Who could have predicted that age-gating large sections of the internet in a crusade to shield children's eyeballs from vaguely defined "harmful content" would have disastrous consequences and wouldn't ultimately protect kids? Apparently, the United Kingdom's online regulator, Ofcom, couldn't. 

On Thursday, Ofcom released a report assessing whether the government should make changes to the content categories of the 2023 Online Safety Act, a set of laws which require companies operating in the U.K. to prevent children from "accessing harmful and age-inappropriate content and provide parents and children with clear and accessible ways to report problems online when they do arise." The act's "child safety regime" (Ofcom's words) went fully into effect in 2025, when porn websites in the country began checking IDs. Unfortunately, as Reason's Elizabeth Nolan Brown has pointed out, the age-verification rule has impacted far more than adult websites. Already, the Online Safety Act has age-gated a wide range of content, including war news, the "NoFap" subreddit, and a historic art image, creating a mass chilling effect online. 

Ofcom's report, however, says little about these age-gating concerns for adults, and its own findings highlight the act's underwhelming results. In the report, Ofcom notes that "Most children in the UK say they have encountered at least one piece of harmful content online in a four-week period." It adds that "at a total level there was no significant change in the proportion of children encountering harmful content over the first nine months after the children's safety duties came into force in July 2025." So, it appears the act is requiring adults to fork over their IDs to access a wide range of content, some of which is innocuous, while playing a never-ending and unsuccessful game of whack-a-mole trying to eliminate "harmful" online content from kids' feeds. 

Instead of suggesting to repeal the Online Safety Act because it does not seem to be working or because it imperils online freedom, Ofcom's report proposes to broaden the law's scope. The regulator recommends adding "body stigma content and depression content, currently identified by Ofcom as kinds of non-designated content, to the category of priority content that is harmful to children." Priority content is defined as "content that services must protect/minimise the risk of children in age groups judged to be at risk of harm from encountering." In other words, online platforms could have more reasons to potentially age-gate, block, or avoid publishing out of fear of violating the law. 

The report does not address the U.K. government's plans to ban children under the age of 16 from accessing social media, and Ofcom says it will soon publish an assessment of "what highly effective age assurance looks like" for determining whether someone is 16 or older. But if the social media ban unfolds anything like it did in Australia, where kids are easily circumventing it, it is likely to flop, just as the Online Safety Act has.

The post The U.K.'s Online Safety Act Has Been a Failure. Regulators Want To Broaden It Anyway. appeared first on Reason Magazine.

There has been much consternation this week about the use of fake polls in the media, with some government officials promising swift, and legally dubious, punishments for broadcasters that use them. 

The use of these fake polls came to light on Wednesday, when The New York Times reported that "well-known polling aggregators," including the paper itself, had been citing fake surveys by Wedgewood Polls. The fake polling scheme was revealed when the outlet FivePlusOne contacted Wedgewood Tuesday for comment about an investigation into the pollster. That night, Wedgewood posted a now-deleted statement declaring that it was an "experimental project to demonstrate the vulnerabilities, lack of oversight, and overall barrier to entry in the modern polling industry." The fake pollster claimed it was "far too easy" to be taken seriously in media and public commentary. 

A similar "social experiment" was revealed in August, when the Los Angeles Times reported that a poll by Median Strategies showing Mayor Karen Bass "leading ahead of Councilmember Nithya Raman by a wide margin" was "bogus." An earlier poll by Median Strategies showed Francesca Hong, who lost her race for Wisconsin governor, up by more than 20 percentage points. Median Strategies told the Times that the firm was "created as a short term social experiment to examine how purported polling information could enter and spread through the political information ecosystem without independent verification."

If Wedgewood's polling stunts were in fact social experiments (pollster Nate Silver is very skeptical of this explanation), then the experiment worked. Nobody is completely immune to deceit. And while savvy media consumers have become more attuned to detecting AI writing and video fakes, masses of people still fall for more than fake polls, as they have for a long time.

In 2018, when the word "slop" meant food for pigs and before anyone wrote posts using ChatGPT, the Intelligencer asked the question: "How much of the Internet is fake?" The answer, the outlet concluded, was "a lot."

At the time, Reason's Nick Gillespie noted that the article was a "sobering and obvious revelation that much of what we browse, engage, and interact with is in some fundamental way, total bullshit." Gillespie solemnly observed, "we're living not in the disintermediated, utopian world chronicled in the early days of Louis Rossetto and Jane Metcalfe's Wired, but something closer to the endlessly creative, weird, off-kilter, semi-insane world imagined by Philip K. Dick and, later, Neal Stephenson."

Eight years later, the "semi-insane" world is no less insane, and humans, as they always have, are falling prey to increasingly intricate schemes and hoaxes. In September, Semafor's Max Tani revealed that a large number of YouTube videos—several of which garnered hundreds of thousands of views—were made by "ghost creators." In these videos, presented as news reports, real actors were paid to read AI-written scripts "laced with misleading claims and outright falsehoods." According to Tani, these "accounts appear to be run not by political operatives trying to win, or foreign intelligence efforts seeking to destabilize the US, but by engagement junkies detached from the stakes of politics." While any semi-media-literate person in 2026 could tell you that not all YouTube videos should be taken as fact, the scale of the operation was staggering. 

The deception crisis plagues the media as well. Recently, the platform Qwoted, which connects journalists with sources, had to remove a supposed art therapy expert from its website after her "details were found to be false," reported the Press Gazette. According to the Gazette, the fake therapist's insights had been cited in several outlets, including Psychology, Forbes, Glamour, and Vice. I have also raised concerns about news outlets and commentators citing polls published by EduBirdie, a Cyprus-based company that sells human-written academic papers to students for $8 a page (ethics aside, what a bold business model in the AI age).

So what is to be done? As Gillespie wrote in 2018, there are existing legal levers to root out fraud, but any top-down approach to squashing online lies "will be poorly applied, repressive, and ultimately arbitrary." Government-led crackdowns on COVID-19 "misinformation" have proven him right. Outsourcing the arbitration of truth would only diminish our access to information, and no one entity, particularly the government, should be trusted to determine what is true or false. Unfortunately, the Trump administration has not learned much from the pandemic era and has instead repeatedly tried to crack down on media coverage it doesn't like.

Ideally, media organizations would act as B.S. detectors, but clearly, they often fail to do so. So, consumers are left to wade through lies, AI hoaxes, and so-called "social experiments." This may be tedious work, but it is necessary for consumers to evolve as technologies change. This sleuthing for scams may even be enjoyable. Why pay to have your brain scrambled by Nathan Fielder's Elizabeth Holmes documentary when you can drive yourself insane by tracking down and scrutinizing widely cited statistics and polls?

The post Worst <i>Nathan for You</i>–Style Scheme Ever? A Polling Company Claimed Its Fake Polls Were a Social Experiment. appeared first on Reason Magazine.

On eBay Live, livestreaming is for the entrepreneurial everyman. It is a no-frills, decentralized QVC for the modern age.

The interface is clunky, the sellers are unpolished, and the viewer numbers are low. The site is more like a digital garage sale than a Sotheby's auction, but it's just as thrilling to watch a bidder win a rare baseball card as to watch one win a Rothko.

Items for sale include Rolex watches, Funko Pop toys, commemorative coins, and Michael Kors backpacks, which sellers hawk to audiences of anywhere from 10 to 1,000 other souls. These online auctioneers set countdown clocks, sometimes as short as 10 seconds. Bids start as low as $1.

Tuning into a sub-100-viewer eBay Live auction is strangely intimate. Sellers, often in makeshift home sets or nondescript warehouse backrooms, fill the time between auctions with banter and often play music on their own speakers. Sellers also respond to the audience, affectionately referred to as "chat."

One bidding frenzy drew me in. Ten seconds and a flurry of clicks later, I became the proud owner of a $3.81 Dragonite Pokémon card. I know nothing about Pokémon, yet I felt a surge of joy hearing my username declared the winner. There is a simple pleasure in buying and selling real things in a digital auction house.

The post Review: eBay Live Is QVC for the Modern Age appeared first on Reason Magazine.