Daughter from abroad

With the adoption of three-year-old orphan Viktoria from Russia, Gerhard Schröder sparked an emotional debate. The usefulness of international adoptions is controversial among experts, the process is extremely complicated for ordinary citizens, and the risks are high.

The welfare of Russian orphans has long been a concern for President Vladimir Putin. So much so, in fact, that one of his first official acts was to address it: In March 2000, Putin issued a decree regulating the adoption of Russian children abroad. This decisive action from Moscow curbed the ruthless child trafficking that was flourishing in Russian orphanages at the time. Since then, only about 80 agencies licensed by the Ministry of Education have been officially permitted to place children.

But Putin has no doubt that his friend Gerhard Schröder, 60, would be a good adoptive father. He was informed from the Kremlin "from the very beginning" of the Schröders' plans to adopt a child from his country. After all, everything is fine with Schröder and his wife Doris, 41, seconded Galina Trostanezkaja, the deputy director responsible for the Russian Ministry of Education and Science. The chancellor couple "chose" the three-year-old orphan Viktoria, the three of them took an instant liking to each other, and a St. Petersburg city court then settled everything else.

When the new addition to the family was announced at the beginning of last week, most newspapers applauded for days, SPD leader Franz Müntefering and Defense Minister Peter Struck congratulated him, and Bavarian Prime Minister Edmund Stoiber paid tribute to him with "great respect."

The Chancellor and the orphan – something like this touches the hearts of millions. But the romance conceals the fact that international adoptions are, in fact, difficult, complicated, and controversial. On the one hand, there are childless couples from affluent countries who long for nothing more than a family. On the other, there are orphans from developing and emerging countries who sometimes have virtually no chance at home. But in between lie the enormous problems such families often face. In between, there are sometimes unscrupulous child traffickers – or a process that is extremely difficult for ordinary citizens. And in between, there are experts who doubt the benefit for the children.

Adoptive parents often do not realize how severely their new children can be damaged by being in a foster home, how massive the injuries of the early years can be and how difficult it sometimes is to heal movement, speech and attachment disorders, says Stefan Dünschede, 47, who advises interested parties in the Federal Association for Parents of Foreign Adopted Children and himself has two

Children from Russia: "Some couples believe that you can just drive over, pack a child, and then you'll have no problems at all." In reality, these children have often "been through a lot, and everyone who gets involved should know that."

To ensure this is truly clear to everyone, prospective parents in Germany normally have to fulfill a vast number of requirements. Thousands of couples would like to adopt a small child from abroad, but are thwarted by the bureaucratic marathon (see graphic). To them, it sounds like a mockery when Herbert Schmalstieg, the SPD mayor of Schröder's hometown of Hanover, now says he hopes the Chancellor's example "will set a precedent" – especially since the Chancellor's family remains staunchly silent about the details of the process and even threatens legal action should a newspaper attempt to publish a picture of the happy family (see page 140).

Eva B., a kindergarten teacher from Hamburg, learned just how meticulous German authorities are when it comes to ordinary citizens. Together with her husband, she endured 13 rather intimate meetings with the youth welfare office. Staff inspected the future nursery and even asked "whether I hadn't ever considered leaving my husband, because it was probably his fault that we couldn't have children," the educator said.

This procedure took several months, and only then did the authorities agree to prepare a so-called social report, the basis for every adoption. Apart from the youth welfare offices, only twelve state-approved adoption agencies are authorized to prepare this report. Without the report, nothing can be legally done – neither in Germany nor in most other countries. In Russia, it is also a prerequisite for adoption.

Often, however, placement agencies and youth welfare offices turn down the opportunity from the outset: For example, if the prospective mother and father do not meet the requirements set out in a written guideline by the state youth welfare offices – most are rejected because they are too old: "As a rule, it will not be in the child's best interests if the age difference is greater than 40 years. Above this limit, placement will therefore only be considered in justified exceptional cases," the stipulation states.

That's why Eva Maria Hofer, executive director of the International Child's Care Organisation, a recognised placement agency, would reject older applicants "over the phone because I would fear for our approval and for the child's well-being," she says.

Gesine Schanz, a social worker from Hildesheim, leads preparatory seminars for prospective adoptive parents and is familiar with the practices of Lower Saxony's youth welfare offices: "Over the course of my career, I've dealt with 600 or 700 couples, and there wasn't one older than me." It's also important, says Schanz, that applicants have plenty of time for their new child. Just recently, an architect was rejected because he spent too much time on construction sites.

A couple from Lower Saxony also experienced how much time children from abroad who had been through foster care need when they took their then two-year-old daughter from a home in Chernyakhovsk. Over the past three years, the little girl has slowly been learning that one shouldn't take everything without consideration; she still hoards food or grabs all the pots and pans, then quickly shovels in as much as she can.

Because her parents realized how much she lacked any trust, her father, a manager, took two months off work: "That was her breakthrough," he says. "Now she believes she doesn't have to leave again."

Examples like these show that some of the strict regulations imposed by youth welfare offices have their reasons, says Wolfgang Gerts, vice-chairman of the Federal Association for Parents of Foreign Adopted Children. He was "stunned" when he heard about the Schröder adoption. Gerts: "We think the current age limits are too strict, but at 60, you're no longer flexible enough for a child. And secondly, Schröder can't declare this a private matter after having told tens of thousands of parents: You're too old."

Gerts, youth welfare offices, and adoption agencies are currently receiving calls in droves from angry people wanting to adopt: "One person accused me of Schröder having bribed me," says an employee of a northern German youth welfare office.

Dieter Sagolla, spokesperson for the city of Hanover and responsible for the youth welfare office at the Schröders' residence, would prefer not to comment on the matter at all. "In consultation with the Federal Chancellery, we are bound by confidentiality." The youth welfare office "formally" examined the Schröders' suitability, "as one does when one is Federal Chancellor." The minimum legal requirements—over 25 years of age and legally competent—were met.

Some experts also consider the requirements in the official guidelines to be too

strict. Ursula von der Leyen (CDU), Lower Saxony's Minister for Family Affairs and mother of seven, wants to further open the "door to adoption" following Victoria's adoption. "We should seize the opportunity and review existing practices."

Partly because pregnant women in Germany receive increasingly better care and advice, the number of children released for adoption has been declining in this country for years. At the same time, many couples remain childless, often because they want to focus on their careers first – until it's suddenly too late. And that's why there are 13 intended parents for every German child available for adoption. The pressure is considerable.

Many, rejected or after years of unsuccessful waiting, turn abroad. Is this a solution that can only benefit both sides? Adoption critics like Bernd Wacker of Terre des Hommes doubt that helping the child is the main motivation for many willing adopters: "The majority of the many children living in institutions cannot be placed because they have long since outgrown toddlerhood or suffer from behavioral problems or disabilities." Others are sought after: as young as possible, as light-skinned as possible. The prices in child trafficking already demonstrate this: "If healthy toddlers were as plentiful as sand on the beach, why are they traded like precious stones?" Guatemala, for example, is considered the world's leading exporter of children. There, brokers specifically approach pregnant single women and persuade them to give up their children.

Of the 487 foreign adopted children who came to Germany last year, the largest group—albeit only 95 children—came from Russia. Several thousand went from there to the USA in the same year. Unlike the Americans, German adoption agencies are not allowed to operate with excessively large flat-rate fees or donations, for example, to children's homes or partner organizations.

Brigitte G. and her husband from near Munich learned how money often plays a role: After failed attempts with German agencies ("Healthy three-year-old girls are practically nonexistent"), they commissioned a US agency five years ago to procure a child from Russia. "They simply pay better and get children there faster. The whole thing is big business."

For $20,000, the couple got a three-year-old boy. He was a bit cheaper than other children because he couldn't talk or walk at first. "It sounds cynical, but otherwise I would have had to pay a health premium."

However, since 2002, Germans have been banned from using US agencies. The German government signed the Hague Convention on the Protection of Children, which regulates international adoptions, in 1997; the Federal Republic ratified the agreement three years ago.

The convention requires that only state-licensed and supervised organizations may operate jointly in the countries of the adoptive parents and the child. Adoptions through private individuals are no longer permitted. In theory. Those who manage to adopt a child anywhere in the world and bring them to Germany often have their adoption legalized retroactively by German judges – because it would be even more damaging to the child if they had to return.

The agencies should work together to ensure that only parents who are able to cope with the special problems can adopt a child from a foreign country - like the Hamburg educator Eva B.

Twelve months after her application, a letter arrived, which she carefully preserved. It contained two Polaroids of a small, somewhat frightened boy in tights, alone in a playroom. "Edmund, born September 23, 1993. Blonde, blue-eyed, can put together puzzles, plays with other children, was quiet and shy during the visit," the note reads.

Eva B. and her husband traveled to Kaliningrad, to the home where their future son was born. There they learned that his mother was a drunkard and always tied him up in the apartment when she left. The boy suffered from scabies and bronchitis.

In September 1998, the Hamburg couple picked up their son. Eva B. had previously studied Russian so she could at least understand her son. She collected sand from the beach at the children's home, including a teddy bear, and took photos – for the so-called memory box, which adoptive parents are encouraged to create according to the advice of psychologists.

But then the difficulties began. Eva B.: "He said he loved me and then beat me" – over and over again, every day. As a kindergarten teacher, Eva B. knew that he probably harbored anger at his biological mother. "It was more stressful with him than usual at 20 in kindergarten," says Eva B. The pediatrician diagnosed ADHD, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. At school, Edmund would sit under the desk when he was tired of it.

Meanwhile, Edmund tells his German mother about the Pokémon on his Gameboy when he gets home from school, he builds helipads out of Lego, and he wants an audiobook—Harry Potter, of course. Eva B. thinks everything turned out pretty well. Pretty normal.

But the educator is also a professional; she knew things could have been worse. "Anyone who says we want to be a normal family will fail," warns Maria Holz of Terre des Hommes, "because such a family can never be normal." MICHAEL FRÖHLINGSDORF,

WALTER MAYR, CORDULA MEYER, BARBARA SCHMID, MARKUS VERBEET

SURVEY: ADOPTION Chancellor Schröder and his wife have adopted a three-year-old girl from Russia. According to common German practice, he is too old to be an adoptive father. Do you think it's right that authorities usually only consider married couples who are no older than their early 40s?