I just proved I’m an adult online – and I’m torn about what that really means

I just received an email confirming I’ve successfully verified I’m an adult. Exciting! Except no, because age verification is now going to be a regular thing for me. Why? Because the UK Online Safety Act went into effect on 25 July. And this isn’t just something affecting the land of tea, crumpets and queues. Governments worldwide are implementing similar measures to prevent minors from accessing high-risk and age-inappropriate content.

Mostly, that means porn. But various jurisdictions are merrily lobbing social media and even search engines into the mix. My first verification came from Bluesky, the Twitter cosplay act I mostly lurk on to gripe about politics and be yelled at by strangers for omitting their favourite games from Stuff’s retro lists. 

Bluesky became the canary in the age-verification coal mine, warning Brits they’d soon lose access to DMs and 18+ content. Brits went bonkers (well, they tutted, which for a Brit is tantamount to furious rage), unaware all sites must comply or risk massive fines.

Honestly, I’m conflicted. Which might sound odd. After all, there is a real problem with children accessing inappropriate content online. The least-effort approach of ticking a pinkie promise box to claim you’re of age is insufficient. Addictive user interfaces prey on us all, but kids are especially vulnerable. And these rules could force companies to invest in stronger moderation, along with providing unambiguous access policies.

So I’m not against the broad principle of the checks. But their application must be done with great care – which isn’t conducive to modern politics. Even though the UK’s implementation is barely a day old as I write this, we’re already seeing signs of overreach. Far more than porn is being locked behind verification walls, including LGBTQ+ subreddits and subjects deemed ‘inappropriate’ for ideological reasons, such as sex ed.

Age rage

Things get worse when you look at how verification is done. Like others, the UK allows companies to outsource the process to third parties, who use techniques like face scans, document uploads and credit card checks. Some have sketchy privacy guarantees. Beyond that, the added friction of verification and onerous burdens placed on small high-quality sites may change how people use the web, stymying the free flow of information. And if age verification becomes second nature, we risk people blithely handing over personal data like they today blindly accept every terms-and-conditions notice.

There are privacy and surveillance concerns. Forcing people to register for accounts begins the process of eliminating online anonymity – a genuine danger to some. It expands scope for wider surveillance. So we’ll have to trust companies won’t retain, misuse or monetise deeply personal data. Which, given historical precedent, makes me wonder how long it’ll take to get from “we’ll remove your personal age verification details within seven days” to a data breach revealing countless people’s selfies and most personal browsing histories.

Even if that doesn’t come to pass, other unintended consequences might. Age gates could create complacency, giving parents a false sense of security that anything ‘ungated’ is automatically safe. Yet bad actors won’t comply; their sites will be darker and less regulated. Some overseas organisations might block the UK entirely. And individuals may get so fed up, they’ll reach for VPNs, which themselves can be sketchy – especially free ones. Once governments notice that workaround, you can bet they’ll legislate to age-gate VPNs too.

So there are no quick and easy answers, which is why it’s infuriating when politicians act like there are. As a famous social network once said: it’s complicated.