Hervé Fridman honored by the Jung Foundation for his career dedicated to immuno-oncology

On May 15, 2025, in Hamburg, the Jung Foundation awarded its Gold Medal for Medicine to Professor Hervé Fridman, in recognition of his major contributions to the field of immuno-oncology. A professor emeritus at Université Paris Cité (Centre de Recherche des Cordeliers), he is one of the founders of modern immunotherapy. His pioneering research helped reveal the critical role of the tumor microenvironment in regulating immune responses.

Yes, I believe it’s only a matter of time.

For a long time, oncology followed two core paradigms: first, that each cancer type has its own specificities; and second, that treatment should target tumor cell proliferation and metastatic capacity. But for the past 15 years or so, with the entry of immunity into the therapeutic landscape, a paradigm shift has occurred.
It’s no longer just about targeting cancer cells but about enabling the immune system to do its job—unlocking and modulating it so it can control the tumor. And this can apply regardless of the cancer’s histological type.
A clear example is microsatellite instability (MSI) cancers, which result from DNA repair gene defects. These generate neo-epitopes, recognized by the immune system. In MSI colorectal cancers treated before surgery, 100% of patients respond. And MSI is also found in stomach, cervical, and other cancers.

That’s why the FDA approved this as the first predictive biomarker for immunotherapy response, independent of cancer type.

And if we take the hypothesis—held by immunologists and myself—that curing cancer isn’t just about destroying tumor cells but inducing an immune response capable of controlling residual or mutated cells, then it becomes essential to know whether this response exists, what kind it is, and how to activate or modulate it. This may well go beyond traditional organ-based classifications.
A colon cancer could, immunologically, resemble a stomach cancer. This kind of immune profile, rather than the organ of origin, may be the therapeutic target. As technologies become more accessible, this kind of stratification will naturally become part of therapeutic decision-making.
And this shift is already underway: non-invasive approaches now allow us to assess immunity without removing the tumor, and artificial intelligence combined with imaging could soon predict not just the type of cancer, but also its immune profile, guiding treatment decisions.
I’m very open and enthusiastic about all these new technologies.

It’s very hard to predict because we’re still in the early stages. But a convergence of disciplines is clearly necessary.
For example, Jakob Kather, a German AI expert, did a beautiful study showing that AI could predict MSI colorectal cancers. I asked him, “Based on what?” He said, “I don’t know.”

They use millions of data points—like telling a cat from a dog—and reach results because upstream, biologists have labeled things: “This is MSI, that’s MSS, that’s a lymphocyte, a macrophage…” The AI learns to recognize them, but without really understanding what it’s seeing. Meanwhile, the biologists, imaging experts, and clinicians do understand what’s meaningful—tissue architecture, cell organization—but they don’t yet master these complex tools.

So a real dialogue is beginning between these two communities.

And I hope we move beyond: “I don’t know how it works, but it works, so I’ll use it,” toward: “This tool works, it makes sense, and I can improve it.” That way, when facing a different question in a different cancer, we’ll already have a starting point.

That’s the biggest challenge. Despite all the advances, immunotherapy works in only 30 to 40% of cancers. So the majority of patients do not respond. We need to distinguish between two types of resistance: Primary resistance, where the patient never responds; Secondary resistance, where there is an initial response, but the cancer returns. Both require different strategies and are being intensely studied.
Primary resistance has several causes:

• “Cold” tumors, with no immune cell infiltration—what can you reactivate if nothing is there? Without lymphocytes, immunotherapy can’t work. We’re trying to overcome this using strategies like radiation to induce DNA breaks and generate new antigens; immunogenic chemotherapies; or oncolytic viruses that make tumors more visible to the immune system.
• Lymphocytes are present but inhibited—we already know about immune checkpoints, but there are others still poorly understood, involving neurons, the endocrine system, corticosteroids… We need to identify, case by case, what is blocking the immune response to release those brakes.

• Physical access to the tumor—in pancreatic cancer, for example, fibroblasts surround the tumor, making it difficult for even chemotherapy molecules to enter—so what about lymphocytes? We must understand and overcome this barrier.

So for primary resistance, we have three main areas: making tumors immunogenic, removing functional brakes, and enabling immune access to the tumor.

Secondary resistance is even more complex.
The tumor has already been exposed to immune pressure and adapted to evade it—for example, by suppressing HLA molecule expression, making it invisible to lymphocytes. We may then need to turn to other cell types like Natural Killer cells, etc.

This is what we call immuno-editing: cancer evolves to escape immunity. These cases are harder to treat.

And we must remain humble. We won’t cure 100% of cancers with immunotherapy—just as we don’t with other treatments.

What I’d say to young scientists is that this is an extraordinary profession. It’s multifaceted and ever-evolving. When you start out, you don’t know where the journey will take you. As you go, you change methods, subjects, ways of thinking. You evolve constantly—you’re always alert, always learning. But you must be deeply passionate, because it’s also a very tough job.

What made me who I am, I would say, are two converging elements.
The first is that I was largely raised by my grandmother, who came from her village in Ukraine and lived in Paris for about twenty years without speaking more than four words of French, but who had a vision of the present and the future. And she told me: “You will be a doctor,” because at the next pogrom, if you own a shop, you will lose everything; but if you are a doctor, you can go anywhere and practice your profession.
There was therefore no room for discussion, I could not do anything other than medicine.

The second encounter was with this physiology professor from Harvard, thanks to the NGO Save the Children — which still exists, by the way — whose principle is to have an orphaned child “adopted” — as I was — in order to support them so that they can pursue their studies.
I was lucky to be adopted by a great scientist; he invited me into his home, took me to his laboratory. That’s where I discovered that one could not only practice medicine, but also do research.
He supported me and regularly sent me to meet collaborators, French professors, who in turn took me under their wing — and one of them was Raoul Kourilsky, and I notably worked with his son, François, at Jean Dausset’s lab, who won the Nobel Prize.
I found myself in a fantastic environment. And on top of that, I met the woman I later married. Everything came together.
Those are the kinds of encounters — though there were many others…

What sometimes discourages me are mainly the administrative burdens. Being an emeritus professor also means facing very strict regulations. Fortunately, we find ways to keep things moving forward.
But what really keeps me going is that research continues to progress. I spent fifty years waiting for checkpoints to reach the clinic. In 1992, it was my lab that described the ITIM (Immunotyrosine Inhibition Motif), and twenty years later, it became a therapeutic reality. And now I should go tend my garden? How can I walk away just as what we sowed is finally bearing fruit?

And then, there’s the pleasure of being surrounded by young researchers, 25 or 30 years old. It’s a privilege. There aren’t many professions where an 80-year-old man can still spend his days with passionate young people. That’s what keeps you alive.

And we’re two—my wife Catherine shares the same passion. In the morning, we leave together and share this journey together, and that changes everything. Being a researcher when your wife does the same job in the room next door… it inevitably changes the way you do research. It opens up so many possibilities.

It’s always nice to receive an award. The Gold Medal is the distinction they give to people of a certain age, let’s say… who have lived a little. When I looked at the list of previous recipients — a few Nobel laureates, presidents of academies… — I thought to myself it’s quite a select club, so yes, I’m pleased. My children insisted on being there for the ceremony. But I don’t see it as a milestone or a driving force.