When Mark Zuckerberg walked into a Los Angeles courtroom on 18 February flanked by an entourage bedecked in Meta Ray-Bans, some people laughed. If this was an attempt at product placement for the company’s newest range of smart glasses, it was jarringly ill-judged: Zuckerberg was about to testify before a jury in a landmark lawsuit that sought to prove that Instagram and YouTube are addictive by design, and he had passed a throng of bereaved parents on his way into the courthouse. But the prosecution team, led by Mark Lanier, were not laughing.
This was a serious trial. For the first time, the most powerful names in social media were being held to account for the inherent design of their platforms, rather than the content hosted on them. They were accused of deliberately and maliciously building products that keep children hooked, with disastrous consequences for the mental wellbeing of young people. It was a landmark case – a big tobacco moment for big tech.
But there were specific reasons why the prosecution was deeply disturbed to see Meta Ray-Bans in court. “We had fought hard for an anonymous jury. We didn’t want the names disclosed in a way where Google could go pull up their Gmails, where Meta could go pull up their Facebook accounts,” Lanier tells me in his warm Texas drawl. “Then Zuckerberg shows up with security guards wearing Meta glasses. They can easily do facial identification and figure out exactly who the jurors are.” This was not product placement, Lanier says – it was the deployment of the most relentless form of digital surveillance the world has ever known.
The prosecution appealed to the judge, pointing out that Zuckerberg’s entourage was breaking rules that forbade cameras in the courtroom. “The judge made them swear that they hadn’t taken any pictures.” Lanier says. “And then they took the glasses off.”
The case of KGM v Meta et al was always going to be as hi-tech as it was high stakes. KGM – also known by her first name, Kaley – claimed that an addiction to social media that had begun with YouTube at age six and Instagram at age nine had caused her to develop body dysmorphia, anxiety and depression. (Snapchat and TikTok, named in Kaley’s original complaint, had settled out of court for an undisclosed sum before the trial began.) Lanier’s team had to convince the jury that Meta and Google had engineered their products to be addictive. It was a test case that could blaze a trail for thousands more to come.
“I’d never been in court before,” Kaley, now 20, tells me in her first newspaper interview. “Seeing all those people, and having all their eyes on me, was very overwhelming.”
Mark Zuckerberg arrives at the Los Angeles court with two members of his entourage, who are wearing Meta glasses. Photograph: Jill Connelly/Getty Images
Lanier knew this was a case like no other – and that his opponents were prepared to use every power at their disposal to win it, including artificial intelligence. Google and Meta have their own AIs: Gemini and Meta AI, respectively. Lanier was determined to beat them at their own game. (A self-described “AI zealot”, his firm employs a team of five whose sole responsibility is to produce a weekly report for him on advances in AI over the previous seven days.) Lanier asked a company called BoodleBox to make him a bespoke AI incorporating a combination of Gemini, Claude, ChatGPT and other existing models. He used it in “30 different ways” for Kaley’s case, he says, but when he tells me about just one of them, my jaw drops.
The jury might have been anonymous, but the legal teams were able to gather a significant amount of data about each member during jury selection, Lanier explains. “We have questionnaires they filled out that tell us their age, their gender, their occupational history, their family status. But it gives us more insight: it asks, who are three people you most admire and why? Who are three you least admire and why? How do you feel about this or that on a scale of one to 10?” Armed with a dossier of information, Lanier’s AI created models of every juror, “a demographic and psychological exemplar” of each one that allowed him to try out potential arguments on individual members. At the end of each day in court, he would feed the transcripts to his AI shadow jury and ask questions. What did juror number 11 think of the witness? What did juror number seven think was important? Where did juror number three get confused? “Pretty cool,” he grins.
AI can be used for good or abused for evil, Lanier says – just like litigation, which he has been practising for 42 years, or religious faith, which guides everything he does. A devout Christian, Lanier believes he is on a divine mission to take on companies that enrich themselves by exploiting the vulnerable.
“The opposing side had unlimited resources. They had dozens of lawyers in the courtroom. To call it a David versus Goliath storyline is maybe giving too much credit to David, but it’s the best descriptor I can give,” he says; the disparity between him and his opponents was even larger than the biggest mismatch in biblical history. “This was a righteous case, without a doubt. It was a holy war.”
Lanier with his daughters Rachel (on left) and Sarah (right), who worked with him on the case, on the steps of the courthouse. Photograph: Ted Soqui/EPA/Shutterstockdouble quotation markPoliticians will never hold these people accountable. The only thing they fear is a jury
On 25 March, when the (real, human) jury returned its verdict, Lanier stood on the steps of the courthouse alongside two of his five children – daughters Sarah and Rachel, who worked with him on the case – and hailed “a righteous moment”. The jury had found Google and Meta liable on all counts and had awarded Kaley $6m: $3m in compensatory damages and an extra $3m in punitive damages, because Meta and Google were found to have “acted with malice, oppression or fraud”. Meta will shoulder 70% of the bill, with Google picking up the rest. But these damages are only the beginning: more than 2,000 similar lawsuits are now being brought against social media companies, accused of harming the mental health of children with products that are addictive by design, using the legal route Lanier proved viable in Kaley’s case.
Ever since they stood behind Trump at his second inauguration, the power of the tech titans has seemed ever more unassailable. (Lanier tells me big tech now hires one lobbyist for every six members of the 441-strong US House of Representatives.) But Kaley’s legal victory is a reckoning – one that could threaten the entire social media business model.
“Politicians will never hold these people accountable. The only thing they fear is a jury,” Lanier says. “I get 12 ordinary people, and they’re empowered. And when they hear that evidence and they take their oath seriously – bam! – they can do something.”
I meet Lanier in Yarnton Manor, a grade II-listed estate in Oxfordshire, built in 1611 by Sir Thomas Spencer, a distant ancestor of Diana, Princess of Wales. He lounges on a teal sofa in one of the wood-panelled rooms, sometimes with a leg dangling over the sofa’s arm, sometimes hugging one of the velvet cushions, often leaning forward to gesticulate in animated excitement as he shares a biblical reference or damning piece of trial evidence. It’s a swelteringly hot day in late May, and Lanier, 65, flew in from Houston yesterday, but he looks fresh as a daisy. He only needs four hours’ sleep a night. “Sleep’s a bonus, but not one that’s necessary.”
Lanier’s charitable foundation bought Yarnton in 2021 and turned it into a centre for religious study. He preaches in a Baptist church every Sunday; he has another study centre in Houston. “In the US at least, Christian faith has a bad reputation of being vibrant only among uneducated, unenlightened, bigoted, narrow-minded people. Those of us who hold on to a faith are responsible for trying to bring out the good that can come from it – not the holier-than-thou stuff that seeds division,” he says. “I’m a lawyer who has funded all of this by trying to grab hold of people whose conduct has been destructive.” He draws a rectangle in the air above his head, tracing the corners of the ornate coved ceiling. “It was the Johnson & Johnson case that bought this,” he grins. “My wife and I call this the J&J Manor House.”
double quotation markNormally, I want an eye-popping verdict that causes Wall Street to recoil and causes in-house lawyers to lose their jobs and companies to respond differently
Before he took on Google and Meta, Lanier was involved in some of the most high-profile landmark litigation cases in the history of big pharma. In 2018, he won $4.69bn (reduced on appeal to $2.12bn) for 22 women with ovarian cancer and their families after Johnson & Johnson failed to warn them of the carcinogenic risk associated with the talc in their Baby Powder. Natural talc is often mined within close proximity of carcinogenic asbestos; Lanier argued that Johnson & Johnson had known this for decades without warning the public. (Johnson & Johnson said in 2018: “J&J’s baby powder is safe and does not cause cancer. Studies of tens of thousands of women and thousands of men show that talc does not cause cancer or asbestos-related disease.”) In 2019, he won an 11th-hour $260m settlement from opioid manufacturers and distributors on the eve of what would have been the first federal trial in the history of the opioid epidemic.
Lanier’s “bread and butter”, he says, involves ubiquitous, household-name products that can cause serious harms, which the companies behind them know about but choose not to act on. “Normally, I want an eye-popping verdict that causes Wall Street to recoil and causes in-house lawyers to lose their jobs and companies to respond differently,” Lanier told a podcast recently.
When he began his career, at a big Houston law firm, he just liked winning. He learned the psychological skills and rhetorical techniques that helped him excel in court: how to make things memorable, how to read a room and change the energy in it, “how to make word choices that will trigger visceral reactions, how to use story to bypass people’s natural defences”. But after five years of straight wins, he lost – in a case where he knew his client was in the wrong. Licking his wounds on the drive home, he had an epiphany. “I thought, what am I doing? Did I almost take my gifts, my talents, my skills and wield an injustice?” Aged 29, Lanier started his own firm so he could pick what he considered to be “righteous” cases. “You can do horrible things with this power, or you can do good.”
Lanier estimates that settlements from drug companies following his landmark opioid litigation are now in excess of $10bn. His victory in the Johnson & Johnson case opened the floodgates to tens of thousands of claims from people with cancer and their families – including one currently in the high court of England and Wales, with more than 7,000 claimants. J&J deny the allegations.
In the wake of Kaley’s win against Google and Meta, the former Facebook employee turned whistleblower Frances Haugen claimed that Meta could be on the hook for $1tn in future damages from tens of thousands of people who have been harmed by the use of their platforms as children. This might be an overestimation, Lanier says. “But tens of billions, easy. Part of it also is: are they willing to make real change? Reasonable change is something that a lot of us would put a high value on.”
At the time of the Johnson & Johnson verdict, Lanier remarked that suing in an initial test case with only a small cluster of plaintiffs allowed him to maximise the emotional impact of claimants’ stories on the jury. “It’s easier to get justice in small groups,” he said. “In small groups, people have names, but in large groups, they’re numbers.”
Kaley was a lone plaintiff, and a reluctant trailblazer. It was her mother who brought her case to the attention of lawyers. (Kaley was identified only as KGM in court because the alleged harms took place when she was a child.)
“I was really scared,” Kaley tells me in a video call; she has chosen to keep her camera switched off. “I had a lot of anxiety around the thought of them deleting my accounts as a punishment. And that did end up happening, at least with Snapchat.”
There’s a duality to the way Kaley speaks: giving evidence in the trial has prepared her to be able to answer difficult questions about the most challenging parts of her life, and that, combined with her low voice, can make her sound older than her 20 years. But her responses are often brief and staccato, and she sometimes struggles to find the right words, like a teenager.
double quotation markI was on Instagram from the moment I woke up to the moment I went to bed. I was on my phone during class – I would get in trouble, I got bad gradesKaley
Brought up by a single mother in Chico, California, along with an older brother and sister, Kaley grew up with learning disabilities, in a household without much disposable income. By the time she was nine, she had uploaded hundreds of videos to YouTube, and soon had dozens of accounts on both YouTube and Instagram. “I liked that I could post my own stuff and see how many likes I got. I liked being able to see what my friends were up to.” When Kaley wasn’t posting, she was scrolling. She stopped engaging with her family. She no longer left her home. Once, she spent more than 16 hours on Instagram in a single day.
“I was on it every day from the moment I woke up to the moment I went to bed. I was on my phone during class – I would get in trouble, I got bad grades because I was not paying attention.” She was terrified at the thought of anything happening to her phone. “If I was walking next to a lake or something, I’d be so scared that I was going to drop my phone and lose my social media.”
Her mother tried to intervene, activating screen time limits or confiscating Kaley’s phone altogether. “But I would freak out,” Kaley says. “I had withdrawal symptoms. It was just so hard to do anything else.” She would get up in the middle of the night to search for her phone, or “beg and beg and cry” until she got it back. When her mother removed Instagram from Kaley’s phone, Kaley sneaked a hand-me-down phone from her older sister so she could download the app again without her mother knowing.
Almost as soon as she joined Instagram, Kaley started playing with filters, enlarging her eyes, shortening her nose. “I’d take a selfie with a filter on, and then see myself – how I actually looked – and I would just feel really ugly,” she says. “It made me get all these new insecurities, and to see myself in a way that others didn’t actually see me.” Aged 10, Kaley started to cut herself. She went on to be diagnosed with depression, anxiety and clinical body dysmorphia.
Lanier didn’t want Kaley to sit through the entire trial. She gets easily distracted, he says; plus, it was his job to convince the jury that she had been seriously harmed by Google and Meta’s products. He didn’t want her to come away from it believing she was irredeemably damaged.
Delivering his opening statement, Lanier stacked three wooden ABC toy blocks on top of each other. “I thought, I will tell the jury this case is as simple as ABC – Addicting the Brains of Children,” he explains. “There’s a principle in psychology and learning called cognitive ease: we automatically assign credibility to the things we more easily understand. There’s a principle in rhetoric: the power of threes. Threes just seem to resonate within our soul and minds. ABC, one, two, three.” (In his opening statement at the Johnson & Johnson trial, Lanier used ABC Scrabble tiles to impress upon the jury that “Asbestos, Breathed or internalised, causes Cancer”.)
Then Meta lawyer Paul Schmidt delivered his opening statement, pushing back. “Was it Instagram or other causes?” he asked. He told the jury the root of Kaley’s mental health issues lay in her chaotic upbringing; that her home life and learning disabilities meant these problems would be inherent in her life anyway. Lanier bats away this idea. “Just because someone has a headache doesn’t give you the right to bash them over the head with a rock and say, ‘They already had a headache! Don’t blame me!’”
Lanier was not allowed to respond to the defendants’ opening statement in court. But as he walked out of the courthouse that day, he spoke to the throngs of media waiting there. “The next morning we get to court, and the bad guys want to have a discussion with the judge off the record.” In the judge’s chambers, he says, Meta’s team complained that Lanier’s rebuttal to their opening statement was being widely reported in the press, and called on the judge to prevent him from speaking to journalists.
Once again, Lanier deployed the power of three. “I said, ‘First of all, I didn’t do it in court – I’m on the sidewalk outside. Second of all, you’ve instructed the jury not to read any of the media. Third of all, the defendants in this case are social media. They’re producing press releases! They’re putting posts on Instagram!” (While the trial was ongoing, Meta had worked hard to spread the message that the company took the welfare of young people seriously, both on their own platforms and in their wider communications with the public.) “It makes my little comment on the courthouse sidewalk pale in comparison.’” Meta’s lawyers ultimately backed down. “The judge said, ‘You do realise there are four billboards up around the courthouse with your ads on them talking about how you care for children in all you do – and you’re complaining about Mr Lanier?’”
Lanier photographed in the library of Yarnton Manor, Oxfordshire. Photograph: Gareth Iwan Jones/The Guardiandouble quotation markIt’s very naive to think parents can stand up against the trillion-dollar companies and the most aggressive technology in the history of human civilisation
The bereaved families outside the courthouse each day – some waving placards that read “We are KGM” – wanted the wider context of Kaley’s struggles to be recognised. But the defendants had argued that Lanier should not be allowed to mention other young people who had suffered harm as a consequence of social media use. “They wanted to make her the exception,” he says. “The sad part is, we’ve got a generation of Kaleys. Go to a restaurant and look how many people are sitting there in her age range like this …” He takes his phone from the coffee table and hunches over it. “It’s such a waste of human capital. All to make money flow to a handful of rich white guys who want to run the world.”
Parents buy the phones those kids are hunched over, I say. Shouldn’t they be able to establish and maintain ground rules? Lanier smiles. “It’s very naive to think that we have such awesome parents in this world that they can stand up against the trillion-dollar companies – with their algorithms and their deceitful tools – and be well enough informed to fight the most aggressive technology in the history of human civilisation. Kids get on YouTube at school. Kids go over to their friends’ houses. Kids have lunch with other kids. Does parenting make a difference? Of course it does. Can parents beat the machine? No way.”
skip past newsletter promotion
Sign up to Inside Saturday
The only way to get a look behind the scenes of the Saturday magazine. Sign up to get the inside story from our top writers as well as all the must-read articles and columns, delivered to your inbox every weekend.
after newsletter promotion
Lanier was also not allowed to talk about the content hosted on social media; in the eyes of the law, YouTube and Instagram are not publishers, so are not responsible for the content they host. “But the content is part of what they use to addict you.” Imagine going into a bookshop and idly picking up a book from one of the display tables, he says, only to see every book on every table change to be something statistically proven to be interesting to people drawn to that kind of book – including some that might shock, enrage or titillate you. Touch another title, and all the books change again, as the bookshop narrows down your interests as effectively as it can. Unlike bookshops, the social media algorithms want you to browse for ever.
“The algorithms are amoral – they’re machines. They’re relentless. You’ll never find them wavering, or low on energy, or distracted. And their entire design is to try to keep your attention on their platform. They are scary.”
Meta and Google were damned by their own documents: the millions of pages of evidence the judge required them to hand over, and a few others leaked by whistleblowers. “Through the industrious hard work of a lot of young lawyers reading, and the industrious hard work of AI, we were able to find the lines of gold.” Lanier says it was an embarrassment of riches.
Internal documents showed the companies had deliberately sought out “casino science” to turn their products into what Lanier calls “addiction machines”. Instagram, YouTube, Snapchat and TikTok all use intermittent variable rewards, giving their users little unpredictable dopamine hits, just like slot machines with their micro-payouts that keep you sticking around for a big jackpot that may never arrive, endlessly scrolling on your phone instead of pulling a handle. A 2012 Google memo about YouTube said its “goal is not viewership; it’s viewer addiction”. Another document from Google referred to its products as “slot machines”. “These are attention casinos,” it read. “The house always wins.”
There were documents from Google and Meta revealing the “dark patterns” they deploy to manipulate their users’ behaviour. Take the features Kaley’s mother wanted to use to protect her daughter: they were not easy to find, and were switched off by default. “You’ve got to determine there’s a protective feature, go find it and toggle it on,” says Lanier. “The toggle itself is subject to dark patterns: people will toggle differently if there’s a blue dot when you toggle, versus if it doesn’t change colour.”
This makes me think of my own efforts to control my Instagram feed, by toggling the button requesting that it doesn’t show me suggested content. I have to go into my settings and toggle it again every 30 days, and given that it doesn’t change colour, I’m never really sure that it has worked. “It’s insidious,” Lanier says. “And let’s say, as a parent, you do this for your kid. Did you set a calendar reminder to go back to your kid’s phone 30 days later when it defaults back?” Even if you were organised enough to do this, he adds, the platforms change their settings so often that it’s impossible to keep up.
There was a Meta document from 2018 that read: “If we want to win big with teens, we must bring them in as tweens”; a YouTube slideshow featuring children as young as four and the suggestion that parents could use the platform as a “digital babysitter”; a 2019 research report commissioned by Meta that found teens had “an addicts’ narrative about their Instagram use”, and that “they wish they could spend less time caring about it”.
Then there was the testimony given on the stand. In a memorable exchange with Lanier, Instagram boss Adam Mosseri said that 16 hours a day on the platform might be “problematic”, but he would not call it an addiction. “You can call it problematic use. You can call it tweedledee,” Lanier says. “The issue wasn’t the magic word ‘addiction’ – it was the harm.”
But the prosecution had to prove that Kaley’s use of social media caused the harm done to her mental health, and that was a challenge. “Social media companies have seeded the literature with stuff that says their product’s beneficial. For decades, big tobacco said, ‘Tobacco doesn’t really cause lung cancer – look at all these studies!’ And what you didn’t know is big tobacco had ghostwritten them or funded them,” Lanier says. A psychiatrist and a therapist both testified that, in Kaley’s case, her body dysmorphia was caused by her social media use. “The other side argued it was the residuals of bad parenting.” The sad part, Lanier says, is that Meta’s own documents show they know that when adolescent girls from low socioeconomic backgrounds with existing mental health challenges spend extended periods on social media, their mental health deteriorates.
When Zuckerberg took the stand – the first time he had testified in front of a jury – Lanier put it to him that he “saw dollar signs written on the backs” of vulnerable kids. He presented Zuckerberg with an internal document, which showed that, in 2015, a third of all 10- to 12-year-olds in the US used Instagram, even though under-13s were not supposed to have accounts, and an email from an executive that said, “Mark has decided the top priority for the company is teens.” Zuckerberg said this was no longer the way the company operated, and that he had worked for years to address “problematic use” of his platforms “because it’s the right thing to do”.
At the end of questioning, six prosecution lawyers unrolled a 50ft-wide collage of some of the hundreds of selfies Kaley had posted on Instagram. Urging Zuckerberg to look at the heavily filtered images, Lanier asked him if Meta had ever investigated Kaley’s account for problematic use. Zuckerberg did not answer.
Lanier had planned to question YouTube CEO Neal Mohan on the stand, but ran out of time – the judge had given the prosecution only 43 hours to try the case. “I decided I didn’t need him,” Lanier says. But Google is just as culpable as Meta in Kaley’s case, he adds. “YouTube was a gateway drug.”
Time pressure was one of the reasons why they decided to settle with Snapchat and TikTok before the case came to trial. “I could have hit a good verdict against them,” Lanier says, a little wistfully. He planned to compare the safety features that are present in the Chinese version of TikTok and that aren’t present in its international platform: a limit on night-time use, no infinite scroll, mandatory time-outs once users have been on the app for a certain amount of time, and the deployment of AI to determine if users are children, “based upon factors including what you’re looking at, the size of your finger when you’re scrolling, how fast you scroll. There are tons of ways that they are required to be safer over there.”
Google claimed that the entire case misunderstood YouTube; that it is a streaming platform, not a social media site. “You have an ability to message, to like or dislike, to comment, to follow. It’s not just media – it’s social media,” Lanier declares. But just in case that argument wasn’t enough, the prosecution team asked Google’s very own AI what it thought. Gemini’s response was unequivocal – YouTube is social media.
On hearing the verdict, Kaley’s overriding feeling was relief – for herself, and for all the people who can now follow her. “I knew it meant that other cases would get to go to court, so I was feeling happy for the other families.” The thousands of cases that were poised to be brought against social media companies should she win have now been set in motion. She hasn’t received any damages yet; Google and Meta are appealing, and Lanier says the process will take seven years. “However long it takes is however long it takes,” Kaley says. “I’m OK with it.” Despite her ongoing struggles with her self-image, Kaley’s victory has helped her recognise the contribution she can make to the world, and how much people value her.
Should the case end up at the supreme court, Lanier doesn’t think that the politically appointed judges will be swayed by seeing this as a partisan issue. “It crosses the political aisle. Typically, Republicans are friendly to big business in the US, but some of the most stalwart folks on this are Republicans. It matters to anybody who’s a parent.”
Photograph: Gareth Iwan Jones/The Guardiandouble quotation markThe child who’s addicted to social media can easily become addicted to pornography, sex, gambling, pills
In the meantime, Lanier is helping other legal teams who are bringing cases against social media companies, while his firm is fielding new inquiries from people who say they have been harmed by compulsive social media use. “Those that have legitimate cases that I can do, I’ll represent. It’s got to be a child that was addicted. We’ve got to have some counselling or psychiatric records. If it wasn’t bad enough to go see a professional, then it’s not bad enough to bring a case. Within the framework of that, I’ll take those cases.”
Why does the focus have to be on kids? “Children’s brains are still developing, and the last part to develop is that ability for self-control that sees future consequences. With adults, it’s going to be hard to win. The jury’s going to think, You’re an adult, you ought to be able to weigh the consequences,” Lanier replies. “The problem is, once you get addicted, addictive pathways are easily transferable to other addictions. The child who’s addicted to social media can easily become addicted to pornography, sex, gambling, pills. Your body’s ultimately just craving the dopamine.”
Of course, Lanier will not be the lead lawyer on the thousands of new cases being brought against Google, Meta, Snapchat, TikTok and other social media companies. He is clearly very good at what he does, with the skills to win against giants in big pharma as well as big tech. I wonder whether his trailblazing victory for Kaley can be replicated in other courtrooms, by other lawyers.
“That’s a fair question,” Lanier replies. “Embedded in it is a kind of compliment – so thank you, that’s kind. Does the skill of the lawyer make a difference in these cases? Yes, it does. Am I the only lawyer who can win these? Absolutely not. I’m not necessary – but I’m useful.”
In June, Keir Starmer announced a social media ban for under-16s, due to take effect in early 2027, after nine out of 10 respondents to a government survey supported it. Lanier thinks Starmer’s plans are “brilliant. It eats away at the fabric of our society if children have access to materials that they are not mature enough to handle.”
“I think it’s the first step in the right direction,” Kaley says. “But kids are sneaky and they might still find a way to get back on it.”
Some who oppose the ban – including the campaigner Ian Russell, whose 14-year-old daughter, Molly, took her own life after being deluged with suicide and self-harm content – say the only way to protect children is to force social media companies to change their business models, which rely on addictive features and algorithmically driven content. Litigation may be the only way to bring those changes, Kaley says. “They’re only going to change if somebody forces them to.”
Lanier’s firm is now working on a claim against OpenAI brought by bereaved parents who say ChatGPT was instrumental in their son’s suicide. He also has a forthcoming suit against Roblox, the most popular online game platform among eight- to 14-year-olds in the UK. “It’s a breeding ground for child exploitation, a forum that allows child predators to thrive and to connect,” he says. The addictive features of the platform will be part of that case, too.
Kaley tells me she has no idea what the future holds for her. She is still on social media, in the places that haven’t banished her in retaliation for taking legal action against them. She still posts selfies and videos; she thinks she always will, even though she hopes not to one day. “It’s very difficult.”
Lanier is considering writing a book about Kaley’s case. A documentary might be in the works. He has already starred as himself in a movie, the 2011 Chris Evans film Puncture (released as Injustice in the UK). It tells the true story of Michael Weiss, the Houston-based lawyer behind a class-action lawsuit against hospital syringe distributors in the US; after Weiss died from a drugs overdose in 1999, Lanier took on the case and won a landmark settlement in 2004.
Lanier is the first to admit that, in the past at least, he loved attention. “When I was a younger man, probably the quickest way to get hurt was to get between me and a camera,” he says, a twinkle in his eye. Perhaps that’s why, despite everything he has learned, Lanier is still on Instagram.
“I do a video thought for the day, five days a week, based on some biblical idea. They get posted on there for distribution and availability,” he says when I bring this up. “I’m not someone who thinks that social media is inherently evil. It’s like any tool: it can be used for good and it can be used for evil.”
His 15-year-old granddaughter watches his videos, he tells me. So how does Lanier see the future for her, and his 11 other grandchildren? Is the digital world going to be safer for them following Kaley’s victory?
“The optimist in me says yes. The realist in me says not so fast.” He leans forward. “Mark Zuckerberg has immense power, and power is as addictive as any drug. Do we really think that he’s going to readily abandon a portion of his power? The realist in me says this is going to be a war that will last my lifetime – and the lifetime of others.”
In the UK, the youth suicide charity Papyrus can be contacted on 0800 068 4141 or email pat@papyrus-uk.org, and in the UK and Ireland Samaritans can be contacted on freephone 116 123. In the US, the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline is at 988 or chat for support. In Australia, the crisis support service Lifeline is 13 11 14. Other international helplines can be found at befrienders.org
In the UK, the charity Mind is available on 0300 123 3393 and Childline on 0800 1111. In the US, call or text Mental Health America at 988 or chat 988lifeline.org. In Australia, support is available at Beyond Blue on 1300 22 4636, Lifeline on 13 11 14, and at MensLine on 1300 789 978
