Podcast Review: Tortoise – Modern family, I had my dead son's baby at 68

Ana Obregón's story has all the trappings of a good scandal: a famous, older woman (68), who travels to America to bypass Spain's anti-surrogacy laws, and uses the sperm from her deceased son (along with a donor egg) to become a mother (again). It would be easy to dismiss this story as merely salacious celebrity gossip. However, as the host, journalist Patricia Clarke, notes early in the episode Obregón's story speaks to something much wider:

'It doesn't just make for good tabloid fodder, and actually it extends far beyond the surrogacy debate. Ana's story takes us to the new frontiers of fertility, where technology will challenge our ideas of family, motherhood and the law.'

As someone whose research explores the socio-legal aspects of reproductive technology, I often approach podcasts like this one with a little trepidation and a concern that the discussion may be over-simplified or unduly sensationalised. However, this podcast pleasantly surprised me, approaching both Obregón's personal story and the wider discussions prompted by this with nuance and open-mindedness.

There is no denying that the tabloidy details of the story are used as a hook for the podcast; after all, the episode is entitled 'Modern family: I had my dead son's baby at 68'. However, it is quickly apparent that the listener is going to be guided to think beyond these surface details. The episode is rich and carefully constructed. It weaves together the narrative of Obregón's life as a celebrity with the story of her recent reproductive endeavour, providing an engaging foundation from which to ask some big questions about reproductive technologies, modern families and the roles that celebrities play in shifting public perceptions about what is socially acceptable.

In the space of around 45 minutes, Clarke covers impressive ground when identifying and discussing the social, legal and ethical questions prompted by the recent birth of Obregón's daughter through surrogacy.

The questions she raises include, but are not limited to, the sufficiency of legal frameworks around the posthumous extraction and/or use of sperm, whether surrogacy amounts to 'violence against women' (as it is framed by Spanish law), and the extent to which age/circumstantial limits should be placed upon women's access to assisted reproductive technology.

Refreshingly, in considering the concerns raised about Obregón's age, Clarke acknowledges that older male celebrities often have children well beyond their 60s, and receive far less backlash for it. She highlights the ongoing societal assumption that 'mothers are the ones responsible for the care of the children.'

Attention is also given to the potential for developments in reproductive science and technology to be experienced differently by those in different countries, classes or socio-economic circumstances. In a conversation with Jeanette Edwards, professor emerita of social anthropology at the University of Manchester, Clarke poses the question of whether Obregón could be cast as a 'feminist pioneer'.

In her response Professor Edwards' clearly exposes the central tension which sits at the heart of such a framing. On one hand, reproductive technologies broaden the choice available to people looking to procreate – and the ability to make choices is a central plank of feminism. On the other, there exists the very real potential that developing technologies can be used in such a way that they 'firm up' existing structures and norms of inequality, which see burdens imposed upon certain groups of women, in order to fulfil the choices that well-off people like Obregón make.

Importantly, the podcast does not lose sight of the fact that at the heart of this story is a human being. Clarke, attending an event Obregón is hosting to promote her newly released memoir following the birth of her daughter, remarks: 'Ana is no longer wearing black and white, her colours of mourning, instead she is in a billowing, flowery pink and blue dress and sky high heels'. This is an important reminder that, no matter how famous, a person's reproductive decision-making is personal and meaningful. It is also an important reminder of the good that reproductive technology can do.

For all its strengths, this podcast was not perfect. On a practical level, when setting out the law related to surrogacy and the extraction/use of gametes, there is a tendency to jump between jurisdictions; sometimes to correspond with Obregón's story, sometimes to illustrate a point. I suspect that someone new to these topics might find this fragmented picture a little confusing.

Beyond this, some of the discussion about surrogacy occurred from a starting point which was uncharacteristically lacking in nuance. Fairly early on, Clarke fell into the trap of setting up a false absolute dichotomy between altruistic and commercial surrogacy. I also felt that there was an overemphasis on the financial aspects of surrogacy, and the assumption that surrogacy always occurred across potentially exploitative class/socio-economic boundaries. Of course, this is likely a product of the fact that the woman at the centre of this story was incredibly wealthy, and that her surrogacy took place in the USA. Nonetheless, the broader discussion would have been enriched by greater inclusion of surrogates' voices and motivations.

By virtue of their wealth and visibility, celebrities are often the ones who are first seen making use of new and previously unimaginable reproductive science. They can not only act as a litmus test for public opinion, but also help to shift social norms about procreation and family-formation. This podcast effectively uses Obregón's story as a jumping off point to provide accessible introduction into some of the social, ethical and legal issues surrounding surrogacy and developing reproductive technology.