Russia's pharmaceutical industry is in a state of crisis, and the consequences are dire. This is a story of self-imposed isolation and the potential human cost.
At one end of the spectrum, you have Russians living abroad desperately seeking familiar medications, convinced that only Russian-made cures will work. At the other extreme, there are those within Russia battling chronic illnesses, who view any domestically produced drug with suspicion, believing it to be inferior to imported alternatives.
I fall into the latter group, and my experiences highlight the urgency of the issue. I recall a race through Belarus, a desperate attempt to reach a Polish pharmacy before an allergic reaction took my life. The Moscow-bought allergy medication, supposedly identical to the Serbian one, proved ineffective. It's a stark reminder of the long-standing problem with drug quality in Russia.
But the situation has now reached a critical juncture. A recent proposal by Airat Farrakhov, a member of the State Duma Budget Committee, suggests selling pills individually to save costs. It's a suggestion that, while seemingly absurd, reflects the dire straits of the healthcare system.
Consider the financial burden on those with chronic conditions. My friend with heart disease spends his entire pension on medication, and without his job, he'd likely succumb to hunger before a heart attack. This is a reality for many, and it's a situation that's only worsening.
Imported medications are becoming increasingly scarce, sometimes temporarily, sometimes permanently. Drugs for diabetes, epilepsy, and other conditions are disappearing from shelves. The Health Ministry's response is consistent: Russia has domestic equivalents. But the reality is more complex. Chronic illnesses often require trying different medications to find the right fit, and every person's body reacts uniquely to these drugs.
The Health Ministry's logic is simplistic: if the active substance treats the disease, it's sufficient. But it ignores the nuances of individual responses and the potential for severe side effects from fillers, binders, or dyes.
This issue of 'foreign dominance' was recently discussed at the Eastern Economic Forum. Dmitry Kudlai, vice president of Generium, complained about drugs from 'unfriendly countries' outselling Russian ones, despite sharing the same indications. Deputy Health Minister Viktor Fisenko promised to keep resources within the country.
The stakes are high, especially for companies like Generium. Their drug, Glurazym, costs significantly less than the Irish-made Vpriv, which treats the same condition. Yet, despite the price difference, Vpriv is preferred, and its sales outpace Glurazym. This preference is not just about efficacy; it's about trust in the quality of imported medications.
The 'second is superfluous' rule, implemented by the Russian government, automatically excludes foreign companies from drug tenders if a Russian manufacturer participates. This rule, which initially covered 'vital and essential' drugs, will extend to all 'strategically significant' ones from 2026 onwards.
The driving force behind this patriotic rhetoric is money. The state's fixed purchase price for Glurazym, when VAT is added, is higher than the cost of the Irish drug, Vpriv. This highlights the lack of logic in the government's approach, as it prioritizes domestic production over potentially more effective and affordable imported medications.
Regional officials are voicing their concerns, citing the high costs of drugs and limited budgets. Some have even proposed offloading the burden of buying imported drugs onto charities, arguing that local budgets should be spent on Russian-made medicine. This rhetoric, however, often comes from those with vested interests, such as Aleksandr Petrov, a Duma deputy who also founded Medsintez, a plant producing genetically engineered insulin.
The stories of bureaucratic madness continue. In Krasnodar Krai, a clinic was fined for specifying plastic needle caps on syringes, as Russian manufacturers don't produce such caps. The Federal Antimonopoly Service ruled that this discriminated against domestic producers, despite the caps being a basic safety feature. This decision, which has been adopted by other regional offices, will result in syringes across Russia being without caps, a decision that could have dire consequences in a country facing an HIV epidemic.
The plan to restrict imports of stents and catheters for state hospitals is equally concerning. From July 2026, emergency operations with imported stents will no longer be possible in public hospitals. This decision could have life-or-death consequences, as stents are crucial in emergency heart surgeries.
The government's defense is that it's fostering innovation and protecting domestic pharma. But the reality is that Russian pharma giants don't need innovation to stay profitable. They operate by buying active ingredients from countries like India, China, or Germany, then mix in fillers, compress tablets, and sell. Most Russian drugs are made from imported active ingredients, and the rest are questionable 'fuflomycins' unrecognized elsewhere.
The consequences of this self-imposed isolation are severe. Counterfeit products find their way into pharmacies, and basic antibiotics disappear when imported ingredients fail to arrive. The solution offered by some is to turn to traditional remedies like birch fungus tincture or plantain extract. But these are no substitute for modern medicine, especially when a simple syringe cap becomes a luxury.
This is the reality of Russia's pharmaceutical crisis, and it's a story that deserves to be told. The Moscow Times stands by its commitment to independent journalism, even in the face of repression. Your support is crucial in ensuring that these stories continue to be shared.
