If our smartphones have turned us into dopamine junkies, then all of us “users” have a favorite drug of choice. For some, it’s doomscrolling through X; for others, it’s the smug competitiveness of Strava; for many, it’s the entertaining escapism of TikTok. For me, it’s the aesthetic allure of Instagram.

I have attempted to kick the habit many times. I have tried removing the app from my phone’s homepage, hoping that the icon being out of sight would mean out of mind. I have tried turning off notifications, unfollowing interesting accounts to make my newsfeed less entertaining, and imposing Apple’s new Screen Time feature — which is futile, anyway, since the option to ignore it is a button away. I have even tried turning my phone on black and white mode, hoping that if I remove Instagram’s vibrant technicolor I might be less inclined to scratch the dopamine itch.

None of it has worked. The persuasive design of these apps is simply too powerful for most of us to use them in moderation. They are masterclasses in psychological manipulation, and this is why the Government’s attempt to impose time limits on teenagers will fail. Technology Secretary Peter Kyle this week suggested an “app cap” of two hours a day as part of a crackdown on “compulsive” phone use.

There are three main problems with this proposal. The first is that the two-hour limit appears to be per platform, not in total; this means that once teenagers have exhausted their two hours on Snapchat, they can then just move on to spending two hours on YouTube, and so forth. The second is that tech-savvy teenagers will likely circumvent any restrictions with ease — for example, using different accounts for different devices or just flocking to other purpose-built platforms which don’t have the same boundaries.

A third problem is that time limits often actually make the problem worse. Studies show that, by outsourcing their self-regulation to the app, users actually spend more time online, and perceive any amount below the maximum limit as acceptable. In other words, the limit becomes a goal rather than a warning.

The effect is likely to be exacerbated in teenagers, who will find social media even more enticing because, as with other drugs such as alcohol and cigarettes, it is both available and unavailable. Teenagers are also keenly aware of any sense of injustice or deprivation; as a teacher, I have heard many horror stories from parents about toddler-style tantrums and meltdowns after phones or Xboxes were taken away. Many teens will no doubt find the “tease” of restricted social media use infuriating.

A blanket ban on social media for under-16s is the only way forward. If we are going to persuade both teenagers and parents — although opinions are slowly changing, many are still far too casual about screen time — then a clear, consistent message is needed. A halfway house helps no one except for Big Tech, which can continue to make products as addictive as possible because the addicts, apparently, can “use” for only two hours a day.

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Kristina Murkett is a freelance writer and English teacher.

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