Medical advancement, ethical misstep, or both?
Can medical progress be separated from the way it was achieved? Few scientific tools have shaped modern medicine as profoundly as the HeLa cell line. For more than 70 years, these cells have been used in laboratories around the world, driving discoveries in vaccines, cancer treatment, and genetics. Their scientific value is undeniable. Yet, the story of HeLa cells begins not in a lab, but with a patient whose contribution went unrecognized for decades.
Before HeLa cells, scientists were struggling to grow human cells outside the body. Most cells died quickly, limiting long-term study. The behaviour of Henrietta Lacks’s cervical cancer cells, however, was different: they divided continuously. In 1951, these cells were taken from Lacks, an African American woman, during treatment at Johns Hopkins Hospital. Named ‘HeLa’ after the first letters of her name, they quickly spread to research facilities across the globe and became the first widely used immortalized human cell line.
HeLa cells immediately impacted the development of vaccines. During the early 1950s, polio outbreaks were overwhelming communities worldwide. HeLa cells allowed researchers to grow the poliovirus in large quantities, enabling Jonas Salk’s polio vaccine to be tested efficiently and on a large scale. The success of the vaccine marked a turning point in public health and demonstrated the power of laboratory-grown human cells. In the decades that followed, HeLa cells became a workhorse of biomedical research. They were used to study cancer growth, test the effects of radiation and chemotherapy, and investigate viral infections such as HIV. HeLa cells also contributed to the discovery of telomerase, an enzyme linked to aging and cancer, and played a role in early chromosome mapping. Their durability and consistency made them indispensable to modern science.
Having emerged at a pivotal moment in the development of cellular biology, HeLa cells laid the groundwork for future breakthroughs in the field. Their ability to survive and replicate indefinitely in laboratory conditions demonstrated that human cells could be studied long-term outside the body, reshaping how scientists approached cellular research. This shift in thinking paved the way for future discoveries, including the identification of stem cells in the early 1960s by University of Toronto researchers Ernest McCulloch and James Till. By the time stem cells were formally recognized, HeLa cells had already established the laboratory methods and expectations that made such discoveries possible, anchoring modern cell-based research. Together, these discoveries reshaped how scientists understood disease at the cellular level.
Yet, the scientific success of HeLa cells is inseparable from the ethical concerns surrounding their origin. Henrietta Lacks was never informed that her cells were taken for research, nor did she give consent for their continued use. For years, her family remained unaware that her cells were contributing to global scientific progress. While these practices were common at the time, they raise lasting questions about patient rights, transparency, and accountability in research.
Today, Henrietta Lacks is finally acknowledged as a central figure in advancing medical knowledge. As Rebecca Skloot, author of The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks writes, “Scientific progress, and indeed progress of all kinds, is often made at great cost, such as the sacrifice made by Henrietta Lacks.” Her story challenges us to hold two truths at once: extraordinary scientific work can emerge from flawed systems, and recognizing ethical failures does not require dismissing the value of the discoveries themselves. As medicine continues to move forward, the legacy of HeLa cells asks: how can science honour its past while ensuring that future breakthroughs are made with greater respect for the people behind them?