The Impact of Smartphones on Moroccan Families
In nearly every Moroccan household, there exists a scene that has become so commonplace that we scarcely take notice: a young child, often no older than three or four, expertly manipulating a smartphone with their tiny fingers, scrolling through the screen with an ease that requires no instruction. No one taught them how to do this; they have simply learned, much like we adults learn to walk or speak. This scenario raises a pressing question for families across Morocco, from Casablanca to Oujda, and Marrakech to Nador: who is raising our children today? Is it the mother and father, or perhaps the grandparents as it once was, or has the responsibility shifted to a small screen that tirelessly engages our children?
The Smartphone as a Caregiver
A significant number of Moroccan mothers admit, often in hushed tones and with a hint of embarrassment, that the smartphone has become their go-to solution when their child throws a tantrum in the market or when they need a brief moment of peace to complete a meal or an important work call. The smartphone does not tire, does not refuse, and does not demand anything in return. It becomes the perfect companion for a weary father after a long workday and for a mother juggling household duties and professional responsibilities. The issue, however, does not lie with the smartphone itself; it is merely a tool, and tools are devoid of intention. The real problem is that we, as parents, have entrusted this device with a responsibility we never intended to relinquish: the responsibility of raising our children. A child who spends hours consuming short, constantly changing videos learns a specific rhythm of thought, a particular way of dealing with boredom, and even a certain model of relationships and behavior, all without the guidance or correction of a parent or teacher.
Our generation, the parents of today, knew what it was like to experience boredom. We understood what it meant to play outside in the neighborhood and to wait an entire week to watch a single episode of our favorite cartoon on Thursday. This boredom, which often felt inconvenient at the time, cultivated in us qualities such as patience, creativity, and the ability to invent play from nothing. Our children today, however, do not know this kind of emptiness. The moment they encounter boredom, they instinctively reach for their phones, and in seconds, that boredom dissipates. While this may seem convenient at the moment, it ultimately deprives the child of a crucial opportunity: the chance to learn how to be alone with themselves and to confront boredom without seeking an escape.
One of the protective factors in Moroccan culture, which perhaps still offers some degree of safeguarding in certain regions, is the extended family. The grandmother who tells stories, the uncle who jokes, and the neighbors who watch over with care represent a real social network that contributed to upbringing without formally acknowledging it. However, with the disintegration of this network in major urban areas, compounded by everyone’s preoccupation with their smartphones, 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 neither realistic nor effective in our time. Instead, the answer is more about restoring balance. We need to establish screen time limits just as we set boundaries for meals and sleep. We should sit with our children and occasionally watch together, not merely to supervise but to understand what they consume and why it captivates them. We must allow boredom to reclaim its place, permitting children to feel it without rushing to alleviate it with a smartphone. And we should remember, as adults, that our own eyes are glued to screens more than we realize, and that children learn by imitation long before they learn through verbal instruction. Ultimately, the question is not just who is raising our children, but whether we are still the ones making that decision, or if we have allowed an algorithm, indifferent to our children’s needs and future, to take over that role.
As reported by hespress.com.
