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One month into South Korea’s Protected Birth Bill: the Smiles and the Tears

Any mother may face a crisis when safe options for pregnancy, birth, and childcare support are out of reach.

August 19, 2024

Last month, South Korea implemented a sweeping new policy aimed at supporting mothers facing severe economic, psychological, and physical challenges. The Protected Birth Bill, launched on July 19, allows women in crisis to give birth anonymously, a measure touted as a way to “improve the welfare of both biological parents and their children” (Article 1, Special Act on Support for Crisis Pregnancies, Anonymous Births, and Child Protection). Yet, just a month in, it’s becoming clear that bill’s promises come with significant trade-offs. So, who truly benefits from this policy, and who risks being left behind?

Those Who Smile

The Ministry of Health and Welfare didn’t hesitate to broadcast the new measure across the country, partnering with the Korean Pharmaceutical Association to circulate flyers about the 24-hour crisis pregnancy hotline, “1308,” through a network of 25,000 pharmacies. Outreach also extended to 544 OB/GYN clinics, 246 public health centers, 244 family centers, 22 youth centers, 5,719 middle and high schools, and 409 university counseling centers.

The media campaign, complete with smiling officials holding posters urging “Don’t face an unexpected pregnancy or childbirth alone. Call 1308,” adds to the visible push. Speaking on the measure, First Vice Minister of Health and Welfare Lee Ki-il commented with a sense of achievement, “Already, 13 people have applied for protected birth. In other words, we may have saved the lives of 13 children” (KBS News, August 8, 2024).

But behind the numbers lie difficult questions. Was it valid to assume that all 13 women would have opted to terminate their pregnancies without this program? Even more curious is whether these 13 expectant mothers, now labeled as potential infant killers, truly smiled after choosing the program, and if the babies born through this system would indeed be able to grow up with the same bright smiles as those promoting the 1308 hotline.

Those Who Cry

The Protected Birth Bill’s framework suggests a different reality. Under this policy, a mother is pushed into a rushed, irreversible decision that permanently separates her from her child and erases her personal information, leaving the child without any link to their origins. The architects of this so-called 'protection' have failed to establish structured counseling or account for the complex needs that arise. It seems doubtful that they considered the lasting trauma for mothers or the enduring impacts on children denied knowledge of their identity, raising questions about who this bill truly serves.

Mothers who relinquish their babies often experience what is known as “birthmother syndrome,” a form of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) associated with lifelong struggles, including depression, self-destructive behaviors, diminished self-esteem, and various unexplained physical symptoms.

For children, the loss of information about their birth families and origins is equally significant. Since the Korean War, over 200,000 Korean children have been sent abroad for adoption, and many, as adults, now return to Korea, searching for fragments of their past. Known as “adoptee returnees,” hundreds (although there are no official statistics) come back each year, seeking even the smallest trace of their birth families, yet most return with little more than unanswered questions.

Domestic adoptees share similar sentiments, reporting that a lack of knowledge about their birth or biological families leaves them with an irreparable void, a profound sense of emptiness, and intense frustration. It doesn’t take much to discover countless pleas from adoptees, both domestic and international, urging relevant agencies and authorities to record and preserve information and protect their right to access details about their origins. Yet the state has persistently turned a deaf ear. It seems the Protected Birth Bill was born from this very climate of neglect, a policy that, rather than bringing smiles, may only add to the tears of vulnerable mothers and children growing up with no trace of where they began.

▲ When there are no secure options for pregnancy termination, birth, and child-rearing support, any mother can face a crisis.

The Promises and Pitfalls of the Protected Birth Bill

While government officials tally and celebrate the number of mothers who chose anonymous birth, we must ask ourselves whether these numbers define success. As noted in this column's previous article, the UK has taken a firm stance on child abandonment, pairing strict legal measures with comprehensive support systems for mothers in crisis, expectant women, and low-income families.

However, these measures evolved through a complex history of change and reform. From the 1950s to the 1970s, social stigma against unwed mothers in the UK fueled a widespread culture of secret adoptions. This began to shift in the 1970s, when a movement for adoption reform gained momentum. Mothers forced to part with their babies, adoptees unable to access birth information, as well as scholars, officials, and advocates all raised their voices, advocating for greater transparency. Over time, adoption practices began to open up as research highlighted the negative effects on children denied access to their origins.

By 1975, adoptees over 18 gained the right to access their original birth certificates, and in 1986, the UK established its first post-adoption support center. According to Half a Million Women: Mothers Who Lose Their Children by Adoption (1992), this center offered mothers who had relinquished children decades earlier a space to finally confront their grief.

Three years later, in 1989, the UK further expanded support by introducing the Adoption Contact Register, enabling adoptees and birth parents to register for potential reunions. Once a ‘mother-child relationship’ is verified, the Registrar General notifies the adoptee, facilitating reconnection. Today, “The idea that it is normal, to be expected and encouraged, for adopted people to seek information about themselves has gradually gained ground.” (ibid.).

By contrast, South Korea’s system of protected birth is cloaked in words like “crisis,” “protection,” and “support.” Yet, at its core, it often only “protects” maternal anonymity and “supports” anonymous births. It must recognize that any mother may face a crisis when safe options for pregnancy, birth, and childcare support are out of reach.

Separating a child from a mother in crisis, whether through adoption or institutional care, may provide temporary relief but risks significant long-term harm for both. It’s time to reconsider who really benefits and re-evaluate what “protection” and “support” should mean.

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This column, written by Hee Jung Kwon, director of UMI4AA, was adapted from an article published on OhmyNews on August 19, 2024.

“One month into South Korea’s Protected Birth Bill: the Smiles and the Tears” – OhmyNews (ohmynews.com)