[Series] The Evolution Continues. Sex, Love, and FamilyㅣEpisode 6

The Bait of “Counseling” and the Trap of “Protection”

Through President Yoon Suk-yeol’s Protected Birth Bill, shadows of a darker adoption past are stirring back to life.

October 2, 2024

The Beginning

A dive into Naver News Library, a news archive from a major South Korean search engine, reveals the sudden emergence of the term “unwed mother” in late 1960s media. Almost overnight, unwed mothers were portrayed as a social problem, with headlines warning of their rising numbers and linking the trend to urbanization, industrialization, and sexual promiscuity. In response, prominent voices across society called for measures to “protect” and “prevent” unwed motherhood, while adoption quickly became the endorsed solution for the children of these mothers.

It was during this period that the Christian Adoption Program of Korea (Han'guk Kidokkyo Yangjahoe; CAPK) introduced South Korea’s first counseling services for unwed mothers in 1969. Led by E. Elvinah Spoelstra, CAPK’s director and a social worker from the Christian Reformed World Relief Committee, the program aimed to “address the problem of children born of sexual indiscretion.” As she prepared to return to America after her directorship in 1971, Spoelstra reflected,

“I came to help establish a domestic adoption system, and now that it’s successfully in place, I trust that Koreans will carry it forward with care” (Chosun Ilbo, “Pleased to See Successful Specialization of Domestic Adoption Program in Korea - Placing 15,000 Children for Adoption,” Kyŏlyŏn Saŏp (Kungnae Ibyang) Chŏnmunhwa Sŏnggong Kippŏ, Kŏch’ŏnagan Ibyang’a 1,500 Myŏng, November 3, 1971).

In recognition of her contributions, Saessakhoe, under the Director Yoon Seok Jung, awarded Spoelstra the 16th Sopa Bang Jung Hwan Award. Her work included “establishing a counseling office for unwed mothers within CAPK, working closely with the Ministry of Health and Social Affairs, and collaborating with legal and social welfare leaders to help draft Korea’s first domestic adoption law.” Spoelstra’s efforts “made a significant contribution” toward creating a system that would place children of unwed mothers with adoptive families.

Counseling for Unwed Mothers and a Surge in Adoptions

Following Spoelstra’s departure, CAPK continued counseling services and domestic adoption initiatives for unwed mothers and their children. A 1972 Donga Ilbo report noted, “Measures are being explored to guide unwed mothers who, through a single mistake, have ruined their lives, and to secure loving homes for their children, who deserve warmth and care.” Statistics from CAPK Unwed Mothers’ Counseling Department show a dramatic rise in counseling requests: 15 cases in 1967, 27 in 1968, 73 in 1969, 235 in 1970, and 349 in 1971. By July of 1972, CAPK had already seen 236 cases, with over 400 projected by year’s end. If a mother chose adoption, the program facilitated placements domestically and internationally, arranging 27 adoptions in 1968, 73 in 1969, 178 in 1970, 194 in 1971, and 98 by July 1972 alone (Donga Ilbo, “Statistics from CAPK Counseling Department Show Rise in Unwed Mothers, “ Kidokkyo Yangjahoe Sangdam-bu T’onggye, Mihonmo-ga Nŭlŏgago Itda,” November 21, 1972).

As CAPK’s unwed mother adoption program grew, so did government interest. In 1972, South Korea’s four main international adoption agencies—Holt Children’s Services, Korea Welfare Services, Eastern Social Welfare Society, and Korea Social Service—followed suit, launching counseling programs, ostensibly to “protect” unwed mothers and their children. The result was an unprecedented surge in adoptions throughout the 1970s.

Statistics reveal an overwhelming increase: domestic adoptions of children born to unwed mothers rose almost tenfold from 1,163 in the 1960s to 9,075 in the 1970s, while international adoptions grew from 1,304 to 17,627 in the same period, a nearly fourteenfold rise. These staggering figures suggest that the so-called “counseling” and “protection” of unwed mothers effectively served as bait and net, drawing them into the adoption system that would take their babies to be adopted out. The surge in adoptions showed no sign of slowing, even as the Park Chung Hee administration faced criticism from North Korea, labeling South Korea a “nation that sells its babies.” Under Chun Doo-hwan’s government, international adoption was fully liberalized, reaching the highest numbers in Korean history, with over 90% of the children sent abroad were born to unwed mothers.

The ”unwed mother” frame and rhetoric extended even to children from impoverished families, who were sometimes rebranded as “abandoned children of unwed mothers,” creating false orphan identities to send them for adoption. Since the late 1990s, when adoptees began returning to Korea in search of their birth information, countless cases have continually surfaced, exposing instances of manipulated birth records. The counseling services for unwed mothers, initially presented as a form of protection, ultimately severed ties between unwed mothers and their children while also depriving both them and children from low-income families of the fundamental right to know and remain with their biological families.

The Resonating Narrative of “Protection”

Just as the term “unwed mother” emerged half a century ago, framing these women as social problems, a new label has now surfaced in media discourse: “pregnant women in crisis.” This term similarly casts these women as potential perpetrators of infant abandonment or infanticide. Alongside this narrative, the rhetoric of “protecting” both mothers and their children has gained traction, culminating in the sudden passage of the Protected Birth Bill in October 2023. This bill permits women experiencing “crisis” pregnancies due to economic, psychological, or physical hardships to relinquish their newborns anonymously and without legal consequence. In response, sixteen crisis pregnancy counseling centers have rapidly opened nationwide.

The Protected Birth Bill raises fundamental questions: if women face economic, psychological, or physical hardship, why not address these issues directly instead of institutionalizing child relinquishment? Framing this as “protection” is a misdirection, evading real solutions and offering an almost absurdly detached fix. The bill shifts cases from private acts of abandonment to state-controlled relinquishment, yet the outcomes remain the same as children are funneled into adoption or state care while core issues are ignored.

Early data hints at a troubling, familiar pattern. Within the bill's first month, 419 consultations led to 16 protected births. Ten days later, consultations surged to 697, with protected births reaching 21. It is all too easy to foresee a continual rise in both consultations and protected births. Half a century ago, South Korea pursued an institutionalized approach to managing unwed mothers, subjecting them to state-run counseling, confining them in shelters, and ultimately sending hundreds of thousands of their children overseas for adoption. It seems that this shadowed chapter of South Korea’s adoption history is returning under President Yoon Suk-yeol’s Protected Birth Bill, reviving unsettling questions about the direction of current policy.

The Bait of “Counseling” and the Trap of “Protection”

On even a cursory glance, South Korea’s Protected Birth Bill presents serious ethical and legal concerns.

First, once a pregnant woman in crisis decides on protected birth, this choice becomes permanent after a one-week grace period, regardless of her circumstances. Even with a stable partner, pregnancy often creates overwhelming vulnerability. Western countries, recognizing this, have banned adoption consents signed under emotional distress; in the UK, for instance, an adoption agreement signed within six weeks postpartum is considered invalid.

Second, the right to know one’s birth information is fundamental to human identity. Depriving individuals of their origins inflicts a profound crisis of self. Identity is as essential to survival as life itself. “Saving a life” through protected birth comes at a tremendous cost when that life is severed from its roots, leaving an incomplete existence.

Third, should a biological father or family member wish to raise the child, the bill provides no clear pathway to secure their rights.

In addition to these ethical and legal issues, government support measures for psychological counseling, housing, medical care, and basic needs for women in crisis remain stagnant, yet a budget of 540 million KRW has been allocated solely to “emergency protection support” for infants born through protected birth. Starting next year, local governments will receive one million KRW annually for each child born under the Protected Birth Bill. However, without policies to address the underlying crises these women face, counseling alone risks funneling more newborns into the protected birth system.

The government attempts to temper concerns surrounding protected birth by framing it as the last resort for pregnant women in crisis, often highlighting cases where counseling has helped women to withdraw from the protected birth and choose parenting instead. However, without comprehensive policies that support pregnancy, childbirth, and parenting for all—regardless of marital status—women in crisis are left with difficult choices. A woman in crisis is left to either be persuaded into parenthood, donning the weighty mantle of motherhood and risking the pull of poverty as she embraces the path of raising her child, or to choose protected birth and endure the lasting guilt of being labeled a mother who abandoned her child.

It is imperative for the government, legislators, the National Center for the Rights of the Child, and social welfare professionals to remember that their role is not to intervene between a mother in crisis and her child, but to address the root crises that pregnant women face. The Protected Birth Bill risks leaving lasting trauma on both mother and child. It is time to enhance support for crisis pregnancies, births, and parenting, safeguarding both the reproductive rights of women in crisis and children’s right to know their origins. This bill must be revised to reflect a commitment to real support, with funds directed not toward institutions or facilities, but toward the individuals whose lives they are meant to touch.

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This column, written by Hee Jung Kwon, director of UMI4AA, was adapted from an article published on OhmyNews on October 2, 2024.

“The Bait of “Counseling” and the Trap of “Protection”” – OhmyNews (ohmynews.com)