Among the many threats to the well-being of teens, social media is the most troubling
“Where have all the flowers gone?” I can’t get Pete Seeger’s 1955 song out of my head, his elegy for a generation lost to war. From the entry into WWII in 1941, to the withdrawal of the last troops from Afghanistan in 2021, the U.S. has, with few interruptions, been embroiled in combat, claiming the lives of young American soldiers. And still, our children and youth aren’t safe, though they now don’t face war’s external threats, but potent internal enemies.
The social safety net conceived under President Lyndon Johnson to combat poverty with all of its long-term toxic effects, has been fraying over many decades, and despite “Obamacare” is by now in shreds. Persistent childhood poverty and underperforming school systems take a heavy toll on their lives, and punitive legislation increasingly restricts reproductive health measures and the necessary medical support for transgender youths. Drug use at an ever-younger age affects teens of every social class, often as a way to ease anxiety and stress.
But one of the most troubling threats is the noxious effect of social media. According to a spring report by the U.S. Surgeon General, frequent social media use may be associated with distinct changes in the developing brain, especially in areas that are important for emotional learning and emotional regulation. Coupled with a dearth of mental health treatment options, it is resulting in an epidemic of often deadly mental health issues.
The pull of social media is gravitational. Put a cellphone in young teens’ hands, and it becomes welded there, pulling their attention away from whatever goes on around them. In a poll, quoted in the Surgeon General’s report, one third of children, some as young as 8, said that they use social media “almost constantly,” resulting in a decrease in sleep time and exercise, vital to the developing brain. The intense focus on incessant messaging and the power of “influencers” that often exceeds parental advice, the increased incidents of shaming and ghosting within cliques, and the negative impact of Instagram that has been shown to worsen body-image issues, especially in girls, have led to a large increase in anxiety disorders, suicidal ideation and suicides, which are now the second leading cause of deaths among young people between 10 and 24.
Even without these extremes, teens seem mesmerized by the “traffic” on their phones and oblivious of the world around them. I speak from experience. We have three grandchildren with whom, from birth on, we developed a close relationship. They were enchanting babies who, in the blink of an eye, became toddlers, actively exploring every corner of their environment and venturing further and further out into a world filled with wonder and excitement. They developed into social beings, creative, ever inventive, developing new interests and skills in their own ways and at their own paces. With their parents, they traveled widely, adding new experiences, sights, tastes and memories to make them citizens of a world they would one day be responsible for. We loved them dearly and they loved us in return, all eagerly looking forward to reunions and shared adventures.
We still love each other just as deeply, but now that they are teenagers, and though we may not have seen each other for months, they disappear into their cellphones after just a hug and the briefest verbal exchange. Even when engaged in conversation, their attention is tuned to the signals from their phones. And openly or surreptitiously, including at meals, they obey the demands to acknowledge and respond to the ceaseless messages coming through.
Their parents had valiantly resisted letting them have their own phones, but eventually, each at a slightly younger age, the children got what is now de rigueur childhood equipment. Initially, the phones were justified as a safety measure — a means for child and parent to communicate in an emergency. But all too quickly, as their peers took on increasing importance, they became their lifeline. At first, the girls at least, still read books for enjoyment, while our grandson — never a reader — discovered games on his phone, losing himself into them as long as he was permitted to, while abandoning his former creative pursuits and lately even slacking on his beloved sports. By now, all three, one on the brink of adulthood, devote every free minute to their phones to the exclusion of social interactions, at least while with us. They would no more be parted from them than from a limb.
They don’t watch the news, they don’t read a newspaper or magazine, they don’t pay attention to the discussions flowing around them, so that, other than in school, they are not exposed to whatever they will need to know to make informed decisions as they head out into the world. These are the voters of tomorrow — indeed one of our granddaughters is already of voting age — and I worry not that they will make the wrong decisions, but that they will have no basis on which to make the right ones, that they will have little understanding of how the world they are inheriting has gotten into the mess it is in, and how to avoid the mistakes of the past. Their phones will certainly not provide the answers.
But most of all, and selfishly, I miss our grandchildren, gone, even when we are together.