The Impact of Technology on Child-Rearing
In almost every Moroccan household, a familiar scene has emerged to the point where we hardly notice it anymore: a young child, barely three or four years old, skillfully navigating a smartphone with tiny fingers, swiping across the screen with an ease that requires no instruction. This child has not been taught how to do this; they simply learn, much like we adults learn to walk or talk. This raises a significant question that is beginning to resonate across families from Casablanca to Oujda, and from Marrakech to Nador: who is raising our children today? Is it the parents, the grandparents as it used to be, or has the responsibility now been shared with a small screen that tirelessly engages them?
Smartphones as Child Companions
Many Moroccan mothers quietly acknowledge, sometimes with a hint of embarrassment, that smartphones have become the quick solution when their child cries in the market or when they need ten minutes of peace to finish cooking or a work call. The smartphone is tireless, does not refuse, and asks for nothing in return. In the eyes of a weary father after a long workday, or a mother juggling household and work responsibilities, the device appears as the perfect companion. However, the issue lies not with the phone itself, as it is merely a tool devoid of intent, but rather in the fact that we, as parents, have inadvertently delegated a task we never intended to assign: the task of upbringing. A child spending hours engrossed in rapidly changing short videos is absorbing a particular rhythm of thought, a specific way of coping with boredom, and even a model of relationships and behaviors, all without the guidance or correction of a parent or teacher.
Our generation, the current parents, experienced boredom. We knew what it was like to be idle during holidays, to play outside in the neighborhood, and to wait an entire week for a single episode of a cartoon on Thursday. Although this boredom seemed annoying at the time, it cultivated something essential within us: patience, imagination, and the ability to create play from nothing. Our children today, however, do not know this kind of emptiness. The moment they feel bored, one hand reaches for the smartphone, and boredom vanishes in seconds. While this may seem convenient in the moment, it ultimately deprives the child of a crucial opportunity: the chance to learn how to be alone with themselves and to confront emptiness without fleeing from it.
One protective factor in Moroccan culture has been, and in some areas still is, the extended family. The grandmother who tells stories, the uncle who jokes, and the neighbors who watch with affection form a genuine social network that participates in upbringing without any formal declaration. Today, however, with the disintegration of this network in major cities and everyone preoccupied with their phones, children often find themselves truly alone, even when surrounded by family.
So, what can we do? The solution does not lie in completely banning smartphones, as that is unrealistic and ineffective in our time. Rather, the answer is closer to re-establishing balance. We must set limits on screen time just as we designate time for meals and sleep. We should sit with our children and sometimes watch together, not merely to supervise them, but to understand what they consume and why it captivates them. We need to restore the value of boredom, allowing children to experience it without rushing to rescue them with a device. Moreover, we must remember, as adults, that our own eyes are often glued to screens more than we realize, and that children learn through imitation before they learn through words.
Ultimately, the question is not just about who is raising our children, but whether we are still the ones making that decision, or if we have relinquished it to an algorithm that knows nothing about our children and does not care for their future.
As reported by hespress.com.
