In the wake of this saga, scientists said medical research was doomed.
Southam’s lawyers argued, “If the whole profession is doing it, how can you call it ‘unprofessional conduct’?” They argued that it was unnecessary to disclose all information to research subjects or get consent in all cases, and that Southam’s behaviour was considered ethical in the field. Many doctors testified before the Board of Regents and in the media on Southam’s behalf, saying they had been conducting similar research for decades. Southam began injecting patients with HeLa cells-cancer cells-without their knowledge in 1954, there was no formal research oversight in the United States. What we may now perceive as reprehensible could have been common practice amongst the general scientific community decades ago. It thus becomes difficult to reconcile the currently established frameworks with the callous indifference of scientists and researchers in the past, when such principles were unheard of. Unsurprisingly, many of the ethical practices and respect for patients’ rights that we now deem fundamental were not at all commonplace during Henrietta’s time. Perhaps more heavily, the weight of this story lies with the biomedical ethics involved. Our understanding of biomedical ethics has evolved greatly over the years However, there is no denying the tremendous importance of HeLa cells to science. It makes one wonder, if Henrietta’s cells had not been taken and cultured in George Gey’s lab, would science have advanced as rapidly as it did in the last seventy years? Would scientists have found other ways to carry out the same research? Would other cultured cell lines, though not immortal, have been an acceptable substitute for HeLa cells? I believe this is likely. The story of the HeLa cells is fascinating because of the profound significance of its discovery to science and medicine. Therefore, we cannot endeavour to pursue one without the other. And, arguably, it is only with a deep sense of humanity that we can continue to further our progress in science-and to steer it in the right direction. Indeed, at the risk of sounding cliché, the ultimate aim of advancing science is to benefit humanity. This book is, doubtless, an intersection between science and ethics or rather, it is a fusion, so deeply intertwined are the two that they cannot be regarded as separate entities. I do refer to a few parts of the book, so if you’re highly allergic to spoilers like me, you may wish to read the entirety of this review only after having read the book yourself.)Īn intersection between science and the humanities I’ve also included an amazing TED-Ed video as well as links for further reading on Henrietta and the HeLa cells. (This is another one of my lengthier book reviews, more of my reflections after reading the book than a concise recommendation. The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks tells her story. The above paragraph is taken from the Johns Hopkins Medicine page dedicated to Henrietta Lacks. Her cells, known as HeLa cells, remain a remarkably durable and prolific line of cells used in research around the world. Henrietta Lacks was a woman who unknowingly donated her cells at Johns Hopkins Hospital in 1951, beginning what was the first, and, for many years, the only human cell line able to reproduce indefinitely. But she-and her family-had also been unfairly and sometimes cavalierly disregarded, as the scientific community sought only to advance their own interests. Henrietta did not die at the hands of white policemen.
But you may not have heard of another name, also belonging to an African American: Henrietta Lacks. I’m sure you’ve heard of George Floyd-the one name that has been reverberating through social media and the press for days.
Title: The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks Some of those guys could cut their movies in their head.The compelling story of a single cell line that revolutionised medical and scientific research-cultured from cells taken unknowingly from an African American woman nearly 70 years ago. In the old days, before there was such a thing as film schools, directors learned the camera by watching other directors, and learning from their own dailies, and listening to the cameraman, and seeing what would work.
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