Introduction

Surrogacy has existed for millennia, but its modern incarnation, powered by both IVF, and global agencies with cross-border arrangements, has become a billion-dollar industry. In 2022 alone, it was valued at US$14 billion, with forecasts predicting a staggering US$129 billion by 2032. Yet, behind the headlines of booming growth lie complex ethical questions. Is surrogacy a story of empowerment, or one of exploitation? And what can Australians, who are bound by some of the world’s strictest altruistic surrogacy laws, learn from these global debates?

Body

“What we’re essentially doing is exploiting almost all of the surrogate mothers who do it because they’re poor,” argues Professor Margaret Somerville of the University of Notre Dame. Her view reflects a growing unease about commercial surrogacy in countries where women’s rights and protections may be weak. Reports of “baby farms” in India, forced motherhood in Cambodia, and human trafficking in Greece have fuelled fears that surrogacy can slide into exploitation when profit overrides ethics.

But others see a different story — one of agency and choice.
“For a woman to be told that she cannot carry a child and then hand it over to somebody else … really undermines her bodily autonomy,” says Melbourne lawyer and former surrogate Sarah Jefford. She describes her own experience as “empowering”, not exploitative.

This divide lies at the heart of surrogacy’s ethical tension. For some, the act is a profound expression of generosity and control over one’s own body; for others, it risks turning pregnancy into labour-for-hire.

Australia’s surrogacy landscape reflects these competing values. Commercial surrogacy is banned nationwide, leaving only altruistic arrangements where surrogates can be reimbursed for expenses but not paid for their time. Yet the demand far outweighs the supply. In 2022, 131 babies were born via surrogacy in Australia and New Zealand, compared with 213 Australian babies born through international surrogacy — nearly a third of them in the United States, where commercial arrangements can cost upwards of A$250,000.

This imbalance pushes many Australians to look overseas, sometimes to unregulated countries where safeguards for women and children are weaker. As Jefford notes, “We have so much against commercial surrogacy in Australia, [but] I think we need to have the conversation, rather than just shutting it down.”

Both Jefford and Dr Grace Kao, a Californian academic who was herself a surrogate, argue that limited compensation could make surrogacy more sustainable at home — for example, a capped payment of $1,000 a month recognising the physical labour involved. “We pay people to go into the mines,” Jefford points out, “so why not pay women for the time involved in pregnancy?”

Conclusion

For Australian surrogates and intended parents, this global conversation matters deeply. Every story of exploitation abroad influences public perception, policy, and the willingness of local women to help others create families. The question isn’t simply whether surrogacy is right or wrong — it’s how to make it ethical, safe, and emotionally sustainable.

As the industry grows, so too does the need for nuanced regulation and honest discussion. Empowerment and exploitation are not opposites; they often coexist. Australia’s challenge will be to create systems that recognise both the gift and the labour of surrogacy — before more families feel forced to look elsewhere.

Source: ABC News – Surrogacy is a booming business. Some say it’s ‘empowering’, others believe it exploits women