The ethics of surrogacy

by Simon Longstaff

There have been times in my life when I have wished that I had been born with a body better suited to my aspirations.  Nearly always a fleeting fantasy, I have occasionally imagined myself an elite athlete or truly gifted musician.  Yet, I have known deep down that, even with utmost dedication to the hard work of self-improvement, the raw stuff of my body is not that of a sporting or musical prodigy. 

So I have reconciled myself to enjoying barely modest achievements in sport, music – and a host of other things.  Yet, what if my body prevented me from realising an aspiration that was fundamental to my being?  Would I accept my limitations so readily?

Such is the question faced by women wishing to start a family with a loving partner – but unable to do so for want of a womb capable of sustaining a growing baby?  Should such women set aside their hope to become a mother?  Should they become reconciled to their misfortune?  Or should they look to find alternative means to achieve the same end – but by other means; perhaps by seeking the support of another woman willing to act as a surrogate up to the time of birth?

One way to think about this suite of questions is to separate the ends from the means.  In this case, I would think that the aim of becoming a mother would not, of itself, be considered in any sense bad or wrong.  Even though the desire to start a family is as much for the sake of the parents as it is for the child, I think that it would be unfair to conclude that the hoped for child is merely a means to the end of satisfying the parents’ longing.  Rather, it is far more likely that any child will be loved and nurtured for its own sake.

What of the means to be employed?  Specifically, what we are contemplating here is the collection of one or more eggs from the infertile mother, the fertilisation of that egg in vitro using the father’s sperm followed by implantation of the fertilised egg into the womb of another woman who has given her free and informed consent to carry the child to term.  Within that womb the embryo will develop into a foetus, quicken and from there be delivered into the world.  Although the birth mother has the legal right to claim the child as her own, she will have agreed from the outset not to make such a claim.  Soon after, the child will be handed to his or her biological parents to be reared as their own.

It is in relation to these means that people sometimes raise objections.  Spurred by religious conviction about the role of God in conception and the sanctity of life, critics of In Vitro Fertilisation (IVF) argue that the mere fact that we have the scientific and technical capacity to overcome the problem does not mean that we should do so.  They say that infertility is a misfortune that must be borne. 

Defenders of IVF point to many uncontroversial examples where medical intervention ‘cheats fate’.  We accept the caesarean as a legitimate intervention to save a specific human life?  Why not allow medicine to assist in its creation?

Others object to surrogacy because the outcome of the process is uncertain.  As noted above, the birth mother has the legal right to claim a child as her own – even if she agreed, from the outset, to give over the child following birth.  It is for this reason that many urge that offers of surrogacy only be accepted from women who are members of the biological parents’ families.  In such circumstances, there is less chance of the fundamental agreements being unwound.

Such arrangements also help to ensure that the surrogacy is altruistic in character.  Although it is common for biological parents to ensure that the birth mother is compensated for costs directly incurred as a result of the pregnancy, many feel that no fee should be paid beyond this amount.  The idea of ‘renting a womb’ strikes many people as being in the same ethical area as the sale of organs for transplants – likely to lead to a distortion in people’s decision making, with the poor being driven to offer their services out of necessity.

Trying to look at such matters though the eyes of any resulting child is essential.  This gives rise to further questions.  Should children be told of the surrogacy – do they have a right to know the circumstances of their conception and birth?  If so, then are children likely to be indifferent to the basis under which the act of surrogacy was undertaken?  How might a child respond to the different circumstances of altruistic and commercial surrogacy? 

My guess (and it’s only a guess) is that, given a choice, most children would prefer to discover their origins in acts of love rather than acts of commerce.  I may be wrong.  In either case, what might this mean for women who, though no fault of themselves, can find no other woman who loves them enough to offer the gift of surrogacy?

I have outlined only a sample of the issues that need to be considered prior to any act of surrogacy.  These and other matters require careful consideration, which is why people contemplating this step need to ensure that they have sound, professional advice before proceeding.

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Dr Simon Longstaff is Executive Director of St James Ethics Centre.

This article was first published on www.ethics.org.au on 20 March 2007.

© St James Ethics Centre

© St James Ethics Centre