with an average use of 4.6 hours, while the same report linked heavy screen time to shorter sleep, headaches, eye problems, obesity and mental health concerns.

But the harder question is not whether governments are alarmed. It is whether a ban can work in places where children do not live in a neat digital world and where the offline world often fails them too. Bangladesh would be one of the toughest tests.

Why governments are reaching for the ban
The UK's new policy is unusually sweeping. The government says platforms will be blocked from offering services to under-16s, with major services including Snapchat, TikTok, YouTube, Instagram, Facebook and X falling within its scope, while messaging apps like WhatsApp and Signal are excluded. It is not just a broad age threshold; the plan also targets features such as livestreaming and communication with strangers, and the government says it will study stronger age-assurance methods so the rule is harder to dodge. In its own words, this is meant to “give kids their childhood back”.

The political logic is obvious. The UK government says the change is backed by nine in 10 parents, and Australia has already shown that platforms can be forced to move quickly when the law is hard-edged enough. Reuters reported that Australia’s ban led to the deactivation of about 4.7 million under-16 accounts in the first month alone, with non-compliance carrying fines of up to A$49.5 million.

Yet reports also found that the ban did not end underage use: two months later, about one-fifth of Australian teens were still using TikTok and Snapchat, a reminder that age barriers can slow behaviour without fully changing it.

That is why so many governments are watching Australia as a test case. France and Denmark are among the European countries either introducing or considering similar age restrictions, while Germany and Italy already rely on parental approval for certain age groups. Furthermore, the United States is moving towards duty-of-care laws, and major platforms still struggle with age enforcement even though their own rules often say users must be 13+.

The evidence being used to justify these moves is not simple, but it is strong enough to shape politics. A recent Imperial College London study found that children who spent more than three hours a day on social media were more likely to develop symptoms of anxiety and depression in their teenage years, with sleep disruption appearing to be one pathway. Algorithmic feeds can even intensify exposure to dangerous, distressing or overly engaging material. Platforms no longer just host content; they actively feed it.

What a sudden cut-off feels like for a child
Tawhida Shiropa, founder and CEO of Moner Bondhu, argues that a sudden cut-off is precisely the wrong emotional move. She emphasises, “If access is shut off at home, the child will simply find another way. A child who has been using the platform and then loses it suddenly will feel the impact in behaviour and mood, and the problem is not solved by a hard switch.”

Shiropa’s broader point is about exclusion. She states that children who are denied access can feel left out when their classmates are all talking about the same apps and online trends. The mismatch is clear: some kids are in the loop, some are not, and those who are not feel they cannot keep up with their friends. A ban can create not just restrictions but also social distance. In a child’s life, social media is not only entertainment; it is often where group belonging is measured.

Moreover, this screen-dependent lifestyle emerges in a city like Dhaka, with a population of around 3.66 crore, that does not even have 300 playgrounds. “There is nowhere to go,” Shiropa laments. Furthermore, children are not safe at home and not safe outside either. That matters in a city like Dhaka, where many children move between school, home, tuition and traffic, with little access to open parks, structured play or safe public spaces. In Shiropa’s reading, the digital world becomes a pressure valve precisely because the physical world is already cramped. If the internet is shut off without building alternatives, the energy does not disappear; it is simply displaced.

The concern is not that children should have unlimited access. It is that limits should be gradual, visible and part of a relationship rather than a punishment. Shiropa also recommends limiting time rather than abruptly cutting access and says a child who loses access all at once may experience a stronger sense of missing out and a disruption in their relationship with their parents. She even offers a practical framework: if access exists, it should be bounded, not eliminated overnight. That is a different philosophy from the one now emerging in the UK and Australia, and it is rooted in the emotional cost of sudden enforcement.

Moreover, there is also a way in which children imagine the online world. They do not always understand that what they see is partial or distorted; instead, they build an imaginary world around it. Violent or adult content can reshape that world because younger children do not yet have the judgement to distinguish right from wrong.

The harms of social media have to be managed with context, because simply switching off the feed may create its own emotional problems.

Why Bangladesh would be the hardest test
Abu Nazam M Tanveer Hossain, principal of Stratagem, is more sympathetic to age limits, but he also sees the implementation barrier immediately. “Age verification is a major challenge on these platforms, and Bangladesh cannot rely only on SIM registration or NID-linked checks because children often use their parents’ devices and family accounts,” he warned. He also noted that a preferable route may be privacy-preserving age assurance, parental controls and platform accountability rather than mandatory identity uploads.

Hossain further noted, “The availability of shared devices, family accounts, and fake or bot accounts makes it extremely difficult to police who is actually using a platform.” He points to the reality that children can buy or inherit accounts, use accounts registered in other people’s names, or simply move across devices. Therefore, if a platform is supposed to block a 16-year-old, how exactly will it confirm that person's age? A birth certificate? An NID? Neither is foolproof, and both can be bypassed.

Moreover, bans tend to push users elsewhere. Many young people would likely move to VPNs, secondary apps or less-moderated platforms, which could increase risk because those spaces often have weaker safety systems and receive less scrutiny from regulators and parents. That warning matters in Bangladesh because the country already knows what broad digital restrictions can do. The lesson is simple: when access is blocked, people find ways around the block.

Hossain also raised concerns about what a ban would do to learning and earning. According to him, a blanket ban could hurt digital literacy and the creator economy because many young Bangladeshis use YouTube, Instagram and Facebook to acquire skills, build audiences, support small businesses and earn money. That is why safer access is required, rather than complete exclusion. Children should not simply be given phones to keep them quiet; they should be taught how to use them and also have access to age-appropriate content. Otherwise, they will drift towards whatever content exists, not what adults wish existed.

That content problem is central. Popular social media platforms should be pressed to make child-specific content richer, because children do not stay children forever, and their interests need to be met at each stage. As Hossain pointed out, “There is a lack of sufficient child-friendly content in Bangladesh. We need to create a specialised task force, improve awareness and ensure supervised device access rather than imposing a ban on everything.” The platforms are not safe by default, but if our children have no safe, attractive alternatives within the system, they will move towards risk.

For Bangladesh, that is the real policy choice. A hard ban might sound decisive, and it might even be politically popular for a while. But the country’s realities, such as shared phones, family accounts, weak age verification, limited public play spaces, uneven parental monitoring, and a large youth population that already learns, earns and socialises online, make a straightforward copy of the British or Australian model look fragile. The UK can build the ban around stronger enforcement and a broader online-safety architecture. Bangladesh would need the same architecture first, not afterwards.

So the more honest answer is not yes or no. It is this: a ban might reduce some harms, but in Bangladesh, it is unlikely to work well on its own. Children will feel excluded and search for another way, and when they find another way, the risk may simply shift to a darker corner of the internet. The logic of the ban is understandable. The logic of Bangladesh suggests that the ban, by itself, would be too thin.

Examples of countries that have already implemented social media bans

Besides these, a growing list of countries, including France, Denmark, Greece, Norway, Germany and Spain, are pursuing similar restrictions as concerns mount over social media’s impact on children’s mental health, online safety and exposure to harmful content.

Tagabun Taharim Titun is a content executive at The Daily Star. She can be reached at [email protected]

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