When The Law Is Silent, Everyone Suffers: Why Nigeria Needs A Surrogacy Act Now

By Olaronke Ugwueke-Thaddeus

Nigeria’s surrogacy sector is growing rapidly. Fertility clinics are expanding, reproductive technology is advancing, and more families — both within and outside Nigeria — are turning to surrogacy as a path to parenthood. Yet despite this growth, one critical element remains absent: a clear legal framework.

That silence in the law is no longer sustainable.

After more than a decade of working within Nigeria’s surrogacy space, facilitating gestational surrogacy arrangements and advocating for ethical reproductive practices, it has become increasingly clear that the absence of federal legislation does not create freedom or flexibility. Instead, it creates uncertainty, vulnerability, and, in some cases, coercion for everyone involved.

Surrogate mothers, intending parents, fertility practitioners, and agencies are all operating within a system where there is no comprehensive statutory protection. Agreements are governed largely by private contracts without explicit legal recognition or enforcement mechanisms under Nigerian law. In such an environment, disputes become difficult to resolve fairly, welfare standards vary widely, and vulnerable parties can easily be exposed to exploitation.

The issue is not merely about individual misconduct. The deeper problem is legislative silence.

In countries where surrogacy is properly regulated, the law clearly defines the rights and responsibilities of all parties before any arrangement begins. Compensation structures are transparent, informed consent procedures are mandatory, welfare protections are enforceable, and dispute resolution systems are established. Nigeria currently lacks these safeguards at a national level.

The consequences are serious.

A surrogate mother may enter an arrangement without independent legal representation or a full understanding of her rights. She may lack guaranteed medical, psychological, or post-birth support. At the same time, intending parents may also face uncertainty — including disputes over financial terms, medical cooperation, or legal documentation required for parental recognition.

In the absence of legislation, everyone becomes vulnerable.

This legal vacuum also raises important international human rights concerns. Nigeria ratified the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) in 1985, committing itself to protecting women from exploitation and ensuring equal access to healthcare, including reproductive healthcare. Yet four decades later, there is still no comprehensive legal framework governing one of the country’s fastest-growing reproductive sectors.

CEDAW requires states to take appropriate measures to prevent exploitation of women and eliminate discriminatory practices. Similarly, the UN Palermo Protocol calls for systems that distinguish ethical reproductive arrangements from exploitative ones, while protecting vulnerable persons through enforceable standards and accountability mechanisms.

Legislative silence, therefore, is not neutral. It represents a failure to provide the protections these international obligations require.

Nigeria now has an opportunity to lead rather than react.

A Nigerian Surrogacy Act should establish clear legal recognition for surrogacy agreements and define the rights and obligations of all parties involved. It should mandate psychological assessments, independent legal counsel, medical monitoring, and post-birth welfare support for surrogate mothers. Compensation structures should be transparent, agreed upon in advance, and legally protected from arbitrary changes.

Equally important is the need for proper regulation of practitioners and agencies. Licensing and accreditation systems would help eliminate unregulated operators and create a more transparent, accountable sector. Specialised reproductive law tribunals or dispute-resolution mechanisms could also provide swift and confidential handling of sensitive cases.

The law must further criminalise coercive practices in all forms — whether directed at surrogate mothers, intending parents, or facilitated by unethical intermediaries.

While awaiting legislation, many ethical practitioners have already begun implementing standards that should eventually become law. In responsible agencies, surrogate mothers undergo psychological screening before participation, parties are encouraged to obtain independent legal advice, welfare monitoring continues throughout the pregnancy, and compensation agreements are clearly documented from the outset.

However, voluntary ethical standards are not enough. Good practice should not depend solely on the integrity of individual practitioners. It should be protected and enforced by law.

Surrogacy, when properly regulated, can represent one of the most compassionate forms of human cooperation — enabling individuals and couples to build families while safeguarding the dignity and welfare of all involved. But without legislation, even the best intentions cannot guarantee protection.

Nigeria stands at a defining moment. As global conversations around reproductive rights, fertility care, and cross-border surrogacy continue to evolve, the country has an opportunity to shape a modern, ethical, and internationally aligned legal framework.

The question is no longer whether Nigeria needs a Surrogacy Act.

It does.

The real question is how long the country can afford to continue without one.

*Olaronke Ugwueke-Thaddeus writes from Lagos