Australia recently announced a ban on social media use for kids under 16, citing concerns about mental health and online safety. But there’s another issue at stake—sleep. Teenagers’ late-night screen use has quietly become one of the biggest barriers to healthy development.
The consequences of teen sleep loss are serious
Sleep-deprived teens face higher risks of depression, anxiety, substance use, and academic …
Australia recently announced a ban on social media use for kids under 16, citing concerns about mental health and online safety. But there’s another issue at stake—sleep. Teenagers’ late-night screen use has quietly become one of the biggest barriers to healthy development.
The consequences of teen sleep loss are serious
Sleep-deprived teens face higher risks of depression, anxiety, substance use, and academic struggles. While Australia’s move is bold, similar efforts are emerging in the United States. Utah and Arkansas now require parental consent for minors to join social media platforms, and states including New York, Louisiana, and Florida are debating tighter controls on underage users or on the algorithms designed to keep them scrolling late at night.
Sleep is more than an individual behavior—policy matters
These efforts signal a sea change in public—and scientific—attitudes about sleep. When I began my career as a sleep scientist over 20 years ago, I was something of an outlier. At the time, most researchers in my field focused on sleep as an individual behavior shaped by biology, habits, and psychology. I was drawn to a different question: What if sleep isn’t just an individual health behavior, but a social and policy issue?
The American Academy of Sleep Medicine recommends eight to ten hours of nightly sleep for teenagers. Most get less than seven. There’s robust evidence linking nighttime media use to poor sleep. For many teens, nighttime scrolling fills the hours meant for rest. Our work and others’ show that more than 70 percent of adolescents say they check their phones after going to bed, and many wake up in the night to respond to notifications. This is harmful in multiple ways. Physiologically, the light emitted from screens suppresses melatonin secretion and delays circadian rhythms. Psychologically, the emotional stimulation from online interactions keeps the mind alert when it should be quieting.
Will disabling social media accounts for those under age 16 solve the problem?
Probably not entirely. Enforcing age restrictions online is notoriously difficult. Teens are tech-savvy and resourceful; many will find ways around verification systems or borrow a parent’s account. Moreover, social connectedness is central to adolescent development, and abrupt digital isolation could have unintended social or psychological consequences.
What I find encouraging about Australia’s move and similar efforts in the U.S. is the shift in thinking it represents. For decades, we have told individuals to “just turn off your phone” or “get more sleep,” ignoring the structural factors that make doing so nearly impossible. Algorithms are designed to capture attention. Schools start before sunrise. Work schedules push parents late into the night. When the systems are misaligned, even the best intentions fall short.
We have seen the power of policy to improve sleep before
In the United States, dozens of school districts and the state of California have delayed start times after years of research showing that teens’ biological clocks make early mornings especially harsh. Those changes have yielded demonstrable benefits: longer sleep, higher graduation rates, lower rates of depression, and fewer car crashes among adolescent drivers. Similarly, growing momentum to abandon daylight saving time reflects an understanding that shifting the clock twice a year disrupts circadian rhythms and public safety.
Addressing the teenage sleep crisis will take more than just limiting social media use
Educational programs can help parents set digital boundaries at home. Schools can teach media literacy alongside sleep health education and implement later school start times. Such multilevel efforts could reinforce the understanding that protecting sleep requires action at the individual, family, institutional, and societal levels.
Australia’s decision has already sparked debate. But whatever one’s position on the specifics, it signals a recognition that societal sleep loss is not an inexorable problem. It is a consequence of the social structures and environments we’ve built, and that are within our power to change. From my vantage point, Australia’s move raises an even larger question. What else could be accomplished if sleep were treated not merely as a private good, but as a public one?