As a move that could redefine the international adoption landscape, China has closed its doors to foreign adopters, leaving many to wonder: what does this say about the value of a child’s life in global society?
On Aug. 28, a landmark decision was announced by the Chinese government. Foreign couples were no longer allowed to adopt children from China. More than 160,000 Chinese children have been adopted by foreign couples since
1992. Amongst them, 82,674 ended up in the
United States.
The message from the Communist Party is clear: a newborn is now viewed as a resource instead of a burden in China. But I also find it disturbingly dehumanizing – equating human beings with machines rather than lives deserving of individual agency.
The Foreign Ministry spokesperson, Mao Ning, only gave one explanation, saying that ending foreign adoption is “in line with the spirit of relevant international
covenants”. China is a member state of the Hague Convention. Intercountry adoptions have been declining over the past decade as countries tighten their adoption policies, partly driven by fear of fraud and child abuse.
Apart from the stricter international rules, the end of the adoption scheme is also driven by supply and demand. The number of registered adoption cases in China has dropped from 55,802 cases in 2000 to 8,432 cases in
2022. More importantly, domestic adoptions now make up nearly 90% of all adoptions in
China. Adoptees no longer have to be plucked from their home cultures and raised in foreign countries where they may not quite fit in, feeling like those rare Asian characters in movies. Banning foreign adoptions may put an end to the lifelong search for who they are and where they belong.
However, what propels the Chinese government to make this decision is today´s demographic crisis, which is absolutely a hangover from the draconian one-child policy of its own making. In 2023, the fertility rate hit a record low of 1.2, far below the 2.1 rate needed for population
stability. Big cities see even lower rates. In Shanghai, the recorded fertility rate has shrunk to as low as
0.7. Coupled with the rapidly aging population, the population is likely to drop below 1 billion by 2100 (Pew Research Center).
While ending foreign adoptions seems more symbolic than practical in addressing China’s demographic crisis, it reflects a deeper shift in the government’s stance in seeing children as national assets in a time of population decline.
Indeed, the government has made numerous pro-natalist attempts, such as lifting the limits on the number of children couples can have, offering cash to new parents to ease their financial strain, and even promoting collective weddings.
What also remains interesting is that more young people view not giving birth as an expression of freedom and a personal choice. Some of them simply do not want to give birth to another victim of a seemingly authoritarian regime. Perhaps what should precede an adoption ban is socio-political reform.
The bottom line is that making demographic policies is hard. Having or adopting children is a family decision. A government adopting a hardline approach to private decisions can deprive individuals of the agency to envision and build the families they want to have, which is patronizing and unsettling. Unless policymakers fully acknowledge the faults of the system – the commodification of babies, the enduring focus on the economic value of human beings, and the flawed assumption that they have no emotions or feelings – the legacy of this adoption scheme will remain raw and cruel.
Isabella Ying is Deputy Opinion Editor. Email them at feedback@thegazelle.org.