Thirty Years in Policing Taught Me This: Legislation and Laws Alone Don’t Change Behaviour

Caveat - At The White Hatter, we may be a small family-run team, but we bring a depth of experience that spans generations and disciplines. Our work is led by three core members. Darren brings 30 years of law enforcement service, including extensive experience in online investigations and youth-related digital issues. Brandon, a Millennial with a Master’s degree in Social Media Communications, contributes academic insight and lived understanding of the evolving digital landscape. Beth oversees the operational side of the organization, drawing on her background in business management to keep everything running smoothly. This article is written from Darren’s perspective, shaped by his decades on the front lines of policing and his continued work in digital literacy and internet safety education since his retirement from policing.

I spent three decades in policing and during that time, I saw the best and worst of human behaviour. I enforced laws, investigated crimes, worked with families in crisis, and spoke with young people who made choices they later regretted. If there is one lesson those 30 years taught me, it is this:

• You cannot legislate maturity.

• You cannot prohibit your way to wisdom.

• You cannot arrest or legislate your way out of behavioural issues.

That truth matters deeply in today’s conversations about youth, technology, the internet, and social media.

During my years in policing, I began to recognize a predictable pattern that repeated itself over and over again.

• A new behaviour would surface, often driven by changes in culture, technology, or social norms. At first, it would fly under the radar. Then adults would begin to notice. Concerns would grow in homes, schools, and community meetings.

• Eventually, a high-profile incident would occur. Sometimes it involved serious harm. Sometimes it was amplified by media coverage. That single event would quickly become the example everyone pointed to.

• Public anxiety would intensify. Headlines would frame the issue as urgent and widespread. Talk radio, legacy media, and community forums would demand action. The pressure to “do something” would build rapidly.

• In response, lawmakers would often move toward new legislation, restrictions, or outright prohibitions. The intention was usually good. Protect the vulnerable,  restore order, and send a message.

However, what I learned is that this cycle tends to focus on reacting to visible incidents rather than understanding the underlying behaviour driving them. Legislation and laws becomes the immediate tool because it is tangible and decisive. Yet the deeper questions about why the behaviour emerged in the first place are often left insufficiently explored.

Over time, I saw this pattern repeat itself across different issues. The environment would change, the technology would evolve, but the cycle remained strikingly similar. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes new laws are necessary. Criminal exploitation, fraud, and predatory behaviour require clear legal boundaries, and I spent years enforcing those boundaries. However, when it comes to behavioural issues, especially those involving youth, legislation is often a blunt instrument.

Young people are developmentally wired to explore. They push boundaries because that is how they figure out where those boundaries are. They seek peer approval because belonging matters deeply during adolescence. They experiment with identity as they try to answer fundamental questions about who they are and how they fit into the world.

That was true in the 1980s when I was a teenager. We tested limits in different ways, but the underlying motivations were the same. It was true when I first entered policing and began working with youth in schools and communities, and  it’s still true today. What has changed is not adolescent psychology, it’s the landscape.

In my teen years, experimentation happened at the mall, at house parties, in handwritten notes passed between classes, or in conversations that disappeared as quickly as they were spoken. Today, exploration often happens through group chats, social media posts, livestreams, and AI-driven platforms. The audience can be larger, the permanence can be greater, and the feedback can be instant.

However, the core drivers remain remarkably consistent, those being curiosity, risk-taking, social comparison, a desire to belong, and a need to individuate from parents while still needing their guidance.

When we mistake normal developmental behaviour for something entirely new and unprecedented, we risk overcorrecting. Technology has amplified visibility and reach, but it did not invent adolescence.

Understanding that distinction matters. If we respond as though today’s youth are uniquely reckless or fundamentally different, we miss the opportunity to address what is actually happening, young people navigating timeless developmental stages inside a modern digital environment. Our role as parents, caregivers and educators is not to eliminate exploration, it’s to help youth build agency and resilience. What changes is the environment in which that exploration happens.

When shopping malls and skateparks became the after school hangout, many adults saw them as breeding grounds for trouble. When video arcades surged in popularity, critics warned they would corrupt a generation. When early internet chat rooms emerged, headlines focused almost exclusively on the risks. In every generation, a new space where young people gathered triggered concern.

Today, the setting has shifted again. The gathering place is no longer primarily physical, it lives on social media platforms, in AI driven tools, through smart devices, and inside online communities that operate around the clock. The pattern is familiar, the environment has changed, and the anxiety remains.

Here is what I learned from years of enforcement, when you shut down one space without addressing the underlying behaviour, youth simply migrate to another. Prohibition often pushes behaviour underground. Underground behaviour is harder to monitor, harder to guide, and sometimes way more risky.

In drug enforcement, we saw this clearly. Supply routes changed, substances evolved, but demand rarely disappeared. The same principle applies to digital behaviour. If we focus only on banning platforms or restricting access by age alone, we may reduce visible activity, however, we do not automatically increase digital maturity. 

Law sets the floor, it does not build the ceiling. Laws are designed to establish minimum standards of conduct, they define what is illegal, and they create consequences. However, they do not teach judgment, they do not teach critical thinking, they do not teach emotional regulation, and they do not teach digital discernment. Those skills are learned through parenting, mentorship, education, and experience.

Over my career, the cases that stayed with me were rarely about a lack of legislation or laws, they were about a lack of guidance, connection, and supervision. A teen charged with distributing intimate images did not need only a court date, that teen needed education about consent, empathy, and long-term consequences. Legislation and laws can interrupt behaviour, it rarely transforms it.

Today, many argue that stricter age bans, heavier fines, and broader prohibitions are the solution to youth online harms. As someone who enforced laws for 30 years, I understand the instinct. When harm occurs, we want decisive action. However, there is a difference between criminal behaviour and developmental behaviour. Predatory exploitation deserves strong enforcement, corporate negligence deserves legislative accountability, and fraud and coercion deserve prosecution.

However, adolescent experimentation, peer conflict, impulsivity, and social comparison require something different, they require skill building! Technology did not invent teen risk-taking, it amplified its opportunity and visibility. Before smartphones, teens still passed notes, spread rumours, consumes illicit drugs, watched pornography,  peer aggressed one another, shared inappropriate photos, gambled, and pushed boundaries. The scale and speed are different today, but the underlying psychology is not new.

One of the unintended consequences I saw over the years was what happens when families assume that legislation will do the parenting. Curfews do not replace conversations, age restrictions do not replace supervision, platform bans do not replace digital literacy. When adults rely entirely on prohibition, young people often interpret that as control without explanation. That dynamic can create secrecy rather than responsibility.

In policing, the most resilient youth were not the ones who grew up in the strictest environments, they were the ones who understood why boundaries existed. Understanding builds internal regulation, fear builds compliance, and compliance disappears when supervision does.

Over three decades, I observed something important, the most effective harm reduction came from:

• Consistent parental involvement

• Clear expectations paired with explanation

• Strong school engagement

• Community mentorship

• Practical education

• Early intervention before crisis

When youth understood consequences, had trusted adults to turn to, and felt heard rather than controlled, outcomes usually, not always, improved. This is why we believe that digital literacy matters more than digital prohibition.

If a teen understands how algorithms work, how online grooming happens, how financial scams operate, and how digital footprints follow them, they are better equipped to navigate risk across platforms. Platforms will change, apps will evolve, and AI will integrate into daily life. A law targeting one tool today may be outdated tomorrow. However, I truly believe that onlife skills endure longer than restrictions.

I am not arguing for a lawless internet, accountability matters, platform design matters, and corporate responsibility matters. However, when we frame youth technology use primarily as a legislative problem, we risk misdiagnosing a developmental issue as a criminal one.

Policing taught me something that no textbook or police academy ever could, prevention is far more powerful than reaction. The most effective officers I worked alongside were not simply the ones who made the most arrests. They were the ones who invested time in their communities, built trust, showed up consistently, and developed relationships before a crisis ever occurred. They understood that when people know you, trust you, and feel respected by you, problems are often addressed long before they escalate into criminal matters. The same principle applies to the online world and our kids.

First, we need to build strong relationships with our youth and teens. That means staying connected, being present, and creating an environment where they feel safe talking about what they are seeing and experiencing online. If the first time we talk about social media or gaming is after something has gone wrong, we are already behind. Ongoing connection creates the foundation for guidance.

Second, we must teach skills. Digital literacy, critical thinking, emotional regulation, and ethical decision making are not automatic. Youth and teens need to understand how algorithms influence what they see, how online manipulation works, how digital footprints follow them, and how to pause before reacting. Skills travel with them from platform to platform, bans do not.

Third, boundaries still matter. Clear expectations around device use, privacy, respect, and accountability provide structure. However, boundaries work best when they are explained and consistently reinforced, not imposed without discussion. When youth and teens understand the purpose behind a rule, they are more likely to internalize it.

Fourth, we must model the behaviour we expect. If we are constantly glued to our own devices, oversharing online, or reacting impulsively to digital content, our children notice. They learn far more from what we demonstrate than from what we declare. Healthy digital habits start with us.

Fifth, we need to hold companies accountable for harmful design practices. Platform architecture, persuasive design features, and data harvesting practices deserve scrutiny. Enforcement and regulation have a role when it comes to corporate responsibility. Youth should not carry the full burden of navigating systems engineered to capture attention.

Finally, legislation has its place, it’s essential when dealing with exploitation, fraud, coercion, or intentional harm. However, legislation should be used where it is truly necessary, not as a substitute for engaged parenting and education. Legal consequences can deter certain behaviours, but they cannot replace guidance, mentorship, and skill-building at home.

Over thirty years in policing showed me that sustainable safety is built through relationships, education, and accountability working together. The same formula applies online.

After retiring from policing, I shifted my focus toward digital literacy and internet safety education, and that transition was not accidental. I realized that if we truly want to reduce harm for youth online, we must move upstream. Upstream is education, it’s conversation, and it’s equipping families with knowledge instead of fear.

Thirty years in uniform gave me insight into what happens when things go wrong. Now my work is focused on helping families prevent those calls in the first place. Laws have their place and prohibitions have their moments. However, when it comes to youth behaviour and technology, lasting change will not come from restriction alone. It will come from raising digitally literate, critically thinking, emotionally aware young people who can navigate an onlife world with resilience and agency, and that is something no legislative statute can accomplish on its own.

Digital Food For Thought

Darren - The White Hatter

Facts Not Fear, Facts Not Emotions, Enlighten Not Frighten, Know Tech Not No Tech