

Novartis's pelacarsen and Novo Nordisk's ziltivekimab both nailed their biomarker targets in massive heart disease trials, yet neither drug reduced cardiovascular events. These were supposed to be genetics' greatest hits; instead, they're raising hard questions about what DNA evidence can actually predict.
Imagine your GPS says the road ahead is clear. You floor it. And you drive straight into a wall.
That's roughly what just happened to two of the most anticipated cardiovascular drugs in a generation. Novartis's pelacarsen and Novo Nordisk's ziltivekimab both did exactly what they were designed to do at the molecular level. They hit their targets, moved the right biomarkers, and checked every biological box. Then, in massive trials involving thousands of patients, neither one actually prevented heart attacks, strokes, or cardiovascular death.
The implications go far beyond two failed drugs. These were supposed to be the crown jewels of genetics-guided drug development: programs where human DNA practically guaranteed the biology would work. The biology did work. The patients just didn't get better.
Let's start with pelacarsen. Discovered by Ionis and exclusively licensed to Novartis for development and commercialization, it was tested in the Lp(a)HORIZON trial, enrolling 8,323 patients who had both elevated lipoprotein(a), or Lp(a), and established heart disease. Lp(a) is a cholesterol-adjacent particle that's been linked to cardiovascular risk for decades, and it's almost entirely determined by your genes. You can't diet or exercise it away.
Pelacarsen successfully lowered Lp(a) levels, consistent with earlier trial data. But when researchers looked at the composite endpoint (cardiovascular death, heart attacks, strokes, and urgent coronary procedures), the drug showed no statistically significant benefit over placebo. The biomarker went down. The event rate didn't follow.
Now for ziltivekimab. Novo Nordisk tested this anti-inflammatory antibody in the ZEUS trial, which enrolled more than 6,300 patients with atherosclerotic heart disease, chronic kidney disease, and elevated inflammation. The drug targets IL-6, a key inflammation molecule, and it crushed the biomarker endpoints: free IL-6 dropped, and hsCRP (a blood marker of inflammation) fell significantly.
The hazard ratio for major adverse cardiovascular events? , with a confidence interval of 0.88 to 1.11. For the non-statisticians: that's as close to "did absolutely nothing" as you can get. Novo subsequently stopped two related trials, HERMES and ATHENA, after concluding they were unlikely to succeed either.

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What makes these failures sting is the quality of evidence behind both targets.
Lp(a) is one of the most genetically validated cardiovascular risk factors in medicine. Through a technique called Mendelian randomization (essentially using people's inherited DNA differences as a natural experiment), researchers have shown that lifelong elevations in Lp(a) cause heart disease. One large analysis found that every 10 mg/dL increase in genetically predicted Lp(a) was associated with roughly a 5.8% higher risk of coronary heart disease. The causal chain looked airtight.
The IL-6 inflammation pathway had its own strong pedigree. Back in 2017, the landmark CANTOS trial proved that targeting inflammation (via a different molecule, IL-1β) could reduce cardiovascular events. Ziltivekimab was supposed to be the next step: a more precise anti-inflammatory that lowered hsCRP even more dramatically than canakinumab did in CANTOS. In the Phase 2 RESCUE trial, the suppression of hsCRP was nearly twice what canakinumab achieved.
More biomarker suppression, better outcomes, right? Wrong.
So what went wrong? The honest answer is: we're still figuring that out. Full data presentations are expected later in 2026. But the broad lesson is already crystallizing.
Genetic evidence tells you what happens over a lifetime. A drug trial lasts a few years. Mendelian randomization estimates reflect decades of inherited exposure. A pill or injection given to a 65-year-old for three to five years is a fundamentally different intervention. Think of it like this: growing up bilingual makes you fluent, but a weekend Duolingo binge probably won't get you there.
There are other possible explanations, too. Maybe pelacarsen needed to lower Lp(a) by more, or patients needed treatment earlier in life, or the trial enrolled the wrong population. Maybe IL-6 inhibition helps in some cardiovascular contexts but not in patients who already have advanced disease and kidney problems. These aren't excuses; they're genuine scientific questions that the topline data can't resolve.
The uncomfortable truth is that genetic validation roughly doubles the success rate of drug development programs, according to published analyses. That sounds great until you remember that doubling a low number still gives you a low number. Genetics is a filter, not a crystal ball.
Pelacarsen's failure sends shockwaves through the Lp(a) field. Amgen's olpasiran and Eli Lilly's lepodisiran are both in large cardiovascular outcomes trials of their own. They work through different mechanisms and may achieve different magnitudes of Lp(a) lowering, so the story isn't necessarily over. But investor sentiment has taken a hit, and the burden of proof just got heavier.
For anti-inflammatory cardiovascular drugs, the picture is murkier. Canakinumab proved the concept in CANTOS but was never commercially pursued for heart disease (Novartis shelved it, partly due to a modest effect size and infection risks). Ziltivekimab was supposed to be the refined sequel. Instead, it showed that suppressing inflammation more aggressively doesn't automatically translate to fewer cardiac events.
Cardiovascular medicine has a history of humbling assumptions. We once thought raising HDL (the "good cholesterol") would prevent heart attacks; multiple drugs that raised HDL flopped spectacularly. We thought certain diabetes drugs would help the heart; some did, some harmed it. The pattern is consistent: moving a biomarker is not the same as moving outcomes.
Genetics-guided development is still the best tool the industry has for picking targets. Programs with human genetic support genuinely do fail less often. But "less often" is not "never," and the pelacarsen and ziltivekimab results are a reminder that biology is not destiny, at least not on a clinical trial's timeline.
The road ahead for cardiovascular drug development isn't closed. It just requires more humility about what genetic evidence can and cannot promise. As one of medicine's oldest rules goes: the patient is the final arbiter. And this week, the patients spoke clearly.
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