On a recent appearance on the Team Never Quit podcast, I described the internet broadly and social media more specifically as a “democracy-killing force.” This wasn't hyperbole. The scope, scale, and speed with which the all-consuming Big Tech wave has unmoored us from ourselves, each other, and reality has been unprecedented in human history.
The heart of democracy is a government that operates "for the people" and "by the people" — upholding the highest levels of individual and collective freedom for its citizenry. It also, above all else, promotes "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." This incredibly precious and audaciously ambitious mandate of our founding fathers is one that every generation has carried forward with a ruthless commitment to the American experiment: a commitment underwritten with sweat, tears, and blood.
What makes America so powerfully unique is its fundamental commitment to human flourishing: the ability to live by your own values, to strive, to grow, to fail, to love, and to drive onward the human race. American democracy is the means, and our people are the primary and only end.
And yet, we have allowed a rapacious tech ecosystem to undermine the heart of who we are — our commitment to human flourishing — and, much more concerningly, to undermine the promise of America for our youngest citizens.
In the early 2000s and into the early 2010s, we used the term "internet culture." At the earliest stages of the digital movement, we broadly recognized that there was something distinct and different — and above all, not good — about this new online world. Technology has the dubious distinction of taking the worst of the human race and amplifying and elevating it into the mainstream. Anger, spite, outrage, narcissism, naked ambition, and outright sociopathy are the hallmarks. To succeed in the online world often requires taking on the worst of humanity.
Today, there's no relevant use of the term "internet culture" because the digital world is now so entangled with every aspect of our lives that we can just call it "culture." As part of this culture, children are introduced to a virtual world designed to productize them, rob them of time and purpose, and teach them that vanity, reactivity, and superficiality are the new foundations of success. These platforms hook them to a system that defines their self-worth according to how much of themselves they willingly give over to attention-driven profit machines and undercuts the democracy-critical concept of service before self.
The statistics are stark. According to Pew Research, 95% of U.S. teens report having access to a smartphone, and nearly half say they are online "almost constantly." That means in-person interactions – the ones that help us learn and grow as people – are rapidly being replaced. Social psychologist Jonathan Haidt's research reveals the devastating consequences: Between 2010 and 2015, rates of depression among teen girls rose by 65%. Teen suicide rates, particularly among girls, saw the steepest increase in history - jumping 70% in the years between 2010 and 2017. Research shows that teens who spend five or more hours daily on social media are twice as likely to report depression and anxiety symptoms compared to their peers. Even more troubling, emergency room visits for self-harm among girls aged 10-14 tripled between 2010 and 2014. The correlation between this pervasive digital presence and the collapse of youth mental health is impossible to ignore.
Modern social media platforms function essentially as "digital narcotics," employing sophisticated algorithms deliberately engineered to create dependency and expose young users to content that often exceeds age-appropriate boundaries. Users are siloed into specific, niche ways of thinking – with content that confirms certain worldviews and demonizes others. This dynamic plants the seeds of division early, perpetuating a cycle of polarization that becomes increasingly entrenched as digital dependency grows.
The issue runs deeper than just content or screen time. As Nicholas Carr argues in The Shallows, the very nature of digital platforms reshapes how we think and process information. The constant notifications, infinite scrolling, and rapid context-switching aren't just distracting our youth – they're rewiring their neural pathways. Marshall McLuhan's famous insight that "the medium is the message" proves prophetic here: regardless of what content children consume online, the fragmented, dopamine-driven nature of social media platforms themselves is transforming how young minds develop. Traditional activities that build empathy and understanding – like sustained face-to-face conversations or cooperative communal or team-oriented activities – are being displaced by an environment that rewards quick judgments and tribal thinking and undercuts the democracy-critical concept of service before self.
If we are polarized now, just imagine what those divisions could look like in 10 or 15 years when digitally native children, who have been steeped in specific ways of thinking for their whole lives, grow into adults. The implications for democracy are chilling.
Addressing this concerning trajectory requires more than simple screen-time restrictions. Parents increasingly find that establishing healthy digital boundaries proves challenging, as these platforms are specifically designed to capture and maintain attention. For this reason, this issue can't be fully solved on an individual basis. We need societal-level solutions.
First and foremost, the government can and should hold Big Tech companies accountable for the pervasive harm they caused. Connecting with others, shopping, getting directions, and gathering information online should not come with screen addiction, emotional dysregulation, overexposure, and other more sinister online threats for ourselves — and certainly not for our children.
Common sense restrictions around social media for young people have already taken off in other countries around the world. Australia, for example, just banned social media for all kids under 16. Similar restrictions have gained traction in the United States, such as The Kids Online Safety Act (which was recently stalled but not before it gained massive bipartisan support from legislators on both sides of the aisle having passed the Senate 91-3).
Beyond governmental intervention, the private sector must evolve. Technology leaders and entrepreneurs should adopt a "children-first" development philosophy, prioritizing youth well-being throughout the design and development process, rather than treating it as an ancillary consideration.
We stand at a critical inflection point with the rise of artificial intelligence. If we continue down our current path, AI will amplify and accelerate the destructive dynamic of our digital ecosystem. Recommendation engines will become even more sophisticated at hijacking attention, digital experiences will become more immersive and addictive, and the distance between our children and authentic human experience will grow ever wider. This is not inevitable.
With thoughtful, child-first implementation, AI could instead become a powerful force for human flourishing. We can harness this technology to create digital spaces that foster genuine connection, reward cooperation over conflict, and support the development of the skills and values democracy requires. The choice — and responsibility — is ours.
The stakes couldn't be higher. Our democracy's survival depends on our ability to raise generations capable of thoughtful dialogue, critical thinking, and genuine human connection. By dismantling the divisive infrastructure of digital dependency and reconstructing the foundations of empathy and understanding, we can ensure that our children inherit not just a functioning democracy, but one that truly embodies the ideals of human flourishing our founders envisioned.
The time for half-measures has passed. To save America and ourselves, we must fix the internet for our children. Our democratic future depends on it.
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Josh Thurman is the COO and Co-Founder of Angel Kids AI, and a highly decorated Navy SEAL
Samantha Shepherd, a child care director in Savannah, Georgia, and a single mom of two girls, said rising gas prices are affecting families at her center, including one mother who may not be able to take her children to school. (Courtesy of Samantha Shepherd)
