Last week, I stood at the Embassy of Japan in Washington, D.C. talking to researchers about something most of them were never really trained to do: Raise money. That sounds strange when you say it out loud. We spend years teaching researchers how to understand disease, design studies, analyze data, publish papers, and defend their science. Then, increasingly, we turn around and say:

We have gotten very comfortable asking one question about almost everything: What is the return on investment? In business, that is usually a reasonable question. In medical research, it can become a limiting one. Some of the most important scientific work does not begin with a product, a treatment, or a clear path to revenue. It begins with a question about how something works, why a biological process behaves the way it does, or what researchers still do not understa

When people think about philanthropy, they often think about the moment a grant is awarded. The announcement is made. The funding is secured. Photos are taken. Everyone celebrates. Then what? That question doesn't get nearly enough attention. In biomedical research, a grant is rarely the finish line. More often, it's the starting point. Discoveries don't happen on a predictable schedule, and meaningful scientific progress almost never fits neatly into a two- or three-ye

Healthcare is rarely out of the headlines. One day, the conversation centers on rising costs. The next, it’s physician shortages, access to care, insurance reform, or the latest medical breakthrough. Each issue deserves attention because every one affects patients in meaningful ways. But amid all of these discussions, I think we sometimes lose sight of a more fundamental question.

When people think about medical breakthroughs, they often think about the discovery itself. A new therapy. A promising clinical trial. A scientific advancement that changes the way we understand disease. What often gets overlooked is where those breakthroughs begin. They usually start with people. Specifically, researchers willing to spend years asking difficult questions, testing ideas, and pursuing answers that may not come easily.

Most people think progress in cancer research happens in big moments. A breakthrough. A headline. A new treatment. What they don’t see is everything that happens before that. The years of work. The failed experiments. The collaboration across institutions. The early ideas that don’t yet have enough data to qualify for traditional funding. That’s where a lot of the real progress starts. And it’s where cancer research philanthropy can make a meaningful difference.

When people hear about a cancer research breakthrough, the story often sounds simple. A discovery is announced. A new therapy shows promise. A headline declares progress. But what most people don’t see behind cancer research breakthroughs is the long, demanding path that leads to that moment. Scientific progress rarely arrives in a single dramatic leap. It comes through years of incremental work, careful experimentation, and persistence from researchers who are trying to a

But what they don’t see is the grind behind the scenes. The years of effort, the research that doesn’t get funded, and the scientists struggling to keep momentum without institutional support.

That’s what happened with a recent study the JKTG Foundation supported, one that explored how iron-based nanoparticles could help detect and treat tumors more safely. This wasn’t hype. It was smart, specific science. And it’s the kind of work we’re proud to back.

You don’t usually associate spreadsheets with survival rates. But that’s exactly the connection Dr. Paul Macklin is exploring in our latest Driving Research episode.

You get results: faster, sharper, and more aligned with what patients truly need. That was the driving force behind the 9th annual JKTG Symposium, held October 15, 2025 in Washington D.C. This year’s theme, "Improving Breast Cancer Outcomes: Revealing and Targeting Tumor–Immune Interactions," was more than a title. It was a call to action.

If a project is safe, it will get funded. If it’s bold, uncertain, or disruptive, it probably won’t. That’s the problem. High-risk cancer research is exactly where the biggest breakthroughs often happen. But in most traditional funding models, the riskiest projects get pushed aside, not because they’re wrong, but because they don’t fit the system. This is where philanthropy comes in. And this is why the JKTG Foundation exists...

We throw the word legacy around a lot. People use it to mean all kinds of things: a name on a building, a career full of accolades, a foundation that writes checks in your honor. But in my experience, real legacy isn’t about how things look. It’s about whether what you built keeps working when you’re no longer in the picture. In cancer research, that’s especially important. If your funding, your connections, or your ideas are holding everything together, then you’re not build

For years, I’ve funded cancer research behind the scenes. Now, we’re taking the conversation public, with the launch of Driving Research, the JKTG Foundation’s first-ever cancer research podcast. And we’re starting with a conversation that matters...