27 SEPTEMBER 2006
PODCAST INTERVIEWS
RELEVANT DOCUMENTS
RELEVANT LINKS
RECENT FEATURES |
Hailed as a landmark piece of legislation almost two decades ago, Republic Act No. 6675 — more popularly known as the generics law — has unfortunately suffered from years of lax implementation. AMONG ALBERTO Romualdez Jr.'s saddest
experiences as a physician, one that he says he continues to encounter,
involves his regular trips to the drugstore. "You cannot miss this scene,"
shares Romualdez, who was the health secretary during the brief presidency
of Joseph Estrada. "Somebody with a prescription, say for antibiotics for
one week, comes up to the sales clerk and pleads, 'This is the only money
I have. Is it possible to buy just one or two tablets or whatever this amount
can afford?'"
"The poor," he continues, "will spend all their money, give as much as
they can bear, which is usually too much for them especially if it concerns
catastrophic illnesses."
Romualdez laments how medicines, including essential, life-saving ones,
are priced way too steep beyond the reach of ordinary Filipinos. It's
an anomaly that he blames primarily on unregulated free-market forces
that wreak havoc on the country's healthcare system.
Indeed, compared to the demand side, the supply side — the pharmaceutical
industry — is so dominant that it can dictate whatever price it wants.
As a result, next to Japan, the Philippines has the highest drug prices
in Asia. It's almost as if the country had no law aimed precisely at bringing
down the cost of medicines to levels the masses could afford.
In 1988, though, the Philippines, ahead of everyone else in Asia, enacted
a law on generics in consonance with the national drug policy of the then
fledging democracy under President Corazon Aquino. Helping usher in an era
of social-reform measures, Republic Act No.
6675 sought to promote, require, and ensure the labeling, prescribing,
and dispensing of medicines using their generic names.
Eighteen years later, the consensus among stakeholders in the healthcare
sector — government agencies, generic-manufacturing companies, distributors,
and nongovernmental organizations — is that the implementation of the
landmark Generics Act has been for the most part a blow hot, blow cold
affair. No less than the health department admits that its enforcement
has not been that good.
"In fact, it's somewhat dismal," says health undersecretary Alexander
Padilla. But then he also says the law itself is defective, because he
sees it as bearing the mark of the strong pharmaceutical lobby that insisted
on the right of doctors to continue prescribing branded medicines.
"While the law compelled doctors to issue generic prescriptions," says
Padilla, "it also allowed them to continue prescribing the branded equivalent
of their choice, the net effect of which has been to nullify generics
altogether."
Dr. Eduardo Banzon, vice president of the government Philippine Health
Corporation (Philhealth) and a health economist, does not go as far as
describing the generics law as flawed. But he agrees with Padilla that
it has suffered from weak enforcement. While consumers are now familiar
with the generic names of several popular over-the-counter branded medicine
such as Tylenol (paracetamol) and Ponstan (mefenamic acid),
he says that people still do not ask for the generic equivalents.
"How we've implemented the law hasn't empowered consumers enough," he
says. "We need to push for it more." FOR SURE, despite Padilla's misgivings, the crafters
of the generics law had tried to cover all bases so that generic medicines
would have a fair chance in the market. Drugstores, for instance, were
supposed to have a generics menu visible and accessible to customers.
They were also to remind consumers about available generic equivalents
of branded medicines. Each doctor's prescription, meanwhile, had to have
the generic name of every medicine a patient was told to take. Even medicine
ads carried a brand's generic name.
In the United States, which passed a generic-drugs law just four years
ahead of the Philippines, generic drugs now have a 50-percent market share.
By contrast, so-called "true generics" still account for a measly three
percent of nominal drug sales in this country. Prices of branded medicines
should decrease by 50-60 percent when a generic equivalent is introduced
in the market — but only if consumers start buying the latter in sizeable
quantities, thereby putting a challenge before the branded-drug makers.
That generic medicines are barely making a mark can in fact be traced
largely to Padilla's very own department. As it has turned out, the implementation
of the generics law depends on the zeal of who heads the Department of
Health (DOH), which monitors compliance with Generic Act's provisions,
particularly among doctors and drug outlets. (See status
of compliance with specific provisions of the generics law)
When Dr. Alfredo R.A. Bengzon headed DOH, a nearly 100-percent compliance
rate was registered particularly among government hospitals controlled
by the department. At the time, the DOH put forth the vision of "health
as a right" rather than a privilege of the few.
This encouraging trend was more or less maintained when Dr. Juan Flavier
Jr. (now in his last term as a senator) succeeded Bengzon as health secretary.
"He even had a (mascot), Eric Generic," recalls Romualdez of Flavier's
effective media campaign to promote generics.
Unfortunately, the health secretaries that came after Flavier — Dr. Hilario
Ramiro Jr., Dr. Carmencita Noriega-Reodica, and Dr. Felipe Estrella —
did not seem to have given much attention to generics. Says Romualdez:
"It was still part of the program, and I'm sure they were all in favor
of the generics law, but they were not too hot about it. Kaya medyo
napabayaan (That's why it was neglected a bit)."
By the time he assumed the Cabinet post in 1998, Romualdez says the compliance
rate had fallen below 50 percent. "So we had to start all over again,
always doing monitoring, asking for hospital records and so forth," he
says. "By the time I left (in 2001), it was again at about 80 percent,
more or less."
Today the situation appears to have returned to the post-Flavier years.
Pastor Joseph Lee, manager of Botika Binhi, a nationwide nongovernment
village pharmacy initiative that has been around since the early 1990s,
attests to the vigorous promotion of generics and the support his organization
received during Flavier's time. But he rues that the enthusiasm of those
days has declined over the years. "It's harder now," he says. "We really
feel the lack of support."
Padilla, for his part, puts the compliance rate at 30 to 40 percent,
"50 percent at the maximum," which he attributes to poor monitoring and
weak penalties.
Penalties for violating the generics law include reprimands, fines, the
maximum of which is P10,000, suspension of licenses of doctors for a year
at the most, and six months to a year behind bars. But Joshua Ramos, deputy
director of the Bureau of Food and Drugs (BFAD), says the perception is
nobody really gets penalized, given that the government seems to be having
a hard time keeping track of what doctors, hospitals, drugstores, and
pharmaceutical companies are doing.
Email us your comments about this article, or post them in our blog. |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||