The Influence of Technology on Parenting
In nearly every Moroccan household, there exists a scene so familiar that it has often gone unnoticed: a small child, typically aged three or four, effortlessly handles a smartphone, swiping across the screen with a dexterity that seems innate. No one has taught them this skill; they simply learn it, much like adults learn to walk or speak. This raises a crucial question that has echoed through families from Casablanca to Oujda, and Marrakech to Nador: Who is raising our children today? Is it their mothers and fathers, or perhaps their grandparents as it once was, or has the responsibility shifted to a small, unyielding screen?
Smartphones as Modern Babysitters
Many Moroccan mothers confess, often in hushed tones and with noticeable embarrassment, that smartphones have become their go-to solution when a child cries in the market, or when they need a brief respite to finish cooking or take a business call. The smartphone does not tire, does not refuse, nor does it demand anything in return. It has become the ideal companion for a weary father after a long workday and for a mother juggling the demands of home and work. However, the issue lies not with the device itself, as a tool is devoid of intent. The real concern is that, as parents, we have unintentionally entrusted it with a role we never meant to assign: the role of nurturing and education. A child who spends hours engrossed in short, ever-changing videos learns a specific rhythm of thought, a particular way of dealing with boredom, and even a certain model of relationships and behavior without any guidance or correction from a parent or teacher.
Unlike today’s children, our generation, the parents of today, experienced boredom. We knew what it was like to feel unoccupied during holidays, to play outdoors, and to wait an entire week to catch a single episode of our favorite cartoon on Thursday. While that boredom seemed tedious at the time, it fostered in us patience, imagination, and the ability to create play from nothing. Today’s children, however, are unfamiliar with such idle time. The moment they feel bored, one of them instinctively reaches for their phone, and the boredom vanishes within moments. While this seems convenient in the moment, it ultimately deprives the child of a vital opportunity: the chance to learn how to be alone with themselves and how to confront emptiness without escaping into technology.
In Morocco, one of the protective factors was the extended family. The loving grandmother who tells stories, the uncle who jokes, and neighbors who watch over the children with care formed a genuine social network that participated in upbringing without formally declaring it. Today, with the disintegration of this support system in major cities, compounded by everyone’s obsession with their phones, children often find themselves truly alone, even when surrounded by family.
The solution does not lie in an outright ban on smartphones; such an approach is neither realistic nor effective in our times. Instead, the answer is closer to restoring balance. We need to set screen time limits just as we establish times for meals and sleep. We should sit down with our children and occasionally watch alongside them, not just to supervise but to understand what they are consuming and why they enjoy it. We must revive the importance of boredom, allowing children to experience it without rushing to alleviate it with a device. Furthermore, we adults must acknowledge that our own eyes are often glued to screens more than we realize, and children learn by imitation long before they comprehend through speech.
Ultimately, the question is not merely about who is raising our children but whether we are still the ones making that decision, or if we have surrendered it to an algorithm that neither knows nor cares about their future.
As reported by hespress.com.
