The Flowers That Could Kill Cancer: The key to saving the world might be deeper than we think

The power of flowers

In the 1950’s, scientists discovered cancer-killing compounds in the flowering plant periwinkle, which constitute the now commonly used anticancer drugs vinblastine and vincristine. Of course it took years just to figure out and perfect the extraction of said compounds so that they would be untainted and lab-ready. Trying to finesse the cellular structure of periwinkle was like massaging a computer, and attempting to do so inside the central processing unit. Sounds almost impossible! But ultimately it was successful, and now these drugs are used clinically in treating leukemia, Hodgkin’s, and many other cancer types.

Cancer-killing cells have also been found in other flowers as well, mainly feverfew and, most recently, the daffodil. It would seem that our bright-colored blossoms could hold the key to solving one of science’s biggest conundrums: being able to permanently shut the door on cancer. Yet how we unlock that solution has proven to be quite the challenge.

To really appreciate the complex chemistry of plant cells, consider the functional purpose of a flower. Serving as the plant’s reproductive system, the flower produces seeds that are conveyed by pollinators, like bees. The relationship between the flower and its pollinators is predicated on color. Because pollinators can only identify certain colors, the plant’s cellular structure had to go through a lengthy adaptive process, to where its DNA could ultimately produce the right pigments. To further contextualize this process, plants are believed to have existed for up to 700 million years, whereas flowers are somewhere between 100 to 200 million years old. That’s a difference of up to a half billion years, and underlines just how intricately developed these cells are.

All of that is to say that science seems more than capable of cracking the world’s most complex of puzzles. But what about solving one of its most deadly*? Will it happen in our lifetime? Can it happen? And if it does, will flowers be the ones to save the day? Well, to give some perspective, cell theory as pioneered by German botanist Matthias Jakob Schleiden, which simply states that all living organisms are made up of cells, was created in 1838. Relative to the existence of life on earth, that theory has been around for the equivalent of mere seconds. There are two ways of looking at this. One is that, relatively speaking, we are novices when it comes to our grasping of cells and cellular structures. The other is that, since the theory was coined, we have made numerous new discoveries and breakthroughs as they pertain to cell biology and genetics. We have already accomplished so much, and we’re just getting started.

*Cancer is the second-leading cause of death in the U.S.

So, how do we defeat the dragon once and for all? Is it at all possible? For the sake of argument, let’s say that it is. In this hypothetical, we’ll let both realism and optimism cohabitate the same spot on the far-end of the contemplative spectrum.

We can kill cancer for good.

We can save the world.

We just need to go a little bit deeper.

The power of thinking

There has always been debate surrounding philosophy’s place in science. Some consider philosophy to be antithetical to science, given the warring nature of their respective focuses: the former abstract and the latter concrete. On a fundamental level there are methodologies shared between the two, primarily in the practices of argumentation and analysis. In science these practices are limited by empiricism, meaning that and only that which you can see, hear, smell, taste, and touch. Philosophy, on the other hand, is boundless. If our sensory system is a box, philosophy is able to travel outside the box and study it from a speculative distance. Science is perceived as having no such freedom. It is stringently confined to that box, because it is an empirical results driven field. However the two can co-exist, and in the study of ecosystems and their living organisms, it’s imperative that they do. Here’s why:

Ecosystems are inherently complex and need to be simplified analogously. If you look at the terrestrial ecosystem, for example, and its profound ability to adapt, it is sort of like any communicative process. But, instead of sharing words, the system is sharing cells. Call it biological communication. Call it biological consciousness. Whatever you want to call it, there is a parallel that can be drawn between plants and humans. Finding those parallels, no matter how rudimentary they are, is always the first step in understanding any ecosystem.

But how do you communicate with something that doesn’t speak your language? How do you communicate with something that doesn’t speak at all? You do what any philosopher would do. You step outside the system and inquire about its nature. You ruminate on how and why it exists, because without that depth in knowledge, there is nothing to truly build off of. When studying and experimenting, you are engaged in an adaptive process of trial and error. You might be able to learn from the error, and that can get you far, but it can only get you so far. There needs to be a deeper understanding of the trial itself, and that requires out-of-the-box thinking.

This is a flexible practice. It’s something you can do on your own time. Just as science doesn’t have to be limited to empiricism, this doesn’t have to be limited to application. You can do this at home, or while walking around the lake, or as you’re surfing the internet at your local coffee shop. It requires no equipment or tools. Simply you and your mind, with the added bonus of going into the lab with a possibly refined approach to your work.

There’s something to be said about having to ask deep questions in order to find solutions to big problems. It asks a lot of you. It can take a lot out of you. It can present you with certain professional and ideological dilemmas. No one said it was going to be easy, or that it would feel particularly right. That’s the irony of it all. Because what we’re striving to accomplish is so incredibly righteous. We’re trying to save the world. Sometimes thinking outside the box requires going outside of your comfort zone.

Of course there will always be those that doubt the cogency of philosophy in science. It isn’t enough that people in the science community are skeptical about philosophy having a seat at their table. Some outright deny its existence. Some consider it a ghost of the past. The late great physicist Stephen Hawking declared it dead years ago. But here’s the problem with chopping off an entire branch of intellectualism: In a time where anti-intellectualism has serious traction in parts of society, do we really need to waste our time trying to eat our own? Where’s the productivity in that? How about we try to be more like plants? Cohabitate this space, work together, find common ground, adapt our methodologies, make new discoveries, and try not to kill one another.

Hey, speaking of killing…

I know something we can try to kill.

How about we work on that, together?