Stel Bailey | Investigative Journalist
On a brisk September morning in Washington, D.C., reporters crowded into the White House as President Richard Nixon signed the National Cancer Act of 1971. With the stroke of a pen, he declared a “war on cancer,” vowing to eliminate it as a major cause of death and pledging more than a billion dollars to the effort. The nation listened, hopeful that by the bicentennial of 1976, a cure would be within reach.
Half a century later, the picture is very different. Cancer has not disappeared; it has become the second leading cause of death in the United States, trailing only COVID-19 in recent years. Breast cancer diagnoses have risen, and although treatments have improved, there is still no cure. The decline in death rates, roughly 5% since the 1950s, owes less to miracle drugs and more to changes in behavior, like quitting smoking or eating healthier. The hard truth is that, despite decades of research, too little attention has been paid to what causes cancer in the first place.
Step into any oncology ward and you’ll see the same story playing out: families waiting anxiously for test results, patients battling side effects from harsh treatments, doctors doing their best to extend lives. What you won’t see is the air those patients breathed in their neighborhoods, the pesticides that coated their food, or the polluted water that may have seeped silently into their bodies for years. Yet these environmental exposures are some of the biggest culprits.
Most people assume cancer “runs in the family,” but science tells a different story. Inherited mutations account for only a small fraction of cases. The majority come from changes in genes triggered by outside forces, what we eat, what we breathe, and what we’re exposed to. Stress, chemicals, and even lifestyle choices can flip genetic switches on or off, making prevention far more complex than simply looking at family history.
In 2016, the Obama administration reignited hope with the “Cancer Moonshot,” a billion-dollar initiative meant to speed up progress against the disease. The name evoked Kennedy’s bold promise to reach the moon, a symbol of national ambition. Yet much like Nixon’s original effort, the focus has remained squarely on treatments and drugs, not on prevention. That same year, Congress passed Trevor’s Law to investigate cancer clusters in children, but the law has languished without implementation. Communities continue to live near toxic waste sites and industrial pollution with little federal oversight.
For patients, treatments often mean walking a razor’s edge. Yes, they may extend life, but at a cost. Fatigue, immune complications, and even new cancers caused by the therapies themselves can shadow survivors. Meanwhile, drug prices have surged nearly 60%, boosting pharmaceutical profits but raising questions about whether quality of life matters as much as survival. In a healthcare system where millions already struggle to afford basic care, prevention remains an afterthought.
The reality is this: cancer cannot be fought in labs alone. It must also be fought in the air, water, and soil around us. Prevention means more than personal choices like eating vegetables or exercising; it means holding industries accountable for pollution and protecting communities from toxic exposure. Every time smoke drifts over a playground or chemical runoff contaminates a river, the battle against cancer begins long before a patient sits in a hospital waiting room.
Until we confront these environmental drivers, the “war on cancer” will remain unfinished. The Moonshot may send billions toward the search for new drugs, but without looking down at the ground we walk on and the air we breathe, we are missing the bigger picture.
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