In the age of endless scrolling, are parents still in charge?
SYED NASIR
Nowadays, life is measured by the number of notifications on glowing screens. A child’s first cry is now followed, within months, by a first swipe. Before many can form full sentences, they have already learned to unlock a phone, skip an ad, and call out to an AI assistant to play their favourite cartoon. Between parenting, social media, and artificial intelligence, a hard question is emerging: who is really raising our children?
For years, social media has been reshaping childhood. What began as a tool to connect friends and families has turned into an always‑on marketplace of attention. Children are no longer just consumers of content; they are content themselves. Photos of toddlers are uploaded within minutes, school achievements are turned into posts, and even moments of frustration or mischief can become “relatable” reels. Each like and share quietly teaches a lesson: visibility is value, and attention is approval.
Now add AI to this mix. With a few taps, a child can ask a chatbot to finish homework, write an essay, or explain a concept their teacher just introduced. Parents, exhausted at the end of long days, may welcome this help. Educational apps promise personalised learning, AI tutors, and 24/7 support. But beneath the convenience lies a deeper challenge: when a machine starts to answer the questions that once led children to their parents, what happens to the bond between them?
Parenting has always been about more than providing information. It is about transmitting values, shaping judgment, and modelling how to live in a complex world. Social media, on the other hand, rewards instant reaction, not thoughtful reflection. AI rewards quick answers, not slow understanding. When these technologies become the primary companions of our children, the old model of parenting—patient, present, and deeply relational—faces unprecedented pressure.
The danger is not technology itself. Social media can amplify voices that were once ignored. AI can explain a concept more clearly than a tired parent at 11 p.m. can manage. Used wisely, both tools can support education, creativity, and even emotional expression. The true risk lies in outsourcing what should never be outsourced: the hard, time‑consuming work of being there.
Too often, the phone becomes the pacifier, the tablet the babysitter, and the algorithm the quiet negotiator of family life. A child’s boredom is treated as a problem to be solved by a screen instead of an opportunity to imagine, to read, or simply to sit with their own thoughts. Parents themselves are pulled into the same vortex—scrolling, forwarding, reacting—while children learn by imitation that screens deserve more attention than faces.
AI deepens this dilemma because it feels so helpful. A chatbot never loses patience. An AI tutor never complains. But it also never knows a child the way a parent does: their fears, their dreams, the unspoken questions behind their silence. No matter how “smart” an algorithm appears, it cannot replace the moral compass that a parent is meant to provide. A machine can suggest what is popular; only a parent can insist on what is right.
What then is the way forward? It is neither blind rejection nor blind surrender. Banning all screens is neither realistic nor necessary. But surrendering the living room to Silicon Valley and Shenzhen is not an option either. Parents need to reclaim their role as gatekeepers and guides in the digital world, just as they are in the physical one.
That begins with honest conversation. Children must know that not everything they see online is true, kind, or safe. They should understand that AI does not “know” them; it only predicts what might keep them engaged. Families can set simple, firm rules: no phones at the dinner table, shared charging spots at night, limited screen time for younger children, and clear boundaries around what can be shared publicly.
Crucially, parents themselves must model the discipline they expect. It is hard to ask a teenager to put away their phone when their elders cannot resist checking WhatsApp in the middle of a meal. The first education is always an example. If children see adults reading books, visiting neighbours, engaging with the elders, and taking time away from screens, they will learn that human presence is still more precious than digital distraction.
Finally, society at large must recognise that parenting in the age of social media and AI is not a private struggle alone. Schools, religious institutions, community leaders, and policymakers all have a stake in how the next generation is shaped. Guidance on responsible technology use should be discussed in classrooms and community gatherings, not just buried in app settings and terms of service.
We stand at a crossroads. Social media and AI are here to stay; they will grow more powerful and more persuasive with every passing year. The question is whether parents will remain passive users—or become conscious shapers of how these tools enter their homes and their children’s lives.
In the end, the choice is stark but simple: either we raise our children, or we allow the feed and the algorithm to do it for us. The future of our families, and of our society, depends on which we choose.
( The Author is lecturer in HED and a columnist)