How Bacteria-Killing Viruses May Save Us From Antibiotic Resistance
Dr. Adalja is focused on emerging infectious disease, pandemic preparedness, and biosecurity. He has served on US government panels tasked with developing guidelines for the treatment of plague, botulism, and anthrax in mass casualty settings and the system of care for infectious disease emergencies, and as an external advisor to the New York City Health and Hospital Emergency Management Highly Infectious Disease training program, as well as on a FEMA working group on nuclear disaster recovery. Dr. Adalja is an Associate Editor of the journal Health Security. He was a coeditor of the volume Global Catastrophic Biological Risks, a contributing author for the Handbook of Bioterrorism and Disaster Medicine, the Emergency Medicine CorePendium, Clinical Microbiology Made Ridiculously Simple, UpToDate's section on biological terrorism, and a NATO volume on bioterrorism. He has also published in such journals as the New England Journal of Medicine, the Journal of Infectious Diseases, Clinical Infectious Diseases, Emerging Infectious Diseases, and the Annals of Emergency Medicine. He is a board-certified physician in internal medicine, emergency medicine, infectious diseases, and critical care medicine. Follow him on Twitter: @AmeshAA

Hand-counting bacteriophage plaques during a titer test.
In my hometown of Pittsburgh, it is not uncommon to read about cutting-edge medical breakthroughs, because Pittsburgh is the home of many innovations in medical science, from the polio vaccine to pioneering organ transplantation. However, medical headlines from Pittsburgh last November weren't heralding a new discovery for once. They were carrying a plea—for a virus.
Phages are weapons of bacterial destruction, but despite recognition of their therapeutic potential for over 100 years, there are zero phage products commercially available to medicine in the United States.
Specifically, a bacteria-killing virus that could attack and control a certain highly drug-resistant bacterial infection ravaging the newly transplanted lungs of a 25-year-old woman named Mallory Smith. The culprit bacteria, Burkholderia cepacia, is a notoriously vicious bacterium that preys on patients with cystic fibrosis who, throughout their life, are exposed to course after course of antibiotics, often fostering a population of highly resistant bacteria that can become too formidable for modern medicine to combat.
What Smith and her physicians desperately needed was a tool that would move beyond failed courses of antibiotics. What they sought was called a bacteriophage. These are naturally occurring ubiquitous viruses that target not humans, but bacteria. The world literally teems with "phages" and one cannot take a bite or drink of anything without encountering them. These weapons of bacterial destruction are exquisitely evolved to target bacteria and, as such, are not harmful to humans. However, despite recognition of their therapeutic potential for over 100 years, there are zero bacteriophage products commercially available to medicine in the United States, at a time when antibiotic resistance is arguably our most pressing public health crisis. Just this week, a new study was published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences detailing the global scope of the problem.
Why Were These Promising Tools Forgotten?
Phages weren't always relegated to this status. In fact, in the early 20th century phages could be found on American drug store shelves and were used for a variety of ailments. However, the path-breaking discovery and development of antimicrobials agents such as the sulfa drugs and, later the antibiotic penicillin, supplanted the world of phage therapeutics in the United States and many other places.
Fortunately, phage therapy never fully disappeared, and research and clinical use continued in Eastern European nations such as Georgia and Poland.
The antibiotic age revolutionized medicine in a way that arguably no other innovation has. Not only did antibiotics tame many once-deadly infectious diseases, but they made much of modern medicine – from cancer chemotherapy to organ transplantation to joint replacement – possible. Antibiotics, unlike the exquisitely evolved bacteriophage, possessed a broader spectrum of activity and were active against a range of bacteria. This non-specificity facilitated antibiotic use without the need for a specific diagnosis. A physician does not need to know the specific bacterial genus and species causing, for example, a skin infection or pneumonia, but can select an antibiotic that covers the likely culprits and use it empirically, fully expecting the infection to be controlled. Unfortunately, this non-specificity engendered the overuse of antibiotics whose consequences we are now suffering. A bacteriophage, on the other hand, will work against one specific bacterial species and is evolved for just that role.
Phages to the Rescue
As the march of antibiotic resistance has predictably continued since the dawn of the antibiotic age, the prospect of resurrecting phage therapy has been increasingly viewed as one solution. Fortunately, phage therapy never fully disappeared, and research and clinical use continued in Eastern European nations such as Georgia and Poland. However, much of that experience has remained opaque to the medical community at large and questions about dosage, toxicity, efficacy, and method of delivery left many questions without full answers.
Though real questions remained regarding phage use, dire circumstances of prolific antibiotic resistance necessitated their use in the U.S. in two prominent instances involving life-threatening infections. The first case involved an Acinetobacter baumanii infection of the pancreas in a San Diego man in which phages were administered intravenously in 2016. The other case, also in 2016, involved the instillation of phages, fished out of a pond, into the chest cavity of man with a Pseudmonas aeruginosa infection of a prosthetic graft of the aorta. Both cases were successful and were what fueled the Pittsburgh-based plea for Burkholderia phages.
The phages you begin with may not be the ones you end up with, as Darwinian evolutionary pressures will alter the phage in order to keep up with the ongoing evolution of its bacterial target.
How Phages Differ from Other Medical Products
It might seem surprising that in light of the urgent need for new treatments for drug-resistant infections, the pharmaceutical armamentarium is not teeming with phages like a backyard pond. However, phages have been difficult to fit into the current regulatory framework that operates in most developed countries such as the U.S. because of their unique characteristics.
Phages are not one homogenous product like a tablet of penicillin, but a cocktail of viruses that change and evolve as they replicate. The phages you begin with may not be the ones you end up with, as Darwinian evolutionary pressures will alter the phage in order to keep up with the ongoing evolution of its bacterial target. The cocktail may not just contain one specific phage, but a range of phages that all target some specific bacteria in order to increase efficacy. These phage cocktails might also need adjusting to keep pace with bacterial resistance. Additionally, the concentration of phage in a human body after administration is not so easy to predict as phage numbers will rise and fall based on the number of target bacteria that are present.
All of these characteristics make phages very unique when viewed through a regulatory lens, and necessitate the creation of new methods to evaluate them, given that regulatory approval is required. Using phages in the U.S. now requires FDA permission through an investigational new drug application, which can be expedited during an emergency situation. FDA scientists are actively involved in understanding the best means to evaluate bacteriophage therapy and several companies are in early-stage development, though no major clinical trials in the U.S. are currently underway.
One FDA-approved application of phages has seen them used on food products at delis and even in slaughterhouses to diminish the quantity of bacteria on certain meat products.
Would That Humans Were As Lucky As Bologna
Because of the regulatory difficulties with human-use approval, some phage companies have taken another route to develop phage products: food safety. Food safety is a major public health endeavor, and keeping food that people consume safe from E.coli, Listeria, and Salmonella, for example, are rightfully major priorities of industry. One FDA-approved application of phages has seen them used on food products at delis and even in slaughterhouses to diminish the quantity of bacteria on certain meat products.
This use, unlike that for human therapeutic purposes, has found success with regulators: phages, not surprisingly, have been granted the "generally regarded as safe (GRAS)" designation.
A Phage Directory
Tragically Mallory Smith succumbed to her infection despite getting a dose of phages culled from sludge in the Philippines and Fiji. However, her death and last-minute crusade to obtain phages has prompted the call for a phage directory. This directory could catalog the various phages being studied and the particular bacteria they target. Such a searchable index will facilitate the rapid identification and – hopefully – delivery of phages to patients.
If phage therapy is to move from a last-ditch emergency measure to a routine tool for infectious disease physicians, it will be essential that the hurdles they face are eliminated.
Moving Beyond Antibiotics
As we move increasingly toward a post-antibiotic age in infectious disease, moving outside of the traditional paradigm of broad-spectrum antibiotics to non-traditional therapeutics such as bacteriophages and other novel products will become increasingly necessary. Already, clinical trials are underway in various populations, including a major trial in European burn patients.
It is important to understand that there are important scientific and therapeutic questions regarding dose, route of administration and other related questions that need to be addressed before phage use becomes more routine, and it is only through clinical trials conducted with the hope of eventual commercialization that these answers will be found. If phage therapy is to move from a last-ditch emergency measure to a routine tool for infectious disease physicians, it will be essential that the hurdles they face are eliminated.
Dr. Adalja is focused on emerging infectious disease, pandemic preparedness, and biosecurity. He has served on US government panels tasked with developing guidelines for the treatment of plague, botulism, and anthrax in mass casualty settings and the system of care for infectious disease emergencies, and as an external advisor to the New York City Health and Hospital Emergency Management Highly Infectious Disease training program, as well as on a FEMA working group on nuclear disaster recovery. Dr. Adalja is an Associate Editor of the journal Health Security. He was a coeditor of the volume Global Catastrophic Biological Risks, a contributing author for the Handbook of Bioterrorism and Disaster Medicine, the Emergency Medicine CorePendium, Clinical Microbiology Made Ridiculously Simple, UpToDate's section on biological terrorism, and a NATO volume on bioterrorism. He has also published in such journals as the New England Journal of Medicine, the Journal of Infectious Diseases, Clinical Infectious Diseases, Emerging Infectious Diseases, and the Annals of Emergency Medicine. He is a board-certified physician in internal medicine, emergency medicine, infectious diseases, and critical care medicine. Follow him on Twitter: @AmeshAA
They received retinal implants to restore their vision. Then the company turned its back on them.
A company called Second Sight made an implant that partially restored vision to people who'd been blind for decades. But when Second Sight pivoted, it stopped servicing its product, leaving many in the dark.
The first thing Jeroen Perk saw after he partially regained his sight nearly a decade ago was the outline of his guide dog Pedro.
“There was a white floor, and the dog was black,” recalls Perk, a 43-year-old investigator for the Dutch customs service. “I was crying. It was a very nice moment.”
Perk was diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa as a child and had been blind since early adulthood. He has been able to use the implant placed into his retina in 2013 to help identify street crossings, and even ski and pursue archery. A video posted by the company that designed and manufactured the device indicates he’s a good shot.
Less black-and-white has been the journey Perk and others have been on after they were implanted with the Argus II, a second-generation device created by a Los Angeles-based company called Second Sight Medical Devices.
The Argus II uses the implant and a video camera embedded in a special pair of glasses to provide limited vision to those with retinitis pigmentosa, a genetic disease that causes cells in the retina to deteriorate. The camera feeds information to the implant, which sends electrical impulses into the retina to recapitulate what the camera sees. The impulses appear in the Argus II as a 60-pixel grid of blacks, grays and whites in the user’s eye that can render rough outlines of objects and their motion.
Smartphone and computer manufacturers typically stop issuing software upgrades to their devices after two or three years, eventually rendering them bricks. But is the smartphone approach acceptable for a device that helps restore the most crucial sense a human being possesses?
Ross Doerr, a retired disability rights attorney in Maine who received an Argus II in 2019, describes the field of vision as the equivalent of an index card held at arm’s length. Perk often brings objects close to his face to decipher them. Moreover, users must swivel their heads to take in visual data; moving their eyeballs does not work.
Despite its limitations, the Argus II beats the alternative. Perk no longer relies on his guide dog. Doerr was uplifted when he was able to see the outlines of Christmas trees at a holiday show.
“The fairy godmother department sort of reaches out and taps you on the shoulder once in a while,” Doerr says of his implant, which came about purely by chance. A surgeon treating his cataracts was partnered with the son of another surgeon who was implanting the devices, and he was referred.
Doerr had no reason to believe the shower of fairy dust wouldn’t continue. Second Sight held out promises that the Argus II recipients’ vision would gradually improve through upgrades to much higher pixel densities. The ability to recognize individual faces was even touted as a possibility. In the winter of 2020, Doerr was preparing to travel across the U.S. to Second Sight’s headquarters to receive an upgrade. But then COVID-19 descended, and the trip was canceled.
The pandemic also hit Second Sight’s bottom line. Doerr found out about its tribulations only from one of the company’s vision therapists, who told him the entire department was being laid off. Second Sight cut nearly 80% of its workforce in March 2020 and announced it would wind down operations.
Ross Doerr has mostly stopped using his Argus II, the result of combination of fear of losing its assistance from wear and tear and disdain for the company that brought it to market.
Jan Doerr
Second Sight’s implosion left some 350 Argus recipients in the metaphorical dark about what to do if their implants failed. Skeleton staff seem to have rarely responded to queries from their customers, at least based on the experiences of Perk and Doerr. And some recipients have unfortunately returned to the actual dark as well, as reports have surfaced of Argus II failures due to aging or worn-down parts.
Product support for complex products is remarkably uneven. Although the iconic Ford Mustang ceased production in the late 1960s, its parts market is so robust that it’s theoretically possible to assemble a new vehicle from recently crafted components. Conversely, smartphone and computer manufacturers typically stop issuing software upgrades to their devices after two or three years, eventually rendering them bricks. Consumers have accepted both extremes.
But is the smartphone approach acceptable for a device that helps restore the most crucial sense a human being possesses?
Margaret McLean, a senior fellow at the Markkula Center for Applied Ethics at Santa Clara University in California, notes companies like Second Sight have a greater obligation for product support than other consumer product ventures.
“In this particular case, you have a great deal of risk that is involved in using this device, the implant, and the after care of this device,” she says. “You cannot, like with your car, decide that ‘I don’t like my Mustang anymore,’ and go out and buy a Corvette.”
And, whether the Argus II implant works or not, its physical presence can impact critical medical decisions. Doerr’s doctor wanted him to undergo an MRI to assist in diagnosing attacks of vertigo. But the physician was concerned his implant might interfere. With the latest available manufacturer advisories on his implant nearly a decade old, the procedure was held up. Doerr spent months importuning Second Sight through phone calls, emails and Facebook postings to learn if his implant was contraindicated with MRIs, which he never received. Although the cause of his vertigo was found without an MRI, Doerr was hardly assured.
“Put that into context for a minute. I get into a serious car accident. I end up in the emergency room, and I have a tag saying I have an implanted medical device,” he says. “You can’t do an MRI until you get the proper information from the company. Who’s going to answer the phone?”
Second Sight’s management did answer the call to revamp its business. It netted nearly $78 million through a private stock placement and an initial public offering last year. At the end of 2021, Second Sight had nearly $70 million in cash on hand, according to a recent filing with the Securities and Exchange Commission.
And while the Argus II is still touted at length on Second Sight’s home page, it appears little of its corporate coffers are earmarked toward its support. These days, the company is focused on obtaining federal approvals for Orion, a new implant that would go directly into the recipient’s brain and could be used to remedy blindness from a variety of causes. It obtained a $6.4 million grant from the National Institutes of Health in May 2021 to help develop Orion.
Presented with a list of written questions by email, Second Sight’s spokesperson, Dave Gentry of the investor relations firm Red Chip Companies, copied a subordinate with an abrupt message to “please handle.” That was the only response from a company representative. A call to Second Sight acting chief executive officer Scott Dunbar went unreturned.
Whether or not the Orion succeeds remains to be seen. The company’s SEC filings suggest a viable and FDA-approved device is years away, and that operational losses are expected for the “foreseeable future.” Second Sight reported zero revenue in 2020 or 2021.
Moreover, the experiences of the Argus II recipients could color the reception of future Second Sight products. Doerr notes that his insurer paid nearly $500,000 to implant his device and for training on how to use it.
“What’s the insurance industry going to say the next time this crops up?” Doerr asks, noting that the company’s reputation is “completely shot” with the recipients of its implants.
Perk, who made speeches to praise the Argus II and is still featured in a video on the Second Sight website, says he also no longer supports the company.
Jeroen Perk, an investigator for the Dutch customs service, cried for joy after partially regaining his sight, but he no longer trusts Second Sight, the company that provided his implant.
Nanda Perk
Nevertheless, Perk remains highly reliant on the technology. When he dropped an external component of his device in late 2020 and it broke, Perk briefly debated whether to remain blind or find a way to get his Argus II working again. Three months later, he was able to revive it by crowdsourcing parts, primarily from surgeons with spare components or other Argus II recipients who no longer use their devices. Perk now has several spare parts in reserve in case of future breakdowns.
Despite the frantic efforts to retain what little sight he has, Perk has no regrets about having the device implanted. And while he no longer trusts Second Sight, he is looking forward to possibly obtaining more advanced implants from companies in the Netherlands and Australia working on their own products.
Doerr suggests that biotech firms whose implants are distributed globally be bound to some sort of international treaty requiring them to service their products in perpetuity. Such treaties are still applied to the salvage rights for ships that sunk centuries ago, he notes.
“I think that in a global tech economy, that would be a good thing,” says McLean, the fellow at Santa Clara, “but I am not optimistic about it in the near term. Business incentives push toward return on share to stockholders, not to patients and other stakeholders. We likely need to rely on some combination of corporately responsibility…and [international] government regulation. It’s tough—the Paris Climate Accord implementation at a slow walk comes to mind.”
Unlike Perk, Doerr has mostly stopped using his Argus II, the result of combination of fear of losing its assistance from wear and tear and disdain for the company that brought it to market. At 70, Doerr says he does not have the time or energy to hold the company more accountable. And with Second Sight having gone through a considerable corporate reorganization, Doerr believes a lawsuit to compel it to better serve its Argus recipients would be nothing but an extremely costly longshot.
“It’s corporate America at its best,” he observes.
Rehabilitating psychedelic drugs: Another key to treating severe mental health disorders
A recent review paper found evidence that using psychedelics such as MDMA can help with treating a variety of common mental illnesses, but experts fear that research might easily be shut down in the future.
Lori Tipton's life was a cascade of trauma that even a soap opera would not dare inflict upon a character: a mentally unstable family; a brother who died of a drug overdose; the shocking discovery of the bodies of two persons her mother had killed before turning the gun on herself; the devastation of Hurricane Katrina that savaged her hometown of New Orleans; being raped by someone she trusted; and having an abortion. She suffered from severe PTSD.
“My life was filled with anxiety and hypervigilance,” she says. “I was constantly afraid and had mood swings, panic attacks, insomnia, intrusive thoughts and suicidal ideation. I tried to take my life more than once.” She was fortunate to be able to access multiple mental health services, “And while at times some of these modalities would relieve the symptoms, nothing really lasted and nothing really address the core trauma.”
Then in 2018 Tipton enrolled in a clinical trial that combined intense sessions of psychotherapy with limited use of Methylenedioxymethamphetamine, or MDMA, a drug classified as a psychedelic and commonly known as ecstasy or Molly. The regimen was arduous; 1-2 hour preparation sessions, three sessions where MDMA was used, which lasted 6-8 hours, and lengthy sessions afterward to process and integrate the experiences. Two therapists were with her every moment of the three-month program that totaled more than 40 hours.
“It was clear to me that [the therapists] weren't going to heal me, that I was going to have to do the work for myself, but that they were there to completely support my process,” she says. “But the effects of MDMA were really undeniable for me. I felt embodied in a way that I hadn't in years. PTSD had robbed me of the ability to feel safe in my own body.”
Tipton doesn’t think the therapy completely cured her PTSD. “But when I completed the trial in 2018, I no longer qualified for the diagnosis, and I still don't qualify for the diagnosis today,” she told an April workshop on psychedelics as mental health treatment by the National Academies of Sciences, Engineering and Medicine, or NASEM.
A Champion
Rick Doblin has been a catalyst behind much of the contemporary research into psychedelics. Prior to the DEA clamp down, the Boston psychotherapist had seen that MDMA and other psychedelics could benefit some of his patients where other measures had failed. He immediately organized efforts to question the drug rescheduling but to little avail. In 1986, he created the nonprofit Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies (MAPS), which slowly laid the scientific foundation for clinical trials, including the one that Tipton joined, using psychedelics to treat mental health conditions.
Now, only slowly, have researchers been able to explore the power of these drugs to treat a broad spectrum of severely debilitating mental health conditions, including trauma, depression, and PTSD, where other available treatments proved inadequate.
“Psychedelic psychotherapy is an attempt to go after the root causes of the problems with just a relatively few administrations, as contrasted to most of the psychiatric drugs used today that are mostly just reducing symptoms and are meant to be taken on a daily basis,” Doblin said in a 2019 TED Talk. Most of these drugs can have broad effect but “some are probably more effective than others for certain conditions,” he added in a recent interview with Leaps.org. Comparative head-to-head studies of psychedelic therapies simply have not been conducted.
Their mechanisms of action are poorly understood and can vary between drugs, but it is generally believed that psychedelics change the activity of neurons so that the brain processes information differently, says Katrin Preller, a neuropsychologist at the University of Zurich. A recent important study in Nature Medicine by Richard Daws and colleagues used functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) of the brain and found that “functional networks became more functionally interconnected and flexible after psilocybin treatment…implying that psilocybin's antidepressant action may depend on a global increase in brain network integration.”
Rosalind Watts, a clinical investigator at the Imperial College in London, believes there is “an overestimation of the importance of the drug and an underestimation of the importance of the [therapeutic] context” in psychedelic research. “It is unethical to provide the drug without the other,” she says. Doblin notes that “psychotherapy outcomes research demonstrates that the therapeutic alliance between the therapist and the patients is the single most predictive factor of outcomes. [It is] trust and the sense of safety, the willingness to go into difficult spaces” that makes clinical breakthroughs possible with the drug.
Excitement and Challenges
Recurrent themes expressed at the NASEM workshop were exciting glimpses of the potential for psychedelics to treat mental health conditions combined with the challenges of realizing those potentials. A recent review paper found evidence that using psychedelics can help with treating a variety of common mental illnesses, but the paper could identify only 14 clinical trials of classic psychedelics published since 1991. Much of the reason is that the drugs are not patentable and so the pharmaceutical industry has no interest in investing in expensive clinical trials to bring them to market. MAPS has raised about $135 million over its 36-year history to conduct such research, says Doblin, the vast majority of it from individual donors and none from foundations.
The workshop participants’ views also were colored by the history of drug crackdowns and a fear that research might easily be shut down in the future. There was great concern that use of psychedelics should be confined to clinical trials with high safety and ethical standards, instead of doctors and patients experimenting on their own. “We need to get it right this time,” says Charles Grob, a psychiatrist at the UCLA School of Medicine. But restricting access to psychedelics will become even more difficult now that Oregon and several cities have acted to decriminalize possession and use of many of these drugs.
The experience with ketamine also troubled Grob. He is hoping to “mitigate the rush of rapid commercialization” that occurred with that drug. Ketamine technically is not a psychedelic though it does share some of their potentially euphoric properties. In 2019, soon after the FDA approved a form of ketamine with a limited label indication to treat depression, for profit clinics sprang up promoting off label use of the drug for psychiatric conditions where there was little clinical evidence of efficacy. He fears the same thing will happen when true psychedelics are made available.
If these therapies are approved, access to them is likely to be a problem. The drugs themselves are cheap but the accompanying therapy is not, and there is a shortage of trained psychotherapists. Mental health services often are not adequately covered by health insurance, while the poor and people of color suffer additional burdens of inadequate access. Doblin is committed to health care equity by training additional providers and by investigating whether some of the preparatory and integration sessions might be handled in a group setting. He says it is important that the legal aspects of psychedelics also be addressed so that patients “don't have to go underground” in order to receive this care.