Opinion
The big social media experiment is starting. What will young men do? You won’t like the answer
Australia’s world-first social media ban for under-16s takes effect in less than a fortnight. Meta has promised to shut down teen accounts on Instagram and Facebook a week early. The federal government ban, which arose out of strong community sentiment around protecting young people from the online world following increased attention on incidents of self-harm and suicide, cyberbullying and grooming, has been backed by the majority of Australians.
But in all the recent heated debate over implementation and privacy concerns, we’ve been fixated on what we’re taking away. A more urgent question has barely rated a mention – what are we putting in place instead?
For young men, the stakes are high. In a cultural moment sparked by the release of Netflix’s Adolescence earlier this year and a narrative claiming that “the boys are not alright”, there has been a new focus on the exposure of young men to misogynistic “manosphere” influencers and extremist content. But I’m not seeing much effort at understanding what’s happening in their lives.
If we think a social media ban will make these problem go away, consider the numbers: research from our team shows that daily, young men aged 12-17 spend an average of 100 minutes on gaming sites, 75 minutes on social media, and 68 minutes watching short-form videos. That’s more than four hours in digital spaces — most to vanish overnight with the tap turning off on TikTok, WhatsApp, YouTube and twitch.
Post-COVID, youth anxiety remains stubbornly elevated and community infrastructure has been stripped back or never recovered. The third spaces where young people once gathered — Scouts, local footy clubs, community centres, municipal libraries — have been hollowed out. Many young people describe a profound sense of disconnection – a loneliness that can be especially risky for young men. For many, social media is a lifeline.
It’s wishful thinking to believe those hours online will redirect to suburban basketball courts and street cricket. Neural pathways don’t reset like an iPhone. They need new inputs, new patterns, new reasons to change that are stronger than adults saying “back in my day”.
Young men online are not just scrolling — they’re apprenticing. The vast majority engage with masculinity influencers who have become primary architects of their developing identities. These aren’t just entertainment figures. They’re filling a void left by the collapse of institutions that once provided masculine mentorship: youth sports leagues with coaches who have time to talk, schools with resources for meaningful connection, community organisations not defunded into irrelevance.
These influencers provide what one young man in our research called “a masculinity map” – a clear roadmap for how to be a man. For boys experiencing elevated rates of worthlessness and sadness, these parasocial relationships deliver certainty.
We haven’t built viable alternatives that can compete. When December 10 arrives, young men will migrate to the shiniest, most accessible digital experiences, even though these sites may expose them to greater risks than social media.
Online gambling looms large. Boys start betting with each other at around age 10 – by high school, up to a third have gambled for money. The convergence of gambling and gaming is insidious: loot boxes are slot machines with better graphics. In-game betting opportunities and gambling ads are now readily woven into gaming streams, blurring the lines between gamer and gambler.
Pornography offers another avenue — little age verification, sophisticated algorithmic curation, unlimited accessibility. Research repeatedly shows the troubling impact of early exposure to pornography on developing sexuality and relationship expectations.
Perhaps the most widespread migration will be to AI companions. Already, 66 per cent of young men aged 12-17 use ChatGPT weekly. AI companions are being engineered for emotional intimacy. We documented a 33 per cent global rise in searches for “AI girlfriends” in 2024 — Australia showed 47 per cent growth, the world’s highest. Platforms like Character.AI and Replika offer algorithmically optimised parasocial relationships, providing advice on relationships, identity, life decisions. Advice generated not by wisdom, but by systems designed to maximise profit, leveraging sycophancy for engagement.
Government, health, education, and social service sectors have a window to build infrastructure we should have been developing for decades. Young men are hungry for direction, motivation, belonging. Our research shows 75 per cent feel motivated after acting on influencer advice. That drive is a foundation we can build on.
We need sustained funding for social connection programs that understand masculine pressures driving competition and emotional distance. We need sports and community programs that explicitly teach resilience and emotional literacy as practical skills. We need comprehensive digital literacy education. Right now, 57 per cent of young men don’t understand algorithmic curation, yet 53 per cent want more control. Teaching them how these systems work – how to critically evaluate sources, how to recognise when platforms optimise for engagement rather than wellbeing – is needed for when social media access is restored at 16.
This ban is a massive social experiment, even though responding to a real need. Is 16 the right threshold? Where will young men actually spend their time? Should different platforms face different age requirements based on specific harms? To find the answers we need to track where young men spend time during the ban, how mental health and social connection evolve, which interventions work, and what happens when access returns. Most importantly, we need to hear young men’s voices– they’re the experts on their own digital lives.
Taking something away is easy. Building something better is where the real work begins. We can’t reclaim four hours a day and expect the vacuum to fill itself. Perfection isn’t required — but planning is. If we’re closing the door, we’d better open some windows.
Dr Zac Seidler is a clinical psychologist and global director of research for Movember.
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