Esther McCarthy: Does your child use Snapchat? Then you need to know about this secret folder

Ireland should follow their lead!

Esther McCarthy: "I want to trust my kids. I don’t want to be the phone police. But I also don’t want billionaire tech bros deciding what “safety” looks like for our kids." Picture: Emily Quinn

Ah, hard luck, Micheál Martin. You could have gone down in history as the man who saved our lungs and our children’s mental health. But no. The Aussies have beaten you to it.

When the news broke that Australia had banned social media for under-16s, I rejoiced. I dared to dream Ireland would be the world’s leaders in this sphere, though. If we can make curmudgeons go outside in the freezing cold to suck on a vile rollie, surely we could have made it culturally uncool for tweens to set up an Instagram account?

But the Australians got there first. Hemisphere high five. Naturally, I celebrated by locking my 14-year-old out of TikTok, Instagram and Facebook for the day. His reaction was the outrage that only a child who was brought up never knowing the pain of a chilblain could express. (I have them ruined with the central heating. Ruined, I tells ya.) He informed me that I was violating his human rights. I chortled at that one, I won’t lie. The young fella gets a haircut every three weeks that costs more than mine, and knows the difference between the real Cheerios and the mockeyah ones in a blind taste test. He knows no hardship, let me tell you.

I do try to be reasonable. We talk about screens. We negotiate limits. I pretend to listen. I’ve got an app called Qustodio on the phone, which is basically the tech version of following your teenager around with binoculars and an ear horn. It shows me what he’s using, for how long, and at what point his soul leaves his body and joins the metaverse permanently. I can block dodgy sites, enforce sleep time, and set rules so elaborate I may as well be running a mini-dictatorship. A benevolent one, obviously. Cough.

"I may as well be running a mini-dictatorship. A benevolent one, obviously. Cough."

The social media ban in my house was a little experiment. Was it perverse? Perhaps. Immature? Probably. But I just wanted him to notice how much of his time, attention and brain cells are funnelled directly into the virtual money pit. Sometimes I shout at him randomly, “Billionaires are monetising your attention. Don’t let them win! Fight the power! TAKE THE RED PILL!!” 

It has zero impact, except to remind me to put The Matrix on our Christmas movie watch list. He just tilts his head slightly, like when the dog hears the fridge open. Here’s the thing: I’m not all that panicked about TikTok or Instagram. Sure, they’re time-eating monsters, but there are positives. I love hearing them cracking up at some meme or talking about some lad they’re following who whittles canoes out of broken hurleys. The older fella gets lots of recipes and nutrition advice too.

The real sneaky schnake is Snapchat.

That innocent-looking yellow icon that pretends it’s basically WhatsApp with filters – and then, behind your back, builds an actual secret vault for hiding photos. WT actual F, Snapchat?

Did you know this? I didn’t. Not until recently. It’s called “My Eyes Only”, which is already giving dodgy vibes. It’s a PIN-protected space where kids can tuck away photos and videos they don’t want Mammy or Daddy stumbling upon. It could just be silly things. But sometimes it’s not harmless. What is a youth-oriented platform doing building secret hiding places into the architecture? It’s fairly dastardly, right? I’m not overreacting here.

This is why I’m torn. I want to trust my kids. I don’t want to be the phone police. But I also don’t want billionaire tech bros deciding what “safety” looks like for our kids. 

The tech companies shrug. “Hey, we just built the high-risk feature! It’s YOUR job to monitor it.” But we shouldn’t have to rely on digital detective work to parent. We are menopausal and tired. Can’t the Government just do it, please? Just give us legislation that hits the companies where it hurts: right in the profit margins.

If you want to know whether your kid is using the vault, the best move is simple: ask them. I find chatting while driving best. And listen to them, don’t gather information to hit them over the head with, don’t use it against them. (The inside of my cheeks is in smithereens. I’m not saying it’s easy.) And if you feel compelled to check anyway? I’m not here to judge. You do what you gotta do. A quick Google will show you how to find it.

Because even your sweet little cherub, the child who offers the top of their head every night for a kiss, might be tempted to hide something. “My Eyes Only” is designed without any thought for the kids who will use it, or the parents who’ll be left to manage the fallout. It’s about safety, not snooping.

Parenting in the digital age is brutal, y’all. But we have to keep trying.

And if all else fails? Get them a blackboard and chalk for Christmas. Turn off the Wi-Fi at the wall. Bring out Monopoly. Nothing will teach a teenager resilience faster than a three-hour scrap over who gets to be the dog.