Last year, Louisiana became the first state to authorize surgical castration for child molesters. Last month, Thomas Allen McCartney, a convicted serial child rapist, was sentenced to both surgical and chemical castration as part of a plea deal, having confessed to the attempted rape of a 7-year-old girl.

Louisiana, however, may not be an outlier for long.

In state capitols ranging from New Mexico and Mississippi to South Carolina and Oklahoma, lawmakers this year have revived a punitive idea that many Americans assumed was a relic — chemical or surgical castration as a legal option for people convicted of the most horrific sex crimes. 

For voters who have viewed too many headlines about children being attacked in their communities, the impulse is simple: Make the punishment fit the horror and keep predators from being able to hurt again.

For judges, doctors, and civil liberties lawyers, the questions are deeper and darker: Is it constitutional? Does it actually prevent recidivism? Do we want the state wielding a scalpel or a syringe as part of its sentencing toolbox?

The managing director of the policy firm Nestpoint Associates, John Thomas, tells The New York Sun that objections on constitutional grounds are overstated. 

“Eighth Amendment whines from ACLU types ignore that these aren’t ‘cruel,’ they’re common-sense deterrents, like the death penalty for cop-killers,” he said. In Mr. Thomas’s view, Louisiana’s Act 651 “holds up as targeted ‘treatment’ for the worst offenders, not eugenics cries.” 

 “The courts seem to defer to states on public safety, so I would expect the Supreme Court to greenlight it even if it hits a liberal bench,” he continued. 

Where proposals stand — a patchwork of options

The legal landscape, however, is messy. Chemical castration, which requires the use of hormone-suppressing drugs to blunt libido, is already on the books in multiple states in some form, typically as a condition tied to parole or to a reduced sentence for certain repeat offenses.

California, Florida, Texas and others allow chemical treatments under limited circumstances; in practice, some offenders volunteer for injections in exchange for earlier release.

Over the past year, however, the debate shifted: Louisiana moved to become the first state to permit judges to order surgical castration for certain aggravated sex crimes against very young children, a move that ignited national attention.

Meanwhile, Oklahoma’s legislature advanced a bill this spring that would require chemical castration as a condition of parole for convicted child sex offenders — with refusal effectively meaning no parole. Texas lawmakers have also filed bills that would make chemical castration a parole condition for certain offenders.

The practice of castrating sex offenders in the United States dates back to the early 20th century. In 1907, Indiana enacted the nation’s first compulsory sterilization law, targeting individuals deemed “confirmed criminals” and “rapists,” setting a precedent for similar laws in other states.

The use of surgical castration declined significantly after the 1942 United States Supreme Court decision in Skinner v. Oklahoma, which ruled that compulsory sterilization violated the Equal Protection Clause of the 14th Amendment. This decision curtailed the widespread application of such measures.

Yet in 1996, California became the first state to authorize chemical or surgical castration for certain second-time sex offenders as a condition of parole. Following California’s lead, several other states, including Florida, Iowa, Montana, Oregon, Texas, and Wisconsin, have enacted similar laws.

Louisiana’s law mandating surgical castration for individuals convicted of specific sex crimes against children under 13 is just the latest development.

What proponents say — deterrence, protection, and justice

Supporters of the punishment, from prosecutors to victims’ advocates, argue that some offenders are driven by impulses so dangerous that chemical or surgical castration may be the only way to reduce risk. Surgical castration, they note, is permanent and offers a safeguard that medication alone cannot.

“Are there side effects? There might be, but those monsters gave up that right when they prey on kids, and it is better than letting them roam free under Biden-era ‘rehab’ fantasies that fail victims,” said Mr. Thomas. 

For many, the political calculus is as important as the medical one. 

“Parents demand it after they have heard of the horrors and endless child predator headlines,” said Mr. Thomas, who has worked as a senior strategist for various Republican candidates.

“Political signaling? Yes, and it matters. Governor Landry’s Louisiana masterstroke is Trump-style leadership, and it will be useful to draw a contrast between the Democrats’ soft-on-crime approach as we enter the midterm cycle.”

Opponents Warnings 

Critics argue that the drive to reintroduce castration as punishment is rooted more in politics than in science. A senior research analyst at the Sentencing Project, Kristen Budd, tells the Sun that the evidence base is far thinner than proponents suggest.

“As for the empirical evidence on castration and recidivism, there’s too little research to assess if such extreme punitive measures further reduce risk of re-offense,” Ms. Budd said.

“Are lawmakers making an assumption that high testosterone and high sex drives are a major driver of sex-related crimes? Research doesn’t support that. These laws are reductionist and put us on a path toward reviving pre-Enlightenment 17th-century punishments.”

Ms. Budd emphasized that, in her view, castration as a blanket solution is both unscientific and dangerously regressive, and risks deepening existing inequities. 

“Our work also shows that people of color are disproportionately serving sentences for rape and sexual assault compared to white individuals,” she said. “We need to strongly consider if castration laws will be disproportionately applied to people of color.”

Ms. Budd called castration laws state-sanctioned coercion masquerading as public safety, arguing they conflate punishment with victim protection.

Instead, she urges lawmakers to invest in prevention, survivor support, and community resources, adding that the revival of measures like castration signals a return to failed “tough on crime” policies rather than serious solutions for safety.

The unsettled future

Among the few available sources of scientific data on the issue is a 2005 study in the Journal of the American Academy of Psychiatry and the Law, which found that only 3 percent of surgically castrated sex offenders reoffended, compared with 16 percent of those who were not. 

Those numbers suggest effectiveness, though researchers caution against broad conclusions. And many sex crimes are driven less by libido than by power, pathology, or circumstance — factors hormones cannot erase.

The re-emergence of castration proposals reflects a public appetite — particularly among conservative constituencies — for visibly tough justice and for translating outrage into protective action. It also highlights a central tension in criminal-justice policy — the simultaneous demand for order and adherence to constitutional limits.

Ms. Budd argues that “severe sentencing laws like these do little to improve overall community safety because they’re not addressing the root causes.”

Yet, Mr. Thomas contends that the debate is simpler than academics or advocates admit. 

“We can spend years wringing our hands about root causes, but meanwhile, children are being hurt,” he says. “At the end of the day, victim rights trump predator rights. Take the castration for parole — or rot forever.”