The first time the WHO said we're going to eliminate a cancer
In a quiet but historic shift, Australia stands on the threshold of becoming the first nation to eliminate a form of cancer entirely — not through a single breakthrough, but through decades of sustained public health commitment. Beginning with the development of the Gardasil vaccine at the University of Queensland and a national rollout in 2007, Australia combined vaccination with sensitive screening to halve cervical cancer rates over forty years. The milestone of zero diagnoses in women under 25, recorded in 2021, is both a triumph of science and a reminder of how much suffering might have been prevented sooner — and how much work remains to ensure that triumph reaches every community.
- Australia recorded zero cervical cancer diagnoses in women under 25 in 2021 — a first in human history, and a signal that elimination by 2035 is within reach.
- For patients like Chrissy Walters, diagnosed with terminal cervical cancer at 39, the progress arrives too late — her 12-year-old daughter will receive the protection her mother never had.
- Indigenous Australians face cervical cancer rates twice the national average and are on track to reach elimination 12 years behind the rest of the country, exposing deep fractures in healthcare access and equity.
- Global replication is under threat: US cuts to Gavi vaccine funding, under-resourced health systems in low-income nations, and lagging programs in the UK, Sweden, and Rwanda all complicate the path forward.
- Scientists and policymakers now confront an unprecedented question — not just how to treat cancer, but whether humanity can, for the first time, choose to eliminate one entirely.
In 2021, Australia recorded something unprecedented: not a single cervical cancer diagnosis in women under 25. The milestone arrived quietly in the data, but it points toward something extraordinary — a nation on the verge of becoming the first in the world to eliminate an entire form of cancer.
Chrissy Walters was 39 when she received a terminal diagnosis, just months after the birth of her first child following years of struggling to conceive. More than a decade later, she remains in treatment, her illness woven into the fabric of family life. Her daughter, now 12, grew up with frank conversations about death from the age of three. This year, that daughter reached the age at which Australia begins vaccinating children against HPV — the virus responsible for cervical cancer. She will receive protection her mother never had.
The foundation was laid in 2006, when Australian scientists developed Gardasil, and the country became the first to launch a national HPV vaccination program the following year. The strategy paired early vaccination with sensitive HPV-based screening, later expanded to include boys and self-collection options that lowered barriers for those uncomfortable with clinical exams. Since 1982, both incidence and mortality rates have halved. Australia is now approaching the elimination threshold of fewer than four cases per 100,000 people — and assessors believe it may reach its 2035 target ahead of schedule.
Yet the progress is not shared equally. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander women face cervical cancer rates twice as high as the broader population and are more than three times as likely to die from it. On the current trajectory, elimination for Indigenous communities will arrive 12 years after the national target. Vaccine hesitancy, rising costs, and children missing school-based vaccination programs have all slowed momentum, with little systemic effort to re-engage those who fall through the gaps.
Beyond Australia's borders, the picture is more uncertain. Low-income nations lack the infrastructure to replicate this model, and recent US cuts to Gavi — the alliance that funds vaccines for developing countries — threaten to widen the gap further. Sweden and Rwanda have set ambitious 2027 targets but are lagging behind key milestones. For epidemiologist Professor Karen Canfell, the moment remains historic regardless: eliminating a cancer entirely is, she notes, a genuinely new concept for the world. For Walters, the knowledge that her daughter will be spared her fate offers a quiet solace — even as her own illness continues, appointment by appointment, to define her days.
In 2021, Australia recorded something it had never seen before: not a single cervical cancer diagnosis in women under 25. The milestone arrived quietly in the data, but it signals something larger—a country on the verge of becoming the first nation on Earth to eliminate an entire form of cancer.
Chrissy Walters was 39 when she learned she had advanced cervical cancer. Six months after finally giving birth to her first child, following years of struggling to conceive, she suffered a major bleed at home in Toowoomba, a small city inland from Brisbane. Hospital visits, biopsies, and doctor appointments followed. The diagnosis was terminal. "I just said to my husband Neil… there has been a huge mistake," she recalls. More than a decade later, she remains in treatment—debilitating, invasive procedures that have not stopped the cancer from spreading through her body. Her daughter, now 12, grew up with her mother's illness woven into daily life. They had frank conversations about dying when the girl was three years old.
But this year, that daughter reached the age when Australia begins vaccinating children against human papillomavirus, the virus that causes cervical cancer. She will receive protection her mother never had. Australia is racing toward a target: elimination of cervical cancer by 2035, and possibly sooner. If it succeeds, it will be the first country in the world to eliminate a cancer entirely.
The path began in 2006, when Australian scientists at the University of Queensland developed Gardasil, a vaccine that could prevent HPV infection. One year later, Australia became the first nation to roll out a national vaccination program. The strategy was two-pronged: vaccinate young people before they encounter the virus, and screen older women with sensitive HPV tests that detect the disease early. In 2013, the program expanded to include boys, who can carry and transmit the virus. In 2017, Australia shifted from pap smears to HPV-based screening, required only every five years. The country also pioneered self-collection options for samples—a change the government called a "game-changer" for people uncomfortable with pelvic exams or facing barriers to healthcare access.
The results have been stark. Since records began in 1982, both incidence and mortality rates for cervical cancer in Australia have halved. Current rates stand at 6.3 new cases per 100,000 women. Vaccination coverage among girls under 15 hovers just above 80 percent. Eighty-five percent of women in the critical screening age group have been tested. Scientists define elimination as fewer than four cases per 100,000 people—a threshold Australia is approaching fast enough that assessors say the country is on track to meet its 2035 target, possibly ahead of schedule.
Yet the progress is uneven. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander women face cervical cancer rates twice as high as the broader population, and they are more than three times as likely to die from it. Cancers are often detected later in Indigenous women. On the current trajectory, elimination for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities will arrive 12 years after the national target. Vaccine hesitancy in the wake of the Covid-19 pandemic, rising medical costs, and children missing school—and thus missing vaccination—have all slowed momentum. Many families do not realize the vaccine is free. "There's not a lot of a concerted effort to get them back in if they've missed it," says researcher Jocelyn Jones. "The onus is very much on families."
Australia's success cannot easily be replicated globally. Low and middle-income nations lack the healthcare infrastructure and resources to support vaccination and screening at scale. In March 2025, the United States announced it would end support for Gavi, an alliance that purchases vaccines for developing countries—a decision with ripple effects across the world. Sweden and Rwanda have both set targets to eliminate cervical cancer by 2027, launching accelerated programs, though both are lagging behind key milestones. The UK aims for 2040 but has seen vaccination and screening coverage decline in recent years.
Professor Karen Canfell, an epidemiologist who has shaped global cervical cancer policy, notes that this moment is historic. "It's the first time that the WHO, and globally, we've said we're going to eliminate a cancer," she says. "That's actually a new concept for cancer." For Walters, the knowledge that her daughter will never face what she has endured offers a kind of solace—even as her own illness remains a full-time burden, marked by endless appointments, severe side effects, and the constant work of advocating for herself within the healthcare system. Her experience, she hopes, will soon belong to history.
Notable Quotes
I just said to my husband Neil… there has been a huge mistake— Chrissy Walters, on receiving her cervical cancer diagnosis
It's the first time that the WHO, and globally, we've said we're going to eliminate a cancer. That's actually a new concept for cancer.— Professor Karen Canfell, epidemiologist
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does Australia's achievement matter if other countries can't replicate it?
Because it proves elimination is possible at all. For decades, cancer was something you managed, not something you eradicated. Australia showed the world a different path—and now other wealthy nations are trying to follow it. The real question is whether we'll help poorer countries get there too.
What's the biggest obstacle right now?
Inequality. The virus doesn't care about borders, but access to vaccines and screening does. Indigenous Australians are being left behind within the country itself. Globally, when the US cuts funding to vaccine alliances, entire regions lose access. You can have the perfect strategy and still fail if people can't reach it.
Does Chrissy Walters know her daughter will be protected?
Yes. And that's the heartbreak and the hope of this story in one moment. Walters spent over a decade in treatment, watching her child grow up around her illness. Her daughter will get a vaccine that takes minutes. The disease that's consuming her mother's life will likely never touch her daughter's.
How close is Australia really to the finish line?
Closer than anyone expected. They've already hit zero cases in women under 25. If vaccination rates hold and screening stays strong, they could be there by the early 2030s. But "close" is deceptive—that last stretch requires reaching the people who've been missed, the ones without easy access or trust in the system.
What happens if Australia succeeds first?
It becomes a proof of concept that changes how we think about cancer entirely. Right now, cancer is treated as inevitable. If Australia eliminates cervical cancer, it rewrites that story. Other countries will have to ask: if not this cancer, why not others?