Last week’s inquest ruling that social media contributed to Molly Russell’s death was the kind of vindication for her parents that no family would choose. With her father, Ian Russell, acting as spokesperson, Molly’s relatives have fought what must have been an exceptionally painful battle, since the 14-year-old took her own life in 2017, to see the tech companies that are partly responsible held to account. The coroner’s endorsement of their view that Meta, which owns Instagram and Facebook, and Pinterest had led a depressed girl down a dark path of disturbing content is a testament to the family’s commitment to make the internet a safer place.
Legislation to protect young people from dangerous online content has been in the pipeline for a long time – since the year of Molly’s death, in fact, when a green paper was produced. It was paused in July to make space for the no-confidence motion that toppled Boris Johnson. Then, in September, Liz Truss indicated that it would be watered down, taking on board concerns voiced by free-speech campaigners, including her leadership rival Kemi Badenoch, about the proposed new category of prohibited “legal but harmful” content.
Protecting children and other people who are vulnerable to the various forms of online harm, while also defending free expression, is a difficult circle to square. But on Monday it was a relief to hear the new culture secretary, Michelle Donelan, reiterate the government’s backing for robust measures to force tech businesses to put children’s welfare before profits. It is a dereliction of duty for politicians to have allowed the status quo to persist for as long as they have. Coroner Andrew Walker’s description of algorithmically generated “binge periods”, in which Molly was fed images including nooses and blades that even a psychiatrist found psychologically disturbing, should be a wake-up call for anyone who opposes regulation.
But while the bill’s return to parliament should be welcomed on grounds of its child safety sections, the new powers it will grant to Ofcom are far from a panacea. The banning of “legal but harmful” material is unworkable, and would be likely to lead to undesirable forms of censorship. Whether ministers come up with an alternative form of words, or ditch this aspect of the bill altogether, the proliferation of online misinformation and abuse is likely to continue. Another risk is that measures designed to protect children, by forcing big tech to prioritise their safety, with the threat of huge fines or the blocking of their sites, will be oversold by ministers – so that parents and other adults will believe all threats have been removed.
A third problem is the likelihood of regulatory capture, and the anti-competitive environment that this can contribute to. The big businesses that already have overwhelming dominance of the internet are adept at working with regulators, while challengers will find it far harder. It stretches credulity that a government that has made a point of opposing regulation, as a broad principle, will take seriously the need for Ofcom to be properly resourced and independent.
But none of this does anything to undermine the achievement of Molly Russell’s family. Judging from the evidence, her father’s description of a “demented trail of life-sucking content” was apt. Protecting other children from similar experiences should not be a party-political issue. MPs from all sides should commit to ensuring that in future they will not be pointed towards such material.
