24th March 2026
From LibDemVoice
Did the LibDems accidentally vote for a surveillance state?
By Rosemary Runswick (adapted for the Romiley Gazette).
The proposal to ban social media for under-16s is one of those policies that, at first glance, feels comforting. It speaks to a genuine concern: the wellbeing of young people in an online world that can be, at times, harsh, addictive, and unsafe. But as Liberals, we must resist the urge to legislate based on anxiety alone—because the cure being proposed here is far more dangerous than the disease.
Let’s be clear: a blanket ban on social media for under-16s would not simply “switch off” access. It would require something far more intrusive—mass identity verification across the internet. In practice, that means surveillance. Not state-owned, perhaps, but outsourced to private companies with a vested interest in collecting, monetising, and leveraging our most sensitive data.
This is not a hypothetical risk. Age verification systems already being rolled out for adult content rely on biometric data and official ID. Scaling that up to every young person in the country would create a vast database of personal information—one that would be irresistible to hackers, and immensely valuable to those seeking to influence behaviour, markets, or even elections.
As Rosemary Runswick argues in her original piece, this is not just a privacy issue—it is a national security concern. Once biometric data is compromised, it cannot be changed. You can reset a password; you cannot reset your face or your fingerprints. The consequences of a breach would be permanent.
And yet, astonishingly, many within our own party supported this approach. Sixty-one Liberal Democrat MPs voted in favour of the amendment. This sits uneasily—if not outright contradictorily—alongside the party’s own commitment, passed at conference, to a Digital Bill of Rights that explicitly opposes disproportionate age-gating and champions data privacy.
We cannot claim to be both liberal and paternalistic. We cannot champion individual freedom while endorsing policies that require every citizen to prove their identity simply to participate in modern life.
Of course, the concerns driving this debate are real. Social media platforms can expose young people to harmful content, and there is strong evidence linking excessive use to declining mental health. But a ban does not solve these problems—it merely displaces them. As critics have pointed out, it risks isolating vulnerable young people from support networks, while doing little to prevent exposure via shared devices or unregulated spaces.
The comments on Runswick’s article reflect this tension within liberal thought. Some rightly describe the proposal as “moral panic legislation”—a reaction that prioritises appearing decisive over being effective. Others caution against overstating the risks, pointing to existing protections under data law and warning against hyperbole. Both perspectives are valuable, and both highlight the need for a more grounded, evidence-based approach.
There is also a deeper unease about who benefits from such policies. As one commenter noted, there are growing concerns about corporate influence in shaping the narrative—whether through lobbying, partnerships, or more opaque forms of pressure. Even if one does not accept the more sweeping claims, it is undeniable that data has become the currency of power in the digital age. Any policy that expands its collection must be treated with extreme caution.
So what should we do instead?
A genuinely liberal response would focus on transparency, accountability, and empowerment. That means stronger protections over personal data, ensuring it cannot be freely traded or exploited. It means demanding greater openness from tech companies—potentially including independent scrutiny of the algorithms that shape what we see online. And it means investing in education, equipping young people with the tools to navigate the digital world safely and critically.
Above all, it means trusting people. Not blindly, but fundamentally. Liberalism is rooted in the belief that individuals, given the right information and safeguards, are capable of making their own choices.
A social media ban for under-16s abandons that principle. It replaces trust with control, nuance with blunt force, and liberty with surveillance.
If we are serious about defending both democracy and personal freedom in the digital age, we must do better than this.
A glance at the reaction from party members and readers reveals a deep unease that goes beyond the policy itself and strikes at the party’s identity. Several contributors described the proposal as “moral panic legislation” that risks sacrificing liberal principles for the sake of appearing tough, while others expressed frustration that the party seems willing to override its own conference decisions and the views of younger members most affected. There was also scepticism about some of the more sweeping claims made in the debate—particularly around data use and past political campaigns—alongside concern that overstating the case risks weakening legitimate arguments about privacy and security. Yet even among those voices, the underlying theme was consistent: a sense that the party is drifting from its core commitment to civil liberties, and a growing anxiety that, in trying to “protect” young people, it may instead be undermining the very freedoms it exists to defend.
— Romiley Gazette Editorial
