This was no ordinary walk. It was a journey filled with irony and sarcasm, inspired by the reality that governs us, by the things happening around us that we so often accept as mere spectators—without acting, without questioning. Between the slow rhythm of my steps and the thoughts that surfaced with every stride, I found myself reflecting on Florida’s HB 3, that law which claims to “protect” minors on social media. A walk that, much like the law itself, becomes entangled in labyrinths of absurdities and contradictions we can no longer afford to ignore.
In times like these, when politics displays its charms as if they were spells, that legislative marvel appears — a kind of “Riddle Law,” an intricate construction in which the contamination of children’s minds is conveniently placed in the hands of either God or the Devil, but never in our own. Did you really believe — naïve as you may be — that signing a document or pressing a magical button would be enough to make children abandon TikTok or Instagram? That in such a simple way they would cease absorbing, like sponges, that torrential flood of toxic and degrading information? Defamation, pornography, sinister rivalries, revenge, discredit… Everything human beings have invented to harm one another finds its perfect channel on social media, and this law seems to believe that drawing a fence around it will somehow keep it contained.
HB 3, of course, is not unique in its kind. Similar laws are already sprouting in Utah, Texas, and Arkansas, carrying the same air of legislative panacea. Age verification, limits on private messaging, parents transformed into almighty guardians… On paper it sounds solid, but in practice it is a tragicomedy. How exactly are parents supposed to protect their children if they need those same children to explain how to configure TikTok? And teenagers, masters of digital subterfuge, already keep up their sleeves VPNs, fake accounts, and YouTube tutorials capable of bypassing any restriction. Meanwhile, the platforms comply with the bare minimum, wash their hands with a form, and hope no one asks too many questions.
In Florida, HB 3 is celebrated with great fanfare, as though someone had finally cracked the moral code of the twenty-first century. But when these laws fail — and they fail, because they are born broken — who will be to blame? Not the parents, who still fail to supervise the phones. Not the children either, budding technological prodigies. Certainly not the legislators, who draft bills with legal loopholes large enough to contain oceans of incompetence. No. According to the official script, the blame will fall either on God or on the Devil. Throw your first stone in whichever direction you prefer.
And while legislators celebrate these laws, political rhetoric plays out on yet another level of irony. It is ironic that those who draft regulations against misinformation are often the very ones spreading the most extravagant rumors. Do you remember the politician who once claimed that certain immigrants “eat people’s dogs and cats, those beloved household pets of decent families”? Or what was insinuated after the recent massacre in New Orleans, when that powerful figure declared, without evidence, that the killer could not possibly be a “true American”? According to him, “the criminals who come in are far worse than the ones we already have.” A quote, they say, attributed to the EFE news agency. As though the brutality of a crime depended on the place of one’s birth. The true ironic twist came when it turned out that the criminal was just as American as his president — whose ancestors came from Germany or, perhaps, from Cochinchina.
Voltaire said it better than anyone: “Certainement, qui est en droit de vous rendre absurde est en droit de vous rendre injuste.” In other words: “Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit injustices.” And so, between absurdities and injustices, HB 3 spreads its halo of illusion while citizens wonder whether any of this truly changes anything. Perhaps not. The reality is simple: these laws collide with already established rights and freedoms — privacy, freedom of expression — no one fully understands their real scope, and the platforms will continue doing the minimum necessary to avoid sanctions.
And the teenagers? They navigate digital waters like fish in the sea, always two steps ahead of the legislators. Meanwhile, adults — addicted to their own algorithms — fall prey to the very conspiracies these laws claim to fight. Hannah Arendt reminds us that “lying and violence have always been tools of politics.” Without honesty and education, how could we ever expect legislation to reach safe harbor?
Without a genuine commitment from families to exercise self-regulation, from communities to support parents, and from technology platforms to assume their social responsibility, these laws will remain empty riddles. The solution does not lie in isolated state regulations born broken; only a mandatory federal referendum with global reach could transform the protection of minors into an inalienable right.
Only legislation with constitutional force — requiring the participation of the entire nation and turning the protection of minors into an inalienable right — could truly change the course of this story. And more than that: it should include clear criminal consequences for those who violate child-protection laws, forcing the technology giants to become genuine guardians of compliance. Platforms that profit endlessly from mass participation cannot continue evading responsibility. They must be legally compelled to protect minors, and any failure to do so should carry severe penalties.
Meanwhile, legislators will continue applauding one another, celebrating their “great contribution” as though the appearance of action were enough. It is they who, with every empty law, choose to ignore the failure already on the horizon. Parents, meanwhile, will keep asking their children for help configuring the privacy settings on their devices. And we, as always, will go on blaming either God or the Devil for the uselessness of these laws. Because, of course, assuming our own responsibility — as a society, as families, and as leaders — would be far too uncomfortable. Until we do, we will remain trapped in this cycle of broken illusions. Is that truly the future we want for ourselves and for our children?