Australia's Social Media Ban for Kids: What's Actually Working?

Australia banned children under 16 from using social media in late 2024. Now, a year and a half later, researchers are checking what that ban has actually accomplished. The answer is: some things yes, some things no.

A research group called the Molly Rose Foundation published findings in April 2026 showing that kids are spending less time on social media than before the ban. That part worked. But most children still have active accounts on these platforms, which means they're breaking the rule. The law wasn't enforced as strictly as lawmakers intended.

This gap between what the law says should happen and what's actually happening on the ground is the real story here.

How the Law Was Designed

The Australian law put the burden on the platforms themselves — Meta, TikTok, Snapchat, and YouTube — to keep under-16s off. The government didn't penalize the kids or their parents. This choice made practical sense: the technology to verify someone's age online isn't perfect, and politicians didn't want to be seen as punishing children for breaking a rule.

But the research suggests the platforms haven't fully complied. They still have under-16s on their services, even though they're legally supposed to block them.

What the Research Found

The Molly Rose Foundation asked children how the ban affected their lives. The results were mixed — not clearly good or clearly bad overall, but different for different kids.

Some children did report feeling better. Others didn't. The time spent online went down somewhat, but not dramatically. Think of it like a friction device: the ban made it harder to use social media heavily, but it didn't cut off access entirely. Kids found ways around it or just used the apps less intensely.

When researchers looked at the data, this pattern made sense. Kids weren't deleting their accounts and leaving the platform. They were just using them more carefully or less often. A ban that reduces how much time kids spend online — but doesn't actually get them off the platforms — is only a partial solution.

Why This Matters

The Molly Rose Foundation has spent years researching something troubling: the algorithms these platforms use actively push content about suicide and self-harm to teenagers who are already struggling. These aren't fringe accounts buried deep — the platforms' own recommendation systems surface this harmful material.

If that's true, then a ban that reduces screen time — even without eliminating accounts entirely — might still protect kids somewhat. Fewer hours on these apps means fewer hours exposed to dangerous content, even if the kids technically still have access.

There's another piece worth noting. A Reuters investigation in 2025 found that Instagram's safety features for teenagers had serious flaws. One feature was supposed to redirect teens away from self-harm content, but when researchers tested it, it never actually worked. Meta, the company behind Instagram, disputed some of the criticism but didn't argue with the specific findings about how these tools actually perform.

This matters for Australia because if the safety tools the platforms promise to use are unreliable, then even if Meta claims to be blocking under-16s, some kids might still slip through.

What This Means for Other Countries

The United Kingdom is watching Australia closely. The UK government is currently deciding whether to pass similar age bans. The Australian experience is like a test case — a real-world experiment in whether these bans actually work.

The Molly Rose Foundation's findings suggest the answer is complicated. Yes, the ban reduces screen time. But it doesn't eliminate the problem because the accounts are still there.

This leaves UK policymakers with an awkward situation. For years, researchers have been debating whether social media actually harms children, or whether kids who are already struggling just use it more. The Australian data doesn't fully settle that debate. What it does show is that a ban on the books doesn't automatically mean a ban in practice.

The real lesson may be simpler: telling platforms to enforce a rule doesn't guarantee they will, at least not completely.