A ban on social media access for children under 15 is set to go before the Greek parliament on October 22, with the government aiming to implement it early next year. The measure enjoys roughly 80% public support, but behind the child-safety rationale lies a calculated political wager by the ruling New Democracy party to win back a middle-class voter base that has drifted away over the cost of living.
A policy aimed at parents, not just children
Children under 15 cannot vote, but their parents can - and that distinction is central to the government's thinking. The 45-54 age bracket, largely composed of parents managing teenagers' screen time, represents an estimated 1.6 million voters: employed, engaged, and increasingly frustrated. New Democracy's support among this group has fallen sharply, from 45.4% in the 2023 exit polls to around 26% today, a collapse driven chiefly by inflation, rising rents, and the general squeeze on household budgets.
By introducing a restriction on youth social media use, the government is betting that a policy addressing everyday family anxiety - compulsive scrolling, online addiction, and the erosion of attention among adolescents - can do what economic messaging alone has failed to achieve: rebuild trust with parents who feel unheard on pocketbook issues.
Why screen time has become a political issue
Concern over adolescent social media use is not unique to Greece. Across Europe and beyond, parents, pediatricians, and educators have raised alarms about the links between heavy platform use and anxiety, disrupted sleep, and shortened attention spans in young people. Several countries have already experimented with age verification systems, screen-time restrictions, or outright bans for younger users, though enforcement has proven difficult everywhere it has been tried. Platforms operate across borders, verifying a user's true age remains technically imperfect, and determined teenagers often find ways around restrictions through false birthdates or borrowed accounts.
That technical reality is precisely what makes this policy politically risky for Athens. A ban that looks decisive on paper but proves porous in practice could do more damage to New Democracy's credibility than doing nothing at all. Parents who welcome the symbolic gesture today may turn skeptical - or openly resentful - if their children simply find workarounds within weeks of the law taking effect.
A high-reward, high-risk bet
The government has paired this initiative with other efforts targeting middle-class discontent, including measures on income support, unemployment, and housing costs. But none of those carry the same emotional resonance as a policy framed around protecting children from addictive technology. That emotional weight is precisely why the ban tests so well in public opinion - and why its failure, should implementation falter, would carry outsized political consequences.
Much will depend on how platforms respond and whether Greek regulators can enforce compliance without relying on self-reported age data alone. If the rollout stumbles - through legal challenges, platform resistance, or simple technical limits - the very parents New Democracy hopes to win back could instead conclude that the government overpromised on an issue that mattered deeply to them. For a party already bruised by economic discontent, that would be a costly miscalculation.