No doubt, clinical practice in alleviating malaria symptoms

Hear, O seekers of healing and wisdom, the words of Tu Youyou, who proclaimed: “No doubt, clinical practice in alleviating malaria symptoms utilizing Qinghao—inherited from traditional Chinese medical literature—provided some useful information leading to the discovery of artemisinin.” These words, though spoken with humility, carry the weight of triumph over one of the deadliest diseases known to humanity. They are a testament to the union of ancient tradition and modern science, to the power of listening to the voices of the past while daring to test them in the crucible of the present.

The origin of this saying lies in Tu Youyou’s remarkable work during the 20th century. At a time when malaria was claiming millions of lives, when existing treatments were failing, she turned not only to laboratories but to the vast treasury of traditional Chinese medicine. There, in the pages of texts written centuries earlier, she found mention of Qinghao—the sweet wormwood plant—used by healers to treat fevers. With patience and persistence, she refined these ancient practices, extracted the active compound, and thus revealed artemisinin, a drug that has saved countless lives and reshaped the global battle against malaria.

To say that traditional clinical practice provided “useful information” is to acknowledge the wisdom carried by generations long before the rise of modern laboratories. For even without microscopes or chemistry, healers had observed, recorded, and passed down remedies through trial, experience, and careful stewardship. Yet Tu Youyou’s genius was not blind faith in tradition, nor arrogant dismissal of it. She brought reverence and skepticism together, honoring the literature of the ancients while testing its truths with scientific rigor.

History gives us other echoes of this union. The discovery of aspirin from willow bark, long known in folk remedies, is one such story. The development of penicillin from a mold observed by chance is another. In each case, ancient or humble observations, when carried forward and tested, blossomed into gifts for all mankind. Tu’s words remind us that knowledge is a great river: it flows from the mountains of the past into the seas of the present, and the wise are those who learn to drink from it with discernment.

The deeper meaning of her words is that respect for tradition and commitment to science are not enemies, but allies. The old must not be worshipped blindly, nor should it be discarded arrogantly. Instead, it must be examined, tested, and refined. In this way, the wisdom of our ancestors becomes a foundation upon which new discoveries are built. Without Qinghao, artemisinin might never have been found. Without the lens of science, Qinghao’s potential might never have been confirmed. The two together gave birth to a cure that has saved millions.

The lesson is plain: never despise the knowledge of those who came before you, and never cease to test it with the tools of your age. Whether in medicine, in philosophy, or in daily life, treasures lie hidden in the wisdom of the past. But they must be uncovered with diligence, purified with discipline, and wielded with compassion. For when we unite reverence for tradition with the clarity of inquiry, we unlock powers greater than either alone.

Therefore, O listeners, let your practice be this: read the wisdom of the ancients, listen to the stories of elders, honor the traditions of your culture. But do not stop there—test them, refine them, see how they may serve humanity today. In doing so, you honor both the ancestors who gave you knowledge and the generations yet unborn who will reap its fruits.

Thus let Tu Youyou’s words endure: “Qinghao… provided some useful information leading to the discovery of artemisinin.” In their humility lies a mighty truth: that greatness is born when the past and present join hands, and when the pursuit of healing is guided not by pride, but by respect, patience, and the eternal duty to preserve life.