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The Moment Society Started Looking at Social Media Like Smoking

The Moment Society Started Looking at Social Media Like Smoking

28 May 2026

Paul Francis

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A Cultural Shift That Feels Long Overdue

For years, the conversation around social media and young people moved in uncertain circles. Parents worried, teachers complained, campaigners warned, and technology companies insisted that their platforms were tools for connection, creativity and expression. Somewhere between those positions, most of society learned to live with the unease.

That unease now feels as though it has reached a turning point.


Teenagers seated in a row, each using a smartphone, with a bright blurred background and a quiet, absorbed mood

According to the BBC report, the Academy of Medical Royal Colleges has told a government consultation that social media use now ranks alongside smoking as a threat to the health of young people, urging doctors to routinely ask younger patients about screen time and social media use. The comparison is striking, not because social media and tobacco are identical, but because it places online platforms in a category society usually reserves for products that became widespread before their harms were fully understood.


The language matters. When senior medical voices begin comparing social media to smoking, the question is no longer whether parents are being overprotective or whether children simply need more resilience. The question becomes whether the systems young people use every day have been allowed to grow faster than society’s ability to understand and regulate them.


The Internet Was Not Supposed to Become This

The early promise of social media was not entirely false. For many young people, online platforms have offered friendship, creativity, identity and access to communities they may not have found locally. That part of the story still matters, because any serious discussion has to acknowledge that digital life is not simply harmful by default.


But the internet young people now inhabit is not just a neutral space where connection happens. It is a commercial environment built around attention, retention and engagement. The platforms are not merely hosting content; they are shaping behaviour through design choices that encourage users to stay longer, scroll further and return more often.


That is why the government’s consultation is not only looking at age limits. It is also considering restrictions on features such as night-time access, autoplay and infinite scroll, which suggests a growing recognition that the structure of social media itself may be part of the problem.


This is the deeper issue. We created platforms designed to maximise engagement, then seemed surprised when children found them difficult to leave.


Why the Smoking Comparison Lands

The comparison with smoking is powerful because it is not really about the product itself. It is about a pattern.


Lit cigarette on a ledge, smoke curling in a close-up against a blurred gray background, with a gritty, quiet mood

Smoking became normal before society fully understood the long-term consequences. It was advertised, glamourised, embedded into everyday life and, for a long time, treated as a personal choice rather than a public health problem. Only later did regulation, age restrictions and cultural attitudes begin to shift.


Social media is now passing through a similar kind of scrutiny. It has already become part of childhood before the evidence, regulation and cultural norms around it have fully settled. Families have had to make decisions in real time, often without clear guidance, while platforms developed at a pace that public institutions struggled to match.


The comparison is not perfect, and it should not be treated as if it is. There is no broad scientific consensus that screen time overall is harmful to children, as the BBC report itself notes. But the concern being raised is more specific than screen time alone. It is about exposure to harmful content, compulsive design, online pressure and the emotional impact of platforms that are constantly competing for a child’s attention.


The Harm Is Not Always Visible

One of the difficulties with social media harm is that it often does not look dramatic from the outside. A child sitting quietly on a phone can appear safe, calm and occupied. The risk is hidden inside the content they are seeing, the conversations they are having and the algorithms deciding what appears next.


The BBC article highlights concerns about young people being exposed to extreme violence online, and consultant child psychiatrist Dr Emily Sehmer told BBC Breakfast that damaging content can reach children within seconds. That speed is central to the concern, because unlike older forms of media, social platforms do not wait for parental permission, broadcast schedules or obvious entry points. They are immediate, personalised and often difficult to supervise properly.


This is why some doctors now want social media use to become part of routine health conversations with young patients. If online life is occupying such a large part of childhood, then ignoring it in medical and mental health settings begins to look increasingly unrealistic.


Ban, Restrict or Redesign?

The most difficult question is what should happen next.


Some campaigners and bereaved families are pushing for stronger age restrictions, arguing that platforms which expose children to harm should not be accessible until they have been made demonstrably safer. The BBC report notes that Australia has already introduced a ban, and that the UK government is considering whether something similar, or some form of restriction, should be introduced for under-16s.


Others argue that a blanket ban may not work, or could even create new problems. Children may find ways around restrictions, particularly if age checks are weak or inconsistent. There is also the risk that young people who rely on online spaces for support, identity or community could be cut off without proper alternatives.


That is why the more serious debate may not be between “ban” and “do nothing”. It may be about whether platforms should be required to remove or redesign the features most likely to cause harm before they are allowed to market themselves to children. Campaigners have called for restrictions on unsafe apps and design features such as infinite scrolling, disappearing messages and push notifications, with access linked to stronger safety standards rather than a simple one-size-fits-all ban.


The Responsibility of Big Tech

At the centre of this debate sits a question that technology companies have often tried to avoid.


If platforms are designed to keep users engaged for as long as possible, and if those users include children, then how much responsibility do companies carry for the outcomes that follow?


It is not enough to say that parents should monitor everything, because the scale and complexity of modern platforms make that expectation increasingly unrealistic. Nor is it enough to say that children must simply learn to manage their own use, when the systems they are using have been engineered by adults with enormous financial and technical power.


The tobacco comparison becomes especially uncomfortable here. For years, industries facing criticism have tended to present harm as a matter of individual responsibility while resisting structural regulation. Social media companies now face a similar challenge. If their platforms are safe, they will need to show it not through slogans, but through design, transparency and accountability.


Technology Secretary Liz Kendall told the BBC that action will be taken by the end of the year, and that the government is considering a broad range of issues, including platforms beyond traditional social media such as Roblox and Discord. That matters because children’s online lives do not fit neatly inside old categories. Gaming, messaging, AI chatbots and social feeds increasingly overlap.


Childhood in an Endless Feed

Part of what makes this issue so culturally significant is that social media does not simply take up time. It changes the texture of childhood.


Previous generations had boredom, distance and delay built into daily life. You could not always reach your friends. You could not instantly compare yourself with thousands of strangers. You could not carry an endless stream of images, arguments, violence, beauty standards, rumours and approval metrics in your pocket.


Today, many children grow up in a constant feedback loop. Their friendships, entertainment, identity and social status can all become entangled with platforms designed to refresh endlessly. That does not mean every child is harmed in the same way, but it does mean childhood itself is taking place under conditions that did not exist before.

This is why the debate feels bigger than screen time. It is not just about how many hours are spent online, but about what those hours contain, how they are structured and what they are teaching young people to expect from the world and from themselves.


A Public Health Question, Not a Moral Panic

There is always a danger that conversations about young people and technology become moral panic. Every generation worries about the next one, and new media has often been blamed for social change long before the evidence catches up, but dismissing this as panic would now be too easy.


When doctors, bereaved families, online safety campaigners, police leaders and government ministers are all asking whether stronger action is needed, the issue has clearly moved beyond casual parental concern. The disagreement is no longer about whether there is a problem, but about what kind of problem it is, and how far the state should go in trying to fix it.


That is why the next phase matters. Regulation built in haste can fail, but regulation delayed too long can leave children exposed while adults argue over details. The challenge is to act without pretending the answer is simple.


The Moment the Tone Changed

The most important thing about this debate may be the shift in tone. Social media is no longer being discussed only as entertainment, communication or harmless distraction. It is increasingly being discussed as an environment with health consequences, commercial incentives and design risks. That is a profound change.


Whether Britain moves towards a ban, tighter age checks, app curfews or restrictions on specific features, the cultural direction is becoming clearer. The age of treating social media as a neutral part of childhood may be coming to an end.


The smoking comparison may not be exact, but it captures something society is beginning to recognise. Some products become normal before we fully understand what they do to us.

And when that happens, the question eventually changes. Not whether people should have known better. but why does it take so long to act?

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The Bittersweet Goodbye: The Emotional Attachment to Our First Cars

  • Writer: Gregory Devine
    Gregory Devine
  • Oct 29, 2024
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Young woman in her first Car

Think back to your first car…how does it make you feel? Maybe you can remember the smell of it or a little flaw that made it unique. Sure, it’s a sentient object, but cars have personalities that we discover as their owners. It’s like a relationship you develop over time. You learn how the car likes to be driven; you find things you love and hate about it. Ultimately, you grow attached to it. That’s what makes it so hard to see it go when you finally decide to upgrade.


I’ve had my car since I was 17. It’s a 14-plate Seat Ibiza in white, with a perfect set of colour contrasting grey alloys to match. When I collected it from the showroom in Chesterfield, I didn’t even have my full driver’s license. We insured it under my own name (learner’s insurance) and bought a set of ‘L’ plates so I could be the one to drive it home. My nan sat next to me with my Mum following us behind. The smile never left my face until I got it home.


I passed my test about three weeks later. My instructor dropped me back home afterwards; it was a little sad to say goodbye, as I’d spent many hours a week with him over the previous few months, and I was now unlikely to ever see him again. He gave me some final pointers and wished me luck for driving on the open roads by myself. I rushed inside, quickly insured the car and that was it—I was straight out on my own. I think I must’ve visited every single family member that day, celebrating my newfound independence.


Young woman getting her first car keys

Over the years, I began to learn about my car’s personality. Like how it pulled in second gear, how I could get it slightly off the ground on local country roads and how it hated to be driven quickly through city centres and would guzzle fuel in the process. All these gave me such an attachment to the car I’ve owned for nearly five years.


Back when I was refereeing, that car took me everywhere, including the finals I was in charge of. I’ve parked it in the match officials’ car park of some of the huge stadiums I’ve been lucky to run the line at.


Then there’s the emotional memories. I’ve laughed in that car, blown my fuse in that car and cried in it too. I’ve sat there bricking myself waiting to hear results of exams, tests and scans. I’ve celebrated, thinking Rotherham had avoided relegation on the final day, only to find out Derby had scored and we were now going down. That little car has been a part of my life almost every day for the last five years. There’s no wonder there’s such an attachment there. Being the first in my school year to pass my test, most people in my village see the car and know it’s me that’s out and about.


Selling it was such a weird feeling. Reminiscing about all the memories in the car made me quite emotional, I’m not afraid to admit it. Yet it was also somewhat exciting, knowing that I was about to pick up a beautiful new car that I’m sure will help me create similar memories. It was a sad feeling that occurred to me moving out of my first-year university halls. An emotional time!


I can only assume the feeling is the same when you’re a fully-fledged adult. At 21, I don’t see myself as that. Moving house comes with poignant emotions and I’d imagine changing your car also carries such feelings (unless you’re someone who swaps their motor every year, perhaps). Maybe it’s slightly different when it’s not your first car, and it likely differs from individual to individual. I’ve got friends my age who’ve already had five cars, because they can’t help writing them off. I guess they probably haven’t felt the same emotions as I’m feeling, simply because they haven’t spent as much time with their cars.


Not knowing who is having the car next is also disappointing. I’d like to think it will be well looked after but being a ten-year-old machine with high mileage, I can’t imagine it will be. There’s not a dent or scratch to be found on it, and the seats still look like new. Whomever purchases it is getting a fantastic little car. Do I hope I get this same attachment to my new motor? I think I will, simply due to how much time I spend in my car. They’re fantastic memories, though, and I hope reading this has brought back some memories for you, too.

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