When a soldier dies, should their family be allowed to have their child?
For a long time, this question belonged to philosophical debate. Today, in both Ukraine and Israel, it has become part of everyday conversations shaped by war, loss and uncertainty. Modern fertility medicine allows embryos, sperm or eggs to be frozen and stored for long periods, and for the retrieval of sperm up to hours after death, making posthumous reproduction (PHR) technically possible. What remains unclear is whether – and how – the law should allow it.
Ukraine and Israel, both being deeply affected by war, provide two different legal approaches, driven by different discourses.
Ukraine: Reproduction in the shadow of loss
Ukraine's demographic crisis did not begin with the full-scale Russian invasion in 2022, but the war has made it far worse. Therefore, infertility treatment and PHR are often discussed not only as private matters, but as part of a broader concern about the future of the country's population.
Before the war, PHR in Ukraine was uncommon and mainly associated with cancer patients who froze reproductive material before undergoing treatment. After February 2022, PHR demand grew rapidly, and many servicemen froze sperm or embryos before deployment. When some were killed, their widows sought to use this genetic material to have a child. For years, Ukrainian law offered no clear answers to those wishing to have a child posthumously.
Courts sometimes allowed widows to use cryopreserved genetic material, but only when the deceased had left a written advance directive. Beyond that, the legal landscape was largely empty. There were no clear rules on who could use the genetic material, how long it could be stored, or whether a posthumously conceived child would be recognised under the law.
In late 2023, Ukraine adopted its first law dealing specifically with PHR for people serving in the military. The law now allows reproductive cells to be stored at the state's expense for three years after a soldier's death, and storage can be extended if paid for by someone designated by the will of the deceased. Subsequent regulations allow the deceased's spouse or 'civil spouse' to pay for further storage in the absence of a will. Another sub-law states that the person mentioned in the advance directive of the deceased could file an application to thaw the cryopreserved sperm or egg. A draft Civil Code currently under consideration in Ukraine would introduce the 'biological will', enabling individuals to authorise or forbid posthumous use of their cryopreserved genetic material and grant inheritance rights to children conceived within six months of a parent's death.
These steps marked progress, but they did not resolve the core problems. Importantly, the law still does not clearly answer who is entitled to use reproductive material after death. There is no mandatory waiting period before treatment begins, despite European Society of Human Reproduction and Embryology recommendations, nor are there clear rules on inheritance or legal parenthood.
The framework also assumes a single, narrow scenario: a widow using her own eggs. Other situations are largely excluded, such as use of a deceased woman's eggs by her widower. One court has allowed grandparents to use a cryopreserved embryo through surrogacy, despite the widow's objection, but the case is still under appeal. It is a reminder that, in Ukraine, PHR remains legally fragile and deeply contested.
Israel: Broad practice, unsettled law
Israel has long been known for its permissive approach to PHR.
Even before the current war, Israeli courts regularly approved requests for PHR. Like in Ukraine prior to the war, most Israeli cases involved young men who died of cancer or in accidents, and not in combat. The courts' reasoning rests on a distinctive idea: the 'presumed wish' of the deceased. Judges have often assumed that a man who lived with a female partner would want her to have his child after his death, even if he left no explicit consent.
As a result, widows in Israel generally face few legal obstacles.
Israel has also gone further than most countries by allowing what has become known as posthumous grandparenthood. In several cases, courts permitted parents of deceased men to initiate reproduction with women their sons had never met. These arrangements create new and unconventional family forms termed 'extended family of choice', and they remain ethically and religiously controversial, especially in the lack of an advanced directive.
The events of 7 October 2023 and the war that followed affected demand for PHR dramatically.
Two major changes were introduced. Under a temporary directive, sperm can now be retrieved from a deceased person's body without prior court approval. In addition, military authorities inform families about this option when notifying them of a soldier's death.
At the same time, renewed efforts are underway to pass comprehensive legislation regulating PHR. In September 2022, the Knesset (Israeli Parliament) voted on a first draft bill that would allow widows to use their partner's sperm even without informed consent, based on the presumed wish for continuity. Men who object would need to opt out during their lifetime by signing an advance directive. The bill would also regulate posthumous grandparenthood.
The legislative process was halted by the judicial overhaul announced in January 2023, but the October attack revived calls to enact the law. Progress remains stalled, however, due to objections from religious authorities and the lack of consensus between the Ministry of Justice, the Health Ministry, and the Israel Defence Forces on procedures for advance directives.
What war reveals
Ukraine and Israel face similar pressures: death, public support for PHR, and rapidly advancing medical technology. Yet their responses reflect different priorities.
In Ukraine, PHR is closely tied to demographic anxiety and concerns about national survival. Despite public demand, the law remains cautious and incomplete. In Israel, where fertility rates are already high, PHR is justified less by population concerns and more by cultural ideas of family continuity and a perceived social debt to fallen soldiers and their parents.
In both countries, technology is doing more than enabling reproduction. It is reshaping how societies understand grief, memory and continuity. The hardest question remains unanswered: how to balance the wishes of the living, the presumed wishes of the dead, and the rights of children born into the aftermath of war.
War has forced these questions into the open. The law is still struggling to follow.




