In 1935, someone invented a way to learn how to swim without getting wet.
There’s a British Pathé video showing a woman in a swimsuit lying in a living room on a peculiar contraption. It holds her body in mid-air while she practises swimming strokes.
The frame was designed by WJ Howcroft, described solemnly as “the well-known swimming authority”.
The idea of “dry land swimming” was simple: master the movements first, then try the real thing later.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cAqEf7ZRmmI
From opposite ends of the world, Jeremy in Australia, and me in Edinburgh, we can’t stop thinking about that machine as we watch Australia roll out its new ban on social media for under-16s.
Last week, Australia began enacting one of the world’s boldest digital experiments. Social media is now illegal for children under 16, with responsibility placed firmly on tech companies rather than parents or kids.
The instinct makes sense. Most of us can see the pressure social media puts on young people whose brains are still developing. Any policy that promises relief feels like progress.
But once the initial “wow” settles, the harder questions arrive.
Australia’s Prime Minister framed the law as a way to support better conversations about risk, peer pressure, and appropriate use. Conversation like this matters deeply.
But any meaningful conversation about moderation and self-regulation only really works while young people are using social media.
Talking to a 13-year-old about managing online spaces they’re banned from until 16 risks becoming theoretical at best.
It’s swimming lessons on the living-room floor.
A total ban removes the chance to test, stumble, recalibrate and learn, gradually. It delays young people’s ability to discover their own limits, warning signs, and coping strategies before adulthood hands them full access overnight.
There’s another wrinkle that complicates the narrative. The rise in adolescent anxiety and depression began around 2010 - way before most teenagers were heavy social media users. Instagram launched late in 2010, Snapchat in 2011, but widespread teenage adoption didn’t really accelerate until 2015–16.
Correlation isn’t causation, and the story is clearly more complex than “phones broke kids.”
That doesn’t mean social media is harmless. It does mean we should be cautious about single-solution policies for multi-cause problems.
As the northern hemisphere heads into winter holidays, we’re reminded that the best moments are those long walks, dusting off board games, real conversations over far too much food. They feel important precisely because they’re rare.
Perhaps the antidote isn’t just bans, but a much stronger commitment to the human behaviours we keep sidelining: time together, disagreement without disconnection, movement, curiosity, belonging.
And with that, we wish you all the best over the weeks to come, whether you’re joining me for turkey and all the trimmings, or joining Jeremy for a BBQ on the beach. We’ll be closing our laptops and putting phones on silent and swapping it all out for some of those precious moments together.