
by Mark Stephenson
| Issue: | 25,2004 | Page: | 6-8 |
|
Abstract: |
The current Law Commission
review |
| Keywords: | Paternity, Law Commission |
You
probably remember a man who helped you
tie your shoelaces, or played football with you, or told really stupid
jokes at
the dinner table. I expect you called him ‘Dad’. Some may have no
memories of a
‘Dad’ but they still have a father somewhere, in their genes and in
their
consciousness.
What is
it, in essence, that makes a
man your father? What makes you a father in your turn?
Is it
the genes you pass on to your
children? Is it the act of transferring semen, however that might
occur? Or is
it the love and care expended over the lifetime of a child?
For many
people it is all of these
things. However, for an increasing number of people not all the above
apply.
Picture
this: your father makes love
with your mother one Sunday afternoon and you are conceived.
Twenty-four hours
later he is killed in a car crash. You are born and your mother forms a
relationship with a man who raises you with all the love and care he
gives to
his genetic children, your older brothers and sisters. You notice you
are the
only one in the family with blond hair and a big nose. You begin to
wonder…
Do you
have a right to know your
roots? Surely, yes, in this instance.
The man
who helped make you would have
loved you. His whole family will also bear you love, simply because of
who you
are. They belong to you and you belong to them.
Legally,
you have a right to
information about your parents.
There
are implications for health:
geneticists say we are on the brink of a revolution in terms of
diagnosis and
treatment of medical conditions carried in our genes.
You may
wish to be assured your chosen
partner for life is not a half-sister or a cousin.
Psychologically,
it is important to
know your own identity.
In this
example the law ‘assumes’ the
man who begat you is your father. The man who brought you up has no
parental
rights automatically but can gain ‘guardianship’ with the same rights
and
responsibilities. However these rights can be revoked by the courts,
and only
continue till the child is eighteen. They do not give the child
inheritance
rights.
There is
a legal ‘presumption of
paternity’ that a man is the father of a child born to his wife during
the
marriage and up to 10 months after legal dissolution. Where the couple
are not
married there is no such presumption. Both parents must sign the
registration
form confirming he is the father. This law reflects the old model of a
nuclear
family, and was designed to protect children from the stigma of
illegitimacy.
What if neither
of your parents are
genetically related to you?
In
adoption, the law removes legal
parenthood from the birth mother, and father, and gives it to the
couple who
will raise the child - the ‘social parents’. With it go legal
guardianship and
all rights and responsibilities. As the child, you have a legal right
to find
out about your genetic parents. The Child, Youth and Family Dept. have
a duty
to help you when you turn twenty.
Surrogacy
is different, and the law
has yet to be formulated to deal with it. At the moment, the birth
mother and
her male partner are legally the parents. The couple who asked her to
carry
‘their’ child, the ‘commissioning couple’, have no rights or
responsibilities
in law. Often in surrogacy arrangements, the social father is also the
genetic
father. In other words he has ‘donated’ sperm. He is a genetic and
social
father who has no parental rights.
You, the
child, have no automatic
right to find out about your genetic parents. Neither your social
parents nor
any agency has a legal duty to inform you or help you find them.
How
about if you grew up with two
mothers and your father was a turkey-baster? In this situation your
father, as
a sperm donor, has no rights or responsibilities as a parent. Neither
does your
‘other’ mother.
Often in
these arrangements, the
father is a friend and may have ongoing contact with you, whether you
know it
or not.
A father
does not have to be named on
the birth certificate. Some people are quite open about the
arrangement, but
the law gives no rights to you, as the child, to find your genetic
father. This
is against the United Nations declaration that a child has the right to
know
his parents and his origins.
How much
does a child have a right to
know? What responsibilities do ‘other’
mothers have, e.g. in terms of child support when the couple splits up?
Shouldn’t the child’s rights be the same whoever has been parenting
them?
Let’s
say your mother ran away with
the circus and you grew up with two fathers. Now your mother is absent
and your
genetic father may not be legally your father (e.g., if he wasn’t
living with
your mother). Your ‘other’ father has no rights as a parent, or
automatic
guardianship, in spite of having raised you as any father would. You
have a
right to find out about your mother, naturally, but there is no
compulsion, in
law, for your fathers to tell you.
The
present law makes assumptions. It
assumes a child will have two parents of opposite sexes. It can’t cope
with
situations where there are more than two people with parental influence
or
rights. It doesn’t cope with same sex couples (though this is set to
change in
the Care of Children Bill). It doesn’t uphold the rights of children to
know
their origins, even as adults.
This
last point is important. There is
a growing body of evidence that knowledge of one’s origins is important
for a
sense of identity and experiencing a fulfilled life. Many people who
have been
adopted make contact with the birth mother. Perhaps all adoptees think
about
their genetic parents and wonder who they were and what they were like.
People
who grow up without fathers,
for whatever reason, are curious and often try to contact them when
they reach
adulthood. Children of sperm donors have
similar ideas. A study in the US found
they had feelings of inadequacy, incomplete identity and lack of
belonging.
They also criticised the lack of open-ness of their social parents.
Their trust
was damaged. There is a move in some countries to make it possible, as
a right,
to trace your sperm donor father.
In Maori
tradition, and in other
Polynesian communities, the importance of your whakapapa, and where you
come
from in terms of place and family links, goes without saying. Other
family
members often adopt children, either temporarily or permanently. The
idea of
the natural parents possessing a child is repugnant. The child belongs
to the
community. Adoption outside the whanau or iwi is rare, as the child
would be
considered vulnerable.
The law
is blind to these
arrangements. They are not illegal; simply outside its scope. The
principles of
Maori customary law are: open-ness, placement in the family, and
whakapapa.
Usually an adopted child knows their ‘real’ parents, who have frequent
contact
and input into decisions about their welfare.
There
are different ways of doing
things but it seems we all need to know who we are. Our ancestors are
part of
that picture. Many of us have family stories we love to hear - a great
grandfather who ran away to sea at fifteen and sailed round the world,
a
distant relative who fought at the battle of Trafalgar, a Dutch
relative who
survived the German occupation in the 1940’s. Some have tales of
arrival in New
Zealand by waka or by steamship. These stories make up the fabric of
our
identity.
How
should our identity be recorded,
as required by law? At present nearly seven per cent of birth
certificates do
not have the father’s name on them. At the same time, up to ten per
cent of
children live with men assumed to be their fathers but who are not
genetically
related to them. In the new Care of Children Bill, a ‘donor’ father
will have
no parental status, not even a genetic one, even if he has a parental
role
alongside two lesbian mothers (please note that custody is not disputed
in this
example, merely parenthood). The child will have no right to that
father.
The
birth certificate could be a less
flimsy document. There could be a requirement to record a father on the
certificate, or the method of conception, or a list of all those
involved,
whether genetic donation of sperm or ova, carrying the child for
others, or
those intending to raise the child. Another idea is a central registry
of
genetic background, a ‘private’ birth certificate, as well as a limited
public
one as now.
Should
parents be forced, by law, to
tell their children the true manner of their conception? Or is it a
parent’s
right to decide what’s best for their child? Who is a parent, anyway?
Where
there is a discrepancy between
genetic and social parents, e.g., in surrogacy arrangements, the law
could make
parental rights and responsibilities clear, as well as recording
details of
ancestry.
The Law
Commission is concerned the
present law is not adequate and has produced a discussion document,
‘New Issues
in Legal Parenthood’, which can be seen at www.lawcom.govt.nz (check out ‘new publications’). It covers a
whole range of scenarios where parenthood is ambiguous, or the law
doesn’t
reflect the real situation. It discusses issues about birth
certificates, as
well as the law concerning paternity testing. They are keen to receive
feedback
and submissions from groups or individuals before making
recommendations to
parliament. They will even meet with interested groups to discuss their
concerns.
No law
would be perfect for every
case. However, it could set a standard of open-ness, recognise
children’s
rights to identity, and reflect real social situations a lot better
than at
present.
Perhaps
we have a right to our ‘Dad’.
Whether he is still living with us, or we never knew him; whether he
loved our
mother, or was an anonymous donor of genes; he is still part of us.