Thinking with Beauvoir about Objectification in Childbirth

In the quiet, often chaotic hours of childbirth, a woman's body becomes the center of intense medical attention. For decades, critics have argued that modern hospitals treat women not as whole people, but as broken machines or passive vessels that need to be fixed and managed. This criticism relies on a concept called "objectification," which simply means treating a person like a thing. Usually, we think of this as a bad thing, a way of stripping away someone's humanity and dignity. However, the reality of how we treat each other is more complicated. Sometimes, looking at a person's body as a collection of parts is necessary for a doctor to perform surgery or check a heartbeat, and this kind of focus is not always cruel. The question that has long puzzled philosophers and medical ethicists is: when does this necessary focus cross the line into something harmful, and are there times when a person might even choose to feel like an object?

A new paper by Sara Cohen Shabot, a researcher at the University of Haifa, tackles this question by looking at the experience of childbirth through the lens of the French philosopher Simone de Beauvoir. De Beauvoir, writing in the mid-twentieth century, offered a nuanced view of how people relate to one another. She suggested that turning someone into an object is not always a moral failure; sometimes it is a neutral, practical part of life, and in rare cases, it can even be a source of strength. Cohen Shabot uses these ideas to sort through the messy reality of medicalized birth, arguing that we cannot simply say "objectification is bad" and stop there. Instead, she identifies three very different ways objectification happens in the delivery room, each with its own meaning and consequences.

The first type the author calls "thingly objectification." This is the kind of focus a surgeon uses when looking at a cataract in an eye or a mechanic checking the engine of a car. In this mode, a person is seen as a physical system made of parts that can be measured, moved, or repaired. Cohen Shabot points out that this is not inherently evil or dehumanizing. In fact, it is often necessary for medical care to work. A doctor checking a cervix or monitoring a baby's position on a screen is treating the body as a biological object to ensure safety. However, the paper argues that this approach fails when applied to childbirth because birth is not a mechanical event. Unlike a car engine, a woman giving birth is not just a collection of parts; her mind, emotions, and environment are deeply connected to the physical process. When medical staff treat the birthing person purely as a machine to be optimized, it often backfires. The process stalls, the woman feels disconnected, and the result is often more medical intervention rather than a smoother birth. So, while this type of objectification is not immoral, it is frequently ineffective and counterproductive in the specific context of labor.

The second type is far more dangerous and is what the author calls "objectification as othering." This is the form of objectification that constitutes obstetric violence. Here, a woman is not just treated as a machine; she is treated as less than human. The paper describes how women in labor often report feeling like "meat," "furniture," or "lab mice." This is not a literal belief by the staff that the woman is an inanimate object, but rather a metaphorical act of dehumanization. Drawing on the work of philosopher Kate Manne, the author suggests that this violence stems from misogyny, not just a lack of recognition. When a woman's body acts with its own powerful, loud, and uncontrollable energy during labor, it challenges the social order that expects women to be passive and obedient. To restore that order, the medical system may "put her in her place" by stripping away her agency, ignoring her pain, or forcing procedures upon her. This is a deep form of cruelty that isolates the woman, cuts her off from her baby and her surroundings, and treats her as an enemy to be tamed rather than a person to be supported.

The third type, and perhaps the most surprising, is "self-objectification." This happens when the woman herself chooses to view her body as an object. The paper acknowledges that this often happens negatively, when a woman has internalized the idea that she should be passive and obedient, or when she feels she must submit to authority to be a "good mother." In these cases, she is giving up her freedom, which is a moral failing according to de Beauvoir. However, Cohen Shabot argues that there is another side to this coin. Some women consciously decide to surrender to the raw, animalistic nature of birth. They choose to let go of their rational control, to embrace the pain, the sounds, and the physical intensity of the moment, effectively becoming an object of the process itself. This is not a submission to oppression, but an active choice to connect with the deep, biological reality of their bodies. In this state, the woman is not a passive victim; she is an agent who has chosen to embrace her own "immanence," or her physical existence, fully. This kind of surrender can be a source of power and even pleasure, allowing her to experience birth as a transformative event rather than a medical procedure.

By separating these three experiences, the paper offers a clearer way to understand what is happening in the delivery room. It shows that not all ways of treating a body as an object are the same. Some are neutral tools that can go wrong if overused; some are acts of violence that dehumanize and harm; and some are complex choices that can either trap a woman in submission or set her free. The author concludes that the key to ethical childbirth lies in recognizing these differences. We must stop treating the body as a machine when it needs to be a whole person, we must fight against the violence that treats women as less than human, and we must respect the right of women to choose how they experience their own bodies, even if that means choosing to let go and become part of the wild, uncontrolled flow of life.