Gagged by Daddy Government.

Australia is set to become the first country on Earth to make it illegal for parents to let their own children be on social media. And the Prime Minister says he wants to delete social media for all.

Here’s what this means for the world →

📖 ESTIMATED READ TIME: 5 minutes 55 seconds

Sovereignty? “Nein!”

In the wake of World War I, the Weimar Republic, Germany's first experiment with democracy, found itself at a crossroads. One where the innocence of the nation’s youth was perceived to be under threat from the corrupting influences of modern society.

The Weimar government intended to shield its younger generations from the moral decay that many feared was seeping through the cracks of a war-torn society. Primarily, to protect them from what was termed 'trash' literature and cinema—materials believed to corrupt their purity and moral fibre.

Enter the Gesetz zur Bewahrung der Jugend vor Schund- und Schmutzschriften; literally translated, The Law for the Protection of Youth from Trash and Filth Writings. Commonly known as Youth Protection Laws, they were crafted with a singular focus: to protect Germany’s young from what were seen as immoral, radical, or dangerous ideas.

At first, the laws appeared finite in scope. Meant solely for minors, they posed no threat to adult freedoms. Few raised objections; parents felt reassured that their children were being protected from the rough edges of Weimar Germany’s cultural scene, which at the time was marked by bold experimentation and the questioning of traditional values.

Yet, this veil of safety was promptly tested. Censorship began to seep further into society, creeping up the age brackets as authorities found it expedient to broaden restrictions. By the early 1930s, the line between protecting youth and controlling public opinion blurred, as restrictions that were once justified to safeguard children began to apply in a broader sense, targeting anything seen as a threat to the prevailing system.

Publications, films, and public discourse were scrutinised, and materials deemed unfit—even for adults—were banned outright. And with the ascension of the Nazi party to power in 1933, they quickly seized upon these pre-existing laws with chilling efficiency.

Under Nazi rule, censorship escalated from protecting youth to enforcing a monolithic cultural and ideological conformity. Beneath the all-encompassing shadow of Joseph Goebbels, the Reich Minister of Propaganda, German culture underwent a sinister metamorphosis, where the very essence of youth was sculpted to reflect the rigid contours of Nazi doctrine. Goebbels wielded his power to curate the intellectual intake of the young, dictating the fate of literature, cinema, and art.

Libraries saw their shelves purged by flames, as books deemed degenerate or subversive were consigned to the fires, their ashes mingling with the smoke of a nation's intellectual liberty. The laws that had started with the noble aim of protecting the young became part of a vast machinery of oppression affecting all citizens, stifling thought and creativity.

This cultural siege was portrayed as a protective shield for the youth. Yet ultimately, it became a means to destroy sovereignty for all, and a stepping stone for the Nazis to carry out some of the greatest atrocities in history.

History repeating.

I didn’t think I’d ever be comparing the modern Australian government of 2024 to the Nazi party of the 1930s.

I guess we live in interesting times.

In a major announcement this week, Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese—”Albo” for short—announced the country will be implementing a nationwide ban on social media for anyone under the age of 16.

The details have yet to be worked out, including how age would be verified to log in to social media platforms. Still, the federal plans have already been supported by the leaders of all eight of the nation’s states and territories, in a virtual meeting held with the PM this week.

In a surprise to absolutely nobody, the proposed laws are, of course, being sold under the guise of protecting children.

But to me, it’s simply the Australian nanny state removing the right of parents to raise their own children how they choose. Instead, suggesting that, as always, Big Brother knows best.

Unlike other laws that govern the consumption of media by children, like age ratings on movies and TV series, these content laws won’t be able to be overridden by parental consent. This means that even if a parent wants to allow their own child to use social media before the age of 16, it would be illegal to let them.

One could argue there is nothing nefarious to these proposed laws, and that Albo really cares about the children of Australia. However, his past comments on the matter may reveal his ultimate goal of removing all Australians' rights to sovereign speech online, or to view the content they choose.

Journalist Neil Mitchell once asked Albo on radio what he would do first if he had the powers of a dictator. His answer was telling:

“Ban social media.” He said his main issue is with “…keyboard warriors who can anonymously say anything they want, without fear.”

But that’s literally the point: to be able to say whatever we want without fear of the government punishing us or locking us in a cage. It’s the fundamental basis of a society not ruled by oppressors.

Albanese has expressly stated he would take this away if he could. Not just to censor social media, but to completely ban it for adults and children alike.

These aren’t the insane ravings of a totalitarian dictator; these are actual words spoken by the incumbent Prime Minister of Australia.

Are his social media laws for children a stepping stone in enacting his terrifying vision for the entire nation?

Possibly.

The “soapbox test” is a metaphorical litmus test for unrestricted speech; if one can stand on a soapbox in any town centre in their nation and speak freely without government censorship or undue restriction, it suggests a strong commitment to sovereign speech.

Conversely, China, North Korea, Yemen, or Saudi Arabia would fail this test, where public dissidence might lead to arrest.

Social media is our modern soapbox. It’s where we share our thoughts and ideas and criticise those who govern us.

Laws restricting social media, often justified as protecting vulnerable groups, set a precedent for broader censorship. While protecting children and marginalised communities is vital, preserving the essence of the soapbox test is paramount.

If we surrender the right to say what we want on social media, we surrender our most powerful tool in defending ourselves against the rise of authoritarian governments.

Because eventually, on a long enough timeline, laws like Australia’s proposed social media ban for children (and similar laws in Norway) will always be a gateway to censorship for all.

Or, to summarise things with a very overused platitude:

“It’s a slippery slope.”

Yeah, but it is.

We live in a grand experiment. We enjoy democracy and the ability to consume the information we choose. But this isn’t normal.

For the vast majority of history—up to a century or so ago in most places on Earth—we were ruled by warlords, emperors, and kings. People who sought to laud power over the masses, and who provided most citizens with few avenues to influence the direction of their homelands through voting, or having their voices heard without fear of retribution.

What we have is truly special.

It’s something we cannot squander. But we will.

We will if weak people allow governments like those in Australia and Norway to impose restrictions on who can view certain kinds of content to protect our “safety and security.” As history illustrates, these laws will inevitably be expanded to take away our rights.

To censor that which is inconvenient to the government.

To make criminals of those who speak their minds.

To ensure our absolute obedience to the state.

Australia and Norway won’t be the last to create similar laws. The UK, France, and several US states have all floated similar age restrictions on children accessing social media, which could set a precedent to apply restrictions to everyone.

The government isn’t our daddy.

But it’ll become that if we let it.

Written by Leon Hill.
Founder, Anticitizen.

This newsletter is for educational purposes, and is not financial advice. Please do your own research, and consider risks involved with investing or purchasing any asset.