The UK government’s Online Safety Bill has been framed as a landmark piece of legislation designed to protect citizens and particularly children from harm online. On the surface, it is hard to argue with such aims but the deeper one looks, the more questions arise about who this bill really serves and what kind of internet it seeks to create.
I spent years working for Executive TV, a company that produced films for a wide range of industries, including major tech firms. In that role I interviewed countless developers, executives and specialists. Those conversations offered me a unique vantage point, an insider’s glimpse into how the technology shaping our daily lives is built, how it's sold to the public and, crucially, how it is justified. What I learned left me uneasy and much of it now feels alarmingly relevant to the direction the UK appears to be heading.
The Online Safety Act received Royal Assent on 26 October 2023 and its provisions have been unfolding in phases ever since, kicking into active enforcement in stages throughout 2025.
Almost immediately, the legal framework began to ripple through the internet, creating disruption for services across the UK and by extension, much of Europe, as many platforms opted for sweeping, continental-wide compliance rather than tailoring solutions by jurisdiction.
This “wholesale” approach had tangible consequences. In some cases, proof of identification became a prerequisite for access, raising serious concerns over privacy, accessibility and the erosion of anonymity.
One notable fallout of the Act is Wikipedia’s recent legal defeat. The Wikimedia Foundation, together with a Wikipedia editor, challenged how the government designated “Category 1” services, the group subject to the most stringent rules under the Online Safety Act. They argued the thresholds were illogical and overly broad and that what was intended as a clampdown on big social media companies had effectively swept in volunteer-run, non-profit platforms like Wikipedia.
Despite its community-led governance and a well-earned reputation for resisting vandalism and ensuring high editorial reliability, Wikipedia lost its case, with the court ruling that the Act could indeed legally extend to encyclopaedic platforms. The Foundation warned that these constraints risk undermining the human rights and safety of its volunteer contributors, many of whom depend on anonymity to participate without fear of reprisals.
It’s a turning point for Wikipedia. Once dismissed in classrooms as an unreliable source, it has evolved into a rigorously monitored hub of knowledge creation, yet today, it finds itself vulnerable to sweeping regulation that fails to account for its unique structure and societal value.
Claims of safety are little more than a pretext for authoritarian control. The danger extends to journalists and whistleblowers whose survival often depends on anonymity. If protecting children were truly the priority, the government could block harmful sites outright. Instead, every move points toward building an internet where logging in is compulsory.
Frankly, I would rather protect journalists than bring in wholesale restrictions on the internet. The argument put forward also negates a third possible solution - banning adult sites outright. The knock-on effect pornography has had on society and not just men, cannot be ignored. Studies have consistently linked heavy consumption to distorted expectations of relationships, reduced sexual satisfaction and in some cases, compulsive behaviour that undermines both mental health and productivity.
Among women, there is growing evidence of increased body image anxiety and pressure to conform to unrealistic sexual standards perpetuated by the industry. For younger audiences, accidental exposure has been shown to accelerate harmful attitudes toward intimacy before they are old enough to fully understand what they are seeing.
According to the children's commissioner:
The average age at which children first see pornography is 13. By age nine, 10% had seen pornography, 27% had seen it by age 11 and half of children who had seen pornography had seen it by age 13.
In short: the unrestricted, repeated access of hardcore material from young ages has led to complex mental and physical health issues in the population.
This is not to say that adults should be denied access to such material if they wish to seek it out. My proposal simply means pornography could return to controlled, physical spaces such as adult stores. This would have several benefits. First, it would restore an industry that has been gutted by the ubiquity of free online content. Where once adult film studios could employ actors, directors and production staff to create content of professional quality, the dominance of free streaming platforms has decimated revenues, reducing the industry to a shadow of its former self and often driving performers into exploitative arrangements. A return to paid, physical distribution would help stabilise the industry and give performers greater control over their work.
Second, physical availability would create a natural barrier to under-18s. Children cannot walk into an adult store, while on the internet it is trivially easy to bypass age gates. Crucially, it would also reinstate anonymity for adults. They would not need to upload ID or biometric data online, exposing themselves to potential leaks and misuse.
Stumbling upon your older brother's seedy DVD is far less harmful than the ability to bypass the government's bogus bill with a VPN and trawl through hours of hardcore content.
Finally, it introduces friction that curtails compulsive use. Unlike the current model where explicit material is available 24/7 at the swipe of a phone, access would require a deliberate choice and effort. For addicts, that barrier is significant as it denies them the constant, instant reinforcement cycle that makes digital pornography uniquely damaging.
This mirrors the sharp decline in smoking rates in the UK, which followed a long campaign aimed not only at reducing the visibility of nicotine products but also at restricting the places where smoking was permitted. These measures proved highly effective in cutting smoking rates. At least until the emergence of vaping.
Similarly, restricting the spaces where adult content can be accessed should yield a comparable effect. Reduced consumption without requiring the disclosure of personal data. Just as smokers have only ever needed to provide a brief ID check, never a permanent form with their address, to purchase cigarettes. The same unnecessary intrusion should be avoided in this context.
In short, moving access from the unlimited availability of the web back into physical stores is not about prudishness but about balance. It protects children, preserves privacy, restores a struggling industry and reduces the potential for compulsive harm.
The Online Safety Bill, however, is in my view nothing less than a Trojan Horse. It arrives under the banner of protecting children and making the internet safer but concealed within are mechanisms that enable sweeping surveillance, compulsory identification and state-level control over how we access and share information. What is presented as a shield is in fact a doorway. One that risks ushering in a fundamentally different internet. One where anonymity is curtailed, dissent is monitored and freedom is traded away in the name of ‘safety.’
At Executive TV, I interviewed developers working for Thales, a major defence, aerospace and space, cyber and digital company, who told me outright that the Internet of Things - the vast network of everyday devices connected to the internet, from smart fridges and thermostats to wearable health monitors and transport systems - would soon demand digital passes for access to every service. Their vision was that nothing would be exempt: hospitals, supermarkets, public services and yes, even the internet itself. In other words, the convenience of interconnected devices would be coupled with an infrastructure of verification, tracking and control.
When I pressed them on how such an intrusion could work in the UK, where carrying ID cards has long been resisted, they explained their strategy: help shape narratives that frame ID passes and the erosion of anonymity as the only ‘sensible’ and ‘safe’ option in an ever complex and challenging world. I encountered this mindset repeatedly across the tech sector. I found their confidence disturbing then and I have not changed my view.
I am well aware that my suggested stance against streaming online porn has been met with derision. Particularly from some of my acquaintances who have voiced that 'it's the only thing [they] have.' A damning indictment that inadvertently seems to prove my point that such material is dangerous to the human psyche. If they truly want to support the porn industry, they should pay for it.
Likewise, I want to emphasise that my position is not to ban pornography outright but simply make it harder to access. Let's keep our journalists safe, our internet free and pay for our porn. We should not be trading our freedoms to bust a nut.