by Jerrica Fatima Ann
Educator based in Ipoh.
The Malaysian government’s recent move to consider banning children under 13 from social media has touched a nerve with many parents. In fact, as a nation, we’re worried.
We see our children—some barely able to read—lost in the glow of TikTok videos and YouTube Shorts, their fingers swiping instinctively and their eyes glazed in passive awe.
We fear what they might see, what they might become, and we wonder: Are we losing them to the screen?
The phrase brain rot has become our favourite catchphrase for this fear: a generation growing up on nonsensical content, noise over knowledge, and likes over conversation.
But in our rush to firewall their screens, we risk walling off their minds—from us and from the very tools they’ll need tomorrow.
A ban is not a fix
Communications Minister Fahmi Fadzil recently proposed banning children under 13 from social media and filtering online content to promote “state-sanctioned family values.” This is well-intentioned, but can such actions create a dangerous paradox?
Think about it. On one hand, the Malaysian government is investing heavily in STEM education, coding, and artificial intelligence. On the other, it is exploring measures that could severely limit the very tools needed to succeed in the digital future. The contradiction is glaring.
We are nurturing a generation of digital natives—young people who are more tech-savvy than most adults—and then telling them they’re not ready for the online world. But digital maturity isn’t built through bans. It is built through education, guidance, and responsible use.
The illusion of control
History is full of moments where adults feared the things young people loved. When rock and roll first shook the airwaves, it was blamed for corrupting morals and causing rebellion. Today, that same music is seen as iconic and revolutionary—a part of cultural heritage.
Social media and digital platforms are the modern equivalent. Just because children are consuming massive amounts of non-academic content or engaging in meme culture doesn’t mean they’re a lost cause. Even the seemingly silly meme culture can be a gateway to creativity and digital fluency—skills worth cultivating, not suppressing.
By proposing state-approved content, we’re dangerously close to censorship. Isn’t filtering and controlling what children are allowed to read or watch—without transparency—a form of brainwashing itself? Is our goal to raise children who are silent conformists, or children who question, evaluate, and choose responsibly?
Are adults any better?
If children aren’t capable of handling social media responsibly, are adults any better?
Adults, too, doomscroll late into the night. They fall prey to fake news; they catfish, fall for scams, visit echo chambers, and engage in illegal activities. Adults argue online over politics, buy into conspiracy theories, and even spread misinformation. If digital discipline is our metric, we all fall short.
So why the double standard?
By placing all the blame and responsibility on young people, we’re failing to reflect on the real issue: our collective relationship with technology is flawed, and blaming kids for it won’t solve anything.
What matters
The conversation around screen time must shift from restriction to responsibility. What’s missing in the current approach is a more holistic solution—one that addresses the root causes of digital overuse: lack of awareness, poor digital habits, limited emotional connection, and insufficient family time.
The writer of a recent BBC article titled “What Screen Time Does to Children’s Brains Is More Complicated Than It Seems”—and a mother herself—admitted that she handed an iPad to her youngest child to keep him occupied while she did chores around the house. The tantrum that followed when she took the iPad away shocked her immensely.
There are many such stories, and all reveal a troubling truth: screens have become a substitute for presence.
A collective effort
We cannot fight digital addiction with censorship alone. Instead, we must invest in building stronger families, communities, and schools.
Parents need support in understanding technology and building digital literacy themselves. This will allow them to lead by example, not by control. A child will not respect screen time limits if their parents are glued to WhatsApp and TikTok all evening.
Schools should step up as well—not just by limiting phones, but by offering engaging alternatives. Imagine community service projects where students use social media for activism or awareness. What if schools hosted coding boot camps where kids built apps to solve local problems?
The government, too, must acknowledge its role beyond regulation. Instead of just restricting access, why not fund media literacy workshops and tech competitions that foster healthy digital relationships?
Technology isn’t going away
The very technology we fear is also what powers our economy, education, and communication. As artificial intelligence tools, virtual reality, and immersive platforms gain popularity, children need preparation—not prohibition.
We need to stop asking, “How do we stop kids from using tech?” and start asking, “How do we equip them to use it well?”
The solution is virtually real.
The government’s intentions may be rooted in protection, but the solution must reflect wisdom, not control. If we treat screens—and not our disconnect from our children—as the problem, we risk prescribing a cure that’s worse than the disease.
Allow children to explore the possibilities of cutting-edge technology. Explore with them, rather than letting them do it all alone, but also help them learn and live beyond its shimmering pixels and animated screens.
