Too Old for the Internet: When Australian Pensioners Must Prove They are Not Children!
Australia has entered a remarkable new era of seeming technological progress. We have artificial intelligence, facial recognition, digital identities and computer systems capable of processing billions of transactions. Yet apparently we still have difficulty distinguishing an aged pensioner from a twelve-year-old child. Welcome to the wonderful world of online age verification, where an elderly Australian who has spent decades working, paying taxes and teaching may find himself unable to read an article because he cannot produce the particular identity documents demanded by an automated verification system.
The absurdity becomes apparent when attempting to access certain material on Substack, the publishing platform used by independent journalists, academics and political commentators. Age-restricted content may require verification through systems involving facial age estimation, government identification or other approved methods. For Australians who possess a driver's licence or passport, this may be a relatively minor inconvenience. But what about the substantial number of older Australians who possess neither? Apparently, having survived eight decades on this planet is not sufficient evidence that one has reached adulthood.
Consider the hypothetical case of an 80-year-old Australian aged pensioner who has written books, published articles, appeared in photographs and maintained a public intellectual presence for decades. His name may be found in library catalogues, publishing records and online archives. There may be photographs of him on book covers, university websites and other public sources. His intellectual history could extend back to a time when the internet itself was little more than a technological dream. Yet when he attempts to read an age-restricted Substack article, the computer effectively asks whether his mummy or daddy has given him permission.
The pensioner explains that he does not possess a driver's licence because he does not drive, and has no passport because he has no intention of travelling overseas. The system, however, is not interested in such explanations. It has a limited menu of acceptable documents, and the pensioner's lifetime of publicly available evidence may count for nothing. He might have written numerous articles, but the computer remains unconvinced that he is old enough to read an opinion piece.
This is not simply a problem with Substack. It reflects a much wider development in Australian public policy, where online age assurance is becoming an increasingly important instrument of internet regulation. The Australian government's restrictions on social media accounts for those under 16, together with broader obligations affecting certain online services, have encouraged the development and adoption of technologies intended to establish users' ages. The stated objective is protecting children from harmful material, a goal few reasonable people would oppose in principle. But the implementation raises serious questions about privacy, accessibility and the growing presumption that ordinary citizens must prove their eligibility before engaging in activities previously taken for granted.
One of the central difficulties is the confusion between age verification and identity verification. If the purpose of a system is merely to determine whether someone is over 18, why should it require extensive personal identification? The question is whether the individual has reached a particular age, not whether a private technology company should possess a detailed record of that individual's identity. A system that demands more information than necessary risks transforming child protection into a mechanism for expanding digital surveillance.
To be fair, Substack's published procedures do provide alternatives to uploading a driver's licence or passport. These include facial age estimation, certain credit-card-based verification arrangements and the possibility of manual review, which if one chooses seems to lead back to the very ID page causing the initial problem! The platform therefore does not universally insist upon government identification. Nevertheless, the experience illustrates the problems that arise when the available verification methods are poorly matched to the circumstances of particular users. A pensioner who lacks the preferred documents, does not wish to submit a facial image and has no qualifying credit card may face a disproportionately burdensome process simply to read material intended for adults.
The facial estimation alternative introduces another layer of irony. After decades of being told that age discrimination is unacceptable, older Australians may now be invited to submit photographs of their faces so that artificial intelligence can decide whether they look sufficiently old. Perhaps the system will examine wrinkles, grey hair and other physical characteristics before issuing a certificate confirming that the applicant is unlikely to be attending primary school. One wonders what happens when the technology encounters a remarkably youthful-looking pensioner? Will he be denied access to political commentary because he has taken good care of his skin?
There is also a serious privacy issue. A facial photograph is not equivalent to an ordinary password. Passwords can be changed after a security breach, but faces cannot be replaced so conveniently. Even where providers employ safeguards and limited retention, users are entitled to ask what information is collected, how it is processed, whether it is retained and what independent oversight exists. Citizens should not be expected to surrender sensitive personal information merely because a government or private platform has decided that reading certain material requires additional bureaucratic approval.
The situation becomes even more ridiculous when considered alongside the enormous quantity of publicly available information about many older Australians. Published authors, retired academics, former public servants and other professionals may have extensive documentary histories. University graduation records, professional biographies, newspaper archives and publication dates can sometimes provide strong evidence that an individual is an adult. A person who published a book thirty years ago is rather unlikely to be thirteen today, unless Australia has quietly discovered time travel.
Of course, publicly available information is not infallible. Photographs can be misidentified, names can be shared and online biographies can be fabricated. An internet presence cannot always establish that the person attempting access is the same person described in those records. But these limitations are reasons for developing flexible verification procedures, not for treating every citizen without a passport or driver's licence as an administrative impossibility. Manual assessment and alternative forms of evidence should be available where automated systems fail.
The problem is especially relevant to older Australians, some of whom have limited familiarity with digital systems or lack the equipment needed for complicated verification procedures. A person may have successfully managed his financial affairs, raised a family, worked for half a century and participated in public life without ever needing a smartphone or a passport. Yet he may now encounter online services designed around the assumption that every competent adult possesses modern photographic identification, a camera-equipped device and a willingness to interact with unfamiliar verification companies.
Australia's eSafety Commissioner has recognised the importance of providing multiple age-assurance methods and considering accessibility and privacy. That is sensible in principle. But there is a considerable difference between acknowledging the need for flexibility and ensuring that real systems work for people whose circumstances fall outside the assumptions of software designers. An age-verification regime that works perfectly for a 25-year-old professional with a smartphone, credit card and passport may be unnecessarily difficult for a pensioner using an older desktop computer.
There is a further question about the political consequences of normalising such procedures. Once age verification becomes a routine condition of accessing online information, the infrastructure for regulating access already exists. It may initially be justified by reference to pornography or other material considered unsuitable for children, but the same technical mechanisms can potentially be extended to additional categories of content. This does not prove that governments intend to introduce comprehensive censorship. It does, however, establish why the scope, proportionality and oversight of these systems deserve serious scrutiny.
The danger is not necessarily that every verification provider will misuse personal information or that every government regulator harbours authoritarian ambitions, although most do. The more subtle danger is that bureaucratic requirements become accepted as ordinary features of daily life. People gradually become accustomed to proving their entitlement to activities that once required no formal permission. Reading, communicating and participating in public debate begin to resemble licensed privileges rather than ordinary expressions of personal freedom.
The irony is particularly sharp in a country that regularly celebrates its commitment to protecting vulnerable citizens. Older Australians are encouraged to remain intellectually active, socially engaged and digitally connected. Governments and community organisations promote internet literacy among pensioners, warning that social isolation can have serious consequences. Yet the same regulatory environment can produce obstacles that discourage precisely the online participation supposedly being encouraged.
Perhaps the logical next step is a special government certificate confirming that an aged pensioner is, in fact, old. The Department of Human Services could issue an official declaration stating that anyone who has been receiving the Age Pension for several years is probably not a schoolchild. This could be accompanied by a photograph, a hologram, a QR code and a solemn warning that the certificate must not be used by minors impersonating retirees. Naturally, obtaining the certificate would require the applicant to prove his age through another verification system.
An even more advanced solution would involve requiring pensioners to present themselves before a government-approved artificial intelligence system and answer questions about historical events. Anyone who remembers the introduction of decimal currency in Australia, the dismissal of the Whitlam government or the days when telephones were attached to walls could be classified as provisionally adult. Those who remember using a typewriter might qualify for immediate unrestricted access to the internet, subject to a mandatory cybersecurity seminar.
Behind the humour lies a genuine question of proportionality. Protecting children from inappropriate material is a legitimate public objective, but regulatory measures should not impose unreasonable burdens upon adults. Verification systems should minimise the collection of personal information, provide accessible alternatives and include meaningful procedures for people unable or unwilling to use standard identification methods. The burden should be on institutions to design workable systems, rather than on citizens to reorganise their lives around the limitations of software.
There is something profoundly revealing about a society in which an aged pensioner may be asked to prove that he is not a child before reading a political article. The technology is sophisticated, the bureaucratic language is impressive and the regulatory intentions are presented as benevolent. Yet the practical result can be an absurd inversion of common sense.
We have reached the point where a man may be old enough to receive the Age Pension, old enough to have grandchildren, old enough to remember governments that have long since vanished, and old enough to have written books before today's technology executives were born, but still find himself challenged by a computer demanding evidence that he is over eighteen.
Perhaps the ultimate achievement of Australia's digital age-assurance revolution will be to make growing old a matter requiring official verification. Until then, pensioners should be warned: merely being old is no longer necessarily sufficient. One must possess the correct paperwork to prove it!
