The United Nations has released a report on surrogacy, and its conclusion is stark: all forms—commercial and altruistic alike—violate human rights. The UN Special Rapporteur on violence against women and girls calls for the practice to be banned worldwide, warning that even “altruistic” arrangements expose women to exploitation and harm.

So what relevance does this have for New Zealand, a nation with its own laws? While commercial surrogacy is illegal here, we do allow “altruistic” surrogacy, where women cannot be paid beyond basic expenses. Yet as a signatory to UN human-rights treaties, New Zealand has pledged to protect the dignity of women and children. This report challenges us to ask whether our laws on surrogacy truly reflect these commitments.

In New Zealand, surrogacy takes two main forms. In gestational surrogacy, another couple’s embryo is implanted into a woman’s womb. With traditional surrogacy, the woman becomes pregnant with a child who is biologically her own but carried for others. In both cases, the outcome is the same: a baby is passed from one mother to another immediately after birth.

For many women, the desire to help others is genuine—and the longing of couples to hold a child of their own is deeply human. Even so, the UN warns that surrogacy is medically high-risk, often involving fertility treatment and strong hormones that have lasting effects. Women face elevated risks of complications such as preeclampsia, postpartum depression, anxiety, and trauma. When the moment of birth arrives, a surge of maternal hormones prepares her to bond—but instead of holding her baby, she must hand the child away.

What begins as an act of kindness can leave lasting pain. Consent and altruism alone don’t make a practice ethical.

One surrogate mother from the US said she felt controlled and objectified throughout her pregnancy saying, “The entire experience dehumanised me.” Her only wish—to see the baby she carried after it was born—was denied. In New Zealand, surrogate mothers have voiced similar feelings of lost dignity, saying their needs were overlooked and their sacrifice went unrecognised.

Such risks don’t disappear when money is absent. Altruism can make women even more vulnerable. Those motivated by compassion for friends or relatives may underestimate the emotional toll or feel pressure to begin the process even when uneasy. What begins as an act of kindness can leave lasting pain. Consent and altruism alone don’t make a practice ethical.

The child’s welfare is another neglected dimension. The woman who carries a baby for nine months is the only person that child has ever known. Attachment theory shows that breaking that bond at birth can have lasting psychological consequences. Even in loving families, separation leaves a mark. Every child has a right to be born into a relationship of care, not a contract of exchange. This is where adoption and surrogacy differ: the former responds to the loss of parents, the latter creates it.

Compassion for couples who cannot conceive is understandable. Children are a blessing, but they’re not an entitlement. As a nation that’s pledged to uphold human dignity, New Zealand must ask whether any practice that treats women’s bodies and babies as transferable commodities can ever align with that principle. Our laws should reflect that moral reality.