A recent article questioned the need for legislation prohibiting sex-selective abortion in New South Wales. At first glance, the article appears measured and evidence-based. On closer inspection, however, it reveals a deeper problem: an unwillingness to engage seriously with evidence that sex-selective abortion may be occurring in Australia.
The central claim of the article is that there is little evidence that sex-selective abortion is occurring. Yet this framing depends largely on conflating the absence of direct evidence with the absence of evidence altogether.
This distinction matters.
The largest and most recently published Australian study on the subject analysed more than two million births in New South Wales and Western Australia. The researchers found skewed sex ratios among some migrant populations that were consistent with patterns observed internationally where son preference and prenatal sex selection are known to occur. There have been several other population studies in the last five years that have come to similar conclusions.
Critics are quick to point out that the study provides only ‘indirect evidence’ and does not establish causality. That is true. It is also largely beside the point.
Population-level demographic studies do not produce direct evidence of individual motivations. They never have. Researchers analysing birth ratios cannot interview every parent or observe every decision leading to a pregnancy outcome. The evidence is indirect because of the nature of the research design.
The question is not whether the evidence is indirect. The question is whether there is a better explanation for the observed patterns.
The researchers themselves concluded that sex-selective abortion was the most likely explanation for the imbalances they observed among some overseas-born populations. Yet critics repeatedly emphasise the study’s limitations while rarely acknowledging its actual conclusions.
This is a curious standard. In many other areas of public policy, indirect demographic evidence is considered sufficient to justify concern, investigation, and intervention. Yet when it comes to sex-selective abortion, some commentators appear determined to treat anything short of a signed confession as insufficient.
Direct evidence is particularly difficult to obtain in this context. Australia does not generally record reasons for abortion. Moreover, sex-selective abortion is widely regarded as socially unacceptable. Few people engaging in a socially condemned practice are likely to openly advertise that fact.
This is precisely why demographic analysis matters.
The debate is further complicated by the widespread availability of early sex determination technology. Non-invasive prenatal testing now commonly includes fetal sex information and is used by a substantial proportion of pregnant women in several Australian jurisdictions. The technological means to facilitate sex-selective abortion clearly exists.
Yet rather than engage with this evidence, opponents of reform often pivot to a different argument: that restrictions would be difficult to enforce.
Perhaps they would.
But difficulty of enforcement has never been a sufficient reason to abandon legal standards. Many laws depend on proving motive, intent, or hidden conduct. Anti-discrimination laws, anti-corruption laws, and numerous criminal offences are notoriously difficult to enforce. Society maintains them not merely because every violation will be detected, but because laws communicate moral and social norms.
That principle is especially relevant here.
If Australians believe it is wrong to terminate a pregnancy solely because the child is a girl – or solely because the child is a boy – then it is entirely reasonable for legislation to reflect that view.
Some critics argue that such legislation would reintroduce medical gatekeeping and subject abortion decisions to scrutiny.
But medicine has always involved gatekeeping. Doctors routinely assess requests for treatment, evaluate motivations, discuss risks, obtain informed consent, and determine whether a proposed intervention is clinically and ethically appropriate. The idea that abortion alone should be exempt from meaningful scrutiny is itself a contested proposition.
Others argue that opposition to sex-selective abortion is simply part of a broader anti-abortion strategy.
Perhaps for some supporters it is.
Yet this observation tells us nothing about whether sex-selective abortion is right or wrong.
The campaign to liberalise abortion laws was also part of a broader political and social movement. Public policy should be judged on its merits, not on the broader goals of its supporters.
Most revealing of all is the language used by critics of the legislation. Much attention is devoted to criticising terminology such as ‘unborn baby’, ‘mother’, and ‘girl’. We are told that such language humanises the fetus and reflects a particular worldview.
Of course it does.
But so does the language used by abortion advocates. Terms such as ‘fetus’, ‘termination of pregnancy’, and ‘reproductive healthcare’ are not morally neutral either. Every side in this debate uses language that reflects underlying assumptions about the nature of pregnancy, parenthood, and human life.
The difference is that one side’s language is frequently described as ideological while the other’s is presented as objective.
At its heart, this debate is not about demography, linguistics, or legislative drafting.
It is about whether an unborn child has any moral significance independent of the wishes of others.
For those who believe that every human life possesses inherent value, sex-selective abortion is not merely another reproductive choice. It is discrimination carried to its logical and lethal conclusion.
Australians should be able to discuss that reality openly.
The existence of new evidence should not be dismissed because it is inconvenient. Nor should reasonable concerns about sex-selective abortion be caricatured as prejudice, extremism, or merely a vehicle for some broader political agenda.
A civilised society can oppose sex discrimination and value unborn human life at the same time.
Indeed, it is difficult to see why it should do otherwise.
Ms Naomi Bunker is a Registered Nurse and an Executive member of Pro-life Health Professionals Australia (PHPA).
Dr Melissa Lai is a senior Neonatologist and the President of PHPA.
