Thanks to DNA testing, paternity can be established unequivocally. Or can it?
Many of us are preoccupied with the question “Who’s your daddy?” and pin our hopes on science—a DNA test—to provide clarity. According to Nara B. Milanich, author of “Paternity: The Elusive Quest for the Father,” the question has been asked for millennia, but it wasn’t until the early 20th century that people looked to science rather than society for the answer. And while the conundrum has been debated through the ages and far and wide, it’s a far more complex matter than it appears to be, the author argues. Despite science, she insists, there’s still no consensus about who is a father or what it means to be a father.
While the need to pinpoint paternity has been driven for various reasons throughout history by a variety of stakeholders—mothers, putative fathers, potential heirs, lawyers, champions of eugenics—there are modern twists. “The orphaned and the adopted have asked this question in relation to lost identities,” says Milanich. “More recently, assisted reproductive technologies—gamete donation, surrogacy—have raised old issues in new ways.”
A professor of history at Barnard College, the author traces the history of the understanding of paternity across time and cultures and analyzes the many ways fatherhood is defined—socially, legally, politically, and biologically—and explores the consequences and implications of the different means of establishing paternity, observing that paternity bequeaths not only individuals’ names but also their identities, nationalities, and legitimacy.
Because a woman’s pregnancy and childbirth are observable, maternity historically has been undisputed. But before science developed the means to pinpoint with certainty the biological fact of fatherhood, it was well accepted that the mystery of paternity was impenetrable. And while paternity was understood to be truly unknowable or unverifiable, it could be assumed or claimed based on a man’s relationship to a child’s mother or his behavior toward a child. Paternity could be inferred from marriage. Likewise, a man’s acceptance of responsibility for a child supported the presumption of his paternity. In most cultures and throughout history, the role of father has been accorded to the men willing to perform it.
But the lack of certainty rendered claims of infidelity insupportable and legal actions to hold putative fathers accountable unprovable. At the same time, this ambiguity upheld certain social orders, for example, it gave cover to white slave owners who impregnated slaves with impunity.
In the early 20st century, myriad methods were developed to attempt to scientifically determine paternity. They were efforts to prove the male’s body contained the evidence and to shift paternity from a social construct—a designation based on relationships and behavior—to one based in biology. These included hereditary blood grouping, crystallography, fingerprints, genetic paternity testing, and measurements of the electronic vibrations through the blood using a machine called an oscillophore. But it wasn’t until scientific testing techniques were refined and DNA testing reached a standard of reliability that the biological fact of paternity became indisputable. Paternity thenceforth would be based on genes rather than social or political determinations. Earlier notions of identity and kinship gave way to a new standard.
The use of science to yield conclusive proof of paternity, which, Milanich says, arose from eugenics and race science, had wide application and significant repercussions. It was desirable, for example, to government agencies that sought to reduce welfare spending by shifting the financial burden to the scientifically demonstrated fathers. These techniques might be used to hold a deadbeat dad accountable, shame an unfaithful woman and strip her of her rights, or uphold privilege and paternalism.
Contemporary headlines about fertility fraud and the ethical minefields surrounding assisted reproduction support the author’s argument that despite decades of efforts by scientists to determine the criteria for establishing and legitimizing paternity, the task remains as difficult as it’s ever been. Further, society has leaned back toward a view of paternity and parenthood dictated by behaviors and responsibilities, as demonstrated by the acceptance of same-sex parenting. The experience of NPEs (not parent expected), as well, demonstrates that DNA doesn’t settle the matter of paternity once and for all. Countless individuals who’ve discovered biological fathers through DNA testing have been rejected by those fathers and may have no legal recourse. And on the flip side, in many if not most cases, men who learn through DNA that they are not the biological fathers of their children continue to fulfill the social role and responsibilities understood as those of a father. They may do so through a sense of duty, because they’re legally bound to be accountable, or because all parties involved believe fatherhood is a matter the heart, not of cells.
DNA testing has made it possible for many adoptees, donor-conceived individuals, and NPEs to discover their origins—a fundamental right asserted in the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child. But Milanich also explores the darker side of what she terms biological essentialism, detailing the ways in which paternity science was used for baser purposes and in a discriminatory manner, for example in Nazi Germany to determine race, or in the United States during the Cold War to expose Chinese immigrants claiming bloodlines to U.S. citizens. This discussion is especially resonant in light of current events—the government’s plan to use new rapid DNA testing of immigrants in detention facilities on the southern U.S. border, for example, or the Israel High Court granting permission for the use of DNA tests to verify Jewishness.
Those who have had DNA surprises leading to genetic identity confusion may take issue with the way their experience is described as a repetitive story line in the media—”the trope of identity lost and found”—or with the author’s suggestion that what she calls “Big Paternity” has commercialized doubt and is involved in “creating and perpetuating narratives of rampant “paternal misattribution.” Nevertheless, she raises important questions that are worth examining. She concludes that DNA hasn’t settled the matter of paternity. “It was not a lack of knowledge that produced the quest for the father; the quest was always a social and political one. The truly significant question about paternity is thus not an empirical one—who is the father?—but a normative one—what do we want him to be? Which criteria whose interests, intentions, or desires, should define paternity?”
Milanich, a skilled storyteller, offers a fascinating social history, from the earliest times and across cultures to the rise of Big Paternity, as exemplified by the “Who’s Your Daddy?” truck that winds through the streets of New York City providing mobile DNA testing, and, of course, the ubiquity of direct-to-consumer DNA testing. This deeply researched and engaging exploration will likely challenge readers’ notions about paternity and shift their perspectives. As the author explained in a recent Barnard College interview, “Tracing the rise of testing illuminates changing ideas about family, sexuality, childhood, race, nationhood, and identity.”
B.K. Jackson
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