Should we now trace sperm donor fathers?

ONE of the most striking aspects of the adoption scandal is how for many of the adoptees, the devastation caused by the discovery of their origins continued so long into adulthood. Born between 1946 and 1969, even the youngest of those who were forcibly, or otherwise, taken from their natural mothers are now middle-aged, but like Susan Kiernan who was born in 1949, they still talk of a crisis of identity and about the shadow it cast over their lives.

Katherine Zappone’s audit of adoption records by Tusla, a feat which the organisation says they have not the resources for, recognises the importance of genetic origins as a cornerstone of our identity.

Of course that wasn’t the thinking of the day back when St Patrick’s Guild were arranging adoptions. Back then the priority was to protect the anonymity of the birth parent, and in our Church dominated State, to provide Catholic homes for the babies. The idea that a child had rights was unheard of; babies were like commodities, shifted between homes and parents with no insight into how the secrecy surrounding their birth might later haunt them.

Our haste to compensate for that retrospectively is interesting, particularly given the timebomb that could be heading our way thanks to surrogacy and assisted human reproduction.

SINCE the birth of Louise Brown, the first test-tube baby, thousands of babies have been born here for whom, like adopted babies, the connection with their genetic parents is severed. Until recently little thought was given to their rights. Individual countries even disagree about whether the interests of the child or parent should prevail. Britain outlawed anonymous sperm and egg donation in 2005, while Spain guarantees anonymity.

Assisted human reproduction is a godsend for couples with fertility problems, as well as for samesex couples.

Their children are so longed-for and loved that ethical questions often fall by the wayside.

It’s also the case that the unanimity of adoption reformers about the right to information about one’s genetic origins is not shared by the fertility industry. Dr David Walsh of the SIMS clinic claims ‘there is no long-term evidence on the beneficial effects of legally enforced identifiable donation’.

Another Irish fertility doctor describes as ‘arbitrary and unproven’ the belief that a donorconceived child has a right to identify, or meet, his or her donor that supersedes the rights of the parents to privacy and autonomy.

INDEED the opposition of fertility doctors to greater regulation of the donor industry helps explain why we have no law on surrogacy and a delay in enacting the Children and Family Relationships Bill 2015. This means assisted human reproduction exists in limbo here.

Surrogacy happens in this country but it is not governed by law. A Supreme Court ruling in a case brought by a genetic mother of twins whose sister gave birth to them as surrogate, confirmed that only women who give birth can be recognised on birth certificates.

Between adoption reformers and the fertility industry, the jury may be out on whether the rights of children to their genetic heritage is a meaningless fad – or a fundamental right. But one thing is certain; if we want to prevent another scandal similar to that about adoption, we cannot allow an industry that creates human life continue without regulation.