limit of child use on screen

Digital Arrangements for Children: Challenges and Reality in the Middle of Regulation

In the era where children first knew Scroll Instead of textbooks, the government finally intervened. Not because he suddenly became wise, but because he realized that algorithms could educate faster than teachers, sometimes even harder than math tests.

then Government Regulation Number 17 of 2025 which was given the sweet name: PP Tunas. A name that resembles a kindergarten, soft but firm content. stands for governance of electronic systems in child protection. However, like many things in Indonesia, this regulation does not work immediately. He was born in 2025, then learned to walk on March 28, 2026. Not because he was confused about the direction, but because he had to wait for the “Big Family of Rules” to come.

Underneath there must be derivative rules, technical readiness, and of course the coordination meeting which can be more than the big family WhatsApp notifications. PP itself is not the on/off button. It’s the foundation. After being knocked, he was still waiting for the Ministerial Regulation as a technical explanation.

If the PP is the state’s big intention, then the Ministerial Regulation is the state’s way of explaining the intention so that it is not misinterpreted, even though sometimes it is still misunderstood. This rule is like a digital fence. In essence, children under 13 years old are only allowed to play in an electronic system park which is said to be “safe”. Then, children aged 13–15 can explore a little, and 16–17 are allowed to enter the “Forest Algorithm”.

Of course, all with the blessing of parents who often don’t even know what it is Terms and Conditions, in addition to the “Agree” button that is pressed without reading. The funny thing is, what is being scolded is not his son, but the digital giants. Meta and Google have been called by ministers like students who are late for class, aka not okay.

Meanwhile, Tiktok and Roblox are considered “quite polite but not neat in uniform”. As for X and Bigo Live—whether serious or just obedient—stand right up: “Ready, ma’am!”

But the question is: is the country really protecting children, or is it just chasing its own shadow?

Let’s look south, to Australia. The land of kangaroos is not much small talk. In terms of electronic systems, they have long been talking about Age Verification. In fact, the Australian government sets a digital identity obligation to access certain platforms.

There, the discourse on restrictions is not just a moral of panic, but part of a serious regulatory architecture. There are real fines, real audits, and real threats to tech companies. Europe is even more fierce. The GDPR (The General Data Protection Regulation) belonging to the European Union makes the child’s data like a sacred object. It should not be touched carelessly, let alone traded secretly.

America? More ambiguous. They are like liberal parents: forbid, but while giving space. There is COPPA (Childrens Online Privacy Protection Act), but the practice is often less quickly than the Silicon Valley innovation.

Indonesia is now trying to stand among all. He wants to be as firm as Europe, wants to be practical like Australia, but is still struggling with the reality that many parents haven’t even finished making peace with the “Skip Ads” button.

In the midst of that, our bureaucracy adds the next layer: local government. When the DKI Jakarta Provincial Government prepares to make derivative rules, the public also wonders whether later all regions have to participate in making similar regulations? legally, not mandatory. PP and Ministerial Regulations have been in effect nationally. But in practice, there will almost certainly be “local adjustments”. Every region wants to be relevant, wants to look alert, wants to show that they are also present.

So the regulations proliferated: from PP, to Permen, to Pergub, to Circular Letters, to Technical Instructions, until finally more documents than solutions.

However, in the midst of all the valor of the regulation, there is one party that is almost untouched: parents. The state has called the platform owners. Schools began to be given roles. But the house, the earliest room for education, actually runs without regulations. That’s where the real epicenter is.

Children do not learn the digital world from candy, not even from the governor’s regulation. They learn from what they see, every day, every hour, from the hands closest to them: their own parents. When parents stare at the screen more often than the child’s face, that’s where the first lesson begins.

when eating together but each is busy with Scroll, that’s where the unwritten curriculum runs. When the child cries and is given a cellphone to be quiet, that’s where the country loses before having a match.

The irony is almost perfect. The state forbids the owner of the platform to profile the child, but at home, the child has already been profiled by the habits of his parents. The state prohibits digital exploitation, but some parents actually unknowingly make children as daily content. They are photographed, recorded, distributed, liked, then repeated again tomorrow morning.

There is something more quiet, but more serious: the phone as a “second nanny”. Not because parents don’t love, but because they are tired. Not because I don’t care, but because I need a break. Then the small screen becomes an instant solution. The child is silent, the house is quiet, the parents can breathe. It’s just that, we rarely ask, who is actually “raising” the child while the screen is on?

This is where state regulations reach their limits. He can manage the company, can press the platform, can provide guidance to the school. But the state can’t enter the living room, can’t manage how long parents stare at the screen, can’t stop small habits that are repeated every day.

So PP Tunas, if read honestly, is not just a technology rule. It is a mirror. He asked: who actually failed first, was the platform, the country, or us as parents?

And like all mirrors, the answer is often uncomfortable.