By Catherine L’Ecuyer, author of It looks better in 3D, initially published in La Razón, in Spain.
As a parent, you’re frequently told—often with a hint of defiance—not to forget that your child has “digital rights”: to search Google, to share their inner world with an App, to join social media. And so, why interfere? Why not back off?
You’re left bewildered, feeling like you inhabit a parallel world. All you want is to raise your children well, and for your environment to support—not sabotage—that mission. You’re not asking others to parent for you; you’re simply pleading for a space that doesn’t undermine your efforts.
You wonder: how on earth did we get here? You mentally list off the gospel of the “techno-myths” repeated day in, day out: Prohibition only makes things more appealing. The classroom will be digital—or it will not be at all. This is the future, and there’s no turning back. You can’t put gates around the open fields. The answer lies in teaching responsible use. Give them a phone early or risk being too late to strike a deal. What’s wrong with a little TikTok if he’s a good lad, never fails his exams, and makes his bed? Some also say: Just negotiate with the affectionate little union your child has become, and all will be well. And if you don’t know how, don’t worry—the digital wellness coaches (conveniently sponsored by the same industry that caused the mess) will show you how. But try to keep your children or students away from screens and you’ll quickly be labelled radical. Prohibition, they say, is for lazy parents who can’t be bothered to educate properly. Technology isn’t good or bad, they add, it just depends how you use it. And they warn: If you don’t give your child access until 16, at 16 and a day, they’ll binge uncontrollably—because you denied them the chance to “learn responsible use.” “It’s all about balance,” they say, before promptly invoking Aristotle and his famed doctrine of the golden mean. As if somewhere between total abstinence and ten hours a day on screens lies the sweet spot—five hours, perhaps, or whatever feels reasonable to each according to their whim. In the end, everything is relative, and true vice, they imply, lies only in taking things too far—either way.
And every time you hear one of these familiar refrains, you tug at the thread—and lo and behold, behind that so-called expert, foundation, or initiative, there’s often a donor, sponsor, or partner with direct or indirect ties to Big Tech.
The growing movement of parents asking for political and social support in their educational choices is more than a cry of frustration. It’s a moment of clarity. The shiny theories sold by the tech industry simply don’t match the lived reality of family life. For over a decade, many of these parents have tried—tried earnestly—to follow the script. But they’ve surrendered to the obvious: the theories don’t hold up. And here’s why:
1. You Can’t “Educate for Responsible Use” by Handing Over the Device
The idea that it’s either “educate or forbid” is a false dilemma. Freedom is not the same as indulgence. You cannot educate without rules; nor can you set meaningful rules without education. Yes, it’s hard work. Drawing boundaries requires explanations, alternatives, creativity, and willingness to put in time and effort. It’s far easier to buy silence and compliance with hypnotic digital entertainment.
But the notion that a child can learn “responsible use” while immersed in a tool designed to hijack attention is a fantasy. One peddled by an industry whose business model depends on growing its user base—starting as young as possible. And when it fails, it’s the parents who are blamed for not being good enough. We must put an end to this nonsense.
Discipline is the bedrock of freedom. Only a person with inner strength and self-control can truly choose what is good. To speak of “responsibility” before a child has even developed the ability to resist temptation or discern wisely is a betrayal of freedom. All those virtues—self-restraint, courage, discernment, prudence—don’t spring into being with a phone in the pocket. They must be in place before they own the device. The best preparation for the digital world takes place in the real world.
Is technology neutral, as some claim? Marshall McLuhan would’ve scoffed. He called that belief the delusion of the “technological idiot.” Smartphones and tablets do impact a child’s development. Paediatric guidelines are clear: early childhood is a critical period for development. It is true that a knife can be used to make an omelette or to kill; however, we do not consider it prudent to place one in the hands of a three-year-old. Likewise, giving a child a device engineered for addiction isn’t neutral—it’s reckless.
And then there’s the “displacement effect,” or what economists call opportunity cost. Every hour a child spends passively glued to a screen is an hour stolen from play, from conversation, from sensorial experiences, from the very things that build intelligence, resilience, and deep joy.
2. Education Is Not About Compromise—It’s About Pursuing Excellence
Some of us refuse to settle for polite, well-behaved children who make their beds and “earn” their daily dose of social media. Education is not about keeping them quiet with a screen in exchange for not misbehaving. It’s about pursuing what is noble and true.
We want to raise children who recognise beauty—and hunger for it. Who have the depth to resist the vulgarity and banality that floods their screens daily. Because if we don’t speak to them of beauty, love, and meaning, the beauty industry and the porn industry surely will. Millions of “nice” children didn’t seek out pornography—but it found them. And they lacked the strength to turn it away.
We don’t want “nice kids.” We want children of virtue. Young people with discernment, a strong sense of identity, a purpose worth striving for, and the inner clarity to say “no” when what is offered has no intelligent purpose. And we know we cannot hope to shape such souls while competing against billion-pound platforms programmed to monetize their attention.
3. The “Golden Mean” Is Not a Lazy Compromise
Some “moderates” love to invoke Aristotle’s idea of the mean—believing that virtue always lies halfway between two extremes. If kids are averaging ten hours of screen time a day, the virtuous choice must be five, surely?
But virtue is not arithmetic: there is no sliding scale between virtue and vice. True virtue is not a diluted vice, nor is vice just an exaggerated virtue.
You wouldn’t say the right amount of gin in a baby’s bottle is “half a measure.” You wouldn’t compromise between “nothing” and “too much.” Virtue involves knowing what is good—and choosing it, with strength and conviction, sometimes despite what others may say.
To conclude, virtue is the habit of choosing what is excellent—and doing so with prudence, courage, and self-mastery. Handing a child a device designed to hijack their attention and addict them— precisely at the moment they are beginning to discover who they are—is no neutral gesture, nor does it seem the surest path to virtue.
