An Economist's Not-So-Economical Cancer Treatment

These past few days, many people have written articles about the passing of Mr. Gao Shanwen after treatment for lymphoma, and people have kept sending me messages asking me to comment on his treatment regimen.

Gao Shanwen was a famous economist, a graduate of Peking University, and belonged to the high-IQ group that received a top-tier education. In January 2025, feeling unwell, he went to various major hospitals for examinations without a clear result, and it was not until December 2025 that a hospital in Hong Kong diagnosed him with peripheral T-cell lymphoma. A further consultation at Ruijin Hospital in Shanghai identified it as angioimmunoblastic lymphoma, and chemotherapy was then started.

It should be noted here that diagnosing lymphoma is sometimes genuinely difficult, because the gold standard for diagnosing cancer is the pathology report, but the accuracy of a pathology report depends on precisely reaching the cancerous lesion with the biopsy needle. Many lymphoma patients have to undergo multiple biopsies before a diagnosis is made.

In February 2026, after completing three chemotherapy cycles, a follow-up examination found that the chemotherapy was ineffective and the disease had progressed. Mr. Gao then switched to PD-1 immunotherapy. Western medicine experts assessed that PD-1 immunotherapy alone would have limited effect, and recommended that he simultaneously adopt the much-hyped CAR-T regimen of recent years, along with allogeneic hematopoietic stem cell therapy.

CAR-T treatment began in April 2026; cells were collected in late April for in vitro preparation, and reinfused in late May. Unfortunately, in June 2026, Mr. Gao developed cytokine storm—commonly known as an immune storm—a common side effect of immunotherapy.

In July 2026, Mr. Gao Shanwen passed away despite treatment.

The entire treatment lasted only a little over half a year, and the 55-year-old Mr. Gao met an untimely death, which is deeply lamentable. To be honest, even if Mr. Gao had adopted no treatment at all, his survival time should not have been this short.

In reality, highly educated, high-IQ public figures like Mr. Gao are no different from ordinary people once they develop cancer; they too are helpless and at a loss, relying only on their educational background, personal beliefs, and social circle to make what they think is the most correct decision. Mr. Gao chose entirely modern, high-tech medical options, which fit his status and were consistent with his worldview. Unfortunately, he overestimated the effectiveness of these treatments and underestimated their side effects, so the final outcome was not a good one.

He reminds me of a passage in the preface to the Shanghan Lun (Treatise on Cold Damage): "Alas, the scholars of today pay no attention to medicine, nor diligently study its methods, to treat the illnesses of their rulers and parents above, to rescue the distressed below, and to preserve their own health in the middle. Instead they compete for glory and power, cringing before the mighty, rushing about obsessed only with fame and gain, exalting the superficial and neglecting the root, making their outer showy while their inner withers. If the skin is gone, upon what can the hair attach? Suddenly struck by pathogenic wind and seized by unusual disease, when disaster and calamity arrive they tremble with fear; then, abandoning their dignity, they humbly implore shamans and priests, despairing and resigning fate to heaven, helpless in defeat. They carry a lifespan of a hundred years and entrust this most precious vessel to an ordinary doctor, allowing whatever treatment he chooses. Alas! Their bodies are already gone, their spirits extinguished, turned into something alien, sunk in the netherworld, while others weep in vain. How sorrowful! The whole world is deluded, none can awaken, they do not cherish their own lives. If they thus take life lightly, of what use are glory and power? Advancing, they cannot love and know others; retreating, they cannot love and know themselves. When disaster strikes and they stand in perilous straits, muddled and dim, they are like wandering ghosts. Pity it is! The worldly scholars race after empty glamour, failing to secure their root, forgetting their bodies for things, in danger as if standing on thin ice or at the edge of a chasm—and they have come to this!"

The gist of this passage is that some otherwise intelligent people neglect the study of medical knowledge, spending their energy and passion on careers that chase fame and fortune; once a serious illness strikes, they are helpless and entrust their most precious lives to mediocre doctors, submitting to unreliable treatment, and ultimately losing their lives—truly lamentable.

Zhang Zhongjing's words certainly have their biases; many who study medicine are also intelligent people, and it is impossible for everyone to study medicine. But to some extent, Zhang Zhongjing reflected part of reality, and Mr. Gao Shanwen's case confirms his view.

Given his intellect, Mr. Gao could have chosen a more prudent treatment approach, but he did not. He overly believed in advanced high technology. I believe many clinical oncologists would, from the bottom of their hearts, disapprove of this choice.

If Mr. Gao had chosen a milder regimen of radiotherapy and chemotherapy combined with traditional Chinese medicine, he most likely would not have passed away so quickly. But this Peking University–educated public figure was, deep down, repelled by such "outdated" medical approaches, and he paid a steep price for his self-confidence and faith in high technology.

Human beings are strange creatures; once a certain belief is formed, it becomes hard to accept anything else, and everyone inevitably becomes somewhat dogmatic. This is what I find most bewildering.

How did we lose our curiosity and desire to explore? How did we turn ourselves into people whose minds have been reshaped by prejudice and are no longer open?

Medicine is the most important part of human survival wisdom. Everyone really ought to learn, without prejudice, about the strengths and weaknesses of various medical systems—because any day, we ourselves could become the next Zhang, Wang, or Zhou Shanwen, targeted by a fatal illness like Mr. Gao. At that time, what truly saves us is not some particular doctor, but our own cognition. The more rounded our understanding, the greater our chance of survival.