Growing Up Digital; What Changed?

The year was 1998; my kids were 5 and 7. I was in year ten after managing Statistics Canada survey operations, followed by five years running operations for polling firms Decima Research and Thompson Lightstone. By this point I had my own consultancy, Core Strategies, applying unique quantitative and qualitative research methodologies to advise clients in a number of sectors including banking, transit, and government.

I had always been a technology geek ahead of the curve when it came to incorporating emerging technologies into my personal and professional life. Not by coincidence, two books of the era by Don Tapscott were, for me, not so much revelations as they were a confirmation of my own half-baked thinking. In 1995’s Digital Economy and 1997’s Growing Up Digital, Don Tapscott, in much more organized and scientific expression than me, outlined a direction very near my own. In short, technology—specifically networked technology—had something to offer worth embracing, especially for younger generations.

Both books resonated with my own philosophy that modern-day parenting was best served not by preventing children’s access to technology, but rather teaching them how, and how not, to use it. Conventional thinking at the time was to keep the family computer in a centrally accessed location where you could keep an eye on, control, and pounce on inappropriate content from potentially reaching the eyes of a minor.

I took a very different approach. Both kids had their own computer in their own room, and each had a cell phone by age 8. Keep in mind, this was a few short years after Bernardo/Homolka atrocities, which effectively put an end to what I, and everyone else my age, experienced growing up: playing all over the neighborhood, unsupervised, until the prescribed time to come home. For my family, the always-in-hand cellphone was not a toy or a classroom distraction; it was a communication and safety tool first—something I was grateful for when 9/11 struck and I could immediately reach my then 10 and 8-year-old kids.

My kids understood the use of technology. More importantly, from day one they were taught— more like it was drilled into their heads—how to respect the use of technology. Lesson one, beyond mechanical use, was to view evil not as an isolated event, and that technology consumption was like anything else: best consumed in moderation. They knew what to be on the lookout for, how to avoid it, and perhaps most importantly, how to report it. Neither kid became a "screen-rat" to the exclusion of all else. They played hockey, danced, and to this day remain curious about the great outdoors and the ability to disconnect with balance.

It’s for this reason that, ten years ago, I started blowing an internal gasket over where the discussion about kids and technology was heading. That is, until now.

I’ve watched in horror as teachers, schools, school boards, and now governments implement strict mobile device bans in the classroom and, more recently, consider aggressive and highly restrictive social media policies. All because parents didn’t do their job long before a teacher got involved. Worse, teachers lacked the wherewithal, both in terms of knowledge and authority, to pick up where parents failed to start.

Over thirty years ago Don Tapscott, perhaps better than any other author, correctly outlined the path we were on. The collective’s failure was not in following the predicted course of history, but rather in not adopting the safeguards and responsibilities that came with it. It was far easier to sit back and blame something else: the technology itself. Hence, we have a large swath of the population who were permitted to become screen-addicts and who today are desensitized to content, including what’s playing out globally. Again, shame on those who failed to responsibly act sooner.

Fast forward to today, and we have an entirely different and more insidious problem—one that neither Don Tapscott nor I ever considered.

I’m 68, so Facebook is still a social media outlet I consume. Younger generations, however, steer more toward Instagram, YouTube, TikTok, Snapchat, and Roblox. But the sad reality is that on all of these platforms, it is virtually impossible to navigate any content without being bombarded with everything from the questionable to the implausible, to the outright absurd and dangerous—all delivered and intended to be consumed as fact.

I have grown fed up with my own Facebook and other feeds, which consist primarily of ads and news stories of which at least 80% is complete fabrication. Worse is the AI fiction, which makes it seem all the more real. Don’t get me wrong; I am a huge fan of AI. I dabbled in it near the end of my career for its application in both quantitative and qualitative market research methodologies, and today I use any one of a number of engines for good practical use.

But if I were a parent of a toddler today, I don’t know that my philosophy of the early 90s—much less just a few years ago—would hold water. It’s one thing to teach and nurture when the exception was just that, the exception; it’s quite another when norms are the outlier. What to do when the toothpaste isn’t just out of the tube, but millions of minds have already been scrubbed to the point of believing fiction over fact?

A year ago, I’d find myself routinely exiting out of social media to see if a particular but plausible story was real, only to find no truth to it whatsoever. Over time, I learned to recognize the ploys, most of them AI-driven, and skip right past them. However, based on the pure garbage many adults believe and foster today, what percent lack that ability to distinguish between fact and fiction? Scarier still, what chance do their offspring have?

In just under a year, this has caused me much consternation. While responsible education is still at the forefront of my beliefs, I now can’t help but wonder—as shocking a reversal as this may seem—if the draconian legislation under consideration isn’t warranted, much less some of the bans already in effect.

If so, we have only ourselves to blame.

My final question; what does Don Tapscott think?