Smartphones now dominate the daily lives of children and teens around the world. Recent studies show that young people aged 4 to 18 spend an average of 57 minutes a day on video apps like YouTube and Netflix, and another 52 minutes on social media apps like TikTok and Instagram. In fact, average daily usage is even higher: 70 minutes on YouTube and 112 minutes on TikTok. This means kids are spending a large portion of their waking hours in front of screens—time that could be spent reading, playing with friends, or talking with family.
One of the most common dilemmas among parents today is: “When should I give my child a smartphone?” As a parent to a daughter in elementary school, I find this question constantly weighing on me. I’m concerned that giving her a smartphone too early might limit her experiences to what fits inside a rectangular screen, when she should be engaging with the world through all five senses. There’s also the fear that she’ll be exposed to unfiltered content on YouTube or in group chats before she’s ready. Still, I can’t ignore how convenient smartphones are for staying in touch with her when needed—something we didn’t have 20 or 30 years ago, despite those times arguably being more dangerous.
My wife and I struck a compromise: starting on Children’s Day of her third-grade year, instead of handing her a smartphone, we gave her a smartwatch with phone call functionality. This reduced the screen’s visual draw while keeping her fingers free for more active engagement with the world—and still allowed her to reach us anytime.
But even this isn’t a perfect solution. Smartphones are everywhere, including at her school, where some of her classmates already have their own. She knows what smartphones are and what they can do—from YouTube to mobile games. She often tries to sneak a peek at ours, guessing passcodes or using our fingerprints when we’re not paying attention.
Watching her, I sometimes wonder, “What’s so exciting about a smartphone?” But then I catch myself reaching for mine whenever I’m bored, checking messages or scrolling through news. Maybe I’m not in a position to judge. The difference is, I’m an adult with some degree of self-control—something an elementary schooler doesn’t yet have. That’s why we’re still trying to keep some distance between her and smartphones for now. Still, I sometimes wonder: is this fair? Am I imposing my standards on her just because I’m the adult?
While we were navigating these concerns, I came across a new book in a feature article—The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt. The article summarized key points from the book, particularly the idea that the recent surge in youth depression and anxiety is closely tied to the rise of smartphones and social media since the 2010s. As the book refers to a generation that includes children like my daughter, I felt compelled to read it as a parent.
Jonathan Haidt, although best known for other works, is a prominent American social psychologist recognized for his “social intuitionist” theory—the idea that people make moral judgments based on gut feelings and later construct rational justifications. He is also known for developing Moral Foundations Theory, which explains how people differ in their moral reasoning.
In The Anxious Generation, Haidt offers a compelling, data-driven explanation for the rise in youth mental health issues since the 2010s. He connects two major societal shifts: a trend toward overprotective parenting, and the sudden influx of smartphones and social media into children’s lives. His analysis is particularly striking when he highlights a spike in depression and anxiety among teen girls, pointing to apps like Instagram as a major contributing factor.
Haidt argues that while the physical world has become much safer since the 1990s, today’s children are overprotected from real-life challenges—losing opportunities for growth and resilience—while being dangerously underprotected online. Ironically, the virtual world is now where the greatest risks lie, yet it receives far less parental attention.
His core prescription is simple: more real-world experiences, fewer screen-based ones. That means increasing physical play and face-to-face interactions, while decreasing exposure to smartphones and social media. The goal isn’t merely to restrict devices but to intentionally create richer, healthier experiences in the real world.
Although the book is written for a general audience, its foundation in social psychology can make it feel dense at times. Haidt seems aware of this, however, and provides summaries at the end of each chapter to help readers stay grounded and understand the key takeaways—something I found extremely helpful.
One of the most practical sections is Chapter 12: “What Parents Can Do Now.” Haidt divides children into three age groups (0–5, 6–13, and 14–18) and offers age-appropriate strategies for each. As a parent of a 6–13-year-old, I found the guidance especially relevant. One suggestion that struck me was this: “Rather than focusing on limiting screen time, prioritize maximizing face-to-face interactions and quality sleep.”
Haidt’s care for readers extends to the final chapter, where he summarizes four key recommendations from the entire book:
- No smartphones before high school.
- No social media before age 16.
- Ban phones in schools.
- Promote unstructured play and childhood independence.
This book resonates deeply with modern parents. Its power lies not in presenting groundbreaking new claims, but in validating what many already suspect—backed by data and case studies. It gives us the satisfying sense of, “So I wasn’t wrong after all.”
Yet The Anxious Generation does more than validate parental concerns—it offers concrete, actionable solutions. While it doesn’t claim to have all the answers, it helps parents navigate tough questions like, “When should I give my child a phone?” or “Is it okay to let them use Instagram?” It may not give a one-size-fits-all answer, but it does offer a clear direction. For parents struggling to make sense of raising kids in a digital age, this book is a valuable guide.
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