The UK birth rate has fallen to its lowest level in half a century. While some blame economics, Lois McLatchie Miller argues that IVF is encouraging us to put our fertility on hold while pursuing our dreams. But for Christians, the technology comes with difficult ethical implications

According to figures released by the Office of National Statistics (ONS) this week, Britain’s birth rate has fallen to its lowest level in half a century. The average woman in England and Wales is now expected to have just 1.39 children – far below the 2.1 needed to sustain a population without large-scale immigration. More couples than ever are delaying children into their 30s, or deciding not to have them at all.
This matters for a number of reasons. Firstly, a childless population becomes a lonely population. Already, a third of Britain’s households are single-occupant. Nearly 50% of Brits report feeling lonely sometimes, often, or always. We were not made to be alone. Atomisation has hard consequences on the human psyche.
Secondly, this matters on a macro level. Families were traditionally the primary caregivers to the older generation – a burden shared widely between siblings and relatives. Without children, elderly people rely solely on the state to provide for their needs. A rapidly aging population equals an expensive tax bill. And with fewer working-age adults to generate GDP, that shrinking population has a shrinking effect on the economy, too.
The economics of the family
The political response to this crisis has been to point the finger at the economy. Young people cannot afford homes. Childcare costs are crushing. Careers are unstable. Rent is extortionate. All of this is true. A society that makes family life financially punishing should not be surprised when fewer families are formed; but economics alone cannot explain a civilisation that increasingly struggles to welcome children.
Today, children are increasingly framed not as a lifelong benefit, but as a lifestyle cost
After all, Britain is not uniquely poor. We are much wealthier than previous generations in many ways. Many of us have grandparents who were one of seven, eight or nine children, raised in a two-bedroom house in the 1930s. That generation raised large families amid ration books, post-war rebuilding and genuine material hardship.
Something deeper has shifted.
For centuries, children were understood primarily as a blessing: an inheritance, a source of joy, a sign of hope in the future. “Be fruitful and multiply”, God tells humanity in Genesis 1:28. That command reflected a vision of human flourishing in which family, continuity and sacrifice were central to a meaningful life.
Yet today, children are increasingly framed not as a lifelong benefit, but as a lifestyle cost. In becoming more materially rich, we have made ourselves relationally poor – prioritising cars and holidays over buggies and cribs, moving away from that vision of family-based living God had envisioned for us at the very start.
Even our language reveals the change. We talk about whether we can “fit” children around careers, travel plans or personal fulfilment. Parenthood becomes one option among many forms of self-expression rather than a natural and expected part of adulthood. Asian nations have already experienced where this leads. In South Korea, more dog strollers are sold than baby prams. In Japan, more nappies are bought for adults than for babies.
Against this backdrop, many have looked to IVF to rescue us from this demographic pit. But reliance on IVF actually compounds our birth rate problem. Posters on the London underground and ads on Instagram encourage women to freeze their eggs while they focus on their career or travelling the world.
The contradiction of modern fertility
But herein lies the great contradiction in our culture – modern life encourages us to put our fertility on hold to enjoy the benefits of consumerism in our 20s and 30s, and then sells the chance of motherhood back to us at a premium.
IVF has been the source of some difficult conversations in the Church over recent decades. Certainly, Christians should respond with deep sympathy to couples who experience infertility. The pain of longing for a child is real and profound. But we should not ignore the ethical questions IVF raises. Many believers are deeply uneasy about the routine creation, freezing and destruction of embryos – tiny human lives made in excess because success rate of IVF remain surprisingly low.
In South Korea, more dog strollers are sold than baby prams. In Japan, more nappies are bought for adults than for babies
The desire for children is good. But not every technological solution is morally uncomplicated. Instead of relying on technology that encourages couples to delay having children, perhaps our society needs to make having children feel more financially feasible, and also more desirable, early on.
Christians should therefore resist both panic and technocracy. The answer is not coercive “pronatalism”, nor the fantasy that reproductive technology can rescue us from every cultural trend. Instead, we should work to rebuild a society where marriage, family and children are once again seen as good things: supported economically, honoured culturally and understood spiritually.
Because ultimately, the birth rate crisis is not just about whether Brits can afford to have kids – it’s about if society can afford to go on without them.















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