Russia's Pharmaceutical Dilemma: A Tale of Two Realities
The Russian pharmaceutical market is a paradox, with two starkly contrasting perspectives. On one side, Russian-speaking forums across Europe are flooded with requests for Russian medicines and alternative remedies, as expats believe in their effectiveness. On the other, there are those within Russia battling chronic illnesses, desperately seeking imported medications, distrusting any Russian-made drugs, even licensed ones, due to past experiences.
The author's personal experience highlights this divide. They recall a life-threatening situation where a Russian allergy medicine failed, while the same medication from Serbia worked. This isn't an isolated incident; the author's mother received a more effective, lower-dose prescription in Serbia than in Russia, and the price difference is staggering. This isn't a new issue; drug quality has been questionable since Soviet times, as satirically noted by Mikhail Zhvanetsky.
But here's where it gets controversial: Russia's State Duma member Airat Farrakhov suggests selling pills individually to save costs, a proposal that's hard to dismiss given the financial burden of medication. The author's friend with heart disease spends their entire pension on medicine, and fundraisers are common for those with various ailments. The prices of common drugs are shocking, leaving many wondering if pensions can cover these expenses, especially with the added hassle of doctor visits and pharmacy hunts.
Imported medicines are becoming scarce, and the Health Ministry's response is to promote domestic alternatives. However, this approach ignores the complexity of chronic illnesses and the varying reactions to different drugs. The ministry's focus on active substances oversimplifies the issue, leading to potential severe side effects.
Controversy arises when discussing foreign dominance in the market. At the Eastern Economic Forum, a Russian company's vice president complained about the popularity of foreign drugs, despite similar indications. The Deputy Health Minister vowed to keep resources within the country. This narrative is further fueled by the government's 'second is superfluous' rule for drug tenders, favoring Russian manufacturers and excluding foreign companies, all in the name of 'national interests'.
The case of Glurazym and Vpriv exemplifies this. The Irish-made Vpriv is more effective and, surprisingly, cheaper than its Russian counterpart, Glurazym. Yet, the government's policies restrict access to foreign drugs, benefiting domestic producers financially. This isn't about innovation; Russian pharma giants profit by importing active ingredients, often from expired patents, and assembling them, with little regard for quality.
The result? Counterfeit products, supply chain issues, and higher prices. The FAS's decision to fine a clinic for using syringes with plastic needle caps, claiming discrimination against domestic producers, is a prime example of bureaucratic absurdity. Such decisions can have severe consequences, especially with the Industry and Trade Ministry's plan to restrict stent and catheter imports for state hospitals, potentially endangering lives.
The government's protectionist stance may hinder innovation and quality. The claim that Russia could develop its own Pfizer is far-fetched, as it lacks the research infrastructure and global investment. Instead, Russian pharma companies rely on importing active ingredients and packaging, often from abroad, and assembling them, with little innovation or quality control.
The article concludes with a stark reminder of the consequences: the availability of ineffective or counterfeit medicines, higher prices, and potential health risks. The question remains: is this self-imposed isolation in the pharmaceutical sector truly in the best interest of Russian citizens?
