The journey from fear to understanding in American medicine reveals as much about our culture as our cells.
Imagine the terror that swept through American communities each summer as polio outbreaks left children paralyzed, reliant on iron lungs to breathe. This fear galvanized a scientific quest that would do more than just conquer a virus—it would fundamentally reshape how we understand our bodies, from the immune system that protects us to the very genes that define us. The stories of polio and cancer reveal not just medical breakthroughs, but a profound transformation in how science perceives our biological destiny.
During peak outbreaks in the 1940s and 1950s, polio paralyzed over 15,000 Americans annually, with children being the most vulnerable.
The discovery of proto-oncogenes in the 1970s revolutionized our understanding of cancer as a genetic disease.
In her groundbreaking work Flexible Bodies: Tracking Immunity in American Culture from the Days of Polio to the Age of AIDS, anthropologist Emily Martin traces a remarkable shift in how Americans conceptualize immunity. Through hundreds of interviews and cultural analysis, Martin discovered that our metaphors for immunity have transformed dramatically since the days of polio8 .
In the mid-20th century, at the height of polio fears, the immune system was portrayed in militaristic terms—a fortress protecting the pure self from foreign invaders. Popular media depicted antibodies as soldiers, viruses as enemies, and vaccines as tactical training exercises preparing defenses. This rigid, battle-oriented understanding reflected broader cultural anxieties about purity and contamination8 .
As American society progressed through the AIDS crisis and beyond, Martin observed a significant conceptual shift. The rigid, militaristic metaphors gradually gave way to more fluid, flexible conceptions of immunity8 . Alternative medicine practitioners and everyday citizens began describing immunity in terms of balance, adaptation, and interdependence rather than mere defense8 .
This new perspective mirrored broader cultural values emerging in the late 20th century. Just as corporations began valuing flexible work arrangements and adaptable employees, so too did we come to see biological health as dependent on resilience and flexibility8 . The ideal immune system was no longer an impenetrable shield but an adaptive network capable of navigating complex, changing environments8 .
| Time Period | Primary Metaphor | Understanding of Immunity | Cultural Reflection |
|---|---|---|---|
| Polio Era (1940s-1950s) | Militaristic ("Fortress") | Defense against invaders | Post-war anxieties, clear enemy paradigms |
| AIDS Crisis (1980s-1990s) | Transitional | System under attack | Social vulnerability, complex threats |
| Contemporary | Flexible, Adaptive Network | Dynamic balance and resilience | Globalization, interconnectivity, adaptability |
While immunology was undergoing its conceptual transformation, a parallel revolution was unfolding in cancer research. Joan Fujimura's Crafting Science: A Sociohistory of the Quest for the Genetics of Cancer documents this dramatic shift that occurred in the late 1970s and 1980s2 6 .
For decades, cancer had been understood as a set of heterogeneous diseases marked primarily by uncontrolled cell growth. Researchers focused on various environmental factors, viral causes, and cellular processes without a unifying theory. This changed dramatically when scientists identified normal human genes that were strikingly similar to cancer-causing genes in viruses2 .
These normal human genes were dubbed "proto-oncogenes"—segments of DNA that could potentially mutate into oncogenes (cancer genes)2 . Suddenly, researchers had a material entity they could point to: specific fragments of DNA that could cause normal cells to become cancerous. Fujimura notes that by 1986, biological textbooks were already proclaiming this hypothesis as established fact2 .
Normal genes that can transform into cancer-causing oncogenes through mutation
The implications were staggering. Cancer was no longer hundreds of different diseases but a disease of human genes at its most fundamental level. This genetic reframing wasn't merely a theoretical advance—it represented what Fujimura calls the "co-construction" of theory and technology2 . The proto-oncogene theory developed in dynamic relation to new molecular techniques for cloning and sequencing DNA that were becoming widely available at precisely the same time2 .
| Component | Examples | Function in Research |
|---|---|---|
| Methods | Recombinant DNA, molecular genetic technologies | Manipulate and study genetic material |
| Instruments | Nucleotide sequencers, computer software, databases | Analyze and interpret genetic data |
| Materials | Molecular probes, reagents, transgenic OncoMouse™ | Engineered tools and organisms for testing |
| Conceptual Tools | "Proto-oncogenes," genetic causality | Framework for asking questions and interpreting results |
Fujimura describes this powerful combination of theory and method as a "theory-methods package" that included four key elements2 . This package made cancer genetics research what Fujimura terms a "doable problem"—one that could attract thousands of scientists and millions of dollars in funding2 . The standardization of methods and protocols enabled their transportation between laboratories, building bridges between institutions and disciplines that had previously worked in relative isolation2 .
Perhaps no single experiment better illustrates the complex interplay of science, society, and unintended consequences than the 1959 discovery of SV40—a cancer-causing monkey virus that had contaminated polio vaccines7 .
The background to this discovery lies in the intense race to develop polio vaccines in the 1950s. Both Jonas Salk's inactivated polio vaccine (IPV) and Albert Sabin's oral polio vaccine (OPV) relied on monkey kidney cells to grow poliovirus7 . These cells served as an effective growth medium but harbored numerous simian viruses.
Dr. Bernice Eddy of the National Institutes of Health was working with materials used to grow polio vaccines in 1959. As part of her quality control work, she injected the vaccine material into hamsters7 .
Contrary to expectations, the hamsters developed tumors rather than showing signs of infection. This surprising outcome suggested the presence of an unseen carcinogenic agent in the vaccine medium7 .
The causative agent was isolated and identified as the 40th simian virus found in rhesus monkey kidney cells—thus named Simian Virus 40 (SV40)7 . The discovery was subsequently validated by Drs. Maurice Hilliman and Benjamin Sweet of Merck7 .
Further research revealed SV40 as a polyomavirus whose genome encodes for proteins that stimulate host cells to multiply while simultaneously disabling cellular tumor suppressor mechanisms—a "deadly one-two punch" that can initiate cancer development7 .
The SV40 discovery demonstrated that viruses could potentially cause cancer in mammals, adding weight to the growing theory that cancer might have viral components in some cases. It also revealed concerning gaps in vaccine safety protocols and prompted revisions in regulatory standards, though these changes came after millions had already been exposed7 .
The SV40 contamination story illustrates the complex interplay between scientific progress and public health—how solutions to one problem (polio) inadvertently created new scientific questions and challenges (viral contamination and cancer risk).
| Year | Event | Significance |
|---|---|---|
| 1955-1961 | Widespread use of SV40-contaminated polio vaccines | Millions of Americans exposed to potential carcinogen |
| 1959 | Dr. Bernice Eddy discovers SV40 after injecting hamsters | First indication of cancer-causing contaminant in vaccines |
| 1960 | Merck scientists validate Eddy's findings | Confirmation of SV40 as carcinogenic agent |
| 1961 | New federal regulations for vaccine production | Attempt to address contamination, though with limitations |
The stories of polio and cancer genetics reveal more than medical progress—they show how science both shapes and is shaped by the culture in which it operates. The fear of polio in the 1950s reflected broader societal anxieties, while the militaristic immune metaphors of that era gave way to more flexible conceptions that mirror contemporary values of adaptability and resilience8 .
Characterized by fear of invisible threats and militaristic defense metaphors reflecting post-war American culture.
Marked a transitional period where vulnerability and complex social factors reshaped immunity concepts.
Emphasizes flexibility, resilience, and networked approaches mirroring globalized, interconnected society.
Similarly, the transformation of cancer from a heterogeneous collection of diseases to a genetic condition didn't occur in a vacuum. Fujimura shows how this reformulation was made possible by social, political, and financial networks that extended far beyond the laboratory2 . Researchers had to lobby Congress for appropriations, negotiate with regulatory agencies, and engage with venture capitalists and pharmaceutical companies2 .
The consequences of these shifts continue to unfold. Martin warns that the modern emphasis on "flexibility"—while valuable—may mask underlying social differentiations that prioritize adaptability at the expense of other important values8 . Meanwhile, the genetic understanding of cancer that Fujimura documented has accelerated, leading to targeted therapies but also raising complex questions about prevention, treatment access, and the very definition of disease.
The journeys from polio to modern immunology and from mysterious disease to genetic understanding reveal science as a deeply human endeavor—shaped by our fears, our metaphors, our institutions, and our technological capabilities. These stories continue to evolve, reminding us that today's scientific certainties may become tomorrow's historical curiosities, and that our battle against disease is as much about understanding ourselves as it is about understanding biology.
As we face new health challenges—from emerging viruses to complex chronic conditions—the lessons from these transformations remain vital. They teach us that true progress often requires not just better tools and techniques, but more nuanced metaphors, more flexible thinking, and a willingness to see the profound connections between our biological selves and the cultural worlds we inhabit.