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About this Author
Derek Lowe
Derek Lowe, an Arkansan by birth, got his BA from Hendrix College and his PhD in organic chemistry from Duke before spending time in Germany on a Humboldt Fellowship on his post-doc. He's worked for several major pharmaceutical companies since 1989 on drug discovery projects against schizophrenia, Alzheimer's, diabetes, osteoporosis and other diseases. To contact Derek email him directly: derekb.lowe@gmail.com Twitter: Dereklowe

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« Drug Development | Drug Industry History | Drug Prices »

November 2, 2009

In Which You Get to Hear the Phrase "Hatch-Waxman" Again

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Posted by Derek

There's a constant running battle in the drug industry between the two kinds of pharmaceutical companies: the ones who discover the drugs first, and the ones who sell the drugs cheaply after the patents have expired. It surprises me still how many people I run into (outside my work) who don't make that distinction, or who don't even realize that there is one.

But the generic industry is a very different place. Their research budgets are far smaller than the ones at the discovery companies, since they're only dealing with drugs that everyone knows to already work. Their own research is directed toward satisfying the regulatory requirements that they're making the equivalent substance, and to finding ways to make it as cheaply as possible. And some of them are very good at it - some ingenious syntheses of marketed drugs have come out of the better generic shops. Of course, some real head-shaking hack work has, too, but that you can find everywhere.

The tension between the two types of company is particularly acute when a big-selling drug is nearing its patent expiration. It's very much in the interest of the generic companies to hurry that process along, so often they challenge the existing patents on whatever grounds they can come up with, figuring that the chances of success jutify the legal expenses. Since the 1984 Hatch-Waxman act, there's been an even greater incentive, the so-called "Paragraph IV" challenge. A recent piece in Science now makes the case that this process has gotten out of control.

After four years of a drug's patent life, a generic company can file an Abbreviated New Drug Application (ANDA) and challenge existing patents on the grounds that they're either invalid or that the ANDA doesn't infringe them. (This, for example, is what happened when Teva broke into Merck's Fosamax patent, taking the drug generic about four years early). If the challenge is successful, which can take two or three years to be resolved, the generic company gets an extra bonus of 180 days of exclusivity. The authors of the Science piece say that this process is tipped too far toward the generic side, and it's cutting too deeply into the research-based companies. (As noted here, that's rather ironic, considering the current debate about such provisions for biologic drugs, where some parties have been citing the Hatch-Waxman regime as a wonderful success story in small molecules).

This all took a while to get rolling, but the big successes (such as the Fosamax example) have bred plenty of new activity. There are now five times as many Paragraph IV challenges as there were at the beginning of the decade. Teva, for example, which is one of the big hitters in the generic world, had 160 pending ANDAs in 2007, of which 92 were running under Paragraph IV. Here's a look at some recent litigation in the area, which has certainly enriched various attorneys, no matter what else it's done.

Under Hatch-Waxman, a new drug starts off with five years of "data exclusivity" during which a generic version can't be marketed. The Science authors argue that the losses from Paragraph IV now well outweigh the gains from this provision, and that the term should be extended (which would put it closer to those found in Europe, Canada, and Japan. They also bring up the possibility of selectively extending data exclusivity case-by-case or for certain therapeutic areas, but I have to say, this makes me nervous. There are too many opportunities for gamesmanship in that sort of system, and I think that one goal of a regulatory regime should be to make it resistant to that sort of thing.

But I do support the article's main point, which is that the whole generic industry depends on someone doing to the work to discover new drugs in the first place, and we want to make sure that this engine continues to run. Politically, though, anything like this will be a very hard sell, since it'll be easy to paint it as a Cynical Giveaway to the Rapacious and Hugely Profitable Drug Companies. But speaking as someone working for the RHPDCs, I can tell you that we are indeed having a tougher time coming up with the new products with which to exploit the helpless masses. . .

Comments (21) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Industry History | Drug Prices | Patents and IP | Regulatory Affairs

October 30, 2009

Fifty Years of Scientific History For You

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Posted by Derek

Here's a most interesting graph from the latest issue of Nature Reviews Drug Discovery. It's from an article on trying to discern trends from broad-scale literature analysis, and it's worth a separate blog post of its own (coming shortly). But after yesterday's discussion of whether there are too many graduates in science and engineering, this looked useful.
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Note, for example, the ramp up in NIH funding in the late 1950s/ early 1960s (a very large change in percentage terms), which was followed by a similar surge in doctorates granted. The late-1990s funding increases seem to be having a similar effect near the end of the chart.

Note also the well-publicized drug drought - but the historical perspective is interesting. We've clearly fallen off the 1970-2000 trend line of increasing drug approvals, but we seem to be stabilizing at roughly a 1980s level. The argument is whether that's where we should be or not. We have all these new tools, but all these new worries. Lots of new targets, but fewer good ones like the old days. Many new tools, but plenty of difficult-to-interpret data generated from them. And so on. But 1985 is apparently about where the balance of all these things is putting us.

Comments (31) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Industry History | Who Discovers and Why

October 28, 2009

You Mean You Don't Have to Buy Them?

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Posted by Derek

Johnson & Johnson's CEO has given an interview to the Financial Times explaining his company's strategy with acquisitions. And right now, that strategy is. . .not to make acquisitions. They see partnerships as making a lot more sense:

“The cost of developing compounds has become so high and become so risky that we are looking to share the risks and opportunities and find more and more partnerships.”

J&J has been putting this into practice recently, taking equity stakes in several different companies. In the case of Elan and Crucell, interestingly, the company has agreed to standstill provisions, in order to make it clear that they're not just on the first step to an outright acquisition any time soon. It's interesting that this would be coming from Johnson & Johnson, since in many cases they've been one of the less destructive acquirers in the business already. (Well, with some exceptions, like when they took over Scios).

The temptation to compare this policy with Pfizer's is almost overwhelming, but the two companies are in very different positions. For one thing, J&J has their medical devices and diagnostics businesses, which are both profitable and run on different rhythms than their pharma side. Even more importantly, they also aren't locked into a grow-or-die situation, needing larger and larger infusions of revenue to meet the expenses which get larger every time they go out and buy those revenue streams, which mean that they need to go buy some more and then. . .

The article says that J&J has no deals under consideration right now, but that this style of deal-making is definitely how the company plans to operate. There's definitely enough risk to be spread around - I just hope that there's enough reward for everyone, too.

Comments (19) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Industry History

October 21, 2009

O Brave New World! That Has Such Companies In't!

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Posted by Derek

Steve Usdin at BioCentury sent along a reprint of the newsletter's annual "Back to School" issue from last month (available for open access here) in response to my note about "micropharma" the other day. And it's clear that he's been thinking along the same lines. Whether or not this model is going to work is another question, but that looks like something that we're going to be finding out.

As the issue notes, in a pithy quote from Mike Powell of Sofinnova, the key problem is "how to restructure an industry where it costs $100 million to answer a question but people are only willing to pay you $50 million for the answer." Since the amount of money being handed out is probably not going to increase any time soon, the only way out of that dilemma is to find some way for that first figure to go down.

One of the groups that won't be happy about that process are academic centers that are used to seeing their intellectual property as a potentially lucrative source of funds. The strike-it-rich days do not look to be coming back any time soon. Instead, BioCentury advises universities to get ready to adopt a "non-ROI" approach to developing their ideas, by use of grants, public-private consortia, and help from foundations and other nonprofits. (Perhaps a name like "delayed ROI" or, if you're being especially weasely about it, "enhanced ROI", might help that concept go down a bit smoother).

CRO firms are almost certainly going to have to be part of that process, since there are plenty of skills needed to push a drug target or molecule along that are not found in most universities. That, to me, would indicate a real market for a low-cost CRO outfit targeting academia. I'm not sure if anyone is serving that market, or trying to, but it would seem to have some potential in it. Anyone who can help to run should-we-kill-this experiments, without spending too much money getting the answer, will have something that looks to be in demand.

In general, this landscape would mean that ideas will go longer before companies are formed around them, with the idea that they can be tested out a bit without having to build new corporations to do it. (As another quote from the article had it, "The unmet need in the industry is drugs, not companies".) Payoffs will be slower, and they won't be as large when they come, either. Venture capital investors will be asked to have more patience under this model, and that's not something that they're necessarily noted for. And someone's going to have to have the money (and nerve) to form mid-sized organizations that will pick up the best of the things coming out of academia, since many of them still won't be quite ready to go right into a big organization. The non-humungous companies that have survived to this point might step up and fill this role, and BioCentury also suggests that Japanese and Indian companies might fill this space as well.

The big question is: will people be able to put up with this, or not? After all, no one's envisioning failure rates going down, they're just hoping that the failures will happen sooner and cost less money. Will they? It's not like "fail quickly" hasn't been a goal of companies in the business for years now. But sometimes it's hard to fail any other way than slowly (and expensively).

Well, the common theme to all this (and to most of the other crystal-ball reading going on these days) is that the industry isn't going to be able to go on in the way it's been accustomed to. If you ask a hundred people in this business what it's going to look like ten or fifteen years from now, the only thing you could probably get them to agree on is "Not like it does today". We'll just have to wait to see if they're all playing "Cheat the Prophet" or not. . .

Comments (14) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Development | Drug Industry History

October 15, 2009

Fall From Grace

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Posted by Derek

A couple of articles have come together and gotten me to thinking. Back during the summer, long-time medicinal chemist Mark Murcko published a short editorial in Drug Discovery Today comemmerating the Apollo 11 moon landing's 40th anniversary:

"People like me, who are old enough to actually remember the events of July 1969, are instantly assailed with powerful and reflexive emotions when we think back to the effect Apollo had on us: the excitement, awe and wonder. My family, like so many others, was obsessed with space exploration. The walls of our den were covered with NASA photos, diagrams and technical bulletins – anything we could get them to send us. Models of rockets hung from the ceiling by fishing line. . .We soaked it all in, and the events of that day remain a seminal memory of my childhood. It was glorious; nothing could possibly be more exhilarating.

And yet...there are some interesting parallels to what all of us, engaged in the roiling tumult of biomedical research, do here and now. Our mission – to invent new therapies that transform human health and alleviate suffering – captures the imagination as profoundly as did Apollo. Our efforts once were regarded with the same admiration as the NASA breakthroughs (and while public perceptions may be different today, our mission has not wavered). We are attempting, one could argue, even more complex technical achievements. . . ."

And just the other day I came across this piece in The New Atlantis entitled "The Lost Prestige of Nuclear Physics". (Via Arts and Letters Daily). Its thesis, which I think is accurate:

"The story of nuclear physics is one of the most remarkable marketing disasters in intellectual history. In the space of a few decades, the public perception of the atom’s promise to serve humanity, and the international admiration that surrounded the many brilliant people who unraveled the mysteries of matter, had collapsed. So pronounced was the erosion of attitudes toward nuclear physics that, by the late 1990s, several European physicists felt it necessary to establish an organization called Public Awareness of Nuclear Science for the explicit purpose of improving the public image of their discipline."

Of course, in that case, there was that little matter of the atomic bomb and the subsequent arms race) to contrast against the excitement of the scientific discoveries and their peaceful uses. One might argue that for the general public, it was all very admirable to be able to figure out the forces that kept atoms together, but when these forces turned out to have such alarming and immediate real-world consequences, the backlash was profound. And while I sympathize with the nuclear physicists, I have to only wish them luck in their attempts to regain a good public image. That's because those consequences are still very much with us, as a glance at the news will show.

But the fall from grace of drug research has been almost as profound, and we've never developed an equivalent of nuclear weapons, have we? In our case, I think the problem has been that we're a business. We bill people for our discoveries when they work. And as I've argued here, people will always have a much more emotional response to any issue that affects their physical health, and can quickly come to resent anyone that charges them money to maintain it. (Doctors, though, benefit from the one-on-one patient relationship. People hate hospitals, hate health insurance companies, and hate drug companies, but still respect their own physicians). This, as manifested by complaints about drug prices, uneasiness about hard-sell advertising, and suspicion about our motivations and our methods, seems to be what's sent public opinion of us into the dumper.

But in the end, Murcko has a point. We really are doing something good for humanity by working on understanding diseases and trying to find treatments for them. Not everything about the process is optimal, for sure, but can anyone argue that the broad effort of pharmaceutical research has been a bad thing? The problem is, it's easy to look around, and slide from there into self-pity. But moaning about how no one appreciates us is a waste of time. The best cure is, as far as I can see, to give people reasons to realize what we're worth.

People who've been pulled back from the brink of death from infectious disease or cancer already have those reasons. But there are so many terrible unmet medical needs still out there, which means that there's plenty of room for us both to do good and to show that we can do good. Yes, it will cost a lot of money to do that, which means that what cures will come will also cost money. But with the partial exception of air to breath, most of the necessities of life tend to involve money changing hands. That's not a disqualification.

So to the readers out there in the industry - go do some good work today. Don't spend too much time in your more useless meetings. Stand up in front of your fume hood or sit down in front of your keyboard and do something worthwhile. It's a worthwhile job, even if some people don't realize that yet.

Comments (45) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Industry History | Drug Prices | Why Everyone Loves Us

September 17, 2009

The Drug Business: A Turbulent Future?

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Posted by Derek

One of this blog's regular correspondents has just been attending a chemistry outsourcing conference (program here), and heard a very interesting talk from Stefan Loren of a Baltimore investment advisory firm, Westwicke Partners. Loren's a product of the Sharpless lab, who went on to Abbott, then Wall Street (Legg Mason and into the hedge fund business), and had some very provocative things to say about our industry:

His talk, "The Pharma Titanic: It's Time to Root for the Iceberg" presented a sobering view of the challenges that big pharma will have to deal with if it wants to survive.

Loren opened with an overview of the US national health care debate. Regardless of the ultimate form that a national system takes, he believes we'll see mandatory insurance; this will be good for big pharma. He also believes that there will be strong pressure for mandatory comparative effectiveness testing...probably not good for big pharma. Who will pay for this and what resources this would require is another matter. Wearing his investment advisor glasses, he sees global pharma sales declining, led by North America, with future growth coming in Asia and Latin America. He also sees evidence of healthcare avoidance in the US: unfilled prescriptions, unfinished courses of prescriptions, and people just not visiting medical and dental practitioners - not a good trend.

The coming wave of patent expirations of the top 10 drugs will hit big pharma hard. Generics will grow: In 5 to 10 years, he predicts that 80 percent of ALL prescriptions will be generic. When coupled with the meager investments in bow wave research over the past 15+ years, as measured by IPOs, there's trouble ahead. Global biotech IPOs are in the toilet and the US is no longer viewed by the investment community as the global leader in biotech. There have been an unprecedented number of bankruptcies in biotech. There is going to be a huge oversupply of production capacity for small molecule manufacturing. ROIs for pharma and biotech are largely negative...it gets worse. He calls this the "death spiral."

Pharma pipelines are seen as very poorly run and wasteful. Poor projects linger far longer than they should. Too much emphasis is placed on me-too and line extensions. Too much emphasis is placed on acquisitions and licensing rather than innovation. Here it comes: he says "I have NEVER seen a merger that worked" We were then entertained by a chart showing Pfizer's stock market performance over the period of time from pre-WLA, through Pharmacia-Upjohn, and now Wyeth...you would not be a happy camper if you had put your retirement account in Pfizer management's hands and their merger mania. Wall Street has a saying "Two dogs don't make a kennel." Of course, what we hear is "this time it's different" along with the usual happy talk about synergies. Loren does believe that mergers can work and can be synergistic if the two companies merging are small...large mergers just don't work and large companies get paralyzed by bureaucratic inertia.

His solution? Break up large pharma into therapeutic areas and build shared networks between distinct entities. Small organizations can operate far more efficiently in decision making about research directions - use the network to maintain manufacturing efficiencies. Small focused companies will revitalize the industry and offer opportunities for scientists coming out of academia. In response to a question from the audience regarding Merck's ambitions to adopt this networked architecture, he doesn't believe they can make it work.

He does see light at the end of the tunnel with respect to supply chain assurance driving a return to sanity. The heparin, glycerin, and melamine disasters have awakened people and the cost of securing global supply chains is going to make US industry much more competitive. It also will focus serious scrutiny on big pharma. The "next heparin" case will have serious personal consequences for big pharma managers. . ."

Well, a good amount of this I agree with, but some of it I'm not sure about. Taking things in order, I don't know about a decline in US sales, but Asia is most definitely where a lot of companies are expecting growth. (And for "Asia", you could substitute "China" and be within margin of error). And his generic prescription figures may not be right on target, but the trend surely is. We've discovered a lot of useful drugs over the years, and anything new we find has to compete against them. The only way to break out of that situation is to find drugs in new categories entirely, and we all know how easy that is.

But as for the US not being the global leader in biotech - well, if we aren't, then who is? You could possibly make a case for "no clear leader at all, for now", but I think that's as far as I can go. And that coming oversupply of manufacturing for small molecule drugs, which may well be real, will be bad news for the companies that have already invested in that area, of course, but good news for up-and-comers, who will be able to pick up capacity more cheaply.

But Loren's comments about mergers I can endorse without reservation. I've been saying nasty things about big pharma mergers since this blog began, and nothing in the last seven years has changed my mind. And I certainly hope that his idea of smaller companies coming along to revitalize the industry is on target, because it's sure not going to be revitalized by (for example) Pfizer buying more people. I've made that Pfizer stock-chart point of his here, as well - like the rest of the industry, PFE stock had a wonderful time of it in the 1990s, but this entire decade it's been an awful place to have your money.

I expect these comments to bring in a lot of comments of their own - so, how much of this future are you buying?

Comments (23) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Development | Drug Industry History | Regulatory Affairs

September 4, 2009

Sepracor: A Desirable Property?

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Posted by Derek

Well, I didn't see this one coming. Dainippon Sumitomo has announced that they're buying Sepracor. My first thought on reading this was "Are they sure they want to do that?"

I say that because the ostensible reason that the Japanese company is pulling out their wallet is that they're looking to replace declining revenues at home. In that case, why are they buying declining revenues over here? Their flagship product (Lunesta) is going to be going off patent in the not-too-distant future, and they don't have a gigantic pipeline of stuff behind it.

The answer seems to be a deficiency that many Japanese firms have felt: a lack of boots-on-the-ground sales staff over here. The US is the biggest single profit center for the worldwide drug industry, and it's impossible for a big company to ignore that. But realizing all those potential profits isn't easy, if you're coming in from a standing start. (It's not like Dainippon Sumitomo has a big profile over here). Says the Boston Globe:

In a note to investors on the sale, Credit Suisse analyst Scott Hirsch said the deal made sense for Sepracor. He noted that the company is generating $300 million to $400 million in cash a year but has a limited pipeline of new drugs in development and its existing products will face competition from generic drugs in coming years. Hirsch also doubted another suitor would step forward with a better bid.

“In our view, if a US firm wanted Sepracor, that likely would’ve happened already, as there have been plenty of lookers over the years,’’ said Hirsch, who has a neutral rating on the stock. “We think Dainippon Sumitomo is more interested in the sales platform and operating leverage than the revenue stream.’’

So where does that leave Sepracor's research operations? It's true that Takeda has apparently been very kind to Millennium's research staff, but that was a more research-driven deal than this one seems to be. I'm sure the folks at Sepracor are looking for a little more clarity on that question. The problem is, the company's revenues have come almost entirely from clever (albeit irritating) patent-busting moves (active metabolites, pure enantiomers, and so on), but these strategies ran out of gas some time ago as the rest of the industry tightened up its IP protection. Rightly or not, Sepracor doesn't have a reputation as an outfit with a lot of great in-house research ideas. Outside of a ready-made sales force, what exactly do they have to offer?

Comments (6) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Industry History

August 27, 2009

Rings of the Future!

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Posted by Derek

Here's an interesting paper that some of you may have seen in J. Med. Chem.: "Heteroaromatic Rings of the Future". That's an odd title, but an appropriate one.

For the non-chemists in the crowd who made it to this paragraph, heteroaromatic rings are a very wide class of organic compounds. They're flat cyclic structures with one or more nitrogen, oxygen, or sulfur atoms in the ring - I'll leave out explaining the concept of "aromaticity" for now, but suffice it to say that it makes them flat and gives them some other distinct properties. These structures are especially important in medicinal chemistry. If you stripped out all the drugs that contain something from this class, you'd lose a bit under half of the current pharmacopoeia, and that share has lately been increasing.

The authors have sat down and attempted to work out computationally all the possible heteroaromatic systems. If you include a carbonyl group as a component of the ring, you get 23,895 different scaffolds (and only 2986 if you leave the carbonyl out of it). Their methods to define and predict that adjective "possible" are extensive and worth reading if you're curious; they did put a lot of effort into that question, and their assumptions seem realistic to me. (For example, right off, they only considered mono- and bicyclic systems, 5- and 6-membered only, C, H, N, O and S).

At any rate, only 1701 of those 23,985 have ever been reported in the literature. And it looks as if reports of new ring systems reached a peak in the late 1970s, and have either dropped off or (at the very least) never exceeded those heights since then. The authors estimate that perhaps 3,000 of their list are synthetically feasible, with a few hundred of them being notably more likely than the rest. Their paper, in fact, seems to be a brief to alter that publication trend by explicitly pointing out unexplored synthetic territory. It wouldn't surprise me if they go back in a few years to see if they were able to cause an inflection point.

I hope they do. I'm a great believer in the idea that we medicinal chemists need all the help we can get, and if there are reasonable ring systems out there that we're not exploiting, then we should get to them. Adventurous chemists should have a look.

Comments (18) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | Drug Industry History | The Scientific Literature

August 26, 2009

Thalidomide for Myeloma: Whose Idea Was It?

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Posted by Derek

So, if you're a patient with a rare disease (or a relative of a patient with one), and you have an idea for repurposing an old drug for treatment. . .and you get a company interested, and it actually works. . .works to the point that the company takes in a billion or two dollars a year. . .what then?

Some readers will have guessed that I'm talking about thalidomide and Celgene, and right they are. Beth Jacobsen is the person involved - her husband died of multiple myeloma, but her medical sleuthing had turned up the idea of using thalidomide as a therapy for the disease, and she kept up the pressure to have the idea tried out. Celgene's mentioned her in annual reports, and she's been thanked by name in a publication on the clinical results.

But now she's suing Celgene, saying that they misappropriated her idea. Complicating the issue is the question of whether the late Judah Folkman was really the source of the inspiration, in a phone conversation with Jacobsen (earlier versions of the story have it that way, but the lawsuit apparently tells it differently). Which way did it happen? Is Jacobsen indeed owed compensation? And whether she is or not, will she be able to convince a court? Matt Herper has the story at Forbes.

I'll defer my own comments until I know a bit more about the case, but this is definitely an interesting one. I can add something that might be of relevance, though: a search in PubMed for "thalidomide myeloma" turns up 64 pages of references, almost all of them post-1999. But there is this one, from Italy in 1963. Has the idea been around for that long? Someone who can track down that journal can tell us. . .

Comments (20) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Cancer | Drug Development | Drug Industry History | Patents and IP

August 19, 2009

Drug Companies Are Polar Bears? Maybe Not.

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Posted by Derek

There's an interesting article up over at InVivoBlog, and I wanted to see what the readership here thought of its main premise. Subtracting out the cute ecological analogies (Big Pharma as polar bears, for example), you get to this:

. . .For example, AstraZeneca, Novartis, and Bristol-Myers, all operate in the fields of neuroscience, oncology, and cardiovascular health. While some pharmas involve themselves in nutritionals, animal health, infectious disease, and other fields, all of these companies also engage with a mixing pot of therapeutic areas.

The relative strategic uniformity isn’t generally the case with the leading companies in other industries. In the high-tech industry, for example, there is a much higher level of specialization. Google is mainly in the advertising business; Microsoft, software; Research in Motion, in wireless solutions. You aren’t likely to see Facebook manufacturing semiconductors any time soon. (Yes we are aware of Microsoft’s Bing search engine and the new Google Chrome OS, but still.)

It is likely that health care businesses will evolve in a similar fashion. The leaders of the future will be those with unique and complex models which sub-speciate into differentiated forms. Companies will focus nearly all of their efforts on a single therapeutic area, becoming “immunology companies” or “cancer companies”. These companies will also become more integrated across sectors. A cardiology company will sell diagnostics, devices, and therapeutics pertaining to cardiovascular health.

I'm not so sure, myself. I can see reasons for this to happen, but I can also see forces that will pull in other directions. For one thing, I'm not sure if there are enough targets in some of these therapeutic areas to keep even a medium-sized company running. The host-of-smaller-companies model, each of them trying to hit it big, seems like a better fit, as long as they can share an ecosystem (there I go, too) with the larger deep-pocketed multi-area players.

Another problem is that I think the barriers to, say, a cardiovascular drug company becoming also a cardiovascular device company are higher than the ones to it becoming a cardiovascular-and-diabetes drug company. Moving into another drug discovery area at least lets you use some of your existing staff and resources, while heading out into diagnostics or devices will probably take you into territory that you don't know so well.

And besides, I think that the analogy with other industries doesn't hold up very well. The authors list off a few software and hardware companies, but don't Google and Microsoft have their hands in a lot of different areas? And have car makers (domestic or foreign) settled down into making only SUVs, only pickup trucks, or only sedans? Not that I've seen. Know of any movie studios making nothing but adventures or romantic comedies? Or any grocery chains that only sell vegetables, but not fruit?

In all those cases, the existing infrastructure lets such companies expand, at relatively lower cost, into related areas that will diversify their customer base. Medical devices and diagnostics may look like a similar situation, but I really don't think it is.

Comments (24) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Industry History

August 14, 2009

Spray-Painted For Success

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Posted by Derek

I do a lot of talking around here about how the general public doesn't really have a good idea of what goes on inside a drug company. But a conversation with a colleague has put me to thinking that this might be largely our own fault.

Consider the public face that our industry projects. Look at the press releases and the advertisements - what's the impression that you get? That there is a defined process for discovering drugs, for one thing, and what's more, that we are the master of it. Now, I know that we don't always send out that message. There are attempts to tell people about how many compounds have to be made, how many projects end up failing. But for the most part, we don't press-release that stuff.

No, the press releases are for the investors, and for them, we want to project that we're productive, confident, resourceful. . .in short, that we've got things under control. The last thing Wall Street wants to hear about is that you don't always know which drug targets are the right ones to work on, that you're not quite sure of the best way to prosecute them, and that (despite continuing efforts) these conditions look to obtain for quite a while to come.

And this attitude is one of the things that seeps out into the general public consciousness. That, I think, is why you get people who are convinced that we could cure a lot of these diseases, but that we just don't - you know, for all sorts of evil and profitable reasons. They've bought into our hype. If we haven't cured the common cold, that must be because we make a lot more money selling people stuff for it, not because antiviral drug development is flippin' difficult. (Especially for something like the common cold, but that's another story).

Now, to some extent, there is a defined process for discovering drugs - well, several defined processes. It's just that it doesn't work all that well, not on the absolute scale. No one could look at clinical failure rates of around 90% and say that we've got everything covered. Weirdly, that's one of the things that gives me hope for the industry, that even small improvements would make a big difference. What if only 80% of all the compounds we took into the clinic crashed and burned? That would be great! It would double our success rate!

But when I mention that 90% problem to people outside the drug industry, they usually have no idea. All they hear about are the successes. Perhaps it would do us some good to mention the failures once in a while?

Comments (29) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Development | Drug Industry History | Why Everyone Loves Us

August 10, 2009

Pharma's Return on Investment: Yikes

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Posted by Derek

There's a recent article in Nature Reviews Drug Discovery that has some alarming figures in it. This is yet another look at the industry from McKinsey, and we'll get to their McKinseyish solutions in a moment. But first, some numbers:

They calculate that the return on investment (ROI) from small-molecule drug research was nearly 12% during the late 1990s, but since 2001 it's been more like 7.5%. If true, that's not a very nice number at all, because their data indicate that most companies assume a capitalization rate of between 8.5 and 11% - in other words, internal industry estimates of what it costs to develop a drug over time now run higher, on average, than the actual returns from developing one.

Another alarming bit of news is their analysis of Phase III failures. From 1990 to 2007 there were 106 of those nasty, expensive events. But the McKinsey figures are that 45% of those failures were due to insufficient efficacy versus placebo - which, in theory, is the sort of thing you're supposed to be rather more sure about by that point, what with having run Phase II trials for efficacy and all. (I'd like to know how many Phase III trials succeeded over that time period as well - what's the overall percentage of failure at that point?) Another 24% of the failures were due to insufficient efficacy versus the standard of care, which is at least a bit more understandable. But together, nearly 70% of all Phase III failures aren't due to tox, they're because the drugs just didn't work as well as their developers thought.

Back to those ROI figures, though. Either those numbers are wrong, or we're in quite a fix. (Of course, since the authors are consultants, their viewpoint is likely that those numbers are the best available, that all of us are indeed in a fix, and that if we pay them money they'll help us out of it). The paper does have some recommendations, to wit:

1. Cut costs, but not the obvious stuff that companies have been doing. Instead, they suggest broader strategies such as considering whether a company's clinical trials are consistently over-powered, and to not do quite as much "planning for success", since most development programs fail. That is, don't automatically gear up for a full overlapping development workup for every compound in the pipeline, but consider staging things so you won't waste as much effort if (or when) they crash out. And naturally, they also suggest outsourcing whatever "non-core" functions there are available.

2. Work faster. I have to say, though, that if I got paid every time I heard this one, I wouldn't have to work. The authors point out, correctly, that delays in getting a compound to market are indeed hideously costly, but on-the-other-hand it by saying that "Of course, gains in speed cannot come from short cuts: the key to capturing value from programme acceleration is choosing the right programmes to accelerate". And that leads into their third category, which is. . .

3. Make better decisions. This isn't quite a much of an eye-roller as it might seem, because this is where they bring in those Phase III numbers above. Such failures suggest some deeper problems:

"In our experience, many organizations still advance compounds for the wrong reasons: because of momentum, 'numbers-focused' incentive systems or through waiting too long to have tough conversations about the required level of product differentiation."

And I have to say, they have a point. People who've been in the industry for some years will have seen all of those mistakes made. for sure. But figuring how to stop those things from happening is the tough part, and presumably that's one of the things that McKinsey is selling.

Comments (45) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Development | Drug Industry History

July 31, 2009

Where Drugs Come From, and How. Once More, With A Roll of the Eyes

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Posted by Derek

I linked yesterday to a post by Megan McArdle about health care reform. And while I realize that everyone got into a shouting match in the comments to my own post on the subject - and people sure did in the comments to hers; it's endemic - I wanted to quote a section from her on drug discovery:

Advocates of this policy have a number of rejoinders to this, notably that NIH funding is responsible for a lot of innovation. This is true, but theoretical innovation is not the same thing as product innovation. We tend to think of innovation as a matter of a mad scientist somewhere making a Brilliant Discovery!!! but in fact, innovation is more often a matter of small steps towards perfection. Wal-Mart’s revolution in supply chain management has been one of the most powerful factors influencing American productivity in recent decades. Yes, it was enabled by the computer revolution–but computers, by themselves, did not give Wal-Mart the idea of treating trucks like mobile warehouses, much less the expertise to do it.

In the case of pharma, what an NIH or academic researcher does is very, very different from what a pharma researcher does. They are no more interchangeable than theoretical physicists and civil engineers. An academic identifies targets. A pharma researcher finds out whether those targets can be activated with a molecule. Then he finds out whether that molecule can be made to reach the target. Is it small enough to be orally dosed? (Unless the disease you’re after is fairly fatal, inability to orally dose is pretty much a drug-killer). Can it be made reliably? Can it be made cost-effectively? Can you scale production? It’s not a viable drug if it takes one guy three weeks with a bunsen burner to knock out 3 doses.

I don't think a lot of readers here will have a problem with that description, because it seems pretty accurate. True, we do a lot more inhibiting drug targets than we do activating them, because it's easier to toss a spanner in the works, but that's mostly just a matter of definitions. And this does pass by the people doing some drug discovery work in academia (and the people doing more blue-sky stuff in industry), but overall, it's basically how things are, plus or minus a good ol' Bunsen burner or two.

But not everyone's buying it. Take this response by Ben Domenech over at The New Ledger. We'd better hope that this isn't a representative view, and that the people who are trying to overhaul all of health care as quickly as possible have a better handle on how our end of the system works:

. . .But needless to say, this passage and the ones following it surprised me a great deal. Working at the Department of Health and Human Services provided me the opportunity to learn a good deal about the workings of the NIH, and I happen to have multiple friends who still work there — and their shocked reaction to McArdle’s description was stronger than mine, to say the least.

“McArdle clearly doesn’t understand what she’s writing about,” one former NIH colleague said today. “Where does she think Nobel prize winners in biomedical research originate, academic researchers or in Pharma? Our academic researchers run clinical trials and develop drugs. I’m not trying to talk down Pharma, which I’m a big fan of, but I don’t think anyone in the field could read what she wrote without laughing.”

Well, I certainly could make it through without a chuckle, and I'll have been doing drug discovery for twenty years this fall. So how does the guy from HHS think things go over here?

To understand how research is divided overall, consider it as three tranches: basic, translational, and clinical. Basic is research at the molecular level to understand how things work; translational research takes basic findings and tries to find applications for those findings in a clinical setting; and clinical research takes the translational findings and produces procedures, drugs, and equipment for use by and on patients. . .

. . .The truth, as anyone knowledgeable within the system will tell you, is that private companies just don’t do basic research. They do productization research, and only for well-known medical conditions that have a lot of commercial value to solve. The government funds nearly everything else, whether it’s done by government scientists or by academic scientists whose work is funded overwhelmingly by government grants.

Hmm. Well-known with a lot of commercial value. Now it's true that we tend to go after things with commercial value - it is a business, after all - but how well-known is Gaucher disease? Or Fabry disease? Mucopolysaccharidosis I? People who actually know something about the drug industry will be nodding their heads, though, because they'll have caught on that I'm listing off Genzyme's product portfolio (part of it, anyway), which is largely made up of treatments for such things. There ar many other examples. Believe me, if we can make money going after a disease, we'll give it a try, and there are a lot of diseases. (The biggest breakdown occurs not when a disease affects a smaller number of people, but when almost no one who has it can possibly pay for the cost of developing the treatment, as in many tropical diseases).

But even taking Domenech's three research divisions as given - and they're not bad - don't we in industry even get to do a little bit of translational research? Even sometimes some basic stuff? After all, in the great majority times when we start attacking some new target, there is no drug for it, you know. We have to express the protein in an active form, work up a reliable assay using it, screen our compound collections looking for a lead structure, then work on it for a few years to make new compounds that are potent, selective, nontoxic, practical to produce, and capable of being dosed in humans. (Oh, and they really should be chemical structures that no one's ever made or even speculated about before). All of that is "productization" research? Even when we're the first people to actually take a given target idea into the clinic at all?

That happens all the time, you know. The first project I ever worked on in this industry was a selective dopamine antagonist targeted for schizophrenia. We were the first company to take this particular subtype into the clinic, and boy, did we bomb big. No activity at all. It was almost as if we'd discovered something basic about schizophrenia, but apparently that can't be the case. Then I worked on Alzheimer's therapies, namely protease inhibitors targeting beta-amyloid production, and if I'm not mistaken, the only real human data on such things has come from industry. I could go on, and I will, given half a chance. But I hope that the point has been made. If it hasn't, then consider this quote, from here:

“. . .translational research requires skills and a culture that universities typically lack, says Victoria Hale, chief executive of the non-profit drug company the Institute for OneWorld Health in San Francisco, California, which is developing drugs for visceral leishmaniasis, malaria and Chagas' disease. Academic institutions are often naive about what it takes to develop a drug, she says, and much basic research is therefore unusable. That's because few universities are willing to support the medicinal chemistry research needed to verify from the outset that a compound will not be a dead end in terms of drug development."

The persistent confusion over what's done in industry and what's done in academia has been one of my biggest lessons from running this blog. The topic just will not die. A few years ago, I ended up writing a long post on what exactly drug companies do in response to the "NIH discovers all the drugs" crowd, with several follow-ups (here, here, and here). But overall, Hercules had an easier time with the Hydra.

Now, there is drug discovery in academia (ask Dennis Liotta!), although not enough of it to run an industry. Lyrica is an example of a compound that came right out of the university labs, although it certainly had an interesting road to the market. And the topic of academic drug research has come up around here many times over the last few years. So I don't want to act as if there's no contribution at all past basic research in academia, because that's not true at all. But neither is it the case that pharma just swoops in, picks up the wonder drugs, and decides what color the package should be.

But what really burns my toast is this part:

So Pharma is interested in making money as their primary goal — that should surprise no one. But they’re also interested in avoiding litigation. Suppose for a moment that Pharma produces a drug to treat one non-life threatening condition, and it’s a monetary success, earning profits measured in billions of dollars. But then one of their researchers discovers it might have other applications, including life-saving ones. Instead of starting on research, Pharma will stand pat. Why? Because it doesn’t make any business sense to go through an entire FDA approval process and a round of clinical trials all over again, and at the end of the day, they could just be needlessly jeopardizing the success of a multi-billion dollar drug. It makes business sense to just stand with what works perfectly fine for the larger population, not try to cure a more focused and more deadly condition.

Ummm. . .isn't this exactly what happened with Vioxx? Merck was trying to see if Cox-2 inhibitors could be useful for colon cancer, which is certainly deadly, and certainly a lot less common than joint and muscle pains. Why didn't Merck "stand pat"? Because they wanted to make even more money of course. They'd already spent some of the cash that would have to have been spent on developing Vioxx, and cancer trials aren't as long and costly as they are in some other therapeutic areas. So it was actually a reasonable thing to look into. If you're staying in the same dosing range, you're not likely to turn up tox problems that you didn't already see in your earlier trials. (That's where Merck got into real trouble, actually - the accusation was that they'd seen signs of Vioxx's cardiovascular problems before the colon cancer trial, but breezed past them). But you just might come up with a benefit that allows you to sell your drug to a whole new market.

And that might also explain why, in general, drug companies look for new therapeutic opportunities like this all the time with their existing drugs. In fact, sometimes we look for them so aggressively that we get nailed for off-label promotion. No, instead of standing pat, we get in trouble for just the opposite. Your patented drug is a wasting asset, remember, and your job is to make the absolute most of it while it's still yours. Closing your eyes to new opportunities is not the way to do that.

The thing is, Domenech's heart seems to be mostly in the right place. He just doesn't understand the drug industry, and neither do his NIH sources. Talking to someone who works in it would have helped a bit.

Comments (35) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Academia (vs. Industry) | Business and Markets | Drug Industry History

July 20, 2009

Amyloid in Trouble

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Posted by Derek

Here's an interesting look at the current state of the Alzheimer's field from Bloomberg. The current big hope is Wyeth (and Elan)'s bapineuzumab, which I last wrote about here. That was after the companies reported what had to be considered less-than-hoped-for efficacy in the clinic. The current trial is the one sorted out by APOE4 status of the patients. After the earlier trial data, it seems unlikely that there's going to be a robust effect across the board - the people with the APOE4 mutation are probably the best hope for seeing real efficacy.

And if bapineuzumab doesn't turn out to work even for them? Well:

“Everyone is waiting with bated breath on bapineuzumab,” said Michael Gold, London-based Glaxo’s vice president of neurosciences, in an interview. “If that one fails, then everyone will say we have to rethink the amyloid hypothesis.”

Now that will be a painful process, but it's one that may well already have begun. beta-Amyloid has been the front-runner for. . .well, for decades now, to be honest. And it's been a target for drug companies since around the late 1980s/early 1990s, as it became clear that it was produced by proteolytic cleavage from a larger precursor protein. A vast amount of time, effort, and money have gone into trying to find something that will interrupt that process, and it's going to be rather hard to take if we find out that we've been chasing a symptom of Alzheimer's rather than a cause.

But there's really no other way to find such things out. Human beings are the only animals that really seem to get Alzheimer's, and that's made it a ferocious therapeutic area to work in. The amyloid hypothesis will die hard if die it does.

Comments (21) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Alzheimer's Disease | Clinical Trials | Drug Industry History | The Central Nervous System

July 17, 2009

Drug Approvals, Natural And Unnatural

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Posted by Derek

I seem to have been putting a lot of graphics up this week, so here's another one. This is borrowed from a recent Science paper on the future of natural-products based drug discovery. It's interesting both from that viewpoint, and because of the general approval numbers:
Nat%20Prod%20drugs%20and%20approvals%20graph.jpg
And there you have it. Outside of anomalies like 2005, we can say, I think, that the 1980s were a comparative Golden Age of Drug Approvals, that the 1990s held their own but did not reach the earlier heights, and that since 2000 the trend has been dire. If you want some numbers to confirm your intuitions, you can just refer back to this.

As far as natural products go, from what I can see, the percentage of drugs derived from them has remained roughly constant: about half. Looking at the current clinical trial environment, though, the authors see this as likely to decline, and wonder if this is justified or not. They blame two broad factors, one of them being the prevailing drug discovery culture:

The double-digit yearly sales growth that drug companies typically enjoyed until about 10 years ago has led to unrealistically high expectations by their shareholders and great pressure to produce "blockbuster drugs" with more than $1 billion in annual sales (3). In the blockbuster model, a few drugs make the bulk of the profit. For example, eight products accounted for 58% of Pfizer’s annual worldwide sales of $44 billion in 2007.

As an aside, I understand the problems with swinging for the fences all the time, but I don't see the Pfizer situation above as anything anomalous. That's a power-law distribution, and sales figures are exactly where you'd expect to see such a thing. A large drug company with its revenues evenly divided out among a group of compounds would be the exception, wouldn't it?

The other factor that they say has been holding things back is the difficulty of screening and working with many natural products, especially now that we've found many of the obvious candidates. A lot of hits from cultures and extracts are due to compounds that you already know about. The authors suggest that new screening approaches could get around this problem, as well as extending the hunt to organisms that don't respond well to traditional culture techniques.

None of these sound like they're going to fix things in the near term, but I don't think that the industry as a whole has any near-term fixes. But since the same techniques used to isolate and work with tricky natural product structures will be able to help out in other areas, too, I wish the people working on them luck.

Comments (10) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Assays | Drug Development | Drug Industry History

July 15, 2009

Why Does Screening Work At All? (Free Business Proposal Included!)

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Posted by Derek

I've been meaning to get around to a very interesting paper from the Shoichet group that came out a month or so ago in Nature Chemical Biology. Today's the day! It examines the content of screening libraries and compares them to what natural products generally look like, and they turn up some surprising things along the way. The main question they're trying to answer is: given the huge numbers of possible compounds, and the relatively tiny fraction of those we can screen, why does high-throughput screening even work at all?

The first data set they consider is the Generated Database (GDB), a calculated set of all the reasonable structures with 11 or fewer nonhydrogen atoms, which grew out of this work. Neglecting stereochemistry, that gives you between 26 and 27 million compounds. Once you're past the assumptions of the enumeration (which certainly seem defensible - no multiheteroatom single-bond chains, no gem-diols, no acid chlorides, etc.), then there are no human bias involved: that's the list.

The second list is everything from the Dictionary of Natural Products and all the metabolites and natural products from the Kyoto Encyclopedia of Genes and Genomes. That gives you 140,000+ compounds. And the final list is the ZINC database of over 9 million commercially available compounds, which (as they point out) is a pretty good proxy for a lot of screening collections as well.

One rather disturbing statistic comes out early when you start looking at overlaps between these data sets. For example, how many of the possible GDB structures are commercially available? The answer: 25,810 of them - in other words, you can only buy fewer than 0.01% of the possible compounds with 11 heavy atoms or below, making the "purchasable GDB" a paltry list indeed.

Now, what happens when you compare that list of natural products to these other data sets? Well, for one thing, the purchasable part of the GDB turns out to be much more similar to the natural product list than the full set. Everything in the GDB has at least 20% Tanimoto similarity to at least one compound in the natural products set, not that 20% means much of anything in that scoring system. But only 1% of the GDB has a 40% Tanimoto similarity, and less than 0.005% has an 80% Tanimoto similarity. That's a pretty steep dropoff!

But the "purchasable GDB" holds up much better. 10% of that list has 100% Tanimoto similarity (that is, 10% of the purchasable compounds are natural products themselves). The authors also compare individual commercial screening collections. If you're interested, ChemBridge and Asinex are the least natural-product-rich (about 5% of their collections), whereas IBS and Otava are the most (about 10%).

So one answer to "why does HTS ever work for anything" is that compound collections seem to be biased toward natural-product type structures, which we can reasonably assume have generally evolved to have some sort of biological activity. It would be most interesting to see the results of such an analysis run from inside several drug companies against their own compound collections. My guess is that the natural product similarities would be even higher than the "purchasable GDB" set's, because drug company collections have been deliberately stocked with structural series that have shown activity in one project or another.

That's certainly looking at things from a different perspective, because you can also hear a lot of talk about how our compound files are too ugly - too flat, too hydrophobic, not natural-product-like enough. These viewpoints aren't contradictory, though - if Shoichet is right, then improving those similarities would indeed lead to higher hit rates. Compared to everything else, we're already at the top of the similarity list, but in absolute terms there's still a lot of room for improvement.

So how would one go about changing this, assuming that one buys into this set of assumptions? The authors have searched through the various databases for ring structures, taking those as a good proxy for structural scaffolds. As it turns out 83% of the ring scaffolds among the natural products are unrepresented among the commercially available molecules - a result that I assume that Asinex, ChemBridge, Life Chemicals, Otava, Bionet and their ilk are noting with great interest. In fact, the authors go even further in pointing out opportunities, with a table of rings from this group that closely resemble known drug-like ring systems.

But wait a minute. . .when you look at those scaffolds, a number of them turn out to be rather, well, homely. I'd be worried about elimination to form a Michael acceptor in compound 19, for example. I'm not crazy about the N,S acetal in 21 or the overall stability of the acetals in 15, 17 and 31. The propiolactone in 23 is surely reactive, as is the quinone in 25, and I'd be very surprised if that's not what they owe their biological activities to. And so on.
Shoichet%20scaffolds.jpg
All that said, there are still some structures in there that I'd be willing to check out, and there must be more of them in that 83%. No doubt a number of the rings that do sneak into the commercial list are not very well elaborated, either. I think that there is a real commercial opportunity here. A company could do quite well for itself by promoting its compound collection as being more natural-product similar than the competition, with tractable molecules, and a huge number of them unrepresented in any other catalog.

Now all you'd have to do is make these things. . .which would require hiring synthetic organic chemists, and plenty of them. These things aren't easy to make, or to work with. And as it so happens, there are quite a few good ones available these days. Anyone want to take this business model to heart?

Comments (12) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Assays | Drug Industry History | In Silico

July 8, 2009

How Much Does the Drug Industry Spend on Marketing?

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Posted by Derek

Anyone who defends the pharmaceutical industry has to be ready to hear, over and over and over, about how much it spends on sales and marketing versus R&D. This is thought to be a telling point about where the priorities really are. I've addressed this one several times, and my best response is to point out that sales and marketing are actually supposed to bring in more money than you spend on them, and do so more reliably than R&D in the short term.

There's now a very useful paper in Nature Reviews Drug Discovery looking at just this issue. The authors (from three universities in the US and Israel) are looking into the general question of which is the better use of money: put it into R&D for the long term, or promote existing products for the short term? I should make clear at the outset that those two options do line up in that way. R&D expenditures take years to pay off, if ever, given the amount of time that drug development takes. And marketing of a current product had better start paying off in a shorter time frame, because every patented drug is a wasting asset, constantly being eaten into by competition and by its time to patent expiration.

So which makes more financial sense? The authors numbers from the Wharton databases on publicly traded drug companies, looking at those with more than $50 million in sales. Using the company stock prices as a measure of value (J. Finance LVI(6), 2431–2456 (2001), I'm giving you references here), they found, in general, that R&D investments have a net positive effect, while increased promotion has a negative effect. (See also Rev. Account Stud. 7, 355–382 (2002), another journal I don't reference much). Both effects are larger for smaller companies, as you might expect, but they held up across the industry. The effect also holds up if you factor out the compensation packages of the top five executives of each company (which is a nice control to run, I have to say). And yes, since you ask, there is a negative effect on stock price that correlates to higher executive compensation, and I'm willing to bet that this effect holds for more than just the drug industry.

Since we're talking about stock prices, which are generally forward-looking, the way to interpret these results is probably that investors expect R&D expenditures to pay off in the long term, but actually expect sales and marketing expenditures to reduce long-term value. If that's so, then why spend money on marketing? The reason the authors propose is just what I'd been talking about: short-term reliability. Drug discovery and development is inherently risky, and promotion of existing products is (at least comparatively) more of a sure thing. Companies engage in a mix of the two to try to even the cash flow out. (And as the authors note, if executive compensation is tied more to short-term performance, then there's an incentive to go with the short-term gains).
NRDD%20graph.jpg
In general, though, you'd figure that companies should invest more in R&D. And here's the real kicker: that's exactly what's been happening. As this graph from the paper shows, over the last thirty years expenditures in the Sales, General, and Administrative area have risen only slightly as a per cent of sales. The Cost of Goods Sold category (materials, physical plant, manufacturing facilities, etc.) has gone proportionally down, with an interesting excursion in the mid-1990s. (Note also that this used to be the leading category). And R&D expenditures (again, as a per cent of sales) rose in the 1980s, were flat in the 1990s, and have risen since then. Overall, since 1975, the proportion of money spent on R&D has more than tripled, from 5% to 17%.

This, I hardly need point out, does not fit the narrative of some of the e-mails and comments I get. Some perceptions of the drug industry have us, Back In the Old Days, as spending our money on R&D, only to slimily slide into becoming pure marketing businesses as time has passed, with our recent years being especially disgusting and rapacious. According to these figures, this is at the very least not accurate, and comes close to being the opposite of the truth. Comments are welcome - most welcome, indeed.

Comments (56) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Development | Drug Industry History

July 2, 2009

Jargon Will Save Us All

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Posted by Derek

Moore's Law: number of semiconductors on a chip doubling every 18 months or so, etc. Everyone's heard of it. But can we agree that anyone who uses it as a metaphor or perscription for drug research doesn't know what they're talking about?

I first came across the comparison back during the genomics frenzy. One company that had bought into the craze in a big way press-released (after a rather interval) that they'd advanced their first compound to the clinic based on this wonderful genomics information. I remember rolling my eyes and thinking "Oh, yeah", but on a hunch I went to the Yahoo! stock message boards (often a teeming heap of crazy, then as now). And there I found people just levitating with delight at this news. "This is Moore's Law as applied to drug discovery!" shouted one enthusiast. "Do you people realize what this means?" What it meant, apparently, was not only that this announcement had come rather quickly. It also meant that this genomics stuff was going to discover twice as many drugs as this real soon. And real soon after that, twice as many more, and so on until the guy posting the comment was as rich as Warren Buffet, because he was a visionary who'd been smart enough to load himself into the catapult and help cut the rope. (For those who don't know how that story ended, the answer is Not Well: the stock that occasioned all this hyperventilation ended up dropping by a factor of nearly a hundred over the next couple of years. The press-released clinical candidate was never, ever, heard of again).

I bring this up because a reader in the industry forwarded me this column from Bio-IT World, entitled, yes, "Only Moore's Law Can Save Big Pharma". I've read it three times now, and I still have only the vaguest idea of what it's talking about. Let's see if any of you can do better.

The author starts off by talking about the pressures that the drug industry is under, and I have no problem with him there. That is, until he gets to the scientific pressures, which he sketches out thusly:

Scientifically, the classic drug discovery paradigm has reached the end of its long road. Penicillin, stumbled on by accident, was a bona fide magic bullet. The industry has since been organized to conduct programs of discovery, not design. The most that can be said for modern pharmaceutical research, with its hundreds of thousands of candidate molecules being shoveled through high-throughput screening, is that it is an organized accident. This approach is perhaps best characterized by the Chief Scientific Officer of a prominent biotech company who recently said, "Drug discovery is all about passion and faith. It has nothing to do with analytics."

The problem with faith-based drug discovery is that the low hanging fruit has already been plucked, driving would be discoverers further afield. Searching for the next miracle drug in some witch doctor's jungle brew is not science. It's desperation.

The only way to escape this downward spiral is new science. Fortunately, the fuzzy outlines of a revolution are just emerging. For lack of a better word, call it Digital Chemistry.

And when the man says "fuzzy outline", well, you'd better take him at his word. What, I know you're all asking, is this Digital Chemistry stuff? Here, wade into this:

Tomorrow's drug companies will build rationally engineered multi-component molecular machines, not small molecule drugs isolated from tree bark or bread mold. These molecular machines will be assembled from discrete interchangeable modules designed using hierarchical simulation tools that resemble the tool chains used to build complex integrated circuits from simple nanoscale components. Guess-and-check wet chemistry can't scale. Hit or miss discovery lacks cross-product synergy. Digital Chemistry will change that.

Honestly, if I start talking like this, I hope that onlookers will forgo taking notes and catch on quickly enough to call the ambulance. I know that I'm quoting too much, but I have to tell you more about how all this is going to work:

But modeling protein-protein interaction is computationally intractable, you say? True. But the kinetic behavior of the component molecules that will one day constitute the expanding design library for Digital Chemistry will be synthetically constrained. This will allow engineers to deliver ever more complex functional behavior as the drugs and the tools used to design them co-evolve. How will drugs of the future function? Intracellular microtherapeutic action will be triggered if and only if precisely targeted DNA or RNA pathologies are detected within individual sick cells. Normal cells will be unaffected. Corrective action shutting down only malfunctioning cells will have the potential of delivering 99% cure rates. Some therapies will be broad based and others will be personalized, programmed using DNA from the patient's own tumor that has been extracted, sequenced, and used to configure "target codes" that can be custom loaded into the detection module of these molecular machines.
.

Look, I know where this is coming from. And I freely admit that I hope that, eventually, a really detailed molecular-level knowledge of disease pathology, coupled with a really robust nanotechnology, will allow us to treat disease in ways that we can't even approach now. Speed the day! But the day is not sped by acting as if this is the short-term solution for the ills of the drug industry, or by talking as if we already have any idea at all about how to go about these things. We don't.

And what does that paragraph up there mean? "The kinetic behavior. . .will be synthetically constrained"? Honestly, I should be qualified to make sense of that, but I can't. And how do we go from protein-protein interactions at the beginning of all that to DNA and RNA pathologies at the end, anyway? If all the genomics business has taught us anything, it's that these are two very, very different worlds - both important, but separated by a rather wide zone of very lightly-filled-in knowledge.

Let's take this step by step; there's no other way. In the future, according to this piece, we will detect pathologies by detecting cell-by-cell variations in DNA and/or RNA. How will we do that? At present, you have to rip open cells and kill them to sequence their nucleic acids, and the sensitivities are not good enough to do it one cell at a time. So we're going to find some way to do that in a specific non-lethal way, either from the outside of the cells (by a technology that we cannot even yet envision) or by getting inside them (by a technology that we cannot even envision) and reading off their sequences in situ (by a technology that we cannot even envision). Moreover, we're going to do that not only with the permanent DNA, but with the various transiently expressed RNA species, which are localized to all sort of different cell compartments, present in minute amounts and often for short periods of time, and handled in ways that we're only beginning to grasp and for purposes that are not at all yet clear. Right.

Then. . .then we're going to take "corrective action". By this I presume that we're either going to selectively kill those cells or alter them through gene therapy. I should note that gene therapy, though incredibly promising as ever, is something that so far we have been unable, in most cases, to get to work. Never mind. We're going to do this cell by cell, selectively picking out just the ones we want out of the trillions of possibilities in the living organism, using technologies that, I cannot emphasize enough, we do not yet have. We do not yet know how to find most individual cells types in a complex living tissue; huge arguments ensue about whether certain rare types (such as stem cells) are present at all. We cannot find and pick out, for example, every precancerous cell in a given volume of tissue, not even by slicing pieces out of it, taking it out into the lab, and using all the modern techniques of instrumental analysis and molecular biology.

What will we use to do any of this inside the living organism? What will such things be made of? How will you dose them, whatever they are? Will they be taken up though the gut? Doesn't seem likely, given the size and complexity we're talking about. So, intravenous then, fine - how will they distribute through the body? Everything spreads out a bit differently, you know. How do you keep them from sticking to all kinds of proteins and surfaces that you're not interested in? How long will they last in vivo? How will you keep them from being cleared out by the liver, or from setting off a potentially deadly immune response? All of these could vary from patient to patient, just to make things more interesting. How will we get any of these things into cells, when we only roughly understand the dozens of different transport mechanisms involved? And how will we keep the cells from pumping them right back out? They do that, you know. And when it's time to kill the cells, how do you make absolutely sure that you're only killing the ones you want? And when it's time to do the gene therapy, what's the energy source for all the chemistry involved, as we cut out some sequences and splice in the others? Are we absolutely sure that we're only doing that in just the right places in just the right cells, or will we (disastrously) be sticking in copies into the DNA of a quarter of a per cent of all the others?

And what does all this nucleic acid focus have to do with protein expression and processing? You can't fix a lot of things at the DNA level. Misfolding, misglycosylation, defects in transport and removal - a lot of this stuff is post-genomic. Are we going to be able to sequence proteins in vivo, cell by cell, as well? Detect tertiary structure problems? How? And fix them, how?

Alright, you get the idea. The thing is, and this may be surprising considering those last few paragraphs, that I don't consider all of this to be intrinsically impossible. Many people who beat up on nanotechnology would disagree, but I think that some of these things are, at least in broad hazy theory, possibly doable. But they will require technologies that we are nowhere close to owning. Babbling, as the Bio-IT World piece does, about "detection modules" and "target codes" and "corrective action" is absolutely no help at all. Every one of those phrases unpacks into a gigantic tangle of incredibly complex details and total unknowns. I'm not ready to rule some of this stuff out. But I'm not ready to rule it in just by waving my hands.

Comments (46) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Industry History | General Scientific News | In Silico | Press Coverage

June 24, 2009

GSK's Getting Better. Just Ask the CEO.

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Posted by Derek

There are some interesting statements from GlaxoSmithKline CEO Andrew Witty here at Reuters. He admits that morale was completely in the scupper around the place a few months ago, which certainly seems to be true, but says that they're turning things around. To that point, remember all that stuff a few years ago about how GSK's research structure exemplified pretty much everything that a drug company needed to have? Well. . .

"We've really thrown into reverse much of the trend of research organisation that had developed over the last 15 years," Witty said.

Over that time, the drugs industry was a big commercial success but it took a "wrong turn" by deciding that drug discovery was an industrial process based on large-scale application of technologies like genomics, proteomics and combinatorial chemistry.

"These were all supposed to transform productivity yet none of them did. It turns out, in my view, that research is much more of an art than a science," Witty said.

Several thoughts come to mind. First off, I take the point about art versus science, but it's hard to do art on an industrial scale. That, to my mind, has been one of the major problems in all of drug R&D. He's right that the industry keeps seizing on things that promise to take some of the craziness out of the process - but it's not like the temptation isn't still around. We just haven't seen the latest brainwave yet.

But still, over time, some of the random element has decreased. We actually do understand a lot of things better than we used to. We know to look for hERG, to pick one example, and there are others. But these things don't (yet) add to enough of a transformation. Adding more and more knowledge to the pile has to help - I'm certainly not enough of a nihilist to deny that - but it's fair to say that it hasn't helped as quickly and as thoroughly as we might have hoped.

You can find opinions all up and down that spectrum: at one end are the nihilists themselves, who hold that the problems we're trying to solve are (at present) too hard, and what's more, they're likely to remain too hard for the foreseeable future, so you'd better get lucky - and design your research structure to improve your chances of doing that. Moving up from there, you have a lot of people in the middle who see incremental progress, but (with Goethe) worry that "Where there is much light, there is much darkness". Every new advance untangles a few things, but also ends up illustrating how much more we need to know. Opinions in this crowd vary, from pessimists who come close to the first nihilist group, all the way up to optimists who hold out hope that things will start making more sense soon. And past them, you come to the super-optimists, the Kurzweilians who are waiting for the Singularity.

But finally, reading the Witty article, I can't help but imagine an interview in around 2020, with whoever's in charge then talking about how they had to get rid of all that musty old research structure that the previous management team had put in. . .

Comments (19) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Industry History

June 17, 2009

The View From Pfizer's Corner Offices

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Posted by Derek

There's a good article from Lee Howard up at The Day (the New London/Groton newspaper) on the changes going on at Pfizer. It's the story according to management, though, which is worth having for its compare-and-contrast uses:

Despite the looming uncertainty, according to company spokesmen, the new research structure has added energy and urgency to the drug-discovery process in Groton. . .

. . .The changes in Groton - seen most plainly in displays of logos the new business units are in the process of choosing - have added drug-development staff and even legal experts to the R&D mix, along with biologists and chemists who typically have worked in close proximity. In the middle of it all sits the chief scientific officer of each business unit, as well as other managers.

The idea is to develop a more realistic idea of a drug's likelihood to succeed at an early stage and then bring it to market quicker if it seems to be working.

I hope that the process of choosing new logos doesn't take too long. You could get a reasonable read on the success of any attempt to remake Pfizer's culture by counting the number of meetings the logo process has required so far.

But I can't make fun of the goals that the company is setting - they're perfectly sensible. The only problem is that they're just what everyone else is trying to do, too, and if it were easy, everyone would be finished doing them by now. The problem with trying to get an earlier decision of a drug's chances for success are that many of the serious problems don't show up (in fact, can't show up) until larger clinical trials. And I don't think that anyone's got a good way around that one yet. Some therapeutic areas are better suited than others, to be sure.

Would the new structures that Pfizer's putting in place have prevented the torcetrapib disaster? I doubt it - that one took everyone by surprise. Would they have prevented the Exubera disaster? Now, that one's food for thought, because it seemed to be much more self-inflicted. If the company can avoid doing that sort of thing again, then they've accomplished something.

And for all the nasty things I say about Pfizer here, I hope that they do accomplish things. After all, they're the biggest drug company in the world, and they seem determined to stay that way. If an organization that huge ends up spinning its wheels (or sitting around designing new business cards), it can't be good for anyone.

Comments (37) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Development | Drug Industry History

June 4, 2009

CafePharma Will Now Approach The Bench

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Posted by Derek

Here's an interesting situation for you: according to IguanaBio, a shareholder lawsuit over the failed Vytorin ENHANCE clinical trial (that's caused Schering-Plough and Merck so much grief) is going to use posts on CafePharma as evidence.

That will be worth watching. CafePharma's message boards have been described (accurately, I'd say) as often being the electronic equivalent of a bathroom wall. There's good information in there, but the signal/noise ratio is abysmal due to the number of ticked-off people who go there to vent. There do appear to have been some posts suggesting strongly that the ENHANCE data were grim, and who knows? They could have been speaking from real knowledge. But there's no way to be sure - and for every post that turns out to be prophetic, there are ten that are totally wrong.

So I'm surprised that these are going to be considered admissable. Anyone investing on the basis of CafePharma board chatter deserves to lose their money - which will go out in brokerage commission fees, if nothing else. Let's see how this plays in court. . .

Comments (8) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Cardiovascular Disease | Clinical Trials | Drug Industry History

June 1, 2009

Akt and Mek, But Not PDQ

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Posted by Derek

Well, the ASCO meeting has been roaring along, with dozens of press releases coming out. (Go to Google News and type that acronym in if you want to get the full experience). They range from the pretty-interesting to the despair-inducing, but one bit of news struck me as particularly worth noting. That's the early-stage deal between Merck and AstraZeneca to combine two of their development candidates in a Phase I trial.

That's Merck's AKT inhibitor MK-2206 and AZ's Mek inhibitor AZD6244, and there's room to think that combining those two mechanisms could be beneficial. But as that In Vivo Blog link details, this deal wasn't initiated through any official contact between the two companies. Rather, someone from Merck and someone from AZ got to talking while they were going through airport security in Dublin, and recognized each other's names. A mere year and a half later, the deal was born.

There's a lot to learn from that story. For one, big drug companies are not, for the most part, looking to do early-stage deals with other big drug companies. Perhaps we'll see more of these in the future, but in general, it's about the least likely form of partnership. Another thing to note is how long it took for this idea to bear fruit. Eighteen months is about right for companies of this size to make up their minds about something like this - and you can decide that (since the oncology field is so complicated) that this is a reasonable period of evaluation, or you can decide, equally objectively, that delays of that magnitude remind you of a sauropod turning around in puzzlement three hours after something bit its tail.

I'm impressed that the deal was made at all. The usual path for new ideas of this sort is to the graveyard, especially in very large organizations, so I have to assume that some people within each company must have really pushed things along to make it happen. It's part of the general bias toward inaction: it's harder to get beaten up for decisions that you didn't make, compared to decisions that you did. Missed opportunities are often invisible.

So, no matter how long it took, or even whether it works out, I still have to congratulate the people involved on getting this agreement to happen. It's worthwhile, I think, just because it's the sort of thing that doesn't happen very often. And I have the feeling that (in the coming years) we're going to have to explore a lot of things in this industry that haven't happened very often. We'll need the practice!

Comments (4) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Cancer | Clinical Trials | Drug Development | Drug Industry History

May 21, 2009

The NIH Takes the Plunge

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Posted by Derek

The NIH has announced that they're going to start up a preclinical drug discovery effort to address rare diseases. I find this interesting for several reasons. For one thing, it's worth a try for conditions where no company has seen a way to fund research, and there are quite a few of them. Treating rare diseases can be quite profitable in the industrialized world (ask Genzyme, among other companies), but if the conditions are localized in poorer areas no one's likely to take a crack at them. So my first reaction is "Good, and the best of luck to you". The NIH has been getting closer to doing preclinical drug discovery in recent years, so this is a logical next step.

The second thought I have is that this will be an interesting experience for the researchers involved. There's nothing quite like drug discovery, and if they do it right, everyone will come away with an appreciation of just how complicated a process it is. The only way to make it simple and reasonable is to cut corners. I notice that the press release says:

Typically, drug development begins when academic researchers studying the underlying cause of a disease discover a new molecular target or a chemical that may have a therapeutic effect. Too often, the process gets stuck at the point of discovery because few academic researchers can conduct all the types of studies needed to develop a new drug. If a pharmaceutical company with the resources to further the research does get involved, substantial preclinical work begins with efforts to optimize the chemistry of the potential drug. This involves an iterative series of chemical modifications and tests in progressively more complex systems — from cell cultures to animal tests — to refine the potential medicine for use in people. Only if these stages are successful can a potential treatment move to clinical trials in patients.

Unfortunately, the success rate in this preclinical process is low, with 80 to 90 percent of projects failing in the preclinical phase and never making it to clinical trials. And the costs are high: it takes two to four years of work and $10 million, on average, to move a potential medicine though this preclinical process. Drug developers colloquially call this the "Valley of Death."

. . .If a compound does survive this preclinical stage, TRND will work to find a company willing to test the therapy in patients. There are several stages to the clinical trials process that can take several years before the safety and efficacy of a new drug is determined. FDA will only approve a drug for general use after it passes these trials. The clinical trials process is also expensive, but the failure rate is lower at this stage.

Well, a tiny bit lower. I think that the general clinic-to-market failure rate is still somewhere around 90%, but it varies by therapeutic area. And that 80 to 90% failure rate that they quote for preclinical is a bit lowballed, I'd say, because you'd want to subtract that things that get recommended to the clinic (but really should never have been). But overall, this is a reasonably clear-eyed look at the difficulties involved. If they can get some things to the point that a company or foundation is willing to take on the (now somewhat reduced) risks, that'll be great.

The last thought I have (for now) is that I feel like writing a bunch of people and asking them why the NIH is doing this, since they've been telling me for years that this is what the NIH already does, anyway. The "Big Pharma does nothing but rip off NIH" meme hasn't surfaced for a little while, but it's always out there.

Comments (15) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Development | Drug Industry History

May 18, 2009

San Francisco Biotech: Holding Up, or Not?

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Posted by Derek

I've got a piece coming up today at The Atlantic Monthly's business site on the state of the biotech industry out in the Bay Area. Since the Genentech takeover fight broke out, a persistent theme in the comments here (and in e-mail that I've received) has been how well the industry is holding up out there. Opinions range from "basically fine" (a minority, to be sure), to "incipient disaster" (also a minority, but a loud one). The consensus view is that there may well be room to worry.

So let's start the discussion explicitly (here as well as over at The Atlantic. How healthy is the original biotech cluster? And how many of its current problems are due to secular reasons (the general economy, the general state of the drug industry), and how many are home-grown? I'd be very interested to hear from people out there, although I guess it'll be mostly us Eastern types for the next few hours here. . .

Comments (24) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Industry History

May 12, 2009

Book Review Department

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Posted by Derek

For those who are interested, I have a review up at Nature Biotechnology of Reasonable Rx: Solving the Drug Price Crisis, a book that proposes an. . .interesting solution for reworking the drug industry.

And as Fate would have it, I also have a review in the latest issue of Nature Chemistry of Drug Truths: Dispelling the Myths About Pharma R & D, from Pfizer's John LaMattina. The only reason these are showing up at the same time is that I took an unconscionably long time to come to grips with Reasonable Rx - it wasn't something that I could just dismiss, but it has (I think) a lot of things wrong with it.

Comments (11) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Industry History | Drug Prices | Regulatory Affairs

May 5, 2009

Farewell to ACAT, and to Lots of Time and Money, Too

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Posted by Derek

Back when I joined the first drug company I ever worked for, the group in the lab next door was working on an enzyme called ACAT, acyl CoA:cholesterol acyltranferase. It’s the main producer of cholesterol esters in cells, and is especially known to be active in the production of foam cells in atherosclerosis. It had already been a drug target for some years before I first heard about it, and has remained one.

It hasn’t been an easy ride. Since 1990, several compounds have failed in the clinic or in preclinical tox testing. The most recent disappointment was in 2006, when pactimibe (Daiichi Sankyo) not only failed to perform against placebo, but actually made things slightly worse.

Lipid handling is a tough field, because every animal does is slightly differently. There are all sorts of rabbit strains and hamster models and transgenic mice, but you're never really sure until you get to humans. Complicating the story has been the discovery that there are two ACATs. ACAT-1 is found in macrophages (and the foam cells that they turn into) and many other tissues, and ACAT-2 is found in the intestine and in the liver. Which one to inhibit is a good question - the first might have a direct effect on altherosclerotic plaque formation, while the second could affect general circulating lipid levels. Pactimibe hits both about equally, as it turns out.

Now a second study of that drug has been published this spring. This one was going on at the same time as the earlier reported one, and was stopped when those results hit, but the data were in good enough shape to be worked up, and the company paid for the continued analysis. The new results look at patients with familial hypercholesterolemia, who got pactimibe along with the standard therapies. Unfortunately, the numbers are of a piece with the earlier ones: the drug did not help, and actually seemed to increase arterial wall thickness. I think it's safe to say, barring some big pharmacological revelation, that ACAT inhibitors are a dead end for atherosclerosis.

I bring this up for two reasons. One is that the group that was working next door to me on ACAT was the same group that discovered (quite by accident) the cholesterol absorption inhibitor ezetimibe, known as Zetia (and as half of Vytorin). Although its future is very much in doubt, it's for sure that that compound has been a lot more successful than any ACAT inhibitor. The arguing goes on about how helpful it's been (and will go on until we see the next trial results for another couple of years), but it's already made it further than ACAT.

And that's actually my second point. I suspect that almost no one in the general public has ever heard of ACAT at all. But it's been the subject of a huge amount of research, of time and work and money. And while we've learned more about lipid handling in humans, which is always valuable, the whole effort has been an utter loss as far as any financial return. I have no good way of estimating the direct costs (and even worse, the opportunity costs) involved with this target, but they surely add up to One Hell Of A Lot Of Money. Which is gone, and gone with hardly a sound outside the world of drug development. And this happens all the time.

Comments (15) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Cardiovascular Disease | Clinical Trials | Drug Development | Drug Industry History | Toxicology

April 17, 2009

Genes to Diseases: Hard Work, You Say?

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Posted by Derek

So I see that the headlines are that it’s proving difficult to relate gene sequences to specific diseases. (Here's the NEJM, free full-text). I can tell you that the reaction around the drug industry to this news is a weary roll of the eyes and a muttered “Ya don’t say. . .”

That’s because we put our money down early on the whole gene-to-disease paradigm, and in a big way. As I’ve written here before, there was a real frenzy in the industry back in the late 1990s as the genomics efforts started really revving up. Everyone had the fear that all the drug targets that ever were, or ever could be, were about to be discovered, annotated, patented – and licensed to the competition, who were out there fearless on the cutting edge, ready to leap into the future, while we (on the other hand) lounged around like dinosaurs looking sleepily at that big asteroidy thing up there in the sky.

No, that’s really how it felt. Every day brought another press release about another big genomics deal. The train (all the trains!) were loudly leaving the station. A lot of very expensive deals were cut, sometimes in great haste, but (as far as I can tell) they yielded next to nothing – at least in terms of drug candidates, or even real drug targets themselves.

So yeah, we’ve already had a very expensive lesson in how hard it is to associate specific gene sequences with specific diseases. The cases where you can draw a dark, clear line between the two increasingly look like exceptions. There are a lot of these (you can read about them
in these texts
), but they tend to affect small groups of people at a time. The biggest diseases (diabetes, cardiovascular in general, Alzheimer’s, most cancers) seem to be associated with a vast number of genetic factors, most of them fairly fuzzy, and hardly any of them strong enough on their own to make a big difference one way or another. Combine that with the nongenetic (or epigenetic) factors like nutrition, lifestyle, immune response, and so on, and you have a real brew.

On that point, I like E. O. Wilson’s metaphor for nature versus nurture. He likened a person’s genetic inheritance to a photographic negative. Depending on how it’s developed and printed, the resulting picture can turn out a lot of different ways – but there’s never going to be more than was in there to start with. (These days, I suppose that we’re going to have to hunt for another simile – Photoshop is perhaps a bit too powerful to let loose inside that one).

But I've been talking mostly about variations in proteins as set by their corresponding DNA sequences. The real headscratcher has been this:

One observation that has taken many observers by surprise is that most loci that have been discovered through genomewide association analysis do not map to amino acid changes in proteins. Indeed, many of the loci do not even map to recognizable protein open reading frames but rather may act in the RNA world by altering either transcriptional or translational efficiency. They are thus predicted to affect gene expression. Effects on expression may be quite varied and include temporal and spatial effects on gene expression that may be broadly characterized as those that alter transcript levels in a constitutive manner, those that modulate transcript expression in response to stimuli, and those that affect splicing.

That's really going to be a major effort to understand, because we clearly don't understand it very well now. RNA effects have been coming on for the last ten or fifteen years as a major factor in living systems that we really weren't aware of, and it would be foolish to think that the last fireworks have gone off.

Comments (27) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Biological News | Drug Industry History

April 14, 2009

Who They?

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Posted by Derek

I try to keep up with the drug-industry news in general, so once in a while I just hop over to Google News and type "pharmaceutical" into the search box. That generally gets me a barrage of press releases, lucky me, and this morning was no different. But what struck me was that basically the whole page of results was talking about companies that either I only vaguely recognized, or (in most cases) had never heard of at all.

Raptor Pharmaceuticals I remembered from somewhere, mostly because of that bizarre name. But then there's a run of who-they names: Nanobac merging with Eureka Genomics? Osprey? Poniard? Tekmira? Stellar? Kanion? Optimer? Come to think of it, I actually have heard of those last folks, although I can't tell you much about them. Looking closer, I find that several of these are generic producers (Kanion, from China) or seem to be more medical-device companies (Stellar), which makes me feel better. Nanobac seems to be the most way-out-there, supposedly focusing on treatment of nanobacteria-related diseases, which is news to me, since last I heard you could start a major shouting match over the question of whether nanobacteria even exist (or even can).

But the others are real drug shops: Tekmira's another RNAi outfit that I'd never heard of, and Poniard seems to be betting on new platinum-based oncology agents. Osprey is working on chemokine fusion proteins. This sort of thing (coming across companies that I'd never realized existed) always cheers me up, actually. I continue to think that one of the US's main strengths is the ability to fund ideas, to try all sorts of things out in the hopes that something interesting will turn up. I want there to be many more companies than I have time to keep up with or even hear of. That, to me, is the sign of a healthy research culture.

Which is what has me worried, given the current economic climate. This is not a particularly good time to get a small company off the ground, to put it mildly. Will there be a notch cut into the startup population as the years go on? How deep and broad will it be?

Comments (14) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Industry History

April 7, 2009

Scientists Running Your Drug Company?

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Posted by Derek

There's an interesting article that showed up in the Financial Times about the leadership of drug companies. Specifically, the number of them that are run by scientists (always lower than you would have thought) is dropping even further.

"Only one large western pharmaceutical company will be run by a scientist (John Lechleiter of Lilly) following completion of the current round of acquisitions, in spite of the growing need for strengthened innovation to develop new medicines. . .

The changes reflect a shift for the scientists who once dominated senior pharmaceuticals positions to give way to executives with backgrounds in marketing, legal or other more general business backgrounds.

The evolution mirrors growing legal and marketing expertise required to operate in the US, which remains the world’s largest medicines market, although its recent sluggish growth and renewed demand for greater innovation and science-based assessment of drugs may suggest different skills will be required in future."

I wonder, though, how many of the background assumptions here are true. I don't think that the large drug companies have been dominated by scientific leadership for some time. This (to me) isn't a recent shift, although it may well have accelerated. And we've gotten into discussions around here a couple of times (most recently on the news of Lechleiter's appointment) about whether you even want a scientist in the top job. Opinions, to put it mildly, are divided on how much difference that makes, and (if it does) which way you'd rather go.

My take, for what it's worth, is that scientific training can be desirable in a drug company CEO, but it's not sufficient, or always even necessary. The skills needed don't overlap as much as you might think between science and management, even in a company that makes its living from science. The problem is, I don't think that the particular skills associated with law and MBA degrees are sufficient, either. Being good at running a large organization is a rather rare quality. And it's not always easy to recognize: some companies have issues (good ones or bad!) that will swamp most of the signals you might try to get about the qualities of their CEO.

Comments (14) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Industry History

April 3, 2009

The Mechanical Chemist?

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Posted by Derek

We use a lot of automated equipment in the drug discovery business. There’s an awful lot of grunt work involved, and in many cases a robot arm is better suited to the task – transferring solutions, especially repetitive transfers of large numbers of samples, is the classic example. High-throughput screening would just not be possible if you had to do it all by hand; my fingers hurt just imagining all the pipetting that would involve.

But I wouldn’t say that the process of medicinal chemistry is at all automated. That’s very much human-driven, and a lot of the compounds on most med-chem projects are made by hand, one at a time. Sure, there are parallel synthesis techniques, plates and resins and multichannel liquid handlers that will let you set up a whole array of reactions at once. But you do that, typically, only after you’ve found a hot compound, and that’s often done the old-fashioned way. (And, of course, there are a lot of reactions that just don’t lend themselves to efficient parallel synthesis).

But I remember the first time I saw an automated synthetic apparatus, back at an ACS meeting in the mid-1980s. There was a video in the presentation (a real rarity back then), and it showed this Zymark arm being run to set up an array of reactions, assay each of them after an overnight run, and report on the one that performed the best. “Holy cow”, I thought, “someone’s invented the mechanical grad student”. Being a grad student at the time, I wasn’t so sure what I thought about that.

This all comes to mind after reading a report over at Wired about a robotic system that has been claimed to have made a discovery without much human input at all. “Adam”, built at Aberystwyth University in Wales, seems to have been set up to look for similarities in yeast genes whose function hadn’t yet been assigned, and then (using a database of possible techniques) set up experiments to test the hypotheses thus generated. The system was also equipped to be able to follow up on its results, and eventually uncovered a new three-gene pathway, which findings were confirmed by hand.

And Ross King, leading the project at Aberystwyth, is apparently extending the idea to drug discovery. Using a system that (inevitably) will be called “Eve”, he plans to:

. . .autonomously design and screen drugs against malaria and schistosomiasis.

"Most drug discovery is already automated," says King, "but there's no intelligence — just brute force." King says Eve will use artificial intelligence to select which compounds to run, rather than just following a list.

Well, I won't take the intelligence comment personally; I know what the guy is trying to say. I’ll be very interested to see how this is going to be implemented, and how it will work out. (I'll get an e-mail off to Prof. King asking for some details). My first thought was that Eve will be slightly ahead of a couple of the less competent people I’ve seen over the course of my career. And if I can say that with a straight face (and now that I think about it, I believe that I can), then there may well be a place for this sort of thing. I’ve long held that jobs which can be done by machines really should be done by machines.

But how is this going to work? The first way I can see running a computational algorithm to design drugs would be some sort of QSAR, and we were just talking about that here the other day – most unfavorably. I can imagine, though, coding in a lot of received wisdom of drug discovery into an expert system – Topliss tree for aryl substituents, switch thiophene for phenyl, move nitrogens around the rings, add a para-fluoro, check both enantiomers, put in a morpholine for solubility, mess with the basicity of your amine nitrogens, no napthyls if you can help it, watch your logD - my med-chem readers will know just the sorts of things I mean.

Now, automating that, along with feedback from the primary and secondary assays, solubility, PK, metabolite ID and so on. . .mix it in with literature-searching capability for similar compounds, some sort of reaction feasibility scoring function, ability to order reagents from the stockroom, analyze the LC/MS and NMR traces versus predictions, weight the next round of analogs according to what the major unmet project goals are. . .well, we're getting to the mechanical medicinal chemist, sure enough. Now, not all of these things are doable right now. In fact. some of them are rather a long way off. But some of them could be done now, and the others, well, they're certainly not impossible.

I'm not planning on being replace any time soon. But the folks cranking out the parallel libraries, the methyl-ethyl-butyl-futile stuff, they might need to look over their shoulders a bit sooner. That's outsourcing if you like - from the US to China and India, and from there to the robots. . .

Comments (28) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Development | Drug Industry History | General Scientific News | Life in the Drug Labs

March 16, 2009

The Equipment Graveyard

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Posted by Derek

The comment that showed up recently about unearthing an "original Cable and Wireless dephilostagenator" in a lab reminded me of the huge lab moving job I was in on some years ago. We were packing up the entire company's research site and moving it to another spot in New Jersey (Bloomfield to Kenilworth), and this was supposedly the biggest moving job in the US that year. I do know that the Garden State Parkway was used for the parade of 18-wheel trucks at like 3 AM several times, by special arrangement with the state. (You normally can't take trucks on the thing; that's for the Jersey Turnpike, which doesn't go anywhere real close to Kenilworth).

At any rate, as we started clearing things out, there were several layers of equipment. First were the things that we'd either ordered or had used fairly recently - fine. Behind that, or in the less traveled cabinets, were things that we recognized, but (in many cases) didn't even know that we had. Finally, we began to unearth things that we hardly even knew the names of. I remember finding a dropping mercury electrode apparatus down our way; it's still the only one I've ever seen. It had that solid, black-enameled 1952 look to it, with the name of the company written in silver script lettering on the side, "Dyno-Electromat" or something of the sort. It reminded me somehow of those solid old electromechanical adding machines.

That one was only going to find a home in a museum or in a hazardous waste collection dumpster, and you can guess which alternative won out. But when a site shuts down or moves, there are generally large piles of perfectly usable equipment left sitting around, and it finds its way out into the market one way or another. Courtesy of another commentator, here are some folks from Yale digging through stuff that I might have leaned up against at some point. . .

Comments (13) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Industry History | Life in the Drug Labs

March 13, 2009

Drugs For Bacteria: Really That Hard, Or Not?

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Posted by Derek

A few readers have told me that I’m being too hard on antibacterial drug discovery, at least on target-based efforts in the field. The other day I asked if anyone could name a single antibacterial drug on the market that had been developed from a target, rather than by screening or modification of existing drugs and natural products, and the consensus was that there’s nothing to point to yet.

The objections are that antibacterials are an old field, and that for many years these natural products (and variations thereof) were pretty much all that anyone needed. Even when target-based drug discovery got going in earnest (gathering momentum from the 1970s through the 1980s), the antibacterial field was in general thought to be pretty well taken care of, so correspondingly less effort was put into it. Even now, there’s still a lot of potential in modifying older compounds to evade resistance, which is not something that a lot of other drug discovery areas have the option of doing.

And I have to say, these points have something to them. It’s true that antibacterials are something of a world apart; this was the first field of modern pharmaceutical discovery, and the struggle against living, adapting organisms makes it different than most other therapeutic areas even today. The lack of target-driven successes is surely due in part to historical factors. (The relative success of the later-blooming antiviral therapeutic targets is evidence in favor of this, too).

That said, I think that it’s not generally realized how few target-based drugs there are in the field (approximately none), so I did want to highlight that. And it does seem to be the case that working up from targets in the area is a hard row to hoe. There’s a rather disturbing review from GlaxoSmithKline that makes that case:

"From the 70 HTS campaigns run between 1995–2001 (67 target based, 3 whole cell), only 5 leads were delivered, so that, on average, it took 14 HTS runs to discover one lead. Based on GSK screening metrics, the success rate from antibacterial HTS was four- to five-fold lower than for targets from other therapeutic areas at this time. To be sure, this was a disappointing and financially unsustainable outcome, especially in view of the length of time devoted to this experiment and considering that costs per HTS campaign were around US$1 million. Furthermore, multiple high-quality leads are needed given the attrition involved in the lead optimization and clinical development processes required to create a novel antibiotic.

GSK was not the only company that had difficulty finding antibacterial leads from HTS. A review of the literature between 1996 and 2004 shows that >125 antibacterial screens on 60 different antibacterial targets were run by 34 different companies25. That none of these screens resulted in credible development candidates is clear from the lack of novel mechanism molecules in the industrial antibacterial pipeline. We are only aware of two compounds targeting a novel antibacterial enzyme (PDF) that have actually progressed as far as Phase I clinical trials, and technically speaking PDF was identified as an antibacterial target well before the genome era."

So although the history is a mitigating factor, the field does seem to have its. . .special character. The GSK authors discuss some of the possible reasons for this, but those can be the topic of another post or two; they're worth it.

Comments (2) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Assays | Drug Industry History | Infectious Diseases

March 12, 2009

Roche / Genentech: The Chase Is Over

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Posted by Derek

So Roche and Genentech have come to terms: $95 per share. They'd offered more last fall, but, well, it isn't last fall any more. And this was still well above Roche's recent offers, although they'd come up to $93 in public before this was announced this morning. Genentech shares had been climbing up to much closer to Roche's revised offer, so the deal was starting to become clearer in the last couple of days.

What's this going to mean? The main encouraging thing I can take out of it is that Roche is saying that they want to keep Genentech's R&D operation separate, and to keep their talent and their approach to discovery. It's nice to at least hear lip service to that idea - it's a start - but now we'll have to see if they follow through.

Overall, though, I don't like big mergers, as has been a repeating theme around here. And now we've had three whoppers in just the last few months: Pfizer/Wyeth, Merck/Schering-Plough (I know, I know, I'm supposed to have those names the other way around, but come on), and now Roche/Genentech. So I can't say that the industry is moving in a way that makes me really happy. But at the same time, I can see why all this is happening, so perhaps it's the underlying trends which lead to these things that should be making me unhappy - I should be upset about the causes, not the symptoms. (Mind you, I think that the decreased research productivity that accompanies some of these mergers tends to blend the whole cause and effect relationship up a bit).

And it's important not to confuse these moves with the current financial mess. The drug industry has problems totally outside the turmoil in the credit and equity markets. If anything, some of these conditions are making it harder to do the deals that the companies themselves feel like they have to do (look, for example, at how Pfizer had to work to get the financing together for the Wyeth takeover). No, if the markets were in better shape, we'd be seeing the same sort of thing - maybe a bit faster, or a bit slower, but different only in degree, not in kind.

We aren't producing enough good new drugs quickly enough. Collateralized debt obligations and credit default swaps have nothing to do with that. And we're either going to have to find ways to increase our research productivity, or batten down the industry for survival under the conditions we have now. Mergers, right- or wrong-headed, are part of the latter process. If we could find a way to do the former one, we wouldn't be in the shape we're in now.

Comments (16) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Industry History

March 9, 2009

Merck Actually Does It

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Posted by Derek

So Merck wasn’t kidding about making a large deal, were they? When I used to work for Schering-Plough back in the 1990s, there were constant rumors, the whole eight years I spent there, about the company merging or being taken over. And as far as I know, those have never really ceased – until now, that is. And Merck has always resisted the big merger route – until now.

This deal would seem to have made more sense a few years ago, when Vytorin looked ready to make huge amounts of money. (Of course, Schering-Plough was more expensive then, and perhaps Merck may have had a bit more confidence in its own pipeline back then, too). But it’s the deal we have today, so does it make sense now?

Well, up to a point. Like many of these, it works the best on paper when you talk about shedding head count and realizing all those cost savings that are supposed to be hiding in the numbers. We’ll have to see how that actually shakes out – the main research sites for the two companies are actually very close to each other in New Jersey, and I’m not sure if that’s a bug or a feature here. One interesting question is what happens to Fred Hassan, Schering-Plough’s wily and ambitious CEO. Back when the two companies first partnered up, the rumor was that Hassan was trying to use this as a springboard into Merck’s upper management, so we’ll see if that’s coming true.

As for the portfolio fit, S-P has been very upbeat about its drug pipeline, and they seem to have convinced them in Rahway. The biggest attraction seems to be the thrombin receptor antagonist program, which I wrote about here from slight personal experience. But there have been stories over the years that Pfizer was never very happy about what they ended up buying when they purchased Pharmacia / Upjohn, Hassan’s previous company. (They were primarily buying Celebrex, of course, and we all know how well that worked out, but the story is that Pfizer believed that they were getting rather more besides).

In a way, though, this deal saddens me, and that’s not because I used to work for Schering-Plough. It’s not like I’m worried about the fate of its corporate culture – to be honest, I can’t say that I much cared for a lot of that culture while I was there. But what strikes me is that Merck has been a symbol of a company that’s done well by going it alone, ruling out these kinds of deals for many years. It’s as if they’re breaking down and giving in, and since I’ve never cared much for mergers in this business anyway, seeing them do one is doubly disturbing.

And for those folks who drove Schering-Plough's stock price up 10% last Friday - hey, nice work. The SEC will be in touch with some of you shortly, I should think.

Comments (41) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Industry History

February 26, 2009

Does Glucophage Make Alzheimer's Worse?

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Posted by Derek

Metformin, now there’s a drug story for you. It’s a startlingly small molecule, the sort of thing that chemists look and and say “That’s a real drug?” It kicked around in the literature and the labs in the 1960s, was marketed in Europe in the 1980s but was shopped around in the US for quite a while, partly because a lot of people had just that reaction. (It didn't help that a couple of other drugs in the same structural class turned out to cause lactic acidosis and had to be pulled from use). Bristol-Myers Squibb finally took metformin up, though, and did extremely well with it in the end under the brand name Glucophage. It’s now generic, and continues to be widely prescribed for Type II diabetes.

But for many years, no one had a clue how it worked. It not only went all the way through clinical trials and FDA approval without a mechanism, it was nearly to the end of its patent lifetime before a plausible mechanism became clear. It’s now generally accepted that metformin is an activator (somehow, maybe through another enzyme called LKB1) of adenosine monophosphate kinase (AMPK), and that many (most?) of its effects are probably driven through that pathway. AMPK’s a central player in a lot of metabolic processes, so this proposal is certainly plausible.

But never think that you completely understand these things (and, as a corollary, never trust anyone who tries to convince you that they do). A new paper in PNAS advances the potentially alarming hypothesis that metformin may actually exacerbate the pathology of Alzheimer’s disease. This hasn’t been proven in humans yet, but the evidence that the authors present makes a strong case that someone should check this out quickly.

There’s a strong connection between insulin, diabetes, and brain function. Actually, there are a lot of strong connections, and we definitely haven’t figured them all out yet. Some of them make immediate sense – the brain pretty much has to run on glucose, as opposed to the rest of the body, which can largely switch to fatty acids as an energy source if need be. So blood sugar regulation is a very large concern up there in the skull. But insulin has many, many more effects than its instant actions on glucose uptake. It’s also tied into powerful growth factor pathways, cell development, lifespan, and other things, so its interactions with brain function are surely rather tangled.

And there’s some sort of connection between diabetes and Alzheimer’s. Type II diabetes is considered to be a risk factor for AD, and there’s some evidence that insulin can improve cognition in patients with the disease. There’s also some evidence that the marketed PPAR-gamma drugs (the thiazolidinediones rosiglitazone and pioglitazone) have some benefit for patients with early-stage Alzheimer’s. (Nothing, as far as I’m aware, is of much benefit for people with late-stage Alzheimer’s). Just in the past month, more work has appeared in this area. The authors of this latest paper wanted to take a look at metformin from this angle, since it’s so widely used in the older diabetic population.

What came out was a surprise. In cell culture, metformin seems to increase the amount of beta-amyloid generated by neurons. If you buy into the beta-amyloid hypothesis of Alzheimer’s, that’s very bad news indeed. (And even people that don’t think that amyloid is the proximate cause of the disease don’t think it’s good for you.) It seems to be doing this by upregulating beta-secretase (BACE), one of the key enzymes involved in producing beta-amyloid from the larger amyloid precursor protein (APP). And that upregulation seems to be driven by AMPK, but independent of glucose and insulin effects.

The paper takes this pretty thoroughly through cell culture models, and at the end all the way to live rats. They showed small but significant increases in beta-secretase activity in rat brain after six days of metformin treatment. And the authors conclude that:

Our finding that metformin increases A-beta generation and secretion raises the concern of potential side-effects, of accelerating AD clinical manifestation in patients with type 2 diabetes, especially in the aged population. This concern needs to be addressed by direct testing of the drug in animal models, in conjunction with learning, memory and behavioral tests.

Unfortunately, I think they’re quite right. Update - in response to questions, it appears that metformin may well cross into the brain, presumably at least partly by some sort of active transport. There's some evidence both ways, but it's certainly possible that relevant levels make it in. With any luck, this will be found not to translate to humans, or not with any real clinical effect, but someone’s going to have to make sure of that. For those of us back in the early stages of drug discovery, the lesson is (once again): never, never think we completely understand what a drug is doing. We don’t.

Comments (19) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Alzheimer's Disease | Diabetes and Obesity | Drug Industry History | Toxicology

February 11, 2009

Kinases: Hot or Not?

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Posted by Derek

For the last ten or fifteen years, untold amounts of time and money have been spent developing drugs to inhibit kinase enzymes. Just go take a look at KinasePro’s archives; that’ll give you the idea. Huge programs have been run at all the major drug companies, and any number of smaller ones have been founded just on the strength of one kinase inhibitor or another.

The enthusiasm isn’t hard to understand. For those of you outside the med-chem / biochem worlds, kinase enzymes are there to stick phosphate groups into other molecules, which is a very widely used signaling pathway. A phosphate completely changes the character of the part of a molecule where it’s attached, changing what other partners it will recognize and bind to. This takes place generally on to some sort of free OH group. That doesn’t narrow things down much, though, since there a lot of incredibly important small molecules with OH groups that get phosphorylated. Adding to the fun, several amino acids (serine, threonine, and tyrosine) have OH groups on them, and the means that nearly every decent-sized protein has plenty. The patterns of their phosphate groups turn their activities on and off, determine where they go and what they’ll recognize. It’s a major, major switching mechanism for protein activity – you can’t overstate its importance. Here's the classic family tree of the protein kinases, just to give you the idea. (And in case you’re wondering, there is indeed a whole different class of enzymes, the phosphatases, that take the things back off again - whole different bag of snakes, those guys).

There are hundreds and hundreds of kinase enzymes, and I think it’s safe to say that they’re involved in just about every important biochemical process you can think of. The downside of working on them is that, well, they’re involved in just about every important biochemical process you can think of. (Try this on for size, or this, to get the idea). How do you get them to do what you want?

Well, we’re still not sure about that. I go back far enough to remember when kinases were considered nearly impossible to work with as drug targets, because no one could figure out how you’d get selectivity. But once we figured out how to make molecules that recognized the “hinge” region common to most of these enzymes, the game was on. You can make blunderbuss molecules that inhibit dozens of enzymes at the same time, or (in some cases) you can narrow down on a mere handful, or on just one.

But how far do you want to go? That’s where we’re “over-asked”, as the German expression translates. The downstream effects of many of these enzymes are absolutely bewildering in normal cells, and the differences in disease states are even more of a tangle. It’s no surprise at all that most kinase inhibitors have shown up first in oncology, because that’s where you can get away with the most severe side effects. There are plenty of tempting opportunities in inflammation, diabetes, cardiovascular disease, and other areas, but those have been slower to come along.

The experience with the cancer-targeting drugs has been mixed. You have your Gleevec (imatinib) – pretty selective, works pretty well on a very limited group of patients. And you have your hand grenades, like Sutent (sunitinib) or Nexavar (sorafenib), which hit a lot of kinases and work (to some degree) on a lot of different things. But none of them are magic bullets, for sure. So do you want selectivity or not? The only answer we can offer is (still) “that depends”.

These days, there’s a distinct “kinase hangover” in the industry. It’s not as hot a field as it was. “Not again” is the usual feeling on seeing yet another patent or publication on yet another structure that inhibits XYZ kinase. It’s not as hot an area as it was a few years ago – the belief is that many of the best targets have either wiped out in the clinic, are being tried there now, or haven’t yielded reasonable chemical matter to even get there.

My guess is that we’re waiting, whether we know it or not, for our understanding of the biology to catch up. We have all these compounds, with all these different fingerprints, and we’ve generated this huge pile of mixed data that we can’t quite make sense of. That adds to the frustrated “been there” feeling. The cure for it is to have a better idea of what we’re doing and why, but that’s coming on much more slowly. And because that’s slow, the kinase field may never regain its hot status. But who knows, it may make it all the way to useful and valuable, bypassing “hot” completely.

Comments (19) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Cancer | Drug Development | Drug Industry History

February 5, 2009

Sir James Black Vents, Therapeutically

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Posted by Derek

Today I can recommend this interview with Sir James Black, discoverer of propranolol, cimetidine, and more. He's 83 and has a lot to say about the current state of the drug industry:

He becomes agitated when discussing a Harvard Business Review article from 2008 by Jean-Pierre Garnier, the former chief executive of GlaxoSmithKline, on the future of drug development. He agrees with the prognosis, but is fundamentally at odds over the prescription for change. . . He has no time for classic industry clichés such as "blockbuster" medicines; no truck with the modern approach to peer review; and no patience with any re-writing of history to suggest a more complex contemporary era of drug discovery has replaced one of "lowhanging fruit" in the past. . .He raises his eyes skywards when he discusses last week's $68bn (£48bn) takeover by Pfizer, the world's largest pharmaceutical group, of Wyeth, and says the restructuring to come will sap both teams. "Will they never learn? They will completely exhaust each others' energies for two years."

A lot of people sent that Gautier article along to me, and I meant to blog about it all last fall, but I just couldn't put myself into its worldview enough to do it. And all the talk about Sanofi-Aventis looking to get bigger, Merck saying that they can't rule anything out (Merck! Doing a big merger? Say it isn't true. . .) Well, let's just say that this doesn't look like the kind of future I really want to experience.

So Sir James's viewpoint is refereshing, in a way. He goes on to talk about the general uselessness of marketing forecasts, why you shouldn't let yourself be pulled out of R&D into bureaucratic shuffling, and many other useful things. Read the whole thing, as the blogging phrase goes. . .

Comments (15) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Industry History

January 27, 2009

A Long Tail Indeed

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Posted by Derek

A reader reminded me of this paper, which I meant to blog on when it came out last year. The authors looked over the entire Chemical Abstracts Service registry file – in theory, every compound that’s ever been reported in the chemical literature – and asked how many different chemical scaffolds make up the organic chemistry part of the collection. (That ran to a bit over 24 million compounds at the time the paper was written).

You’d expect a power-law (“long tail”) distribution in a data set like this, and that’s just what they found. Among heteroatom-containing scaffolds, the most common 5% were found in about 75% of the compounds. In fact, it was even steeper than that – the most common 0.25% of the heteroatom frameworks made up half the compounds! The flip side of this is that about half of the known scaffolds occur only once, which is about as long a tail as you can get.

That’s almost completely accounted for by (1) the availability of certain starting materials, largely from petroleum and from natural products and (2) the interest in preparing a given framework. Put more crassly, it depends on how much it’ll cost (in time and money), and how much you expect to get back. As the authors put it:

” We believe the presence of this power law is quantitative evidence that the minimization of synthetic cost has been a key factor in shaping the known universe of organic chemistry.”

Tiny variations can send a given scaffold diving off the charts. Think, for example, about the usual steroid framework – there have been a huge number of variations worked on that, since they’re of medical interest and the starting materials are available (thanks, in the early days, to some Mexican yams and their biggest fan). But imagine going in and replacing one or two of those carbon atoms with nitrogens: whoosh, down you go. Many of those frameworks have hardly been touched at all, partly because they’re quite difficult to make. You’d have to have a very good reason to go after them, and that hasn’t presented itself. Meanwhile, the vast numbers of indoles, piperazines, and piperidines in drug molecules help to perpetuate themselves.

The same goes, and even more so, for general compound shapes (heteroatoms or all-carbon). The authors found 836708 different framework shapes, but that breaks down rather sharply: half the compounds are accounted for by 143 frameworks, and the other 836565 make up the other half. I’ll let the authors have the last word:

”It seems plausible to expect that the more often a framework has been used as the basis for a compound, the more likely it is to be used in another compound. If many compounds derived from a framework have already been synthesized, these derivatives can serve as a pool of potential starting materials for further syntheses. The availability of published schemes for making these derivatives, or the existence of these derivatives as commercial chemicals, would then facilitate the construction of more compounds based on the same framework. Of course, not all frameworks are equally likely to become the focus of a high degree of synthetic activity. Some frameworks are intrinsically more interesting than others due to their functional importance (e.g., as a building block in drug design), and this interest will stimulate the synthesis of derivatives. Once this synthetic activity is initiated, it may be amplified over time by a rich-get-richer process. . .”

Comments (5) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | Drug Industry History | The Scientific Literature

January 19, 2009

Ten Years After: The Genomics Frenzy

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Posted by Derek

So it’s been ten years now since the peak of the genomics craze in the drug industry. Hard to believe! Looking back on these things, it can be hard to recapture the mood, since regretful hindsight keeps blurring the more painful parts. I know that a lot of companies would, in retrospect, rather have back some of the huge amounts of money they spent back in that era, but for every one of those, there’s a genomics company that wishes that they had something that hot to sell again.

Well, actually, that’s not true in every case, since several of those genomics players haven’t even lasted long enough to look back from this far. But at the time, at the time they looked as if they might end up owning the world. Not everyone believed that, true, but I don’t remember many people with the nerve to say so in public. The strongest misgivings went something like “We don’t know if this is going to work or not, but we have to be ready if it does”, which is a perfectly defensible position.

But that was rare – most of the stuff you heard, at least in press releases and the like, ran to “Genomatronic Corp. announces that it has now filed patent applications (a whopping load of patent applications) on another huge, important swath of the vital human genome (remember, there’s only one!), and reminds the industry that its back walkway is open on Tuesdays and Thursdays for Big Pharma to come crawling up it”. Over at Megapharm, Inc., their opposite number, the fear was quite real that the Genomatronics of the world actually were staking out all the deposits of gold, and that all the drug targets in the world were going to end up owned by someone else – like those other big drug companies that were daily announcing huge deals with Genomatronic et al.

It was easy for panic to set in. How much of the genome could possibly be left by now? We’d better do a deal while there’s something to buy! After all, when you got down to it, these folks were right – there’s only one human genome, and we’re only going to read it for the first time once, and all the drug targets that will ever exist are in there – right? So why would you sit there and watch the competition walk off with all the good stuff? Right?

Well. . .not as right as you’d think. The big splash of cold water, at least as I remember it, was when the Human Genome Project folks announced the total number of human genes, and it came in way below what some people had been estimating – like, ten times less. If you added up all the genes that people had claimed to have filed applications on up until then, it was well in excess of the number of genes that turned out to actually exist. This embarrassing patent excess was one problem (some of which could be explained by multiple filings by different companies), but the unexpectedly small number was the other one, and the more worrisome. How could there be so few genes when we knew there there were a lot more proteins than that? And so the importance of post-translational processes finally began to be appreciated by a wider public. It wasn’t “one gene, one protein” – it was “one gene, a bunch of proteins, and we’re not sure quite how or quite how many”.

Another set of problems came on a bit more slowly. The companies that did the whopper genomic deals came to realize that (1) even 50,000 genes was rather a lot, when you had no idea what most of them did, what pathways they fit into, what diseases they might be associated with, and what might possibly happen if you found a compound that affected their associated proteins, and (2) it didn’t look as if we were going to even get a chance to find out about that last part, because most of these things came up empty when you screened against them anyway. These were (and are) all major problems. We still have only fuzzy ideas of what a lot of genes actually do, and we still have a terrible time finding useful chemical hits against a lot of our new targets – more on these later; they’re perennial topics around here.

You still see breathless articles (particularly in the alternative press) about the amount of your own DNA that’s like, patented and owned by the big corporations, man, but the people who write these articles generally don’t know enough to realize that most of that stuff is irrelevant. The patent office has tightened up severely on its requirements for gene patents, and recent court decisions have called the whole idea of patenting DNA sequences into question (more on this later, too). And at any rate, most of these things would be on track to expire without anyone yet finding out what they might be good for.

So where are we now? So, in the end, there was no genomics gold rush, at least not in the way that everyone thought. The genomics players are out of business, or if not, they had to completely retool and find something else to do. Most of their patent applications were wastes of time and money, since they never issued, were generally hard/impossible to defend if they did, and are mostly heading for expiration without having made anyone a dime. The value of the genome is real, but it’s taken (and it’s still taking) a lot longer to realize it than anyone would have believed in 1999. If anyone was predicting this ten years ago, I missed it. It wasn't me.

Update: Keith Robison lived it from the inside, and tells the tale.

Comments (44) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Industry History

January 6, 2009

Why Pfizer?

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Posted by Derek

I get occasional comments and e-mails asking why I’m so hard on Pfizer. It’s not that I have anything personal against the company – I’ve never worked there, and they’ve never turned me down for a job. And I have a lot of friends there as well - the company has a lot of good people working for it. No, it’s not Pfizer so much as the way that Pfizer exemplifies for me a lot of things that I think have gone wrong with the industry.

First, of course, is sheer size. As I’ve said numerous times, I think that many things scale as a drug company gets larger, but research productivity isn’t one of them. If anything, it may go in the other direction. Pfizer is an excellent example of just what I’m talking about. If there were any reliable correlation of size to internal research success, this is where you’d expect to see it. But Pfizer has been notoriously unproductive in its own labs. Some of that has been sheer bad luck, but you can’t use that explanation to cover the whole problem.

Put simply, I think that really huge drug companies are a bad thing. A collection of smaller ones carved out of the same resources would probably explore more therapeutic avenues, and in a more nimble and focused manner. I also like competition in this business, because it keeps us moving, and because it leads to a wider variety of approaches being tried out for each problem. Mergers and buyouts have, I feel sure, not been good for the ecology of the industry, and Pfizer is the absolute champion of that style. Large and productive research organizations have disappeared beneath the waves because they had the misfortune of discovering something that Pfizer wanted to buy.

And there’s also the triumph of marketing. That’s one area where Pfizer really excels, but the problem with being a marketing powerhouse is that you might end up thinking that you can sell almost anything. The company’s disastrous experience with Exubera (the inhaled insulin product that missed its sales targets by, what, 98 per cent?) is a sobering example. If you start believing your own press releases, you might convince yourself that you’re going to sell a billion dollars of Exubera, and at a huge company you’ve got the money and the resources to pursue that dream right over the cliff. Groupthink finds a bigger arena in which to work its magic.

So there it is. Other companies have similar problems, but when you go to Pfizer, you find them all together, in concentrated form. So when they announce that they’re going to go out and buy someone else to work their way out of their (massive) coming troubles, it makes me wince. It just seems like the opposite of what we need.

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January 5, 2009

New Year - I Hope!

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Posted by Derek

In past years, around this time I’ve often done a look back at the previous year in the drug industry. I hope that no one will be disappointed if I scuttle that tradition, because honestly, I have no desire whatsoever to relive what drug research went through in 2008. It may have been the toughest year for industry scientists in the modern era – everyone I know struggles to find a comparison.

I’d rather spend my energies on 2009. Let’s just stipulate that 2008 was, on balance, horrendous: what does that tell us? How did we end up in this position, and how can we avoid more of the same? There’s a lot of arguing room in those questions, but I think that we can agree that the proximate cause is that we’re not coming up with enough good drugs. 2008, for all its ugliness, was a handful of good products away from being a decent year. Why were we short that handful?

You have to go back some years to answer a question like that, given the industry’s lead time. The projects that were begun in the mid-to-late 1990s are clearly not coming through in the way that everyone had hoped. Is it that our attrition rate has gone up, or have we just not taken enough things to the clinic, or some of each?

Let’s think about that first problem, which certainly seems to be real enough. Is it that the easy targets have all been worked over, leaving us with only the tough ones? I don’t think that’s the whole explanation, although that’s certainly part of it. Still, even some of the big drugs from years past wouldn’t have made it through our current structures. So are the hurdles set too high during development – that is, do we know too much about potential problems, without having learned a corresponding amount about how to fix them? That’s got to be a big factor, which leads to a New Year’s resolution: try to spend as much time fixing problems as finding them. That’s a hard one to live up to, but it’s a goal to work toward.

And if we’re going to talk about that latter number, we’re going to have to cut through the often artificial “projects advanced” figures that circulate inside companies. Anyone who’s been around this business has seen some long shots (and some outright losers) officially pushed forward just to make some year-end target. Now, long shots are fine. To a good approximation, everything we do is a long shot. And everything has to go to the clinic eventually (or die) – but we have to make sure that we’re not just checking boxes. So that’s another resolution: spend less time kidding ourselves.

Of course, there’s a flip side to the number of compounds going to the clinic. Could it be that we’re being too cautious, because we have too many potential worries (those high hurdles mentioned above)? Should we be taking more things forward? Well, that’s an expensive proposition, the way things are set up now. So here’s another hard-to-live-up-to resolution: find ways to go to the clinic without betting our shirts every time. That’s been a big focus the last few years (biomarkers, etc.), but we need every idea and technique we can think of (microdosing? Simulations, even?). The cost of getting answers in humans is getting too high for us to try out as many ideas as we need to.

And here's a less macro-scale resolution, which I plan to start putting into practice immediately: don't let fear run your research. Try some things that you aren't sure about. Take some chances. Put down some bets. I've got several that I've let sit in the should-I-do-this limbo for too long, and I'm going to do something about that. Join me?

Comments (12) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Clinical Trials | Drug Development | Drug Industry History | Who Discovers and Why

December 18, 2008

When Placebos Were All There Were

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Posted by Derek

Yesterday's discussion of how to deal with various forms of pseudoscientific hoo-hah naturally brought up several mentions of the placebo effect. And that prompts me to bring in the late Lewis Thomas's The Youngest Science, his memoir of a life in medicine. We should never forget that there was a time, not all that long ago, when drug therapy was almost all placebos. Here's a description of the way Thomas's father practiced in the 1920s:

Nevertheless, despite his skepticism, he carried his prescription pad everywhere and wrote voluminous prescriptions for all his patients. TThese were fantastic formulations, containing five or six vegetable ingredients, each one requiring careful measuring and weighing by the druggist, who pounded the powder, dissolved it in alcohol, and bottled it with a label giving only the patient's name, the date, and the instructions about dosage. The contents were a deep mystery, and intended to be a mystery. The prescriptions were always written in Latin, to heighten the mystery. The purpose of this kind of therapy was essentially reassurance. . .They were placebos, and they had been the principle mainstay of medicine, the sole technology, for so long a time - millennia - that they had the incantatory power of religious ritual. My father had little faith in the effectiveness of any of them, but he used them daily in practice. They were expected by his patients; a doctor who did not provide such prescriptions would soon have no practice at all. . .

That's the world as it was. Thomas later recounts the profound shock he experienced as an intern when sulfanilamide was introduced: patients given up for dead got up out of their hospital beds and asked for something to eat. It was then, he says, that he realized that the medical profession he was entering might be turning into something different from what his father knew.

We should never forget: it's our job to make our children look back on today's medicines with the same mixture of pity and alarm. To cure disease, stop the damage, make people given up for dead stand up and walk out of the room to see their families. Things aren't going very well for us now in this business, because these are all very hard things to do, and the amount of time and money needed to do them is nearly unbearable. But not quite. We can see that such things are possible, and it's up to us to figure out how to make them real.

Comments (17) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Industry History

December 4, 2008

Curse Of the Lost Compounds

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Posted by Derek

There are some groups of compounds that seem to have a curse on them. They show up in drug screening, they have activity that’s often too good to ignore, but hardly anyone can manage to turn one of them into a drug.

Trifluoromethyl ketones are one example of this. They’re classic inhibitors of proteases, especially serine proteases, and of other enzymes that depend on a serine in their active site. That’s because that ketone really isn’t much of a ketone – the fluorines make the carbon rather unhappy when it’s in that state, electron-poor and ready to pick up a nucleophile and go tetrahedral again. Trifluoromethyl ketones are generally seen in their hydrated state, unless you take care to dry them out, and they’ll work an active-site serine OH into their scheme as well. So you end up with a covalent inhibitor, but a reversible one – the activity comes on slowly, and the compound comes off slowly, too. That trick can work with cysteine nucleophiles, and the hydrate form is also known to coordinate with active-site zinc atoms – so it’s no surprise that the enzyme inhibition literature on these things is mighty extensive: proteases, lipases, esterases, deacetylases, the list goes on for a while.

But although several of these have gone into the clinic over the years, I can’t think of one that’s make it all the way to the market (I’d be glad to hear of any that I’ve overlooked). The best guess is that this isn’t the fault of the functional group, but of the targets it’s been applied to. Some of these enzymes just haven’t panned out, so perhaps the trifluoromethyl ketone awaits its day in the sun.

Another group of this sort is the hydroxamic acid. Its strength is its coordination to zinc atoms, so you see it all over the place in the metallaloprotease literature, and in other zinc-y fields like histone deacetylases. And in vitro, it hardly has a peer. I’ve seen list after list in the literature comparing various zinc-binding head groups, and likely as not, the hydroxamic acid sets the standard every time.

But the reason you see those lists is that people are trying to find something that’ll work other than a hydroxamic acid. There are numerous complaints, ranging from “hydroxylamine is explosive on large scale, you know” and “they’re a pain to make reproducibly” through “they have ugly PK in the animal models” all the way up to “they’re toxic” and “how many of them have ever made it through the clinic?”. How much merit each of these have can be debated, but all together they make an unpleasant picture.

In this case, though, I do know of one that’s made it - SAHA (Zolinza, vorinostat). That one came out of a long-term academic project involving Paul Marks at Sloan-Kettering and Ron Breslow's lab at Columbia, and is one of the not-so-numerous examples of drugs that have made it from the university to the marketplace. Merck signed up to do the clinical and regulatory lifting on this one, and it's now marketed for cutaneous T-cell lymphoma.

So it is possible to get a hydroxamic acid through. "Well, yeah," say the voices, "for cancer, sure. Home of the world's only boronic acid-containing drug. Home, if you really want to get down to it, of nitrogen mustards and God knows what else. Cancer." And it's true that the standards are a bit more relaxed there. I wouldn't necessarily want to give someone a hydoxamic acid every day for the rest of their life, true - the things coordinate iron, for one thing, which isn't always good. But there are other fields where short-term therapy makes sense, and we probably haven't seen the last of this functional group, either.

Comments (10) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Cancer | Drug Development | Drug Industry History

November 19, 2008

Novartis and Reality

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Posted by Derek

I know that it’s not necessarily fair to drag out old press releases, but let’s do it anyway. Many readers will remember a few years back when Novartis was making its big research move into Cambridge, renovating the old Necco candy building and hiring like mad. (We’ll pause for a bit of somber nostalgia at the memory of a large drug company actually hiring hordes of scientists).

While that was going on, there was a lot of talk about the way their research site was going to be run. Under its new research head, Mark Fishman, Novartis would "reinvent the way drugs are discovered" (I quote from an August 2003 article from the Boston Globe, behind their subscriber wall now, which irritated me quite a bit at the time). There was a lot of talk about Gleevec, and how this was going to be some sort of model for the future of drug discovery in the organization. (I could never quite follow that one, but I was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt). The whole thing would be a "research operation vastly different from traditional pharmaceutical research", to quote another old Globe article (May 2002).

Well, some years on now, the obvious question is: did any of this happen? Novartis as a company is doing fairly well, particularly in comparison to some of its peers. And they haven’t had any massive layoffs, to my knowledge, which puts them ahead of the game these days. So overall, the company has been successful: but is the Cambridge site the sort of place it was supposed to be, according to the original PR?

My impression is that it isn’t, at least not to the extent that we were all hearing about back then. I know a number of people who work there, and from the outside, at least, it seems to be pretty much like any other large drug research operation, albeit with less elbow room than usual in some of the labs and offices (a deliberate decision, apparently). I hear the usual talk and the usual complaints. Nothing that goes on over there strikes me as very different from other outfits of that size.

And there’s nothing wrong with that. This isn't a slap at Novartis, at Mark Fishman, or at anyone over there - it's a very good research organization. But I do wonder where all that transformational talk went. Is it still a work in progress (which seems to be the official viewpoint)? Did the organization try to change things, and fail? Was there even a clear idea of what this change was to consist of? Was there a decision made at some point that since things seemed to be going reasonably well, that the company should just leave the site to develop as it was? Or was all that talk at the beginning nothing more than, well, talk? I wondered about this at the time, and I suppose I'm still wondering now. . .

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October 17, 2008

Down The Chute in Phase III

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Posted by Derek

Here's a good article over at the In Vivo Blog on this year's crop of expensive Phase III failures. They've mostly been biotech drugs (vaccines and the like), but it's a problem everywhere. As In Vivo's Chris Morrison puts it:

Look, drugs fail. That happens because drug development is very difficult. Even Phase III drugs fail, probably more than they used to, thanks to stiffer endpoints and attempts to tackle trickier diseases. Lilly Research Laboratory president Steve Paul lamented at our recent PSA meeting that Phase III is "still pretty lousy," in terms of attrition rates -- around 50%. And not always for the reasons you'd expect. "You shouldn't be losing Phase III molecules for lack of efficacy," he said, but it's happening throughout the industry.

Ah, but efficacy has come up in the world as a reason for failure. Failures due to pharmacokinetics have been going down over the years as we do a better job in the preclinical phase (and as we come up with more formulation options). Tox failures are probably running at their usual horrifying levels; I don't think that those have changed, because we don't understand toxicology much better (or worse) than we ever did.

But as we push into new mechanisms, we're pushing into territory that we don't understand very well. And many of these things don't work the way that we think that they do. And since we don't have good animal models - see yesterday's post - we're only going to find out about these things later on in the clinic. Phase II is where you'd expect a lot of these things to happen, but it's possible to cherry-pick things in that stage to get good enough numbers to continue. So on you go to Phase III, where you spend the serious money to find out that you've been wrong the whole time.

So we get efficacy failures (and we've been getting them for some time - see this piece from 2004). And we're getting them in Phase III because we're now smart and resourceful enough to worm our way through Phase II too often. The cure? To understand more biology. That's not a short-term fix - but it's the only one that's sure to work. . .

Comments (16) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Clinical Trials | Drug Development | Drug Industry History | Pharmacokinetics | Toxicology

October 15, 2008

Where Are the Drugs?

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Posted by Derek

A recent correspondence on the topic of “Why aren’t there more drugs for the big CNS disorders” got me thinking about the topic. My take, having worked in the field, is that there is still so much unmet need in that area because we just don’t understand what's going on. It’s hard to come up with disease-altering therapies when you don’t really understand a single disease in the whole field.

Does amyloid cause Alzheimer’s, or does Alzheimer’s give you amyloid, or is amyloid just a sideshow? What sets off the chain of events that ends up killing off cells in the substantia nigra in Parkinson’s? What are the detailed molecular mechanisms of depression, or schizophrenia? Why don’t neurons remyelinate in multiple sclerosis? We don’t know. We know a lot more than we used to; we know more every year. But we don't know enough to cure anyone yet. Even in the areas where we know more than average, we still don’t know enough to step in with therapies that can do what people really want them to do.

By that, I mean do for these diseases what insulin does to Type I diabetes, or what antibiotics do to infections. To any working CNS researcher, such results in their field would be hard to distinguish from magic. We can’t even touch the surrogate endpoints, and do what statins do for LDL levels, or the various antihypertensives do for blood pressure. We understand those areas a lot better than we understand the brain. Even so, we still get surprised, as witness the controversy over Vytorin, and the various ongoing attempts to find something that will raise HDL – you push a bit beyond the mechanisms that you’ve worked out, and all sorts of things start to happen.

The best way I can illustrate how difficult it is to find a disease-stopping therapy for something like Alzheimer’s is to point out the incentives for one. Any drug company that came out with such a therapy would immediately have one of the most profitable drugs on the market, and they would go on to reap more and more money every year. Think of the sensation that a treatment that stopped – just plain stopped – schizophrenia. As I said, indistinguishable from magic. But the success that such a thing would have would be immense. The incentives are there; it’s just that the barriers are very, very high.

Of course, it may not be possible to do some of these things. I’d be very careful to rule anything out, at our current stage of ignorance, but schizophrenia may well be one of these things where a dozen (or a hundred) different pathways lead to the same roughly similar disease state. (Cancer, as I’ve said here before, is the best example of something like this). And even if it’s not quite that bad, it may be that the tangle of the disease just doesn’t lend itself to a single agent – that, I’d say, is quite likely. I strongly doubt if just stepping in and adjusting the D-whatever dopamine receptor a bit will turn out to do the trick. This doesn’t mean that it’ll be impossible to treat, it just means that it’ll be very complex.

And so it is, and so are most of the other big CNS conditions. I find it hard to explain to people outside the field just how complex these things are, and why progress has been so painfully slow for the patients who need these things now. It’s not that there’s no explanation. It’s that actually finding a drug that works for anything is ridiculously hard and expensive, a very difficult task by anyone’s standards. And CNS drugs are fiendishly difficult even by the standards of drug discovery.

Comments (14) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Alzheimer's Disease | Drug Development | Drug Industry History | The Central Nervous System

September 19, 2008

Sunesis: No Substitutions Allowed?

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Posted by Derek

A colleague mentioned to me the other day that Sunesis Pharmaceuticals had let many of its remaining research staff go back during the summer – they’re battening down to try to get their main clinical candidate through for leukemia and ovarian cancer. That’s a common phase of life for a small company trying to go it alone. Clinical trials are expensive, and so are scientists, and sometimes a company finds that it can’t afford both at the same time. Amylin, to pick one example, went through so many cycles of that (starting in the mid-1990s) that I completely lost count.

The Sunesis news struck me, though, because if you go back a few years in the literature, they’re all over the place. The company was aggressively investigating (and promoting) a technique called “tethering” as a platform for drug discovery. Back around 2003, they were all over the journals with it.

Tethering was one of those neat ideas which seems to have been a lot of work to reduce to practice. It’s a variation, in its way, of another one of those techniques called Dynamic Combinatorial Chemistry. In DCC, you take a good-sized collection of compounds which can form reversible bonds with each other. Thiols (R-SH) have been used a lot, since they can form disulfides (R-SS-R), which can easily come apart and re-form with other thiols. In the presence of some target or template, such as the binding site of a protein, the idea is that any disulfide combination that manages to bind well will get enhanced in the final mixture, since it spends more time out of the swim of potential reactants. Comparing the product distribution with and without the target protein can point you to a potential lead structure to optimize. (You can also turn it around and make synthetic receptors (PDF) for molecules that you're interested in).

The idea behind tethering was, at least in one of its main variations, to introduce an extra thiol group into a target protein somewhere close to its active site. Then this mutant protein would be screening against a library of small molecules with thiol groups of their own, with the idea that if there was a binding site near that thiol that it would be found by preferential disulfide formation between it and some member of the screening library. Then came the second step. Normal, unmutated protein would be exposed to a mix of that preferred thiol and a library of other potential thiol coupling partners, in an attempt to find another preferred extension into the binding cavity. So this was basically a way to do DCC, but giving it a leg up by trying to make sure that there was a good amount of at least one thing that could bind to some relevant part of the target.

That tells you that standard from-the-ground-up DCC must have some difficulties, since if it worked as well as its concept you wouldn’t need to put your thumb on the scales like that. But I was never sure how well tethering worked, either. The company published numerous examples of it, but I don’t know if any of these compounds ever got anywhere (and indeed, I’m not at all sure that their current clinical candidate was discovered by this technique).

There are several places where things could break down. Making a mutant protein introduces some uncertainty, for starters. That SH group might not change things, or it might change them just enough so that the binding site you find doesn’t quite exist when you switch to the wild type. And any binding site you find in the first round isn’t necessarily a productive one – the original protein SH group was targeted to try to dangle out over the right part of the protein, but there are no guarantees about that. Past that, even if you get through the second round and find some new disulfide hits (no sure thing), they are, well. . .they’re disulfides. And those are poor bets for drugs.

That’s where the real weak point of DCC is in general, to my mind. Using reversible reactions gives you compounds with too much potential to fall apart, so the first thing you have to do is replace those bonds with something sturdier – and that’s not always easy, or even possible. There are very, very few clean substitutions available in the chemical world. Nothing’s quite like a nitrile except a nitrile, and there’s only one thing shaped exactly like a t-butyl group: another t-butyl. Likewise, the only thing that’s guaranteed to look and act like a disulfide is a disulfide. A two or three carbon chain replacement is the logical place to start, but that might be synthetically tricky, or (even more often) might turn out to be a completely different sort of compound once you’ve made it.

In the end, I think tethering turned out to be an excellent means to get some very interesting papers published in some good journals. (The publications have continued to this day). But beyond that, I’m not so sure. I’d be glad to hear from any ex-Sunesis people with other views. . .

Comments (23) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Cancer | Drug Industry History

August 20, 2008

Replacing What's Being Lost

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Posted by Derek

Well, today’s subject isn’t a cheerful data set, but it certainly deserves some thought. Over at Pharmalot, Ed Silverman has some data from consulting firm AVOS Life Sciences, who have sat down to estimate how well various drug companies will do with revenue from new drugs over the next few years.

As of 2007, they have the industry average at about 77 cents coming from new products (defined as those launched within the previous five years) for every dollar lost from patent-expiring older ones. That doesn’t sound very good, but the average is a bit misleading, since it runs from the highs of Eli Lilly ($6.64/1), Amgen ($4.50/1) and Roche ($4.03/1) down to Sanofi-Aventis (11 cents new per dollar loss on the old). But it’s true that most everyone else is well under a dollar. It would be a lot of work, but it would be interesting to know (calculating by the same methods) how that ratio has changed over the last twenty years – that would give us some perspective on where we stand now.

But AVOS has gone out to estimate the picture in 2012, and it makes today’s numbers seem like a free buffet. Of the fourteen drug makers on their list, only Schering-Plough shows a robust increase in terms of how much it’s expected to make from new products versus its declining ones. GSK shows a modest improvement – and everyone else goes down.

That’s as in down, dooby doo, down down. The hardest-hit in terms of the actual numbers are Pfizer, AstraZeneca, Roche, and Sanofi-Aventis, all of whom are projected to be making pennies (or, gulp, nothing at all) from new products compared to what’s heading down the chute for them by then. In percentage terms, Roche and Eli Lilly are worst off – they look good now, as mentioned above, but the eventual losses of things like Zyprexa kick the ratios over good and hard. (Sanofi-Aventis goes down to zero, but only from that $0.11 figure, so it’s at least not going to be such an adjustment for them!)

As I say, I don’t have access to the underlying data, but the broad picture seems about right. There are a lot of big patent expirations coming up in the next few years, and not enough promising products coming on to replace them. According to AVOS, Roche and Sanofi-Aventis aren’t projected to have any new product launches at all between now and 2012, which can’t be good.

It’s worth remembering that figures like these are likely to show big swings even under normal conditions. Imagine a company with a big product that it launches, which gradually turns into a blockbuster. Near the end of its patent life, it launches another winner of the same type, which grows into another big seller. Everything’s fine! But the ratio of new revenue/expiring revenue is going to swing around a lot as you follow those sales numbers, sort of like derivatives in calculus, veering from too-high to too-low, although the company itself is sailing along pretty well. Let’s hope that this is some of the background for these numbers as well. The problem is, I don’t think that can explain all of them. . .

Comments (13) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Development | Drug Industry History

July 24, 2008

Confident

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Posted by Derek

I’m going to expand on one of the points brought up yesterday, about the reported drug industry executive who was confident that his company’s Alzheimer’s therapy was ready to go out and make billions of dollars. It was that word “confident” that set me off, I think.

Because that’s not a word that you hear much of in this industry. The strongest form that you’ll come across is something like “fairly confident”, which is how you feel when you send in a compound that’s a minor change off something that’s already active, or how you feel about screening a target that’s a close homologue of something you already have plenty of ligands for. You can be pretty sure in those cases that something’s going to hit – but you’ll note that both of those are pretty far upstream in the drug discovery process. As you move toward animals, that confidence begins to look pretty ragged, and depending on the disease, it can just flat-out evaporate.

Despite all our efforts to avoid the expensive little beasts, there is still no way to be sure about how your compound is going to act in an animal until you’ve put it into an animal. That goes for predicting its peak blood levels, its half-life, its metabolites, and the duration and degree of its efficacy. You can have your compounds all ranked in order of how you think they’ll perform, and that list will, every time, be reordered after a first round of animal testing.

And when you go further, you really have no idea. As I’ve said here before, if you don’t cross your fingers when you take a compound into two-week toxicity testing, you haven’t been doing this stuff very long. Despite all efforts to avoid this expensive step, two-week (and four-week and longer) tox testing in animals will always, always tell you things you didn’t know. (Most of the time it’ll tell you things you didn’t particularly want to hear). No one worth their salary will ever use the adjective “confident” before the first multiweek tox data come in.

So much for animals: how about people? Well, despite all our efforts, there are still surprises in Phase I dosing, the tip-toe clinical stage where you look for blood levels in healthy volunteers. The animal pharmacokinetic data tell you where to start the doses in humans, but you can still get ambushed. I worked on a receptor agonist project once where the human blood levels came back at just about 10% of what we’d predicted, so back to the drawing board we went. No, I’ve never heard anyone describe themselves as “confident” before Phase I.

And that’s an easy step compared to Phase II, where for the first time you put your drug into sick patients. The failure rate in Phase II is just abominable, and stands as an indictment of just how little we understand about the biochemistry of human disease and how to modify it. When you consider a central nervous system disease like Alzheimer's, the source of the "confident" quote that started this digression, the failure rate is over 90%. Our understanding of the causes and progression of Alzheimer's is very poor. That's as opposed to a more well-worked-out condition like, say, hypertension, where our understanding is merely quite inadequate.

But if you make it through that fine sieve, you move on to Phase III, a larger and more real-world look at the patient population. If your Phase II trial was designed to provide a robust test, rather than just to make you and your investors feel good, you can hope that your Phase III will work out. But the whole time it's going on, the prudent drug developer will remember that the biggest, most well-funded, and most competent research organizations in the world have all taken huge cratering dives in Phase III. You know a lot more about your compound by this stage, so these disasters don't happen as often - but that means that when they do, they rise right up out of the floor in front of you. No, you can feel better by Phase III, but "confident" is pushing it.

How about when your drug goes to the FDA? Try asking any drug company executive if they'd like to go on record as being "confident" of regulatory approval. And when your drug actually goes to market? Is anyone really confident about those projections from the people in marketing? Pfizer sure talked a good game about Exubera, remember. Don't forget, too, that nasty side effects can always be waiting out there in the larger patient population. Even after your drug goes out and starts earning a living, it can be completely torpedoed at any time. Baycol, Vioxx, Avandia - you can name more.

So that's the story: you can never kick back and relax in this business. For all the perception that some people have of the drug industry as a sure-fire money machine, it sure doesn't look that way from inside. Anyone who describes themselves as "confident" about their new experimental medication is trying to fool their listeners. Or themselves. Maybe both.

Comments (11) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Development | Drug Industry History | Patents and IP

July 7, 2008

Pfizer's Prospects: Just Ducky

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Posted by Derek

I thought I’d start out the week by opening the mailbag for a recent reply to my posts about Pfizer’s research cutbacks. Here’s a perspective that you won’t get from me, at any rate:

You never surprise me of your uncanny ability to cast good news in a negative light. Pfizer has been a bloated company following its acquisitions of Warner Lambert and Pharmacia & Upjohn. The company should have rationalized its workforce, including sales, marketing, and most especially R&D, a long time ago. So, hopefully, you are correct and there will be massive layoffs in R&D soon. Why should Pfizer spend all that money on high risk, low probability of success R&D projects? Pfizer's belated cost-cutting will make it a leaner and more focused company. All the bad news is out there. Pfizer generates over $7 billion in free cash flow annually and pays a 7.4% dividend. Projected 2012 earnings per share (without Lipitor) are $2.05. So the stock is trading today fully discounting Lipitor and any possible good news the next 5 years. Does that really make sense to you? So keep up your trash talk, so to speak. Pfizer today is money in the bank. The lower you can drive the stock price, the greater the future return. I just love folks like you who help to create great buying opportunities. Are you certain you're not buying Pfizer as you trash talk??

My response? Well, I can reply on several levels. I’m actually going to skip the outraged how-dare-you stuff about what a great thing it is that all those research people are losing their jobs, though. Let’s just take that as having been delivered, because I think a lot of good invective would just be wasted, anyway. We’ll keep this on a strictly business level, since my correspondent is nothing if not all business.

And from a business perspective, he has the beginning of a point. As many readers can attest, Pfizer’s in-house research productivity has not been good – at least, nowhere near as good as it’s had to be to sustain a company as huge as Pfizer. (There’s the problem, actually – as I’ve said before, the one thing that certainly doesn’t scale when a company gets larger is research productivity). So from my correspondent’s perspective, what do you do with the underperforming units of a company? You lop ‘em off, like pruning a shrub to get rid of unsightly branches.

Of course, one branch of a bush is pretty much like another as far as the survival of the whole plant goes, but cutting the R&D out of an R&D organization is not without risks. A Pfizer investor might be excused for forgetting that, since most of the company’s money has been made off the research of other labs, but the Lipitors do have to come from somewhere, eventually. And try as I might, I just can’t see Pfizer buying its way out of its current troubles. So, why should Pfizer spend its money on those "high risk, low probability of success R&D projects"? Because that's the only kind of R&D projects there are.

Now, as to whether all the bad news is already out there, I won't speculate. But I do know that if I had a dollar for every time someone proclaimed that all the bad news was already in some company's stock, I wouldn't have to work for a living. I invite my correspondent, though, to take a look at the company's history before sitting back and trusting those EPS numbers from the past. Let's take a trip down memory lane, back to the days of 2002, when the analysts said that it was going to earn about $1.60 per share for that year, $1.84 in 2003, and $2.14 per share in 2004. Watch it go! And after that, hey, who knew. . .well, reality intervened on those forecasts, but by 2005, now, double-digit growth was on the way.

Let's take a look at the company's actual financials and stock price over that period. It isn't inspiring. Click around on that chart: if you'd bought Pfizer ten years ago, you would have been flat with the index until early 2004, but since then it's been a disaster. Now, like my correspondent, you may be able to look at this and figure that hey, what could go wrong, and that all the bad news just has to be in by now, and that those earnings forecasts will finally start working out. Or. . .

So let's file that statement away for future reference: "Pfizer today is money in the bank". That's July of 2008, folks, and if you'd like to put some of your cash down on that statement, PFE is available during normal trading hours. I'll sit this one out.

Comments (38) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Industry History

June 2, 2008

A Breath of Fresh Air from Fuji

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Posted by Derek

A longtime reader pointed me to this article from Business Week. Fuji Film of Japan, facing all kinds of problems like the other film makers of the world, has decided to put some of its money into a more exciting, profitable, high-margin business: pharmaceuticals! Back in February they made an offer for small-to-medium sized Toyama.

Readers who have been around the industry for a few years may shudder, remembering Kodak's disastrous experience with Sterling-Winthrop. (You couldn't have paid a gang of saboteurs to do a better - well, worse - job on Sterling and its employees; this PDF will give you some of the story). The details of the interview, which gets crazier as it goes on, do not inspire happy feelings. Well, unless schadenfreude counts as "happy", that is. Feast on this, for example, from Yuzo Toda, the company's VP for Life Sciences:

"The film in your camera is about 15 microns (one-thousandth of a millimeter) thick. Our color film has 17 different layers, each with a different function, and it contains nearly 100 different chemicals. Controlling the chemical reaction to develop these photos is extremely difficult. You have to start and stop the various chemicals at exactly the right time to make it all work. The trick is all in the conversion of chemicals. Drugs targeting a specific [organ or receptor in the body] work the same way. We have a chemical library of 200,000 compounds, which we think will help us with creating new compounds, and we have an expertise in nanotechnology. From our viewpoint, it's more a question of why not pharmaceuticals?"

Well, with a library of two hundred thousand compounds (cue Mike Myers as Dr. Evil, demanding his million dollars), I don't see what's going to hold them back. Considering the sorts of wonderfully druglike photosensitive absorbers and dye-coupling agents they're stocked up with, I'm sure the screening hit rates will be exciting, too. And yes, I am considering making "The trick is all in the conversion of chemicals" the new slogan of this blog, and I urge Fuji to make it the advertising tag line for their whole drug business.

But let's not pick on just one guy. Here's Toshio Takahashi, the company's CFO:

"Many drugs are made in higher dosages than we need. That's because they can't be fully absorbed by our bodies. It's a waste of resources, and it can have an adverse effect on organs such as the stomach and liver. We're researching compounds that will work in smaller doses because they will target a specific part of the body."

Now there's a thought. I wish Fuji luck with these innovative ideas, although I don't think I'm capable of delivering the quantities of luck that it appears they'll need. I assume that the people at Toyama don't talk this way, i.e., as if they'd just been beamed in from Neptune and then hit over the head, and for all I know they're burying their heads in their hands as they read this stuff, too. Who knows, maybe if Fuji can keep their hands off of them and not impart too many lessons from the film business, the deal could work.

But for now, check out the interview, and be glad it's not you. Sheesh.

Comments (21) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Industry History

May 28, 2008

Awash in Yen

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Posted by Derek

So Takeda has opened up its roomy wallet once again, and signed on with Alnylam for a nonexclusive partnership in oncology and metabolics. The InVivoBlog has all the details, but the main point is that Takeda had to put $100 million down at the beginning, with all the milestones, options, and extras coming after that. And Alnylam’s CEO seems to be saying that he’s not going to bother with any offers down in the mere double-digit millions, so don’t waste the man’s time. Roche didn’t – they signed a non-exclusive deal of their own with the company last year.

There are several interesting things about this. One is that Takeda is really in a deal-making mode, apparently, which (historically) has been unusual for a Japanese company. But no Japanese drug company has ever quite been in the position that they find themselves in – a big international player with patent expirations coming – so I guess we should expect something new. More remarkable, though, is the nonexclusive nature of all these deals that Alnylam is making. Other things being equal, of course, larger drug companies much prefer exclusive deals, or a complete buyout. That's what Merck did with Sirna in this same area, in what was no cheap deal, and one that led to Alnylam terminating their own Merck agreement. In this case, though, the amount of money for such terms has apparently been too much for anyone to handle, or Alnylam has perhaps just refused to go exclusive. It’s worth thinking about the position they feel they must be in, to make that stick.

The last time I can remember a situation like this was when the genomics frenzy was on. And I think the RNAi business is turning into something very similar, for very similar reasons: fear and greed, the two flywheels of the financial world. We'll take the greed as stipulated, since the whole purpose of modern capitalism is to harness its mighty and potentially destructive force. But the fear, in both cases, was the very real fear of being left behind when a rare landscape-altering technology is potentially coming on. If there really had been dozens of good ready-for-prime-time targets lurking out there in the genomic data, well, the companies that sewed them up would do very well, and the ones that didn’t would eat dirt. So better to spend the money, right? And so it is with RNA interference: if it really does work therapeutically, there are going to be a lot of previously-undruggable targets within reach, as well as a lot of new shots at the ones we already know. So. . .better to spend the money again?

I suppose there’s no way around it, even though I’m not convinced that RNAi is going to deliver any time soon (or at all?) After all, its difficulties seem (to me) very much like those of antisense DNA, subject of yet another train’s-leaving-the-station investing frenzy in the late 1980s and early 1990s. For one thing, delivering these oligonucleotides in a living human is definitely nontrivial, to use a word that scientists and engineers use to mean anything from “pretty damn hard” to “impossible at the present level of human civilization”. I don’t think that RNA therapy is in the second category, but I do think that it’s in the first category good and hard.

And there’s the whole question of off-target effects, which I’ve spoken about here before. These may not be show-stoppers, true, but the problem is that we don’t know if they are or not. At the very least, it’s a complicating factor, and a big one – and the fact that it’s out there makes you wonder what other interesting complications are yet to be discovered as we go into humans.

So no, RNAi is not going to remake the landscape later this year or anything. It’s going to be a long business, with (I feel sure of it) plenty of expensive head-slapping and hand-wringing along the way. But all that said, can a company like Takeda (or Roche, or Merck, or. . .) afford to ignore it? After all, by the time the kinks are worked out of the technology, it’s presumably going to be too late to buy into it. (Or if you can, it’s going to make the 2008 prices look like the discount rack). Perhaps it’s better to just decide that that’s what the money’s for, to buy into things that could pay off big, with the realization that most of those purchases are going to look idiotic in ten years. . .

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May 21, 2008

Lurching Around For Fun and Profit

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Posted by Derek

I’ve been in this business for almost 19 years now. That means that the drugs that were discovered during my first few years of work are now either on the market or expected to be there soon. Fine, I spent my first eight years at Schering-Plough, so what do I see when I look back? There’s ezetimibe, discovered by sheer chance (but developed by sheer determination, though) and the thrombin receptor antagonist, squirrelly chemical matter from a failed Alzheimer’s program, a compound that a lot of medicinal chemists wouldn’t have even made in the first place. Well, now.

This is not a whack at Schering-Plough. Far from it. These are compounds that any organization would have been glad to find, but they weren’t exactly found by direct routes. This is a general phenomenon. You’d think, surveying the industry, that a lot of drugs are discovered, at least partly, by outright luck. And as far as I can tell, you’d be right. Realizing that tends to bring on several different reactions, depending on your world view:

That can’t be right. I’ve seen this one mostly from people outside the immediate realm of drug discovery, well-meaning people who just can’t believe that this is how it works. The harm comes when these well-meaning folks decide that the problem is that the industry is just behind the times, and that we wouldn’t have to do it this way if we’d just adopt some modern management techniques – ISO whatever-thousand, umpteem-sigma, Quality Assurance Tiger Team Circle Continuous Improvement Metrics, or what have you. Harm generally ensues.

That shouldn’t be right. Some of the people in this category are actually offended by the sight of luck calling so many of the shots, while others are just hoping for a more productive way of doing things. A lot of computational approaches have come from this attitude: “We wouldn’t have to run around stumbling over stuff if we’d just turn on this great new flashlight that’s just been invented” Nothing’s quite illuminated the landscape in the way that people have hoped, though, although efforts continue, as they should.

OK, if we’re stumbling around, let’s stumble faster. This is the basic idea behind the improvements in high-throughput screening and combichem in the late 1980s and the 1990s. For a while, the more optimistic folks thought that this would be enough: just crank out millions of compounds, and the drugs would come – they’d have to. It didn’t work that way, partly because the space of usable chemical structures is much, much larger than we can usefully deal with. But that’s not to say that cranking out more compounds and screening them more quickly isn’t a good idea – it’s just not the good idea.

Well, stumble more purposefully, then. I think that this is where most drug discovery organizations are (or should be). You admit that luck has a big role to play, but you go for the “Fortune favors the prepared mind” approach. Don’t rely just on random runs of odd structures to fill your screening banks – but be sure to put some in, because you never know. Turn over every rock – but recognize that you can’t turn over every rock everywhere, so try to pick the most likely place to start.

The problem with this approach is that it doesn’t promise much, at least compared to the various You’re Doing It Wrong approaches, and it doesn’t make a very compelling PowerPoint slide. But although it’s the blood-toil-tears-and-sweat option, I think that for now it’s the right one. Until something better comes along, that is, and the fascinating problem is that something better is always coming along. Given this state of affairs, why shouldn’t it?

I have no room to talk, of course. I can be as much of a sucker as the next medicinal chemist for some new approach that’s going to change everything – mainly because I look around and realize that a lot of what we do would be better off changing. All the wasted effort. . .you can get downright melancholy if you look at the business from the saddest angles. For all my self-proclaimed realism, I probably have more of that second response in me than I like to admit. The idea is to keep trying for something dramatically better, while realizing that even a smaller improvement would still be worth a lot. . .

Comments (26) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Development | Drug Industry History

May 8, 2008

Merck Bails on Natural Products

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Posted by Derek

Every few years, you hear talk of a renaissance in natural products-based drug discovery. Well, this news should postpone the next round of optimism for a bit longer: Merck is cutting their natural products program entirely. They've had a long history in that area, but no more. That C&E News item includes an interesting detail:

"The company disclosed that it would also be closing its 50-year-old natural products drug discovery operation based in Madrid after a Merck executive inadvertently included the plan in a PowerPoint presentation to an audience that included Merck employees."

Smooth move. I'm sure some interesting e-mails were exchanged around Rahway and Madrid after that one. When, when will we get the powerful regulatory oversight of PowerPoint technology that the masses have cried out for these many years?

The main thing I remember about Merck's operation in Madrid was when they made a big splash about ten years ago with a weird looking indole/quinone thing that directly activated the insulin receptor. It made the cover of Science and all sorts of press releases, and my biology colleagues starting pestering me immediately. "Hey, you chemists keep saying that there's no point in running a small-molecule screen against the insulin receptor!"

Well, as it turned out, we were right. I assured my co-workers on the next floor that the Merck compound was one of the least likely drug candidate structures I'd ever seen, and that I'd be intensely surprised if it went anywhere. In fact, I told them, seeing it on the cover of Science actually decreased the likelihood that it was anything useful. If Merck really had a small-molecule insulin mimetic, I reasoned, the program would be a real stealth bomber, for fear of sending all sorts of other companies into the same chemical space too quickly. This one had all the signs of the people involved saying "You know, the only thing this stuff is good for is getting on the cover of Science"

So it proved, eventually. The compounds never went anywhere. It looks like the most recent natural product-derived compound that Merck got onto the market was Cancidas (caspofungin), and that was seven years ago. Mevacor (lovastatin) will stand as the modern high-water mark of Merck's natural product work - presumably from now on.

Comments (21) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Diabetes and Obesity | Drug Industry History

May 1, 2008

O Pioneers!

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Posted by Derek

Drug Discovery Today has the first part of an article on the history of the molecular modeling field, this one covering about 1960 to 1990. It’s a for-the-record document, since as time goes on it’ll be increasingly hard to unscramble all the early approaches and players. I think this is true for almost any technology; the early years are tangled indeed.

As you would imagine, the work from the 1960s and 1970s has an otherwordly feel to it, considering the hardware that was available. And that brings up another thing common to the early years of new technologies: when you look back on them from their later years, you wonder how these people could possibly have even tried to do these things.

I mean, you read about, say, Richard Cramer establishing the computer-aided drug design program at Smith, Kline and French in nineteen-flipping-seventy-one, and on one level you feel like congratulating his group for their farsightedness. But mainly you just feeling like saying “Oh, you poor people. I am so sorry.” Because from today's perspective, there is just no way that anyone could have done any meaningful molecular modeling for drug design in 1971. I mean, we have enough trouble doing it for a lot of projects in 2008.

Think about it: big ol’ IBM mainframe, with those tape drives that for many years were visual shorthand for Computer System but now look closer to steam engines and water wheels. Punch cards: riffling stacks of them, and whole mechanical devices with arrays of rods to make and troubleshoot stiff pieces of paper with holes in them. And the software – written in what, FORTRAN? If they were lucky. And written in a time when people were just starting to say, well, yes, I suppose that you could, in fact, represent attractive and repulsive molecular forces in terms that could be used by a computer program. . .hmm, let’s see about hydrogen bonds, then. . .

It gives a person the shudders. But that must be inevitable – you get the same feeling when you see an early TV set and wonder how anyone could have derived entertainment from a fuzzy four-inch-wide grey screen. Or see the earliest automobiles, which look to have been quite a bit more trouble than a horse. How do people persevere?

Well, for one thing, by knowing that they’re the first. Even if technology isn’t what you might dream of it being some day, you’re still the one out on the cutting edge, with what could be the best in the world as it is. They also do it by not being able to know just what the limits to their capabilities are, not having the benefit of decades of hindsight. The molecular modelers of the early 1970s did not, I’m sure, see themselves as tentatively exploring something that would probably be of no use for years to come. They must have thought that there was something good just waiting right there to be done with the technology they had (which was, as just mentioned, the best ever seen). They may well have been wrong about that, but who was to know until it was tried?

And all of this – the realizations that there’s something new in the world, that there are new things that can be done with it, and (later) that there’s more to it (both its possibilities and difficulties) than was first apparent – all of this comes on gradually. If it were to hit you all at once, you’d be paralyzed with indecision. But the gap in the trees turns into a trail, and then into a dirt path before you feel the gravel under your feet, speeding up before you realize that you’re driving down a huge highway that branches off to destinations you didn’t even know existed.

People are seeing their way through to some of those narrow footpaths right now, no doubt. With any luck, in another thirty years people will look back and pity them for what they didn’t and couldn’t know. But the people doing it today don’t feel worthy of pity at all – some of them probably feel as if they’re the luckiest people alive. . .

Comments (8) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Industry History | In Silico | Who Discovers and Why

April 25, 2008

Why Buy, Anyway?

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Posted by Derek

I don’t want to say that this is a trend, but I notice that GSK is saying that they’re going to leave Sirtris more or less alone as well (as Takeda has said they’ll do with Millennium). The researchers in both shops should feel good about that, and not only because they’ll be keeping their jobs. They’re getting a vote of confidence in the most meaningful way that a large company can give that to its employees: by paying you money and not messing with you.

Of course, these deals have two sides to them. I don’t know what it’s like in Takeda back in Japan – my contacts inside the Japanese pharmaceutical industry aren’t extensive. But I think that some of the people at GSK (where I do know a lot of people) are wondering just what motivated their company to spend $720 million on Sirtris rather than on them.

It’s a fair question, even though I don’t have a problem myself with the Sirtris deal (as I said yesterday). But the sirtuins themselves are targets that anyone can work on, and you’d assume that a big outfit like GlaxoSmithKline could, if they wanted to, make a big push into the area and find some interesting things. So why didn’t they? The most obvious reason would be Sirtris had already done a good deal of that work, and it was more economical for GSK to buy it than to redo it. Another possibility is that the chemical space for drug-like hits in that area may not be very spacious, and that Sirtris may have already carved out a good piece of that real estate.

There’s also a bit of Glaxo history to deal with. The company had already, about fifteen years ago, decided to make a great big push into a promising new research area: nuclear receptors. They set up a whole research institute and did a huge amount of good science trying to figure out how these things worked, what they were good for, and how to get drugs that affected them. I got interested in the field in the late 1990s, and it became clear to me very quickly that Glaxo’s effort was the most serious of the bunch (and that included some really substantial research going on at Merck, Lilly and some other outfits). The company had teams of people who seemed to do nothing else than study the structures of these things, generate reams of X-ray data, synthesize huge lists of ligand molecules of every kind you could want, and so on. Just run "Glaxo nuclear receptor" through PubMed to see what I mean.

And what did it get them? From what I can see, not much. Avandia (rosiglitazone) is a nuclear receptor ligand (for PPAR-gamma), but its activity had already been discovered, and it was in clinical trials without a known mechanism. Figuring out how it worked was one of the Glaxo team’s early triumphs. But Avandia has turned out to be famously troublesome, and no others have come to market, despite multiple tries in the clinic. The huge amount of time and money the company spent generated a lot of interesting science, but appears (at least to me) to have brought in not one dime of revenue. (No doubt someone from GSK will correct me if I’m wrong).

So you can see how the company might be wary of starting a big internal effort to explore a massive, complex, and risky new field of biology. Politically and psychologically, it’s probably easier for them to structure this in terms of an acquisition.

Comments (15) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Aging and Lifespan | Business and Markets | Diabetes and Obesity | Drug Industry History

March 24, 2008

That's Never Gonna Work

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Posted by Derek

A colleague and I were talking the other day about the (long) list of drugs that have been left for dead at some point during their development. There are some famous cases – Lipitor, for example, which wasn’t thought by many at Warner-Lambert to have a business case worth even taking into the clinic. But these things are all over the place.

One that I know about was Claritin (loratadine). Schering-Plough worked on nonsedating antihistamines for a while, without too much success, and the whole program was eventually killed. The head of research at the time stated flatly: “There are no nonsedating antihistamines”. Of course, when the first one (Seldane) came on the market, that made everyone rethink a bit. In the interim, one of the chemists had continued making compounds, despite several (increasingly testy) warnings to stop.

As it turned out, he (Frank Villani) and one of his associates (Charlie Magatti) had made loratadine itself, the nonsedating antihistamine which helped to pay everyone’s salary at Schering-Plough through the 1990s. But by the time that was worked out, Villani himself had been eased out the door (or not eased while on his way out, depending on who you talk to), in good part due to his continued work on the compounds. That head of research, to his credit, actually referred ruefully later on to his own “no nonsedating antihistamines” comment – there are plenty of other people who would have just Never Said Such a Thing At All in that position.

You can find a lot of other examples, going back a long way. Many of these are medical and marketing arguments: ACE inhibitors weren’t necessarily going to be of that much use for hypertension (how many people had high blood pressure because of problems with their renin-angiotensin system anyway?) And the K/H ATPase compounds weren’t going to be of much use for acid reflux, because the H2 antagonists had the market covered (Prilosec and its progeny managed to carve out a little market share for themselves, though). The Lipitor-won’t-make-any-money mistake falls squarely into this category.

My theory is that it’s always possible to find a list of plausible reasons why a given project, or a given drug candidate, won’t work. Finding those things is (comparatively speaking) the easy part. The hard part is working out which of those things you’re wrong about, because you’re sure to be wrong about some of them. (Of course, thinking about this stuff makes you start to wonder about the drugs that never quite made it, but would have done well if they had. Most experienced development people have a list of might-have-beens that they still wonder about, but some of those would surely have also blown up disastrously even later in the process, taking even more money with them).

Further that’ll-never-work examples are welcome in the comments. I know there must be plenty of them out there. . .

Comments (24) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Development | Drug Industry History

March 14, 2008

Pen and Paper

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Posted by Derek

Registering some new compounds for testing, as I’ve been doing recently, has me thinking about how that was done when I started at my first company. This was in the fall of 1989, so while it’s not exactly the Ancient Old Days, it’s not last week, either. (There are plenty of readers here who go back further). But as far as the technology involved, it looked a lot closer to 1950 than it does to today.

For one thing, I saw the tail end of the Bare Desk Era: we didn’t have computers on our desks - at least, most of us didn’t. I found that a bit strange when I joined – not outrageous, as it would have been just two or three years later, but a little disappointing. Some scientists at the PhD level shared computers, but I started out not even doing that. In that company, in those days, those machines were Macs. (After a long PC interregnum, I’m working in a Mac environment again these days, which is fine by me). I didn’t even have a shared computer at first; when I finally got a part of one, it was a Mac IIcx, which these days hardly seems like something you could even use to archive your tuna salad recipes. Of course, you could wander around at that point and still see Mac SEs in use out in the biology labs, so everything was (is) relative. I thought the IIcx was a fine machine; even half of one was a lot better than a bare desk.

The lack of computers was official policy. The way I heard it put was that management wanted us in front of our hoods, not in front of our screens. Had they only known about web surfing, their fears would have been confirmed but good. They'd have needed a fortune teller, though, since there was no web to waste any time on in 1989. (I remember using Telnet from my home machine in late 1991 or early 1992 to go look at this hypertext thingie at CERN that I’d read about, and I distinctly remember the odd sensation when the welcome screen scrolled up, as if I’d suddenly traveled to Geneva).

No computers meant no e-mail, of course. That came along within a couple of years, but I got a similar brief exposure to the pre-electronic workplace, where those office mail slots down the hall were where you got printed notices of the meetings you needed to attend. Papers you needed to read or documents you needed to have came in those brown envelopes with the string closures, one of which now shows up in my current mail slot every three weeks or so. And no computers meant no online registration of new compounds. That you did with a paper form.

And not with just any form. This one had multicolored layers, and was made out of that pressure-sensitive paper with the odd feel to it. You pressed hard as you drew your structure with a ballpoint pen in the box provided – the yellow copy at the bottom of the stack was for your files, and you wanted to be able to read the thing if there was a problem with the registration. Below was an area with multiple check boxes for the different assays. That was a bit out of date even when I got there – the company had printed up piles of these things with all the assays that they typically ran, but as cloned receptors and the like became available, the assays were beginning to change faster than paper forms could keep up.

Then you took your forms and the corresponding vials and walked them over a couple of buildings to turn them in. In a few days, you’d get a printout of your compound by interoffice mail, with its structure now re-entered into some sort of mainframe database (probably with one of those Calcomp or Summagraphics drawing tablets). My first compound had a registration number in the high thirty-thousands; this in a company that had been around since the Second World War. By the time I left, eight years later, the registration numbers were over twice that figure and climbing fast, and that didn’t count the separate libraries that had been purchased along the way.

The project I was on generated a lot of data, but there was no central place for all of it. The people who ran the assays rated desktop computers of their own, and they kept the numbers there, in whatever format suited them. One biologist retired on us, and when we needed his assay data a few years later, it turned out that no one could put their hands on his files. Everyone, it seemed, had figured that someone else was taking care of that. In the end, a note went out for everyone to root out their old meeting handouts from 1990, since those had his presentations of the assay numbers – those would have to do until we could get the compounds re-run. Even at the time, it occurred to me that this was no way to handle data.

Comments (12) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Industry History

March 10, 2008

Hits, Misses, and Some More Misses

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Posted by Derek

There’s an article in the latest Nature Reviews Drug Discovery on recent drug attrition rates that caught my eye. The authors are looking over 2006-2007 trials and approvals, comparing the biotech industry with traditional pharma. ("Biotech" is defined as a company that's included in either the American Stock Exchange's biotech index and/or the NASDAQ's). In that period, the biotechs scored 47 FDA approvals (45% of the total approvals), but had 68 Phase III failures, which is 74% of that total. Pharma companies had only 5 Phase III failures during that stretch – the other 18 were biotech/pharma joint ventures, and those had a corresponding 16 approvals.

That’s food for thought, all right. The authors make much of the comparatively higher success rate for the biotech/pharma alliance compounds versus the biotechs that went it alone. I have to say, though, that the first explanation that came to my mind was one that they mention, but refer to as “cynical”: that the products which got partnered were disproportionately drawn from the list of those more likely to succeed in the first place.

But is “higher success rate for alliances” really the way to look at the data? Coming at the figures from another direction, I’d argue that “lower success rate for anything labeled biotech” would be a better fit. After all, the FDA approval/Phase III failure numbers are 47/68 for biotech, and 16/18 for biotech/pharma codevelopment, and I’d argue that those ratios are a lot closer to each other than either one is to the ratio for pure pharmaceutical companies, which was 36/5. Look at it this way: if the biotech-alone success rate was as good as the alliance one, you’d expect maybe 53 failures for those 47 successes instead of the 68 that really took place. But if biotech had the same success rate as pharma alone, those 47 winners would have been accompanied by only about 7 failures.

Cynics with a different orientation might wonder if the higher failure rate comes from a higher number of attempts on innovative drugs in biotech, as opposed to follow-ups and me-toos. But looking at another table in the same paper, where the authors split such compounds out, the me-too data in the pharma industry shows 15 FDA approvals versus 1 Phase III failure. The corresponding biotech figures show 20 approvals and 17 failures, so even the follow-on drugs have a harder time of it. (In case you're wondering, the figures from the opposite end of the spectrum, the new compound/new indication class, are 17 approvals versus 4 failures for pharma, as opposed to a toe-curling 9 approvals and 42 failures for biotech). Breaking down the numbers in another way, biotech companies had 37 out of 115 compounds in the me-too class (32%), while pharma had 16 out of 41 (39%), which isn't that big a difference.

This sort of thing is particularly interesting for someone of my age or older, because it brings back memories of the 1980s and the first big biotech boom, back when Genentech and Biogen went public and Cetus was still a going concern. The pitch back then was that biotech products were actually going to have a higher success rate, because they were, after all, mostly proteins that were already in use by the body, right? The definition of "biotech" has changed a lot since then, though - if you look at those companies in the two indices linked above, you'll notice that many of them don't work on biological products at all, but would be better classified as "small pharma". But I'm not sure if the general public appreciates that distinction. . .

Comments (29) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Clinical Trials | Drug Industry History

March 5, 2008

Smaller, Wetter, Harder to Work With

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Posted by Derek

There’s an interesting article coming out in J. Med. Chem. on antibiotic compounds, which highlights something that’s pretty clear if you spend some time looking at the drugs in that area. We make a big deal (or have made one over the last ten years) about drug-like properties – all that Rule-of-Five stuff and its progeny. Well, take a look at the historically best-selling antibiotic drugs: you’ve never seen such a collection of Rule of Five violators in your life.

That’s partly because a lot of structures in that area have come from natural products, but hey, natural products are drugs, too. Erythromycin, the aminoglycosides, azithromycin, tetracycline: what a crew! But they’ve helped an untold number of people over the years. It’s true that the fluoroquinolones are much more normal-looking, but those are balanced out by weirdo one-shots like fosfomycin. I mean, look at that thing – would you ever believe that that’s a marketed drug? (And with decent bioavailability, too?)

No, you have to be broad-minded if you’re going to beat up on bacteria, and I think some broad-mindedness would do us all good in other therapeutic areas, too. I don’t mean we should ignore what we’ve learned about drug-like properties: our problem is that we tend to make allowances and exceptions on the greasy high-molecular weight end of the scale, since that’s where too many of our compounds end up. It wouldn’t hurt to push things on the other end, because I think that you have a better chance of getting away with too much polarity than you have of getting away with too little.

One reason for that might be that there are a lot of transporter proteins in vivo that are used to dealing with such groups. It’s easy to forget, but a great number of proteins are decorated with carbohydrate residues, and they’re on there for a lot of reasons. And a lot of extremely important small molecules in biochemistry are polar as well – right off the top of my head, I don’t know what the logD or polar surface area of things like ATP or NAD are, but I’ll bet that they’re far off the usual run of drugs. Admittedly, those aren’t going to reach good blood levels if you dose them orally; we’re trying to do something that’s rather unnatural as far as the body’s concerned. But we could still usefully take advantage of some of the transport and handling systems for such molecules.

But that’s not always easy to do. We all talk about making our compounds more polar and more soluble, but we balk at some of the things that will do that for us. Sure, you can slap a couple of methoxyethoxys on your ugly flat molecule, or hang a morpholine off the end of a chain to drag things into the water layer. But slap five or six hydroxyls on your molecule, and you’ll be lucky not to have the security guards show up at your desk.

There are, to be sure, some good reasons why they might. Hydroxyls and such tend to introduce chiral centers, which can make your synthesis difficult and dramatically increase the amount of work needed to fill out the structural possibilities of your lead series. That’s why these things tend to be (or derive from) natural products. Some bacterium or fungus has done most of the heavy lifting already, both in terms of working out the most active isomers and in synthesizing them for you. Erythromycin’s a fine starting material when you can get it by fermentation, but no one would ever, ever consider it if it had to be made by pure total synthesis.

There’s another consideration, which gets you right at the bench level. For an organic chemist, working with charged, water-soluble compounds is no fun. A lot of our lab infrastructure is built for things that would rather dissolve in ethyl acetate than water. A constant run of things with low logD values would mean that we’d all have to learn some new skills (and that we’d all probably have to spend a lot of time on the lyophilizer). Ion-exchange resins, gel chromatography, desalting columns – you might as well be a biochemist if you’re going to work with that stuff. But in the end, perhaps we might be better off, at least part of the time, if we were.

Comments (13) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Industry History | In Silico | Infectious Diseases

February 20, 2008

What You Become Known For

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Posted by Derek

A recent item from InVivoBlog about Merck which brought up some interesting points. They aren’t cheerful ones. The article is largely about Merck’s reputation, which has taken some dents in recent years, to put it lightly. The Vioxx debacle is the main reason for this, but the hits have kept on coming, such as the latest controversy over the release of the disappointing Vytorin study data.

So, although this is a painful question, perhaps it needs to be asked: remember when Merck was above all that stuff? Maybe there should be a “seemed” in that sentence somewhere; that might take some of the sting away. But the company really did have a singular reputation at one time. Depending on your point of view, you could have used words like “insular” or “arrogant” to describe the culture over there, but they were distinctive.

Merck didn’t merge with anyone. They stuck with targets and projects for years and years if they thought something would come out of them. And (until Vioxx) they avoided the sorts of disasters that seemed to hit other companies. That’s gone. Not all gone – they still seem to run on longer timelines over there – but one of the most distinctive things about the company was how it guarded its reputation, and that seems to have slipped down the list. They didn't have to do ad campaigns like this one. The company's trying to convince people, or convince themselves, that things haven't changed, but they're wrong.

The other thing that struck me about the article was about the development of the company’s CB-1 antagonist. That’s the same mechanism as rimonabant, Sanofi-Aventis’s failed wonder drug for obesity. (OK, it’s on the market as Acomplia in several countries, but considering what people had thought it would do, it’s a failure, all right). I question Merck’s judgment in pushing another compound into that area, although these programs do take on a life of their own. And as the In Vivo post points out, Merck’s current reputation of pushing every drug as hard as possible won’t help it when it comes to getting the drug through the FDA.

The biggest problem with rimonabant was the comparison of its side effects to its efficacy. It does seem to help people lose weight, although not to any startling extent, but in a large patient population various psychiatric side effects showed up. Taranabant's side effect profile isn't yet clear. Merck is going to have to tread lightly, but can they? The situation is a bit too much like Vioxx, with a huge, lucrative market out there if you can just expand the patient population. And we can argue about just how bad Vioxx really was, and about its risk/benefit ratio, but that won't change the fact that it was a catastrophe for Merck. The last thing they need is another one. I don't think I would have picked this time to push another CB-1 antagonist forward, but I suppose we don't get to pick that sort of thing. . .

Comments (20) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Diabetes and Obesity | Drug Development | Drug Industry History | The Dark Side

January 16, 2008

Judah Folkman

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Posted by Derek

So Judah Folkman is no longer with us. He's considered to be the father of the idea that many tumors help to make their own blood supply, through angiogenesis, and that this could be a way to impede their growth. Since his first papers on the topic were published back in 1971, I think he does indeed get the credit. And he should not only get the credit for having the idea, but for publishing it and sticking with it. (Here's an interview with Folkman where he talks about this and much more).

Interestingly, it had been noted as long ago as 1941 that transplanted tumors in animals managed to link in to the existing blood supply through the formation of new vessels, but no one knew what to do with this result. (Here's a history of the field from a few years ago). It's not surprising that it took so long for the idea to catch on, though. It was by no means clear back in 1971, much less 1941, how blood vessels could be raised up by signaling from their target tissue. It wasn't until much later that the signaling pathways for blood vessel growth were discovered. Vascular endothelial growth factor, for example, was only found in 1983, and its functions didn't become clear until 1989 (timeline).

Folkman's death (which took place in the Denver airport, of all places) has brought back memories of the (in)famous Gina Kolata article on Folkman's work in the New York Times from 1998, a front-pager which featured James Watson's notorious quote about how Folkman was going to cure cancer in two years. I wrote about that one in the early days of my blog, and again here when Entremed finally gave up on the compounds that Kolata and the Times had hyped to the skies. The year 2000 came and went without a cancer cure, and many more years are going to go by as well. That's because, as I and many others never tire of pointing out, cancer isn't a single disease, and will never have a single cure. It's like looking for a cure for bad writing - it comes in so many different varieties, for so many different reasons, and therefore needs many different fixes.

Comments (5) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Cancer | Current Events | Drug Industry History

January 4, 2008

Plants For Cancer?

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Posted by Derek

A reader sends along this article from the New York Times about Chris Kilham, an ethnobiotanist from U. Mass - Amherst looking for medicinally active plants in Peru. The article has lots of local Peruvian color, but it doesn’t neglect the money involved:

” Products that once seemed exotic, like ginseng, ginkgo biloba or aloe vera, now roll off the tongues of Westerners. All told, natural plant substances generate more than $75 billion in sales each year for the pharmaceutical industry, $20 billion in herbal supplement sales, and around $3 billion in cosmetics sales, according to a study by the European Commission.”

It’s worth noting, though, that none of those three once-exotic plants (exotic when – twenty-five years ago?) are the source of any major revenue for the pharmaceutical industry, unless you count aloe-vera sunscreen line extensions and the like. Kilham himself has some definite opinions on the value of plant-derived drugs:

Mr. Kilham believes multinational drug companies underutilize the medicinal properties in plants. They pack pills with artificial compounds and sell them at huge markups, he says. He wants Westerners to use the pure plant medicines that indigenous peoples have used for thousands of years.

“People in the U.S. are more cranked up on pharmaceutical drugs than any other culture in the world today,” Mr. Kilham said. “I want people using safer medicine. And that means plant medicine.”

Unpacking those statements is a chore, though. Just to pick a big one, “pure plant medicine” is a tricky concept, as any natural products chemist will tell you. Are we talking ground whole plants here (and if so, which parts, grown where?) Extracts (and if so, which fractions?) Purified single compounds?

Moving to the next difficulties, would these plant medicines somehow not be sold at such huge markups? Take a look at the herbal supplement industry for a reality check on that one. And if we in the drug industry could get such drugs with less trouble and effort than our “artificial” ones, why wouldn’t we do so – especially if they have fewer side effects? (Side effects cost us money, too, you know). Finally, are those natural compounds really safer than the nasty artificial ones? Not as far as I’ve ever seen – they come out the same in genotoxicity studies, for one thing. The whole “artificial” versus “natural” division is generally a sign of lazy thinking, in my experience. There’s no wholesome Gaia-derived goodness to be found in a plant-derived natural products, and they weren’t somehow made for us to use as medicines. Some are harmless, some are toxic – same as everything else.

Then there’s this interesting part:

“So-called bioprospectors can make their fortunes by bringing those advantages to the attention of companies who identify the plant’s active compound and use it as a base ingredient for new products that they patent.

Some 62 percent of all cancer drugs approved by the Food and Drug Administration come from such discoveries, according to a study by the United Nations University, a scholarly institution affiliated with the United Nations.”

Hmm. Examples? The only “bioprospector” that I can recall making a fortune in this way was Russell Marker, the founder of Syntex, who realized that Mexican yams contained an excellent starting material for steroid synthesis. Mind you, that was in 1944. If anyone has a more recent example of an Indiana Jones figure stumbling out of the jungle clutching a profitable wonder root, please do let me know. Whole companies have been founded on the idea of cashing in on active natural products and indigenous medicines. None of them, as far as I can tell, have made any fortunes yet, and some of them have done the reverse. Shaman Pharmaceuticals is the obvious example. I know someone who was right in the middle of their drug discovery effort. It wasn’t pretty, and it sure wasn’t profitable.

Besides, the Times reporter should have asked Kilham himself about cancer therapies. Here's a 2005 interview with him:

"I don't see the cancer herb category becoming a major category any time soon. I believe that the majority of people who get cancer are still going to turn to a conventional medical doctor. I think the greatest majority will. . ."

And that study by the UN doesn’t appear to have dug all that deeply. (It should be noted up front that oncology and anti-infectives are the two areas where natural product-derived compounds are by far the most well-represented). That 62 per cent figure for cancer drugs would seem to come directly from this 2003 paper in the Journal of Natural Products, from a group at the Natural Products branch of the National Cancer Institute. A closer look at the figures show that they list 140 drugs available over the years 1981-2003 (note that many of these are no longer first-line therapies). The 62% figure comes from excluding all the antibodies, proteins, and vaccines (10% of the total) and counting straight natural products (14%), semisynthetic compounds derived from them (26%) and synthetic compounds whose active pharmacophore came from a natural product lead (14%).

You can draw the line wherever you like, but by rigorously crunchy standards only that first 14% qualifies. If we’re going to draw some line between “natural” and “artificial”, everything else is on the other side of it. There’s no denying that natural products are and have been a great source of active compounds and structural leads, of course. But the vast majority of drugs come from us chemists, cranking out the man-made (and man-improved) structures.

The other problem with that number is that, if anything, it may represent a peak. The kinase inhibitors that have been approved in recent years are all completely synthetic compounds, and the antibody and vaccine ranks are swelling, too. Ranked by sales, there are 19 oncology drugs in the most recent top 200 list I can find, and only one of them is a straight natural product (taxol, at #169). Taxotere, at #37, is a semisynthetic derivative of taxol, and irinotecan at 122 is a semisynthetic as well. But to my eyes, that’s about it. Getting data by usage is harder (without paying for it!), but the older natural products would come out looking better ranked by total prescriptions filled. In most cases, though, they’re no longer first-line therapies.

So natural products aren’t dead, by any means. But they aren’t an untouched gold mine, either. Someone tell the Times.

Comments (37) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Cancer | Drug Development | Drug Industry History

January 3, 2008

Top of the Heap

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Posted by Derek

There are quite a few news items to catch up on after the break – I’ll start off with a note that John Lechleiter has become the CEO of Eli Lilly. The main reason this catches the eye (and the main reason it got e-mailed to me!) is that he’s a medicinal chemist who worked his way up the ranks.

And that doesn’t happen very much, which is a topic that came up around here a couple of years ago. There are several companies run by chemists, but most of them got there as founders. Going from the bench all the way up to the top of an organization, that’s taking the long route for sure, especially in a place the size of Lilly.

Is there a reason for that? The sample size of large drug company CEOs isn’t particularly large, so it feels risky to generalize, but it’s been my impression that in many companies the scientific talent is under-represented in the top executive ranks. (That would make business degree holders and lawyers over-represented, I suppose). If that’s true, there are several possible explanations.

One is that fewer scientists are willing to devote themselves totally to the job of climbing said ladder, as opposed to their regular work. Many go into research because they like to do research, and don’t have as much of a taste for managing. But if you’re on the business side of things, the climb is much more related to your job description to start with, I’d say. Starting at the bench means that at some point you’re going to have to completely drop the work you were first hired to do and start doing something different.

That’s not to say that there aren’t plenty of chemists (and biologists) who do just that, but they’re generally aiming at positions lower than CEO. Scientists who become managers usually end up managing other scientists, as section heads, associate directors, directors of research, and so on. That makes a lot of sense, because they understand the work that’s going on under them – you’re not going to import a lawyer to be Director of Translational Biology, right?

And that brings up another possible problem. Scientists, taken as a class, do not always turn into the best managers. No particular group produces a huge number of good managers, to be sure, but I’m pretty sure that researchers run on the low side. Putting it delicately, there are a number of personality types reasonably well-suited for science, but not so well-suited for supervising and developing other people. Such subsets exist in every other profession, but those categories are particularly roomy in the research labs. Ugly situations can ensue when these people are perforce given direct reports. It’s even worse in academia, where some truly borderline personalities are year after year turned loose on 22-year-old grad students.

But inter caecos regnat luscus, and if a scientist does have good skills as a manager or leader, then so much the better. These people will stand out all the more.

Comments (13) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Industry History

December 18, 2007

Hearing Footsteps

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Posted by Derek

The next few years don’t necessarily look good for several large drug companies, just because of the patents that will be expiring. King of them all is Lipitor, of course, the world’s biggest selling drug which will then become the drug industry’s single largest lost revenue stream. But if you dig back through the newspaper archives, you’ll find the “Big Patent Expirations Looming” story showing up year after year. It’s basically true every time.

And that illustrates a point that a lot of people from outside the drug industry forget when discussing our rapacious business models, obscene profits, and so on: more than almost any other industry, we’re built on a pile of wasting assets. And not just any old nonspecific wasting assets – our valuable drugs are ticking away with a specific timetable, at which time they turn generic and most of the revenue stream goes flooosh. There might as well be a big LED clock strapped to the things, counting backwards – but unlike a bad movie, there’s no sweating hero trying to figure out whether to cut the red wire or not. Put down those needlenose pliers, Buck or Jock or whatever your heroic name is, because nothing will help.

Nothing, that is, except having some other drugs coming down the chute to replace the ones that are blowing up. Oh, I know, I know, patent evergreening and so on. I agree that it’s a problem, but that stuff doesn’t work most of the time. And when it does, you can maybe wring a year or two out of the system. But the bells toll for all our drugs in the end, and we have to deal with that fact by cranking out new stuff as fast as we can.

In recent years, that hasn’t been fast enough. I worked for a company back in the early 1990s that had a big-selling drug which was headed for the patent cliff. Everyone knew it, everyone knew when it would happen, and everyone knew what we had to do about it: get more stuff into the pipeline to replace it. The company expanded its research department and built a whole new drug discovery building complex to put us all in. To no avail. The day came, and nothing significant had been found in the intervening years. The company’s earnings hopped into a handy handbasket and went to the usual destination, the stock fell off a cliff, and all sorts of people who’d been loading up on the shares during the glory years felt all kinds of pain.

This story has been repeated several times around the industry. We all know about the declining productivity story – it was one of the first things I blogged about back in 2002. But the back side of that story is the frantic activities to try to make it go away. Some of them aren’t too glorious – cherry-flavored line extensions, patent gimmickry – but a lot of the work is serious stuff. We know that our discovery and clinical success rates are too low, and we’re pouring all kinds of money into trying to fix them. So far, the successes haven’t been anything to jump around about, but the efforts continue.

There’s an exception: the biotechs. The FDA has been trying to get its regulatory head around the issue of biogeneric equivalency, but it isn’t easy (more on this in a separate post some time). What this means is that the likes of Amgen, Biogen, Genentech Genzyme et al. have had far fewer worries about some of their products expiring on them. If the FDA can’t certify that a generic version of a protein drug is the same as the original, and can’t agree on how to even do that in the first place, then no generic will appear. There are several companies that would like to do it, but they’ve been moving more slowly than they’d like to, since the regulatory environment is so unclear. Things are moving a bit more quickly in Europe, but the pace is still glacial compared to the situation over here in the traditional small-molecule world.

And that’s not doing the biotech industry any good. I realize that this sounds perverse, especially to the people at the companies involved. What do I mean, that it’s a bad thing that their drugs rake in billions year after year? What’s not to like? Well, what’s not to like is that this kind of thing slows down the need to come up with new products and new approaches. I know that the big biotechs are spending lots of money on research, but we’ll never know what things would have been like if the dogs had been at their heels more. Organizations get lazy in all kinds of almost imperceptible ways when there’s no reason to move quickly.

Having those incentives doesn’t mean that things will work out for you, of course – see that story a couple of paragraphs above. But I think it works out better for everyone if research organizations are kept on their toes, competing with each other, and competing with those big red digital countdowns. It’s no fun, but it’s the best way.

Comments (8) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Industry History | Patents and IP

December 12, 2007

Med-Chem Layoffs, On the Front Page

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Posted by Derek

Yesterday’s Wall Street Journal ran a front-page article on the chemistry layoffs that have afflicted us in the drug industry. The piece (by Avery Johnson) focuses on a good example: Bob Sliskovic, the medicinal chemist who first synthesized Lipitor (as in largest-selling-drug-in-the-world Lipitor), and now finds himself laid off by Pfizer:

”Following that initial breakthrough some 20 years ago, Dr. Sliskovic worked on several other research projects, but none panned out. His losing streak mirrors the industry's. A byproduct of the late-19th-century chemical business, pharmaceutical research thrived for more than a century by finding chemical combinations to treat diseases. But after contributing substantially both to human health and drug-industry profits, it has failed to produce significant innovations in recent years.”

That’s a pretty harsh assessment, and I can’t say that I like seeing the past tense of “thrive”. But it’s true that the flow of new drugs has slowed, and now the arguments are all about why that’s happening (and what to do about it). These topics have come up more times than I can count on this site (and will again!), so I won’t go into them in any detail for the moment. But there are plenty of places to lay the blame: Easy drug targets all gone? Too much focus on molecular-level mechanisms and not enough on the end results? Bar now set too high for safety? Management too timid, or too afflicted by short-term thinking? Too much emphasis on blockbusters? Just not enough known about the diseases we’re now trying to treat?

The article makes grim reading for those of us who have been through a layoff or a site closure – I certainly didn’t enjoy mentally revisiting the period a year ago when I (as Sliskovic did) had to phone my wife and tell her that my job was disappearing. And outside of the immediate employment concerns, shutting down a lab is a very sad process:

”In August, Dr. Sliskovic's team stopped doing research and began transferring projects to other Pfizer sites. The labs are now being cleaned, inspected and sealed off. The 177-acre campus is a ghost town of empty rooms and boxed-up equipment.”

Boy, do I know what that looks like. The period before that is even less appealing, when they bring in shredder boxes for people to empty their office filing cabinets into. That’s when you see unusual stuff in the waste bins, such as small piles of plaques and awards that used to be on the desks and walls, since no one feels much like taking any of those home with them. No, I have no desire to relive any of that.

The article raises the question of how many chemists are employed in the drug industry. It’s hard to get a good read on that, but there’s a quote from the Bureau of Labor Statistic that the total number of chemists in the workforce went down from 140,000 to 116,000 over 2003-2006. That doubtless includes a lot of analytical chemists and researchers in other fields than pharmaceuticals, but it’s not a number than can be made to look good. I would think that the ACS would have more specific data, although I know that not all the readers here trust what the organization has to say about chemical employment.

What I can say is that almost all of my colleagues from the Wonder Drug Factory have been able to find jobs. The great majority of the chemists are still doing drug research. Some of them have, though, left the research end of the business, and are working for support companies and vendors. Others have moved over to clinical work or into the medical devices field. A substantial number have, like me, had to move to other parts of the country.

Unfortunately, I don’t see the wave of layoffs ending, although I can’t see them continuing at their current pace, either. There are more large drug companies with problems than there are large companies with secure positions. The WSJ article, for example, has a graph of total head count at Pfizer over the last few years – what’s that one going to look like after Lipitor goes off patent? But offsetting that, to some extent, will be the smaller companies. I continue to think that the pharma research workforce may be shifting away from the largest shops and toward younger companies. Perhaps that’s just because that’s the direction I’ve gone, but then again, I might just be a representative part of a trend. . .

Comments (43) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Closing Time | Drug Industry History

November 27, 2007

Then I Felt Like Some Watcher of the Skies. . .

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Posted by Derek

There’s an article in the latest Drug Discovery Today which takes off after the “Rule of Five” and its application to drug discovery. The author’s not saying anything that hasn’t been said before, though – first under the breath, then openly. But it bears repeating:

”The simplicity of these criteria to remove outlier molecules using software, made them very easy to implement. Thus, the Ro5 moved rapidly in the hierarchy of medicinal chemistry concepts from being a set of ‘alerting’ criteria in the minds of the medicinal chemists to a commandment engraved in the high altars of ‘do's’ and ‘don’ts’ of drug seekers. I am not a medical doctor nor am I a savvy drug-discoverer; I am just an apprentice. However, I suggest that ten years after the publication of the Ro5, it might be time for a collective reflection.

Currently, the Ro5 is used almost indiscriminately. I think that we should be very cautious about relying too heavily on these criteria, for two reasons. First, it is worth pointing out that there are examples of successful drugs (i.e. Lipitor™, Atorvastatin™) that are notable violators of the Ro5 and we and others should never underestimate the impact of the highly improbable event in our theories and preconceived notions. Second, it is well recognized in the drug discovery field that in spite of these magic rules, and the introduction of ingenious methods to discover new drugs, the number of new chemical entities reaching the market has remained constant or continued on a downward trend. One may ask: Where is the power of those magic rules? Are they helping us to focus on the right molecules? Or are they preventing us from discovering new opportunities? Do they represent something deep and profound about drug discovery? Or are they preventing us from a deeper understanding of the drug discovery variables?”

The problem is, this sort of article is coming along several years too late. I disagree with the word “indiscriminately”, for one thing. It’s actually my impression that Rule-of-Five dogmatism has been on the wane for a while now. I’d put the peak at about five to eight years ago, myself (anyone out there have the same experience?) Perhaps it’s the lack of any strongly noticeable increase in our success rates that’s calmed things down. Projects are still wiping out due to odd and unexpected pharmacokinetic problems, for example, where the more naïve (or hopeful) devotees of the rules might have looked for an improvement. (This would be a good place to note that Chris Lipinski himself never was as hard-core about his criteria as some of his followers, a pattern which is far from unknown).

So it’s clear that success can’t be ensured by just matching a few basic properties of drugs that have been successful in the past, not that this should be a surprise. People are always looking for the easy fix (who can blame them?). The Lipinski rules were a favorite among middle management, more than for the people at the bench, since they used measurable criteria to produce something else that could itself be measured. Nothing is dearer to a manager’s heart, and it’s too bad that the results haven’t been more exciting.

I liked better an analogy made later in the paper:

”I see the historical successes of our illustrious predecessors more like the discoveries of early sky watchers. They discovered the early stars and planets and through careful observations were able to trace their passages through the sky. Like them, we have discovered certain patterns in the firmament of drug discovery as they relate to various chemical entities with therapeutic properties, and characterized the molecules in the biological universe to which they relate. However, I would not go any further than that. In trying to understand the universe of drug discovery, I am not even ready to affirm whether we know with certainty if the system is geocentric (ligand at the center, as it would be suggested by medicinal chemists) or heliocentric (target in the center as proposed by biologist, macromolecular crystallographers or geneticists). Moreover, although we have a sense of what the forces that bring the two together are, robust calculations that can accurately predict how one relates to the other still elude us. We know there is a key parameter (i.e. Ki, their relative affinity) that connects this crucial pair but we cannot calculate it accurately. Consequently, the number of experimental observations (in vitro and in vivo) relating the two dominant poles of the drug-discovery universe is extensive and continues to grow in the existing databases (public and proprietary) at an exponential rate. All these measurements remind me of the careful observations made by Tycho Brahe (circa 1600) that were crucial for Kepler's insights.”

He’s right that in medicinal chemistry we’re still fundamentally an observational science. (That should have been obvious given how little math any of us need to know). We have broad theories, trends, rules of thumb – but none of it is enough to help us very much, and we’re constantly surprised by our data. That can be enjoyable, if you have the right personality type, but it sure isn’t restful, and a lot of the time it isn’t very profitable, either.

And as an amateur astronomer, I like the analogy, although it worries me a bit. Kepler (and Newton) did indeed break the impasse over the motion of the planets by explaining the available data through relatively simple (but still unexpected and non-obvious) mathematical theories. We’re not going to be so lucky, since the systems we’re studying are so much messier and subject to so many more influences. But there is room for some sense to be made out of what we’ve observed, more sense than we’ve made of it thus far, at any rate.

Understanding is not going to come down on us like a descent of holy fire, which must have been what the laws of gravity and planetary motion were like, but it won’t have to. I’m not expecting an airtight theoretical approach to predicting human blood levels or toxicity, not anytime soon. But considering that we lose amazing amounts of money because we can't predict that stuff at all, I think we're actually going to be pretty easy to impress.

Comments (16) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Development | Drug Industry History

November 9, 2007

One Year

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Posted by Derek

I was reminded yesterday that today is the one-year anniversary of the day that we found out that the Wonder Drug Factory was being closed down. I remember that presentation rather well. I was one of the more optimistic ones, thinking until the last that we had about a 50/50 chance of the ax, but by the time the meeting began everyone had heard what was really coming.

Unpleasant, that was, and it did extend a cloud over the following holiday season. The job-searching period that followed wasn't anything I'm looking to relive, either, although my severance pay kept it from being anywhere near as bad as it could have been. And in the end, things worked out well. I thought they would, but as my wife pointed out to me at the time, I generally think that things will work out well, so that isn't as good an indicator as it might otherwise be.

But the whole thing was a useful reminder: no one's sitting back in a comfortable chair in this industry. You're riding a wild animal, instead. Working at a smaller company makes it easier to remember that, as many people here around the Boston/Cambridge area know, but there's no drug company so large or so profitable that it can make any guarantees to anyone. Patents expire, companies get taken over, drugs drop out of clinical trials or get pulled off the market.

But on the flip side, discoveries get made. Things make it through trials even though no one thought they might. New ideas get tried out, and given how little we know, just about anything has a chance of improving our lot in research. That's the thing about science: we don't have to be stuck where we are; we can invent doors and walk out of them into something new.

Comments (4) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Industry History | Who Discovers and Why

November 7, 2007

Reasons to Be Different

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Posted by Derek

OK, now that we’ve thought over the Hollywood analogy to drug discovery, what about other industries? And if none of them fit, what is it about the pharmaceutical world that makes us so different?

Wildcatting for oil has come up in the comments, and that’s a pretty good one. The ratio of dry holes to gushers is probably pretty similar, and using geology to figure out where to drill isn’t that much different than trying to figure out what screening hit to start a new drug program with. The lead time between discovering something and making money off of it (and the amount that has to be spent first) also lines up pretty closely.

One difference, though, is that all oil wells yield the same thing (oil!), while drug discovery comes up with all sorts of things. The variety of our products can make it hard to do good comparisons. We can find exactly what we’re looking for, sometimes, and still lose our shirts because no one turned out to want it (Exubera!) or because the competition got there first. By contrast, everyone wants oil. That also means that the competition is much more direct in the petroleum business than across pharma. Light sweet crude, once it’s on the tanker, might as well be from anywhere, and will trade wherever you can dock and pump.

It goes for fluctuating prices, to be sure, which isn’t something that we worry about day to day over here. Our prices follow a more discontinuous model – as high as we can make them during the lifetime of the patent, and then down to a mere fraction once it expires. Patents are the very definition of wasting assets, and that’s another difference that makes many of these analogies break down. Not as many other industries have big ticking Jame-Bond-villain-style clocks sticking to the sides of their moneymaking products, counting down the days until they lose most of their value. (Fashion and food are two that I can think of, and cars to some extent).

Finally, we have the regulatory aspect, and that really sinks a lot of industry-to-industry analogies, as many people pointed out in the comments to the Andy Grove post. Intel does not have to submit its new designs and its test data to the Federal Chip Administration for approval, and its chips, if they behave in unexpected ways, are still unlikely to directly sicken or kill their users. The closest analogs I can think of are the aircraft and auto industries, particularly the former, since trouble with FAA certification has wiped out many new plane designs and sometimes the associated companies as well.

So, imagine drilling for oil. . .but instead of oil, you’re looking for something a bit different each time you drill, often something that no one’s ever looked for before. And if you manage to find it, you have to make sure, as much as you can, that it doesn’t harm or even kill your customers, because you never know, and satisfy a very hard-edged government agency of that before you can go to market. And after a set number of years, you don’t own it any more.

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November 6, 2007

Lights, Camera, Pharma!

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Posted by Derek

So, if we’re not going to learn from the chip-making industries, who should we be learning from? That question came up in the comments to the Andy Grove polemic, and it’s worth thinking about. I’ve wondered in the past about which industry is the closest to pharmaceuticals in its risks and payoffs, and I think I have a candidate. You might not like it, though: it’s Hollywood.

Think it through. The match isn’t perfect, but it’s a lot better fit than the semiconductor industry. The movie business, just like the drug industry, incurs most of its costs in the R&D and marketing areas - production costs are comparatively minimal. (Piracy, naturally, is a problem under these conditions). Sequels to past successes are a somewhat lower-risk way to make money, but those aren't sure things, either

And for both groups of companies, figuring out what will be a hit is extremely hard, sometimes next to impossible (remember screenwriter William Goldman's maxim about Hollywood: "Nobody knows anything"). Companies try to live from blockbuster to blockbuster, banking enough money to find the next one.

The differences? Well, there are several, with the advantages mostly going to Hollywood. There's regulatory pressure, for one thing. The entry barrier to getting a movie distributed is a lot lower than getting a drug past the FDA. That reflects the relative differences between entertainment and medical care - the latter is clearly going to get a lot more serious scrutiny than the former. Another difference is that movies can continue making money for a much, much longer time than drugs can. Copyright just keeps on getting extended - roughly every time the early Disney characters start to come close to going into the public domain, by some odd coincidence - but no one's talking about similarly lengthening patent terms, are they? And movies continue on in other money-making forms after their theatrical run (DVDs and the like). For their part, drugs go generic, and while there's still plenty of money to be made, it's not as much as during their patent lifetimes, and not much of it is made by the original company.

On the other hand, the studios have probably managed to target just about every possible need of their audience at one time or another over the years, whereas we in the drug business have a lot of unmet medical needs waiting for us to do something about them. And our knowledge base (what to target, why, and how) is increasing with time, albeit slowly and jerkily, while the movie industry doesn't look to become a science any time soon.

The single biggest breakdown in the analogy are the salaries paid to the top stars, and their role in making a movie popular. I can't think of a clear correlate in the drug business. Even so, are there some lessons we might be able to learn from those guys? The way different studios have been set up, perhaps, or how they work out portfolios of releases or handle different sorts of production deals? Worth thinking about. . .

Update: In a clear great-minds-think-alike situation, this exact analogy was covered here earlier this year. And for a crack at the same analogy from 2005, check out The Stalwart here, who got the idea from James Surowiecki in the New Yorker.

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Andy Grove: Rich, Famous, Smart and Wrong

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Posted by Derek

So I see that Andy Grove, ex-Intel, is telling everyone that the drug industry could use some of that Moore's Law magic. I've noticed that people who spend a lot of time in the computer business often have an. . .interesting perspective on what constitutes progress in other fields, and we might as well appoint Grove the spokesman for their worldview:

Q: In what way does the semiconductor industry offer lessons to pharma?
A: I picked the semiconductor industry because it's the one I know; I spent 40 years in it, during which it became the foundation for all of electronics. It has done a bunch of unbelievable things, powering computers of increasing power and speed. But in the treatment of Parkinson's, we have gone from levodopa to levodopa. ALS [Lou Gehrig's disease] has no good treatment; Alzheimer's has none.

To me, the first sentence of that answer is the key one. As for the rest of it, hey, it's all true. Perhaps one explanation for the difference between the two fields is that they're driven by fundamentally different processes? Nah, that can't be right:

Q: Why is the speed of progress so different in semiconductor research and drug development?
A: The fundamental tenet that drives us all in the semiconductor industry is a deeply felt conviction that what matters is time to market, or time to money. But you never hear an executive from a pharmaceutical company say, "Before the end of the year I'm going to have xyz drug," the way Steve Jobs said the iPhone would be out on schedule. The heart of every high-tech executive has been, get the product into customers' hands and ramp up production. That drive is just not present in pharma; the drive to get sufficient understanding and go for it is missing.

Well. Where to begin? Let's start with a minor fact, and work our way up. I've been in this industry for eighteen years, and I cannot count the number of year-end goals I've had to deal with. Number of new targets identified, number of new projects started, number of compounds recommended for development, number of compounds progressed to Phase II, number taken to the FDA. It never ends. If Andy Grove hasn't heard a pharma executive talk about all the wonderful things that are going to be done by a given timeline, he needs to listen harder.

But here's the rough part: although drug company people talk like this, they're full of manure when they do. These year-end goals, in my experience, do very little good and in some cases do a fair amount of harm. I'll bet some of my readers have sat in a few meetings - I sure have - and looked up at the screen thinking "Why on earth are we recommending this drug to go on?", only to have the answer be "Because it's early November". More idiotic things may get done in the name of meeting year-end numerical goals than for any other reason in this industry, so thanks, but I'll try to ignore the recommendation to do them some more, but good and hard this time.

Mr. Grove, here's the short form: medical research is different than semiconductor research. It's harder. Ever seen one of those huge blow-ups of a chip's architecture? It's awe-inspiring, the amount of detail that's crammed into such a small space. And guess what - it's nothing, it's the instructions on the back of a shampoo bottle compared to the complexity of a living system.

That's partly because we didn't build them. Making the things from the ground up is a real advantage when it comes to understanding them, but we started studying life after it had a few billion years head start. What's more, Intel chips are (presumably) actively designed to be comprehensible and efficient, whereas living systems - sorry, Intelligent Design people - have been glued together by relentless random tinkering. Mr. Grove, you can print out the technical specs for your chips. We don't have them for cells.

And believe me, there are a lot more different types of cells than there are chips. Think of the untold number of different bacteria, all mutating and evolving while you look at them. Move on to all the so-called simple organisms, your roundworms and fruit flies, which have occupied generations of scientists and still not given up their biggest and most important mysteries. Keep on until you hit the lower mammals, the rats and mice that we run our efficacy and tox models in. Notice how many different kinds there are, and reflect on how much we really know about how they differ from each other and from us. Now you're ready for human patients, in all their huge, insane variety. Genetically we're a mighty hodgepodge, and when you add environment to that it's a wonder that any drug works at all.

Andy Grove has had prostate cancer, and now suffers from Parkinson's, so it's no wonder that he's taken aback at how poorly we understand each of those diseases - not to mention all the rest of them. But his experience in the technology world has warped his worldview. We are not suffering from a lack of urgency over here - talk to anyone who's working for a small company shoveling its cash into the furnace quarter by quarter, or for a large one watching its most lucrative patents inexorably melt away. And we don't suffer from a lack of hard-charging modern management techniques, that's for sure.

What we suffer from is working on some of the hardest scientific problems in the history of the species. Mr. Grove, the rest of your recommendations don't betray much familiarity with the industry, either, so there may be only one way to make you really understand this. If you really, really believe in your ideas, please: start your own company. You've got the seed money; you can raise plenty more just by waving your hand. Start your own small pharma, your own biotech. Hire a bunch of bright no-nonsense researchers and show us all how it's done. Tell them that you're going to have a drug for Parkinson's by the end of the year, if that's what you think is lacking. Prove me and the rest of the industry wrong.

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October 22, 2007

Surveying the Exubera Crater

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Posted by Derek

Pfizer has pulled the inhaled insulin Exubera from the market, and not because of the FDA, and not because of the lawyers. They’re giving up on it because they can’t take the pain any more. The company sold 12 million dollars worth of the stuff so far this year, a horrifyingly tiny amount. That represents about 0.3% of the insulin market, which we can round off to "zero". The ticket out is a mere 2.8 billion dollar charge against earnings. It's the first time I can remember a company pulling a drug just because it was losing so much money - of course, Pfizer is not a normal company, and these are not normal times, especially for them.

There are plenty of post-mortems around, from the front page of the Wall Street Journal onward. (See the Journal’s Health Blog, Matthew Herper’s blog at Forbes, Pharmalot and the folks at Invivoblog for more). I have my own, naturally, since a disaster of this size admits of many interpretations. Here’s what it says to me:

1. Marketing isn’t everything. The next time someone tells you about how drug companies can sell junk that people don’t need through their powerful, money-laden sales force, spare a thought for Pfizer. The biggest drug company in the world, with the biggest sales force and the biggest cash reserves, couldn’t move this turkey. People didn’t want it, and they didn’t buy it.

The flip side of this is that even the drugs that folks love to hate, the ones that no one can figure out why they do as well as they do, must be doing something for some people. Perhaps other, cheaper drugs would do something quite similar, and we can discuss cost/benefit ratios, but you couldn’t sell them if people didn’t feel that benefit in the denominator. Not many people felt it from Exubera.

2. Internal sales estimates can be a joke. People inside the drug companies have known this for a long time, although they’d often rather not think about it. Analysts have known it, too, but they're forced to pay attention to those numbers anyway. But man, look at the magnitude of this one. Just as Warner-Lambert tried to kill Lipitor before they brought it to market (who needs another statin?), Pfizer was telling analysts a few years ago that their projections for Exubera sales (a billion dollars a year) were just too darn low. Two billion a year by 2010, thank you and please correct the error. Only off by a factor of one hundred, and what’s two log units between friends?

Sales forecasts are not science, and they only bear a superficial resemblance to math (where the phrase "imaginary number" is rather more strictly defined). They are guesses, and some of them are good guesses and some of them are awful, and unfortunately when you first look them over, they all smell about the same.

3. Groups aren’t necessarily smarter. This is the flip side of all the “Wisdom of Crowds” stuff, which only works when a lot of people (who think of a lot of different things) all get a crack at a subject. Inside a company, though, diversity of opinion sometimes doesn’t get much respect, and the problem gets worse in areas like marketing (and worse as you go into the higher ranks). Think of what would have happened to a Pfizer exec who forecast a 0.3% market share and a 2.8 billion dollar charge for Exubera when everyone else was revising their figures up a billion. It would have taken a fantastic amount of nerve to make a call that contrarian, and the rewards for being right (if any) would definitely not have been worth it. Even if someone had a terrible suspicion, it was surely much safer to keep quiet.

Groups of people can, in fact, be quite stupid. People will deliberately not bring their minds to bear on a problem, in order to get along with their co-workers, to not stick their heads up, or just to make the damned meetings end more quickly.

4. Pfizer is in vast amounts of trouble. While not an original thought, it's an unavoidable one. We all know the problems they have, and believe it, they do too. But what to do? I remarked a few weeks ago that Pfizer's situation reminded me of a slow-motion film of a train running toward a cliff, and a colleague of mine said "Yeah, me too, but in this case they're still boarding passengers and loading their luggage".

Comments (18) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Diabetes and Obesity | Drug Industry History

October 3, 2007

More Layoffs, And What They Might Mean

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Posted by Derek

Unfortunately, it appears that Johnson & Johnson is continuing to trim their chemistry staff. I’ve heard from people there that another round of layoffs have hit, most of them to take effect later this year. And as usual, the company doesn’t seem to be making any public announcement about this. Readers with more details are welcome to add them in the comments. . .

This has clearly not been a good year to be a drug researcher here in the US, what with the Bayer and Pfizer upheavals earlier and now this. There seem to be several reasons for this, some of which are specific to the companies involved. Pfizer, for example, was faced with some hard choices after taking some grievous hits in their advanced clinical pipeline, with the torcetrapib disaster being the intolerable last torpedo. Bayer ended up paying a lot more for their merger with Schering AG than they expected to (a merger that was surely going to involve some job losses even before the price went up). J&J, for their part, seems by their actions to believe that their future lies more in running fewer in-house programs and inlicensing more from other people.

And there are trends that affect everyone, on top of these local troubles. Low clinical research productivity at many big firms is proverbial, which is why some of these mergers and re-orgs are happening in the first place. In the preclinical world, a lot of routine (and some less routine) work is going overseas, which is no news to anyone. The changes in the industry are catching even really good scientists, so it’s definitely not safe to be doing an OK job on things that pretty much everyone else is doing. There aren’t any safe jobs in the business, and there haven’t been any for quite some time now, when you look back on it.

My belief is that we’re witnessing a broad shift in this country to a larger fraction of researchers being employed at the smaller companies. One thing that the US has which not many other places have imitated is our venture-capital culture. Our mechanisms for funding ideas are second to none in their speed and scope. Given that, I think that we may be heading into a world where drug research is broken down into smaller independent units – startups. These shops open up (and close down) with greater speed, and their successes and failures are likewise magnified.

Instead of Huge Company X moving along with some projects working really well and some dragging along, imagine each therapeutic area (or in extreme cases, each project) split out into a separate company. Some will work, some won’t, and some will move up and some will disappear. This affects the way these projects are run, naturally. In a smaller company, there’s more pressure to get something to the clinic (and the market), and at the same time there’s an increased willingness to take chances and try out new approaches to get there.

If this idea of mine is true, it means that we’re all, on the average, probably going to end up working for a longer list of companies than we might have planned on. (I already have!) It also means that the locations that have the best small-company culture will have a leg up, since they have access to a larger (and more easily accessed) pool of equipment, facilities, and potential employees. Keep in mind that this is the voice of someone who’s worked for larger companies, and is now working for a smaller one in Cambridge – but think about it.

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September 24, 2007

Good News From the HR Department!

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Posted by Derek

Enough time has passed so that I can talk about one of the more puzzlingly boneheaded decisions I’ve seen in the drug industry. Some years ago, the company I worked for decided to try out a new salary-based incentive plan. Nothing particularly unusual about that – the existing system was pretty generic, with the usual performance ratings, salary bands, and so on. (Finding out what salaries were tied to what levels, and which raises were tried to which ratings was difficult, but there’s nothing unusual about that, either).

But this new plan, rolled out first to the people in the Clinical division, was definitely something new. Here’s how it worked: your pay got cut 25%.

Well, that was an attention-getter, eh? But that’s how it worked. Everyone’s base salary was reduced, but (and here’s the good part), you could earn your way back to what you used to make by. . .meeting the goals that you’d outlined in your beginning-of-the-year Research Goals Statement! Hey, as the HR people pointed out excitedly in the rollout presentations, with this plan you could even earn more than your base salary if you exceeded the goals – what could be better?

You can probably guess the consternation with which this was greeted. It was immediately noticed, as in within the first few seconds, that such things as the profit-sharing plan payout were based on a per cent of base salary. That was going to get cut no matter what. But there was another (non-mathematical) problem with this brainstorm: the research goals statements that it all depended on were, as everyone knew, worthless.

How could they not be? How are you supposed to write down what you’re going to discover and what you’re going to do about it? These folks didn’t want broad general statements this time; they wanted specific, quantifiable goals that could be used to decide just how much you’d be paid. I remember arguing with someone from HR during an “informational meeting” about all this. I told her that if I knew what I was going to be doing in six months, it wouldn’t be research, would it? And I told her that no matter what the org chart said, my real bosses were a bunch of mice in cages and cells in a dish, and they didn’t know what the corporate goals were and they couldn’t be “Coached For Success”, the way that poster on the wall said.

This did no good. I got the impression that she thought that I was either making a joke, misinformed, lying to her about all this, or just rather slow in the head. At any rate, it turned out not to be a problem for me, or for anyone in research. As I mentioned above, this plan was first applied, on a test basis, to the people over in the Clinical department, and within two or three weeks several of the best people over there had found new jobs and hit the road. As, of course, anyone should have been able to anticipate.

There’s an awful lot of job mobility in the drug business. Everywhere you go you work alongside people who’ve worked somewhere else, and every year there’s some migration in and out. This salary plan might had worked out had our company been located on a remote tropical island, but even then people would have been chopping down palm trees and building rafts. Located where we were, with plenty of other companies around, it had no chance.

A hard-copy memo came out early one morning to the Clinical people, and it spread rapidly throughout the site. It was poorly formatted and grammatically incoherent, and once decoded it stated that the proposed salary plan would not be implemented and that no further ideas of that sort were coming. Some people suspected a poorly executed hoax, but to me the memo had all the signs of being authentic (which it was). It read exactly like something a VP-level person might compose, without the aid of his secretary, while his immediate superior stood behind him with a raised golf club. And so things returned to what passed for normal.

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September 19, 2007

The Good Old CombiChem Days

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Posted by Derek

Yesterday's post set off a discussion of the 1990s combichem boom in the comments. I joined the industry before that took off, and watched it with interest.

For those outside the field, combinatorial chemistry was (is, I guess) the semi-automated generation of large numbers of diverse organic compounds. The basic idea was that you'd start with, say, building block A, which would react with a big library of reactant partners B1. . .Bzillion. The resulting compounds would then be reacted with another big set of coupling partners, C1. . .Cmonstrous, and this might be designed to take place out at the end of the B part, or on another part of the A region, etc. There were many pool-split-mix methods worked out to generate the maximum number of different compounds. Various strategies generated either individual compounds or mixtures of different ones and all sorts of techniques were developed to make it all happen in a less labor-intensive fashion. These included bonding the starting materials (or the reagents) onto solid resin bead supports until the end of the synthesis, the better to move things around, along with ingenious schemes for tagging and identifying what was ending up in which vials.

The idea was that we'd generate lots (lots) more compounds for random screening than we'd ever have before. And for a while, it looked like the companies that did this the first with the most were going to have the drop on everyone else. It stood to reason - many of our high-throughput screens didn't generate anything useful to start working on, so if technology now allowed you to brute-force your way into getting things to hit, well, you'd be crazy not to.

A frenzy ensued. People that no one had heard of were suddenly in demand as consultants and invited speakers at conferences. Whole companies were started to make and sell combinatorial libraries of compounds - a couple of them are even still in business, although the road has been pretty jumpy. Larger companies started in-house efforts, some of them rather lavish. Some people talked about traditional medicinal chemistry receding to a specialty, as the mighty compound factories came on line (more than one person tried to sell me on this idea personally).

But as time went on, and the piles of combichem stuff made it into the screening collections, people began to note with unease that, well, not so many lead compounds were coming out. In fact, it eventually became clear that the hit rate for most combichem stuff was lower than for the general old-fashioned screening collections. That went double for the combi libraries from the first part of the boom, many of which are now regarded as basically worthless.

What happened? Well, the techniques that generated larger mixtures of compounds were trouble from the start, because it's hard enough to screen individual compounds well. But even single-compound collections had their problems. A larger difficulty was that the chemistry that could be used under the more highly automated combichem protocols was limited. Many useful reactions were bypassed because there was no good way to do them on solid supports with minimal purification afterwards. There sure were an awful lot of amides, ureas, and sulfonamides produced, I can tell you. Not that there's anything wrong with these groups, but when you start to have multiple instances of them in the same molecule, you can veer off into undesirable territory.

Overall, as has been realized, the chemical diversity offered by combichem's early years was largely spurious. People went out and did the stuff that was easiest to do, with what was on hand, and that translated to a much spottier coverage of chemical space than was first realized. Combichem itself survives, but compared to the mid-1990s it's a backwater.

But there's still a place for it. People have been steadily introducing a greater variety of chemistry into it, and everyone's now more aware of how hard it is to make truly diverse compound collections. Once the hot air hissed out of it, combichem was revealed as what it really had been all along: a tool. One of many, to be used as appropriate.

Update: Here's a take on the field from the inside, from Org Prep Daily.

Comments (10) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Industry History

September 9, 2007

Guess That Market

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Posted by Derek

When a drug company starts off a new project, a lot of things go into the decision. Most of them are scientific decisions, but a big one that isn't is the projected market size. It's a business, and if you keep developing things that don't earn out their costs (and plenty more), you won't be part of the business for long.

These market numbers aren't the most reliable in the world - Pfizer, for example, appears to have been surprised by how well Viagra did, and Bayer and Lilly were likewise surprised that their follow-ups didn't repeat. For a more recent example, try Pfizer's Exubera. Its potential as a big winner was already much eroded by the time it finally made it to market, but surely it's selling even below their worst projections.

But underserved markets give you something you can depend on. A safe, effective anti-obesity drug would clearly reap billions - not that I'm expecting to see one. An effective HDL-raising therapy would do the same in the cardiovascular market (but hold on tight if you're trying to develop one of those, too). And CNS is full of opportunities, like Alzheimer's. Mind you, those opportunities are there because people keep trying and failing to do much for the diseases, but there's definitely a fortune waiting for the first thing that does.

As you can see, the risk-reward curve is pretty similar to what you see in finance. If you want the big returns, you have to take the big risks. "Big risk" is a relative term around here, though, since even the plainest of vanilla rip-off me-toos can implode on you, taking all its costs with it. But in general, it's the same no-free-lunch graph as everywhere else in the world.

There are some exceptions, but the problem (as always) is that it's usually impossible to see them coming. Lipitor is the first example that comes to mind - Warner-Lambert just about killed it because it was going to be the umpteenth statin, and they didn't think its market share would justify the development costs. (I should have mentioned that one back in the first paragraph, when I was talking about shaky market projections!) It was only after the drug got well into the clinic that its potential began to show itself, just as Exubera was far along before its deficiencies became clear.

On a macro level, one of the big problems is the disconnect between underserved markets and underserved populations. Tropical diseases like malaria are an instant example. An effective antimalarial would be taken by huge numbers of people, but many of them still couldn't begin to afford the cheapest pharmaceuticals in the world, which is a real dilemma. (Of course, there's also the possibility that the sudden introduction of such a drug might help precipitate a Malthusian crisis in countries with traditionally high death rates, but better to deal with that than have the current situation, I'd say).

There are several methods that have been tried to bring things in line. The Orphan Drug Act is an example from inside the US (making diseases with smaller numbers of patients more financially attractive), and there's perennial talk of something similar for tropical diseases through prizes and other incentives. A different world would do things still differently, but we don't, to the best of my ability to see, live in one.

Comments (8) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Development | Drug Industry History | Drug Prices

September 2, 2007

Renin, Wherefore Art Thou, Renin?

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Posted by Derek

I notice that the first marketed renin inhibitor seems to be doing fairly well. That's an interesting phrase, "first marketed renin inhibitor". . .

This is a good example of what drug discovery can be like. Renin is a fine drug target – it’s been known for a long time as a key component of blood pressure regulation, and that’s a condition affecting a huge market whose treatment provides a real medical benefit. What more do you want?

OK, let’s make it even more attractive. It’s not that hard to set up a renin assay, and the protein is well-studied. The counterscreens and secondary assays are not a problem; hypertension is fairly well understood. And if you screen for renin inhibitors, you generally find chemical matter to start off with, too. Protease inhibitors vary quite a bit in their drug-likeness, but they’re certainly not impossible on the face of them.

But even after all this, I would not like to be asked to count how many renin inhibitors have been reported over the years, never to be seen again. The first reports I can find go back to the early 1980s. Given the lead time for these things, I can safely assume that these compounds were being made around the time I went the my high school Junior Prom (theme: “Saturday Night Fever”, natch – it was 1978, after all). And here we are in 2007, and the first one has finally made it to market. It wasn't easy, either - the compound was left for dead years ago, and was only kept going by some ex-Novartis people who started their own company and licensed the compound back to Novartis when it finally made it through the rough spots.

So, what’s the problem? Many compounds have been done in by poor behavior in living models (distribution, absorption, and so on). Getting oral bioavailability in this area has been a lot harder than anyone thought, and even the current drug is no great winner in that category. Projects start and stop, difficulties occur, and the years go by. And other mechanisms for going after hypertension have, of course, come to market, starting with the ACE inhibitors (which come from roughly the same disco era as the first run of renin compounds). They took the gigantic market that an early-1980s renin inhibitor would have had, but even so, I don’t think a year has gone by since that someone in the industry hasn’t been working on one. (There's still room to think that a renin compound would have a better profile than the existing drugs, though). And here we are: 2007. A sobering thought, that is.

Comments (4) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Cardiovascular Disease | Drug Development | Drug Industry History

July 27, 2007

You Discover It, We Sell It. Deal?

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Posted by Derek

There was a comment to the previous post which asked an interesting question: if you look at the best-selling drugs in the portfolios of the major companies, what percentage of them were developed in-house?

I'm sure that someone has already done this analysis, but I haven't been able to lay my hands on it. But in some cases it's a rather embarassing figure - Pfizer, for example, which brings up the question of how you define "in-house" when the house keeps expanding. The rigorous definition - a project (and chemical matter) that started inside the company and went all the way to market - is probably the way to go. A drug that came about through buying a compound, a target, or a whole company doesn't qualify.

It's impossible to talk about this without someone bringing up the idea of a virtual drug company - one that doesn't do any of its own discovery research, but exists to do clinical, regulatory, and marketing. This ideas has been kicking around for fifteen or twenty years that I know of, and probably longer. The best argument I can make against it is that no one's tried it yet. I'd be very surprised if this hasn't been seriously looked at and rejected.

My strong suspicion is that when you run the numbers (how many compounds are available, how much they'd cost, etc.) that you can't quite make it work. Bidding is already expensive for the good stuff, and a company that tried to live only by buying things in would often find itself paying the highest prices possible. And that's assuming that there were enough compounds out there in the first place, no matter the price, and I have my doubts about that, too.

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July 25, 2007

From the Sequencer to the Drugstore?

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Posted by Derek

A science writer who's read this blog for some time asked me a question which I thought I'd throw out to the readership. I was, in yesterday's post, making reference through gritted teeth to the amount of money the drug industry spent on genomic approaches. So here's the question, verbatim: "What drugs, if any, have been developed thanks in large part to insights gleaned from the human genome project?"

I don't think we're going to have to use many fingers, personally, given what I've seen. The "in large part" clause will take care of a lot of tangential cases that have been claimed mostly for PR purposes. There may be some dispute about the word "developed", since it could still be early for something to be hitting the market from the time of the Human Genome Project. Let's take that to mean "shown substantial and continuing clinical progress".

And I realize that there's room to argue about the "human genome project" part of the question, too, since many small companies (deCODE, Millennium, Incyte, etc.) did a lot of work of their own outside of the official HGP. But for argument's sake, let's throw the question open to all the genomic approaches. Examples?

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July 24, 2007

Godzilla vs. Mothra? Relman vs. Epstein!

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Posted by Derek

Arnold Relman is back. The co-author, with Marcia Angell, of The Truth About The Drug Companies, has a long review in The New Republic of Richard Epstein's new book on the industry, Overdose.

Not everything in Epstein's book is right, and not everything in Relman's review of it is wrong. But when Relman misses, he misses big. Take, for example, this:

"Indeed, the industry's greatest enemy is itself. Innovation by the major pharmaceutical firms has certainly fallen off sharply in recent years, but there is good evidence that the cause lies with the industry's own policies rather than with government regulation. The drug companies are being driven more by financial ambition and marketing considerations than by scientific or public health objectives, and that is the root of their current problems."

That must be why we plowed all that money into genomics, among other technologies: marketing made us do it. I knew we'd track down the culprits eventually! OK, Relman's targets here are the "me-too" drugs, which I've written about many times on this site. I get the strong impression that he underestimates the cost and difficulty of developing these - he seems to think that it's pretty much a breeze once the first drug in a class has hit the market. Actually, to my mind, one of the main advantages companies are seeking in a me-too is that the first drug has proven that a market exists, and that its mechanism actually works. The development costs for the later drugs, though, aren't hugely cheaper than for the first one. And, I might add, they still don't always work.

Inside the industry, people spend a lot of time talking about why productivity has gone down (we're in agreement on that point). But you don't hear many people advancing Relman's pet thesis, that we're spending too much time chasing each other. That's because I think he's confusing cause and effect a bit: we're not unproductive because of the me-too drugs - we're making me-too drugs because a lot of our other stuff doesn't work.

Believe me, companies would love to come up with new therapies for underserved markets - Alzheimer's, say - or to come up with anticancer compounds that would do for the many what the likes of Gleevec do for the few. And we'd certainly make money at these, too - if we could find a way to do them. Saying that it's for lack of trying just doesn't ring true.

That mention of making money brings up another favorite part of Relman's review:

"Regardless of the disease it targets, and whatever the benefit, no one has ever adequately explained exactly how the "value" of any new drug can be translated into dollars. It seems more likely that the price of newly approved patented drugs is simply set at whatever the manufacturer believes the market will bear. "

Good Lord! Where will it end, if companies price things according to what they think that people will pay for them? I look forward to the establishment of the Relman Board, which will determine, by means doubtless beyond my abilities to understand, the True Price (trademark applied for) of all drugs. Problem is, Relman himself probably looks forward to that, too. . .

Comments (23) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: "Me Too" Drugs | Drug Industry History | Drug Prices

July 11, 2007

First Impressions

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Posted by Derek

Cambridge takes some getting used to, that's for sure. In some parts of town, it's a safe bet that most of the buildings you see are filled with people holding up flasks and staring at them with irritated expressions. The small one-story sites generally house firms that no one much has heard of, sometimes several of them to a building. Then there are the mighty research palaces of Novartis, Amgen, and the like, which manage to state in glass and brick (as clearly as any words could) what black ink will do for you as opposed to red.

New Jersey, where I started out in the industry, has plenty of people in the industry. But the atmosphere was different. Perhaps it was the way that the companies were more spread out into different towns: against a densely populated background they didn't stand out as much. Perhaps it was just some essential Jerseyness that diluted things - after living there for eight years, I wouldn't rule that explanation out.

I do remember my wife and I having dinner at a Japanese restaurant near our house and hearing the table next to us discussing problems with a radioactive assay protocol, but that sort of thing didn't happen as often as you'd think. But here the techno-geek vibrations travel pretty much unimpeded, which is fine with me. . .

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June 20, 2007

Bigger, Tougher, Longer? Or Not?

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Posted by Derek

Here's a question that was posed to me an an e-mail, which I thought I'd open up to everyone. Is the perception accurate that new clinical candidates (and new approved drugs) are getting more complex? And if so, are the processes used to make them getting longer and more complicated at the same rate?

I've seen the charts on the increasing molecular weight, etc., of candidates over the years, which is one surrogate for complexity. The relentless trend toward single enantiomers is probably a driver, too, so I'm certainly willing to credit the idea that the molecules are getting gradually woolier. What I'm wondering, though, is whether this is being reflected in the process work. Has anyone seen any statistics on "average number of chemical steps" or the like?

My guess is that it's been increasing, but more slowly. I think that modern synthetic methods are making up some of the difference, but I'd be interested in some actual, y'know, proof for this. Thoughts?

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April 5, 2007

Awful, No Doubt. But Not As Awful as Before?

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Posted by Derek

Cancer drugs have a terrible history in clinical trials. The most definitive figure, from development candidates of the 1980s and up to the mid-1990s or so, was a cold, hard, 95% failure rate. That beat even the central nervous system (CNS) drug category, which is a spacious haunted mansion all its own. One reason for this is that all kinds of things get thrown at oncology targets, because there's so much unmet need in the category. Whenever someone comes up with a new technology - monoclonal antibodies, antisense DNA (or RNA interference), disease-altering vaccines, etc. - you can bet that someone's going to try it out on a cancer target. Not all this stuff is going to work, needless to say.

But I wonder if that figure still holds. Starting later on in the 1990s, and gathering speed ever since, a lot of the small-molecule drug candidates in the cancer area have been kinase inhibitors. Now, back when I took my first pharma job, those compounds weren't in very good favor, partly because the key structural motifs that everyone uses today hadn't been worked out yet. If you mentioned kinase inhibitors in the labs, likely as not someone would spit in the sink and say something rude about staurosporine.

That was one of the early potent kinase inhibitors, a fairly nasty natural product. (Note: outdated web page in that link, which fits the subject). All sorts of people worked on staurosporine-like compounds during the 1980s and beyond, and most all those projects came to grief of one sort or another. It gave the whole field an unhealthy look.

There were also good reasons to think that no really selective kinase inhibitors could be discovered (since the enzymes have many structural similarities), and that the resulting broad-spectrum compounds would have just too many side effects to be useful. But molecular biology was uncovering a role for many kinase enzymes in cancer and other disease states, so people kept taking a crack at the area, and finally some far less ugly compound classes were discovered that broke the field open. Once decent compounds were in hand, it was found that they weren't as toxic as everyone had feared. Selectivity was still an issue, but you could sort of tune the structures to inhibit various groups of kinases over others.

I would not want to hazard a guess as to how many kinase inhibitors have gone into development over the past ten or twelve years. It's a pile, for sure - just look at KinasePro and Xcovery to get the idea. I will guess, though, that they haven't failed at quite that horrific 95% rate, and that a 1995-2010 survey of the field will show an improvement. Mind you, the record-holder in the earlier survey was, cardiovascular area, where only about 85% of the compounds collapsed, so don't think I'm talking about a huge increase. But when only one out of twenty of your drugs makes it, getting up to two in twenty means that you have twice as many drugs.

Comments (11) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Cancer | Drug Development | Drug Industry History

February 25, 2007

Biotech's Net Loss?

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Posted by Derek

The other day I made a quick comment that I wasn't sure which would have a higher rate of return - biotech stocks or lottery tickets. Some folks liked the comparison, and others didn't, naturally. But there are some points worth thinking about in it.

For one thing, we have to distinguish between the gains realized by the companies themselves, versus those realized by their stocks. The former figures have already been calculated fairly recently (2004) by David Hamilton in the Wall Street Journal (subscriber link here), and I wrote about their figures at the time.

The best estimate was that since the first biotech company went public, total operating losses in the industry have amounted to some 40 billion dollars. Genentech and Amgen do what they can with all the black ink that they generate, but they're overwhelmed each year by the tide of the red stuff. I can only imagine what this figure would be if it included non-public biotechs, every single one of which (as far as I know) has run at a loss. After all, when you start to look like you're going to turn a profit someday, you're already public, right?

During this period, investors have put about 100 billion into the public companies, so we know where 40% of that money has gone, at any rate. Ah, but you're saying, these investors got stock in return, and how's that done, eh? Undeniably, some of the issues have made people fantastic amounts of money - Amgen, for example, has returned several hundred-fold on an investment at its IPO price in the early 1980s, although surely no human being has held it for that entire time. Of course, somewhere around 15 or 20 per cent of all the biotech companies that have gone public over the years turn out to have returned nothing at all, having disappeared in a blizzard of worthless stock, so that does cut into things. Still, biotech has been up over that time - but compared to what? As a whole, the article suggested, the sector has failed to even come close to the S&P 500's rate of return over the last 25 years. (And I'm not sure if that comparison includes transaction costs, which because of all the turnover in the sector would skin you alive over time).

So, how's that lottery ticket comparison look? If you're looking for the next Amgen or Genentech, well, those are two stocks out of several hundred that have gone public. Those are far better odds than the jackpot in a state lottery, true (although the jackpot has an even more insane rate of return). How about the overall odds of winning, though? Looked at more broadly, most state lotteries will cause you to lose about half of every bet that you put into them (a rate which casino operators can only envy). The figures above suggest that (on an operating basis), biotech has done worse, splitting about 41/59. On a stock investment basis, it appears that you'll make money overall, but not as much as you'd make by parking the same cash in the indices, and I'd call that a loss, myself. You may not think so, but if you don't, please send the difference to me so I can give it to Vanguard myself.

I should mention that the original WSJ article is itself full of comparisons to casinos, Las Vegas, and lotteries. The point, unfortunately, is well taken. Next time, we'll talk about probability of ruin, and things will really start looking grim.

Comments (14) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Drug Industry History

February 4, 2007

Going Hollywood, For Our Own Good?

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Posted by Derek

The Scientist has a very interesting article in the latest issue, titled "Why Pharma Must Go Hollywood". The author, an executive in the industry, makes some good points. After pointing out the low-lying-fruit component to everyone's recent productivity problems, out comes this:

"The second critical and fundamental cause of pharma's productivity problem, which fortunately is potentially remediable, is what former R&D director for Burroughs Welcome, Glaxo, and Warner Lambert, Pedro Cuatrecasas, has referred to as the "pervasive mismanagement" of the R&D process. Cuatrecasas noted in a recent article in the Journal of Clinical Investigation that the rot started in the early 1970s when managers with business school or legal backgrounds, but no significant foundation in science or medicine, began to invade the upper echelons of pharma and introduce structures and practices such as "management by objectives" from industries lacking any significant R&D enterprises. This invasion was motivated by a desire to increase the efficiency of R&D and to prioritize maximizing the return on investment.

An even more stifling trend has been the recent importation of the "six sigma" business improvement methodology into aspects of pharma R&D. Six sigma was designed to improve manufacturing processes, but has been well documented to quench innovation. The intellectual bankruptcy typical of many current pharma leaders is well illustrated by the typical pharma response to faltering productivity and the resultant fall in earnings. Take, for example, Pfizer's acquisitions since 2000 of Warner-Lambert and Pharmacia. Rather than investigating and addressing the fundamental etiologies of the problem and contrary to the readily available data in the business literature, the leadership plunges into the short-term fix and ego-satisfying drama of a merger, which is almost guaranteed to stifle innovation even further."

As you can imagine, my response to this is to stomp my feet and throw roses, because it's exactly the sort of thing I've been saying around here for a long time. (I'm not alone, either). It's bizarrely refreshing to hear the phrase "pervasive mismanagement" used to describe the drug industry. I find myself sitting around repeating it in my idle moments, with mental illustrations from my own experience.

The "Hollywood" part of the article is the author's prescription for the industry. Noting the similarities between drug launches and movie launches (an idea that's been floating around for a few years now), he (or she) advocates learning from the studios that have been best at developing and managing creativity. We may, the article claims, have learned about all we can from benchmarking each other - we need to look outside the list of other pharma companies.

Why do I say "he (or she)"? Because, most unusually, the article is written anonymously. I'm quite curious about where it came from, but in the end it doesn't really matter. Anyone who works for a big company will recognize what's being talked about - the fixation on short-term results, the we're-sticking-with-this-decision-no-matter-what mentality, the command-and-control leadership style. No, William Goldman was right when he said about the movie business that "no one knows anything". And the same thing applies to the drug industry, too, but no one in the executive offices wants to admit it.

Comments (20) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Development | Drug Industry History

January 25, 2007

The Big Picture

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Posted by Derek

The Economist has a good, if rather chilling, overview of the state of the drug industry. They start from Pfizer's troubles, which are a pretty accurate summary of what's been going wrong recently.

Disagreement sets in about whether this is just another darn cyclical downturn, or the death throes of an outdated business model. The question isn't resolved - hey, it can't be resolved, not for some years yet - but a lot of good points are made along the way. A few not-so-good ones creep in, though, inevitably:

. . .one explanation for how Big Pharma's research laboratories got into trouble: the shift from conventional chemistry to the “new science” of biotechnology. Most of the dramatic scientific advances in genetics, proteomics and pharmaco-genomics have come not from the industry's cosseted and costly research centres but from academic labs and biotechnology start-ups.

Horse's nose, meet cart. That makes it sound as if these fields were some sort of drug bonanza that the industry clumsily missed out on. The problem is, those dramatic scientific advances have so far, almost without exception, not produced a single new marketed drug. They don't look to for a while yet, either. Genomics, for example, has been a frightful money pit as far as the drug industry is concerned. Most of the press releases about its wonderful impact on profitable drug discovery aren't worth the effort it would take to compost them. Ask us again in ten years.

And if you want costly, total up the money that's been spent in these areas by Big Pharma so far, in-house and on collaborations. We didn't hose it all away ourselves - no, in many cases we gave it to other people and let them hose it away for us. Outsourcing, y'know.

There's one other quote from the article that I can't let slide. Check this attitude out:

Ranbaxy, a big Indian generics firm, gobbled up six competitors last year and is now talking with private-equity firms about a bid for the generics arm of Germany's Merck. Ranbaxy's boss, Malvinder Singh, scoffs that Big Pharma “is struggling to come up with true innovation”.

He'd better hope we do, though. Where else is Ranbaxy going to get those generic drugs to sell, do you think? From elves?

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Way Out Here

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Posted by Derek

Those Pfizer predictions I posted last week were accurate in outline, but not in detail. (The company must be doing a reasonable job of clamping down on leaks). La Jolla and St. Louis survived, confounding expectations, and Michigan got hit very hard indeed.

That's sad, and ironic. The very research facility (ex Warner-Lambert) that discovered and developed Lipitor, the drug that's been most important in keeping Pfizer afloat, is getting the axe. I know some people up there, and I have a lot of sympathy for them. Not only are they out of a job, but they're out of a job in a part of the country that will almost certainly not be able to absorb them.

I'm having enough of a time trying to keep the moving vans away here in Connecticut, and my state has a real pharma/biotech presence. Nothing compares to the obvious always-find-something locations, though: Boston/Cambridge, SF/Bay Area, San Diego/La Jolla, New Jersey from Philadelphia to New York.

On the other hand, the classic example of going out on a location limb is Eli Lilly. Indianapolis, whatever its other charms (like reasonably priced housing), is not a hotbed of drug discovery research once you leave the Lilly premises. The company has generally paid people well, and it's understood that the premium is partly to offset the risk of moving to a part of the country where there's basically only one place you can work. (Well, there's Abbott in Chicago, and there used to be Searle, but it's not like anyone's going to want to commute from Indianapolis to Chicago).

Lilly's the biggest example I know of, but there are plenty of smaller companies located in unlikely places. Nominees are invited for the Most Isolated Company Award - and I'll kick things off by mentioning Albany Molecular.

Comments (51) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Industry History

January 15, 2007

Novo Nordisk Axes Med-Chem

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Posted by Derek

Here's one that I didn't see coming: Denmark's Novo Nordisk, a longtime major player in the field of diabetes, has decided to cut its small-molecule research completely. They're focusing on peptides and proteins instead. In a time when the big protein-based biotech companies (Amgen and Genentech) are trying to expand their small-molecule capabilities, Novo has decided to break the other way.

That Reuters article has various analysts talking about how this is no big surprise, that NN has never been that big in small molecules, etc. But I had a different impression. The company seemed to have a pretty good presence in many areas of diabetes research. If there was a good target to work on, you could generally count on them being in there, and they showed up in some of the less-trodden areas as well. Their patent and publication stream always looked quite strong, too.

Whether this is a trend, or the beginning of a trend, is a good question. I'm not at all convinced that it's cheaper to do protein therapies as opposed to small molecules (and it's not that I've heard anyone from Novo Nordisk making that argument, either). They must have seen more opportunities in their own biologics pipeline, and not had enough money to realize them if they kept working on the organic chemistry side of things. I'm not sure that this is a good long-term strategy, but they might be figuring that if they don't cut costs somewhere, there's not going to be a long term. So this might be specific to NN, or to companies of their size and financial standing. We shall see. . .

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January 7, 2007

Good Stuff and Bad Stuff

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Posted by Derek

It's been a while since I opened up the floor on a general question, so I thought I'd toss a couple out. Since thoughts of leaving one company and starting up at another (yet-to-be-determined) one are much on my mind, I'd like to target the industrial side of my readership with these:

What's the one thing about your company's research culture that you'd change if you could?
This can range from things that just plain get on your nerves all the way up to grave structural failures that you think will eventually take the whole place down. You don't necessarily have to offer a solution, partly because too many of those might involve building a catapult to launch specific people into the trees, but if you have something specific in mind, feel free. "Buy enough crates to ship the entire (X) Department to Zanzibar", though, isn't necessarily the appropriate level of specificity, but hey, if that would do the trick. . .

And then there's:
What's one research-related thing that you think your company really gets right?

Even companies with problems generally have at least one or two parts that seem to be working well. Uncommon examples would be particularly useful, because there might actually be something that everyone else could swipe.

Comments (25) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Industry History | Life in the Drug Labs

November 21, 2006

The Paper Mountain

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Posted by Derek

Another thing a large research site has, and in mighty impressive quantities, is paper. Something's got to be done with it, but not all laboratory paper is created equal.

Of course, a lot of the mass represents hard copies of files that exist in digital form. Non-proprietary stuff (journal articles that are no longer needed, etc.) will go into big recycling bins to be handled by guys who really have some long days ahead of them. A serious office move (and this is about as serious as it gets) is a good chance to toss ancient literature folders whose contents have become outdated. I just heaved out a pile of that stuff the other day, since I don't thing that 1991 reviews of Alzheimer's pathology are going to come back into fashion. I also had a bunch of miscellaneous hard copies of the Journal of Organic Chemistry from the early 1990s stuffed into a file cabinet - out they went. They were joined by old copies of C&E News, local phone books, 3-ring binder contents of short courses whose contents I don't expect to ever need, and a pile of chemical company and lab equipment catalogs.

Pages with proprietary data on them are a different matter. They're to be tossed in a special shredder box, to be picked up later by some other guys who are also going to earn their money. There are trailer-size portable shredder operations that you can hire for occasions like this. Compound lists, graphs of in vivo activity, photocopies of notebook procedures, handouts from project meetings - all that stuff is headed down this path. Different people save different amounts of this material. I save all the computer files, but heave most of the paper when a project finishes up, so I don't have as much in this category.

Things like printed NMR spectra used to be in a special category, because back in the days of expensive digital storage the hard copy was all you had. I guarded my NMR spectra pile fiercely in grad school, since I was going to need that data to get out of there. And in my first years in the industry, digital archiving was spotty. Now that gigabytes are carried around on key chains, all spectral data are automatically archived, so hard copies are just a convenience.

At the top of the paper mountain are lab notebooks. We switched over to an electronic notebook system a few years ago, but it didn't relieve us of the obligation of keeping a hard copy. Printouts are to be taped into the good ol' notebooks, and signed and witnesses just like the handwritten pages of yore. That's a legal requirement, and scientists at research sites across this great nation are regularly harangued about keeping up to date on it. It does little good. Researchers are just not wired to get things countersigned on a regular basis.

That can lead to some real problems for US patents in particular. We're still a "first to invent" country, while the rest of the world is mostly "first to file". And if you get in an argument about the date of an invention, well, lab notebooks are probably where you're going to end up. An invention that isn't signed and witnessed until a year or so later isn't going to help much in that situation. Admittedly, it's rare that things get to that point, but when they do it means that serious money is at stake.

So no one's throwing away any notebooks, that's for sure. And we're all getting them up to date, signed off on, etc. Companies keep track of every extant lab notebook - they're all numbered, and completed ones no longer in immediate use are kept under lock and key. Nothing's going to be allowed to slide.

Comments (4) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Closing Time | Closing Time | Drug Industry History | Patents and IP

November 9, 2006

Help Wanted - I Hope

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Posted by Derek

Well, here's a post I didn't think I'd be writing, although the possibility (given my industry) has always been there. The Wonder Drug Factory has decided to totally rearrange their research divisions, and we've been informed that our site is slated to close. Several hundred people will be losing their jobs, and I'm one of them. I don't agree with the decision (hey, I never think it's a good idea to turn me out on the street), but "out of my hands" doesn't begin to describe it. By all appearances, things will be shut down by the end of the year.

So the job search is on, and I'm going to start it by using whatever size platform I've built here. As for my background and experience, well, si curriculum vitae requiris, circumspice. I'm told by colleagues that reading my site is a pretty good simulation of having me around in person, so (for better or worse), that's what you'd be getting. I can provide a more traditional CV on request, of course, with the accompanying lists of patents, publications, and previous projects.

For family reasons, I'd prefer to stay in Connecticut, but I'll obviously start looking farther afield depending on what's out there. Industrial drug discovery is my strong point, naturally, but I'm certainly willing to listen to other ideas (academia, etc.) I can be contacted at derek-lowe@sbcglobal.net. I also want to mention that I have a number of very capable colleagues, at all levels of experience. Recruiters and search firms, give me a call - I can put you on to some excellent prospects: chemists, biologists - we've got 'em all. Or more accurately, we had them all, until today.

I'd been reasonably optimistic as the clouds gathered here over the last few months, but at the same time I've been preparing for this event, which is within error bars of the worst case. As for my attitude toward such things, I can tell you that Epictetus said it a long time ago:

Work, therefore to be able to say to every harsh appearance, "You are but an appearance, and not absolutely the thing you appear to be." And then examine it by those rules which you have, and first, and chiefly, by this: whether it concerns the things which are in our own control, or those which are not; and, if it concerns anything not in our control, be prepared to say that it is nothing to you. . .

When therefore we are hindered, or disturbed, or grieved, let us never attribute it to others, but to ourselves; that is, to our own principles. An uninstructed person will lay the fault of his own bad condition upon others. Someone just starting instruction will lay the fault on himself. Some who is perfectly instructed will place blame neither on others nor on himself.

Losing this job has not been in my control. Finding another one is. Here goes!

Comments (61) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Business and Markets | Current Events | Drug Industry History

October 24, 2006

Naming of Names

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Posted by Derek

Man, are there ever a lot of companies that I've never heard of on that compound code list. Looking over the names, some of which are clearly more inspired than others, I'd like to suggest a few biotech naming rules. Some of these I know have been previously proposed, both in our field and in other tech areas, but those gentle suggestions do not seem to have sunk in. So. . .

1. Enough of the letter X already. Ending your company name with it puts you in the middle of a herd, starting with it makes you look desperate, and putting in the middle doesn't do you any good. Double x? Idiotic. X out the x, please. It isn't high-tech any more: doesn't anyone realize that Xerox itself started using that name more than forty years ago? And at least they had a derivation from a real word on their side, not something that sounds like a space cat coughing up a hyperspace hairball.

2. Enough of the damned InterCaps, while we're at it. This was an awful fad twenty years ago in the software business, and for some reason it doesn't seem to have died out in the biotech/pharma world. No one wants to reach for the shift key in the middle of your company's name, and no, it does not look spiffy. It makes you look like a shareware company developing hot new apps for Mac OS 7.

3. Putting your company's name in lowercase is an even more pathetic attention-seeking device. Everyone who types your company's name will roll their eyes, and half the time they'll capitalize it out of inattention or sheer spite. And as for starting in lower-case and switching to all caps, words fail me. I'm looking at you, deCODE. deSIST!

4. Naming your company after the disease, body part, or function that you want to work on is fine, if rather unimaginative. But naming it after the way you want to do it sounds a bit. . .boastful. Calling yourself "Predictomatic Pharmaceuticals" or "IntelliDesign Biosystems" sticks you right into the "put up or shut up" category. And yes, it's true that this is the category that all small companies are in, when you get down to it, but you don't necessarily want to be so blatant about it.

5. The following words and word fragments should be deleted from all further lists of possible biotech names: Ribo. Thera. Immuno. Gen(e). Med. Tronics. Vax. Bio. Anti. I realize that this may well leave some of you with no possible names at all. Take that as a sign.

Comments (24) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Industry History

October 23, 2006

Experimental Compound Codes

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Posted by Derek

Drug candidates go by many different names during their lifetimes. At first, they're known to the chemists on the project by tags like "Jane's analog" or "the one with the methyl group". As time goes on, though, they tend to be known more by their official compound number. Every drug company has some sort of system for this; in almost all cases it's a letter-number combination that identifies the company and the compound. But there's no standard. You're free to assign different letters to different therapeutic areas or research sites if that sounds good, or dole out different blocks of numbers for different purposes instead of running them in sequence.

Biologists, in my experience, tend to use these numbers earlier in the course of a research project than the chemists do. That's surely because we have more of a structural handle to remember the compounds by ("that piperazine with the chiral isopropyl coming off it"). This leads to scenes in project meetings where the biologists ask if there's any more 5650, and the chemists look blank, and then the chemists ask if there's any data on the homopiperidine, and the biologists look blank. Likely as not, they're talking about the same compound.

A quick look around Google didn't turn up any guide to the various compound codes in use, so I thought I'd provide one. (No doubt this post will start a small, steady Google-search tap dripping in my traffic statistics). Some of these represent companies that are no longer with us under those names, but the codes live on in development candidates, literature compounds, and catalog reagents. I've tried in include later merger/buyout partners in parentheses. This is a fairly comprehensive list (do you know anyone who can name all the drug companies in Japan? Me neither), but I'd be glad to add others as suggested - I'm sure that there are plenty of smaller companies I've left out.

A small "x" represents a variable letter - Novartis, in particular, seems to have appropriated great swaths of the alphabet for its internal use, although I think that some of their compounds get renumbered when they're ready for the spotlight. So, here goes:

A         Abbott
AA       Auxilium
ABI      Abraxis
ABIO      Abiogen
ABT      Abbott
ABX      Abgenix
ACP      Acadia
ADL      Adolor
ADX      Addex
AG       Agouron (Pfizer)
Axx      Novartis
AGI      AtheroGenics
ALTU      Altus
AMG      Amgen
AN       Anacor
AN       Access
APD      Arena
ARC      Archemix
ARC      ArQule
AS       Antisoma
AT       Altea
ATG      Athenagen
AVE      (Sanofi) Aventis
AZx      Astra-Zeneca
BAL      Basilea
BAY      Bayer
BCX      Biocryst
BIxx      Boehringer Ingleheim
BLX      Biolex
BMS      Bristol-Meyers Squibb
BVT      Biovitrum
C         Merck
C         Carbogen (Ubichem)
CEP      Cephalon
CERE      Ceregene
CGT      Corgentech
CHIR      Chiron
CHR      Chroma
CI       Pfizer
CKD      Chong Kun Dang
CJC     ConjuChem
COL      Collagenex
CM       CarboMed
CP       Pfizer
CS       Sankyo
CX       Cortex
CYC      Cyclacel
DA       Dong-A
DG       deCODE
DIO      Diobex
DOV      DOV
DP       D-Pharm
DRF      Dr. Reddy's
E         Eisai
ECO      Ecopia
ELB      Elbion
EM       Erimos
EMR      Merck KgaA
EP       Enanta
EV       Evolutech
EVT      Evotech
EZ       Enzon
F         Pierre Fabre
Fxx      Novartis
FK       Fujisawa
G         Genentech
GENZ      Genzyme
GRD      Glenmark
GS       Gilead
GW       GlaxoWellcome
HMR      Hoechst/Marion/Roussel (Aventis)
IC       Icos (Lilly)
ICA      Icagen
IMC      Imclone
INCB      Incyte
INGN      Introgen
INSM      Insmed
IMX      Inex
ISIS      ISIS
JNJ      Johnson & Johnson
JTx      Japan Tobacco
K         Kowa
KB       Karo Bio
KI       Kos
KOS      Kosan
KRH      Kureha
KRN      Kirin
KRP      Kyorin
KU       Kudos
Kux      Kissei
L         Merck
LGD      Ligand
KRP      Kyorin
LU       Lundbeck
LY       Lilly
MB       Metabasis
MBX      Metabolix
MDX      Medarex
MEDI      Medimmune
MEM      Memory
MEN      Menarini
MK       Merck (in development)
MLN      Millennium
MP       Mitsubishi
MPC      Myriad
MS       Mitsui
MV       Miravant
N         Nisshin
ND       Neuro3D
NBI      Neurocrine
NCX      NicOX
NGD      Neurogen
NN       Novo Nordisk
NP       Nascent
NS       NeuroSearch
NSC      Nippon Shinyaku
NT       Neurotech
NVP      Novartis
ON       Onconova
ONO      Ono
OPC      Otsuka
OPT      Optimer
ORG      Organon
ORM      Orion
OSI      OSI
OT       Othera
OX       Orexo
PAC      Pacific
PCK      Procyon
PD       Parke-Davis (Pfizer)
PEP      Peplin
PH       Pherin
PHA      Pharmacia (Pfizer)
PHX      Phenomix
PRX      Predix
PV       Provectus
PW       Penwest
PX       Pharmexa
R         Roche
RG       Repligen
RGH      Gedeon Richter
RO       Roche
RWJ      Johnson & Johnson
S         Servier
S         Shionogi
SB       (Glaxo)SmithKline
SCH      Schering-Plough
SEP      Sepracor
SGN      Seattle Genetics
SGS      Saegis
SK       Sanwa
SKF      (Glaxo)SmithKline
SLV      Solvay
SM       Sumitomo
SNS      Sunesis
SNY      Sanofi(Aventis)
SOU      Sosei
SPD      Shire
SRT      Sirtris
SSR      Sanofi(Aventis)
ST       Sigma-Tau
STA      Synta
STZ      Sterix
SU       Sugen (Pfizer)
T         Taisho
T         Tularik (Amgen)
TA       Tanabe
TAS      Taiho
TH       Theratechnologies
TAK      Takeda
TF       Taiho
TJN      Tsumura
TNP      Takeda-Abbott
TNX      Tanox
TOS      Toko
TPI      Tapestry
TS       Taisho
TSU      Taiho
V         Purdue Pharma
V         Vernalis
VB       Viventia
Vxx      Novartis
VX       Vertex
WAY      Wyeth
WY       Wyeth
WYE      Wyeth
Xxx      Novartis
XL       Exelixis
XRP      Sanofi-Aventis
YKP      S-K Biopharmaceuticals
YM       Yamanouchi
ZD       (Astra)Zeneca
ZK       Schering AG

Comments (31) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Development | Drug Industry History

June 8, 2006

Peter Kim, So Far

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Posted by Derek

There's an article in Wednesday's Wall Street Journal (subscriber-only link here) (Update: also available freely here - thanks to Kyle of The Chemblog for finding this) on Merck's head of research, Peter Kim. It's well-written, in the sense that depending on how you come to it, you could come away with very different conclusions. If you're a fan of Kim and his approach since he took his current job, then you may well see a portrait of a driven, hard-working scientist struggling to change an insular, arrogant research culture and drag it into the real world. But if you're not so sure about Kim's managerial virtues, you can find evidence that he's in well over his head.

As the article notes, one of the big changes he's made is the number of deals that Merck has been signing. To be fair, the company was probably going to pick up the pace on outside collaborations anyway when its late-stage pipeline took so many hits, but maybe not to this extent. Much is made of a "charm school" operation where Merck's people were supposedly told not to be so haughty with potential small-company partners. I find it hard to imagine that this made a huge difference, though. Merck most certainly does have an attitude, even now, but I have to think that small company pitchmen are used to getting the same stuff everywhere they go.

Everyone knows the score at these presentations. The people from the smaller outfit are saying "We have something that you don't. Even though you're big and have more money than we do, believe us, you want this." And their counterparts on the other side of the table are saying "Prove it. We know that you think we're a big piggy bank to be turned over and shaken, but no nickels are coming out until you show us something more than snappy PowerPoints". The glad-handing approach that the article portrays Kim as using sounds to me like a recipe for overpaying for deals.

But my favorite part is on the various departures that have taken place:

Soon after he arrived, he angered Emilio Emini, Merck's senior vice president of vaccine research. During his 20 years at the company, Dr. Emini had done some seminal AIDS work. Dr. Kim wanted to hire another accomplished but controversial AIDS researcher, David Ho, to oversee him. Dr. Emini strongly objected. . .(and) left Merck in early 2004. He now works for rival Wyeth. . .

Vetern Merck research managers such as Kathrin Jansen, who was instrumental in the devleopment of (cervical cancer vaccine) Gardasil, and Scott Reines, a top researcher in psychiatric diseases, also took jobs at other pharmaceutical companies. . .Dr. Kim hired other academic scientists who enjoyed good reputations but, like hiim, had never developed a drug. . ."

Not having developed a drug is no particular shame - all of us in the industry start out never having done that. The thing is, we also start out knowing that everyone else in the place knows more than we do about it. High-level academia transplants have a poor track record in the drug industry - if you'd like some more evidence, you can ask some people with a few years of experience at Bristol-Meyers Squibb. Kim is probably correct when he says that Merck had too much of a "That's not how we do things here" attitude, but people sometimes forget that academia has no immunity to that disease, either.

Update: I also recommend checking out the take at Health Care Renewal, from an ex-Merck employee.

Comments (9) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Academia (vs. Industry) | Drug Industry History

May 21, 2006

Chem-Geek Alternate History

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Posted by Derek

During long meetings, my thoughts turn to all sorts of useful topics - pressing things like, "If we ever meet intelligent aliens, what will they know about chemistry compared to us?" (I'm having to make some assumptions with that thought, of course, because any aliens that can send us so much as a ham sandwich from another star system already have us totally outclassed). But the question doesn't have to involve any space travel; you could just as easily ask what we'd be doing now if the history of the science had gone differently. Did it have to evolve the way it did?

For example, there are an awful lot of old carbonyl-condensation reactions - aldol, Claisen, Dieckmann, etc. Are these inevitable early discoveries? You could make a case for "yes", because the starting materials are often such basic organic chemicals (aldehydes, esters), and their reactions would probably be among the first things explored. Besides, the reactions of stabilized carbanions are a cornerstone of organic chemistry, and even if things got a bit out of order you'd think that this would have to still be the case, The same goes, and more so, for nucleophilic substitution. I don't see any sort of organic chemistry getting very far without the discovery of things like the Williamson ether synthesis and the Finkelstein reaction, and the principles behind them.

The wild cards would probably be organometallic reactions. Grignard reagents might be an example of things were discovered earlier than they should have been. We still don't know all the details of their formation and reactivity, a hundred years on. And on the other side, did it have to take so long for the palladium couplings we all use to be discovered? After all, palladium was already known to do a lot of interesting organic chemistry, even fifty years ago. But as late as the 1980s, palladium-catalyzed carbon-carbon couplings were a bit exotic. Think, though, of what the field would look like if someone had stumbled over the Suzuki coupling in, say, 1949. . .

The history of oxidation and reduction, though, could easily be moved around, since there are so many means to accomplish similar ends. It's possible to imagine a world where the early organic synthesis papers aren't so full of Jones reagent and the other chromiums, but where some sort of permanganate or ruthenium reagent was the favorite. As for reduction, like him or hate him, where would boron reagents have been without H. C. Brown? ("Probably more widely used", I can hear some people muttering. . .)

That brings up the whole topic of personality. Historians frown on the "great man" viewpoint, but inside one scientific discipline it's hard to ignore it. Organic synthesis would certainly exist if R. B. Woodward had never been born, but it's for certain that it wouldn't look the way it does now. . .

Comments (9) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Chemical News | Drug Industry History

April 30, 2006

All Natural

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Posted by Derek

My thoughts the other day on the World Wildlife Fund's jungle remedies prompted me to talk about natural products chemistry a bit. It's an area that a lot of people have heard about, but not many people outside the field know what goes on there.

There aren't as many natural products research groups as there used to be, although there are enough of them to support a journal or two. That's partly because it's not considered the most cutting-edge sort of work any more, which is a bit of a shame, since there are surely still many useful compounds waiting to be discovered. But another reason not as many people work in the area is that so many compounds have already been found. If you go pick out a random organism and start searching, in most of the cases, most of the things you find are molecules that have already been characterized. The unusual compounds are down in the trace constituents, more often than not.

You have a better chance for novelty if you pick the more exotic specimens, and organisms from highly competitive ecologies are the place to look. They're the ones that find it useful to spend more metabolic energy on chemical defenses. It's no surprise that there are so many interesting compounds from marine organisms, or terrestrial tropical ones. You're less likely to find a wonder drug in an arctic lichen, partly because arctic lichens have their biochemistry pretty well spoken for just in staying alive.

All the common molecules of life, your regular lipids and amino acids and carbohydrates, are suitable food for other organisms. If a creature is devoting some of its metabolism to keep from being bothered, though, it's going to need to make something a little more interesting. This explains why the traditional strongholds of natural products as drugs are in the antibacterial/antifungal areas, and in cancer therapies. Those are the main uses that humans have for medicinal compounds that work by killing or injuring cells.

These chemical defense compounds have been under evolutionary pressure for biological activity in other living things, so drug-hunting in this area is a lot different from screening a combichem library of semi-random compounds. The famous natural product drugs - the taxanes, vinblastines, penicillins, quinines, and erythromycins of the world - hit specific biochemical targets like the ones the synthetic molecules are aimed at. They've had untold millions of years of optimization, and what we see are the variants that have been best at keeping other bacteria away, for example, or keeping insects from stripping the leaves. It's often impossible to improve on the potency of a natural product for its target. The best chances for that are when you can optimize for the human forms of the enzyme or receptor that the compounds are hitting, as opposed to the ones its been honing itself against all these years, or to improve its characteristics in the human digestive and circulatory system, which it probably also hasn't been under pressure to do anything about.

In the old days, extracting things from natural sources was a real black art, and it hasn't completely lost that aspect. There are all sorts of standard schemes that people use when they're looking at some new ground-up root or the like - extract with this solvent mixture, take what's soluble over down this pathway, take the insoluble stuff and do this other thing with it, and so on. These things used to go on for pages and pages, but modern instrumentation (HPLC-mass spec, especially) has made analysis of brutal mixtures a lot faster and more thorough.

And without modern instrumentation (NMR, especially), characterizing what you'd found could take months or years. That was one of the traditional reasons for total synthesis, since in many cases that was the only way to be really sure that a structure had been assigned properly. You'd take the real stuff and carefully break it apart, trying to work out what the fragments were and how they must have been connected, and the synthesis folks would attack the problem the other way around, building the molecule up from hand-made pieces. The heroic age of this kind of chemistry lasted up through the 1960s.

And natural products are still the target of the great majority of syntheses. They show all kinds of challenging complexities (crazy combinations of functional groups, dense and knotty stereochemistry, wild fused ring systems, and so on). Here are some marine toxins to give you an idea, and here are some plant-derived alkaloids. These are only the beginning - there are some really ridiculous structures out there.

So, what happens when you discover that some crazy compound from the Nibi-Nibi sea cucumber looks like a great lead against some dread disease? That'll be the subject of the next post in this series. For now, here are the pages for a couple of very well-known natural products chemists in academia, Jon Clardy and Jerry Meinwald. That'll give you a good take on what the field is up to these days.

Update: more worthy lab sites in the comments.

Comments (9) + TrackBacks (1) | Category: Drug Development | Drug Industry History

April 19, 2006

Why All the Gloom?

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Posted by Derek

A recent comment asks why there's all this wailing about shrinking drug-company pipelines - how did it happen? I've gone into this topic before over the years (the blog's now over 4 years old, which I can hardly believe), but it's worth a quick summary. Here are some reasons - reasonable people can and do add more, and argue about how much importance to assign to each:

1. We used up all the easy targets. That can't be completely true, but still, there's something to it. I'm fond of pointing out that there aren't many home runs like angiotensin converting enzyme out there these days. Ah, ACE - an enzyme, of a class that we know we can inhibit with small molecules, that's right in the middle of a key pathway for a condition affecting millions and millions of people. You could say similar glowing things abouit HMG CoA reductase (the target of the statins). One of the hopes of genome sequencing and mining was that there would be some more of these out there that no one had discovered. This expectation has not aged well.

2. We know too much. There are plenty of drugs on the market that looked perfectly fine back when, but wouldn't go anywhere today. You can start with aspirin. We have so many more assays and counterscreens going now that it's a wonder anything makes it through at all.

3. We're competing against ourselves. As time goes on, and we gradually discover things that work for a reasonable number of people, we have to look harder for unmet medical needs. There aren't any perfect drugs out there, of couse, but there are still some areas which are pretty well served. The bar is (or at least should be) raised higher each time a new drug comes on the market.

4. We're left with really hard diseases. This is a corollary to the previous point. The big unmet medical needs are often unmet for very good reasons. Alzheimer's is a good example - big (and growing) market, lots of human suffering, current therapies almost completely inadequate. But getting a new Alzheimer's drug off the ground is a hideously hard task, not least because we still don't understand the disease very well.

5. Financial and managerial mistakes. It's always easy to use this as an excuse, no matter what the industry. But nevertheless. . .you can argue that some of the mergers that have taken place in the drug business haven't helped anyone much, and may well have harmed things (at least in the shorter term) through disrupted productivity. And even when the dust clears, big companies have their own set of problems.

Another mistake in this category: companies have in some cases also spent too much time searching for great big blockbusters, at the expense of potentially putting several smaller drugs onto the market. If you live by huge whopper home runs, you often die by them too, when the patent runs out.

There - those are a few I can think of immediately. What have I left out?

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March 2, 2006

Procter and Gamble Throws in the Towel

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Posted by Derek

As mentioned in a comment thread here several days ago, P&G looks to be finally giving up on in-house drug development. 300 jobs are being cut at the Mason, OH site, and they're all from Drug Discovery. That'll pretty much do it - all that's left now is drug development for inlicensed compounds.

If you check P&G's pharmaceutical web site, though, you won't be able to tell that anything is going on. Still, the front-page mentions of career opportunities in Marketing and Brand Management are perhaps a tip-off to the company's priorities. The R&D page is particularly painful:

We are rapidly expanding our capabilities and capacities. We have internal capabilities in most areas of pharmaceutical discovery, development and marketing. We also are committed to expanding these capabilities, gaining access to the latest scientific knowledge, utilizing the latest in technology advancements through active partnering with academia, national laboratories, and biotechnology and other pharmaceutical companies.

Sure thing! Procter and Gamble has been messing around in the drug discovery area for many years now, with painfully little to show for their own efforts. Despite some good people, some of whom have been subsequent colleagues of mine at other companies, they've never made that much headway. Eye-rolling comments about shampoo and fabric softener are not uncommon from former employees.

P&G has done all sorts of deals with smaller companies, and I presume the more advanced of these will continue on their (merry?) way. But in the long run, you have to wonder. Discovery research has turned out to be too foreign for the company to deal with. And while development is different, it's a lot more like drug discovery than it's like the laundry detergent game. Who's to say that it won't eventually drive the brand managers crazy as well?

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February 27, 2006

But At My Back I Always Hear. . .

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Posted by Derek

I have an interesting article from Forbes to point out tonight: one of those lists of the best-selling drugs in the US, and a corresponding list of the fastest-growing ones.

A few things stand out. For one, five of the top ten drugs are showing declining sales. I suspect that this is close to the historical average, since some of these big sellers will always be things that are past their (gigantic) peak. Another striking feature is that the ten fastest-growing drugs include three antibodies and another protein. We small-molecule people tend to overlook these products because we're not the ones who do the research on them. But they're very big business indeed, and getting bigger every year. It would serve us organic chemists well, I think, to come up with ways that we can add something to the antibody field, because I think that we're going to want to be its friend.

And that brings up a conversation I was having with a colleague the other day. He was pointing out the huge amount of contract work that's being done in China and India these days. A lot of large and small companies are profitably outsourcing their chemical grunt work, and a lot of small firms outside the US are profitably taking it on. That got me to thinking again about a feeling that I just can't shake: that we medicinal chemists, individually and collectively, need to make sure that we are doing things that other people can't do for us.

Fifteen years ago, you could make a living banging out huge combichem libraries, but you can't do that any more. Ten years ago there were a lot of small outfits in the US that were doing custom synthesis, taking on all kinds of nickel-and-dime work, but if they've survived until now they've done it by branching out into things that the Indian and Chinese firms can't undercut them on. I think that the methyl-ethyl-butyl-futyl type of medicinal chemistry work is perhaps about to be loaded into the same hopper.

So, think about what you're doing for a living, fellow chemists. Is it something that someone easy to locate could do for a lot less money? It had better not be. Failing that, you'd better start to pick up some impressive new reasons to justify your paycheck.

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November 22, 2005

Serono's Suitors

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Posted by Derek

If you stopped one hundred people on the street and asked them to name a drug company, I'd be astonished if a single one of them mentioned Serono. But they're one of the largest biotechs in the world, even though their profile is low. Being a privately held (indeed, family-owned) concern surely has something to do with that, because if people can't talk about your stock, they often don't talk about your company.

Serono has been around for about a century, and for a long time they made their living in hormones and fertility treatments (some of which were extracted directly from urine, which must have been a joyful task). They really took off though, in the last ten years, making the current family CEO Ernesto Bertarelli one of the hundred wealthiest people alive. Their recent growth has been due to Rebif, a recombinant beta-interferon for multiple sclerosis, but before that one of their big products was Serostim.

And that's one part of the company history they'd like to forget. Serostim is a growth hormone preparation approved in 1996 for treatment of HIV-related wasting. But newer antiretroviral drugs came on the market very soon after that and AIDS wasting became less of an issue (in fact, some of the HIV protease inhibitors are well known for redistributing and perhaps even adding body fat). Serono fought back, as any company would, but they comprehensively crossed the line.

Their first tactic was to promote a medical device to measure wasting in HIV patients, which gizmo (wouldn't you know) indicated that people needed Serostim even though they looked fine. The idea was, er, that their cells were losing mass, even though their outward appearance might not indicate it. Another campaign tried to promote the same device (and Serostim) to diagnose and treat the adipose effects of the retroviral drugs. Neither were approved for such a use, as you might well have guessed. And their third method was more to the point: to flat-out pay physicians for the number of Serostim prescriptions they wrote, in one notorious case by picking up the tab for a free vacation in the south of France.

The company recently settled with the US government, agreeing to their guilt and paying $725 million in fines. It's worth noting that the whole scheme was done in by five employees with knowledge of the matter, who will now share some $50 million of the fine under Federal whistleblower statutes. (This seems to be a perfect example of what the law was designed to do).

So having put this behind them, Serono finds themselves in the position of several other companies over the years, with most of their revenue coming from a single product and not much else looking fit to replace it. And, as some other companies have done in such times, they've called in the investment bankers.

But I'm not sure who's going to line up to buy them. Right now, you'd be getting Serono for nearly the highest price it's ever commanded. If someone decides that they want Rebif for the rest of its patent life, that would be the best reason I could think of to go ahead with a deal. . .of course, it would have to be someone with a huge marketing arm and the conviction that they could make more money than Serono could with the stuff, which I'd guess narrows it down even more to companies whose names start with a silent "P".

Comments (3) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Industry History | The Dark Side

October 11, 2005

The Old Stuff

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Posted by Derek

I was telling a story the other day about using a reagent called PCC, pyridinium chlorochromate and yes, I'm a real laugh riot with these things, when it hit me: nobody much uses that stuff any more. Twenty, twenty-five years ago it was all over the place, and now it's slipping into history. I haven't used it myself in what - eight years or so. There are too many other reagents that do similar things and are easier to clean up (and that don't involve so much chromium waste).

Organic chemistry is littered with reactions that have been superseded. You don't see many Oppenauer oxidations these days ,for one. (I know that if you follow that link it gives you a 2002 reference. But it's for a reaction that about a dozen things would do just as easily, at least on a bench scale.) How about the Rosenmund reduction? Such things show up once in a while in carefully optimized process chemistry routes, but they're no longer part of anyone's normal tool kit. Does anyone use manganese dioxide much these days, or potassium permanganate? (That last one is a real loss, one of the most beautiful purples in all of chemistry - it and copper sulfate were my first loves when I got a chemistry set as an eight-year-old.)

But simultaneously, there are hundred-year-old reactions that are still getting up in the morning and going to work. Grignard reagents go back that far, and there's not an organic synthesis lab on Earth that doesn't use one once in a while. The Dieckmann condensation is still going strong, as is Fischer esterification. It would be worth knowing which category is better-remembered today: novels from the 1890s, or chemical reactions. . .

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August 25, 2005

The Painful History of Substance P

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Posted by Derek

I had a question from a reader about Substance P, a peptide that's been known since the 1930s as something that was involved in pain and neurotransmission. Its biological target is the neurokinin receptor subtype NK1, and there's been a huge amount of research on this system over the years, studying its role in the peripheral nerves, the spinal cord, and the brain.

And most of this work pointed to the idea that something that blocked this pathway would be an excellent analgesic. Stimulation of SP-responsive neurons produces sensations of burning pain, for one thing, and injection of the peptide is very unpleasant.) Weirdly, naked mole rats don't use the SP pain pathway, and are impervious to normally painful things like treatment with pure capsaicin. (Capsaicin, the hot pepper active ingredient, causes quick release of SP and the accompanying pain sensations, but ends up depleting it from presynaptic neurons, eventually raising the pain threshold.)

Pain relief is one of those things that some people think has been solved, but it really hasn't been. It's hard to knock down severe pain without knocking out the patient or using something with a high addictive potential. There are plenty of conditions - burn injuries, diabetic neuropathy and cancer come to mind - where a powerful analgesic with fewer side effects would be welcomed with rejoicing.

Several groups took a shot at making antagonists, but there were a lot of wrong turns along the way. For one thing, the NK1 receptors in mice are rather different from the ones in humans, something that was only worked out after many people had been led astray by mouse models of pain. (The good ol' guinea pig, which in spite of its reputation isn't really used much in drug research, turned out to have closer homology to the human receptor.)

And when good compounds were finally developed at Merck and other companies, and were taken into clinical trials for pain relief, an interesting thing happened: they didn't work. Not at all. The title of a review article from a group at Merck (Handbook of Experimental Pharmacology, p. 441, 2004) shows the frustration: "Substance P (NK1) receptor antagonists - analgesics or not?" They go on to say:

"Despite the identification of high affinity and selective substance P (NK1) receptor antagonists and a plethora of preclinical data supporting an analgesic profile of these agents, the outcome from clinical trials has been extremely disappointing with no clear analgesic efficacy being observed in a variety of pain states. This has led the pain community to seriously question the predictability and utility of preclinical pain assays, especially for novel targets."

Indeed it has, and the situation is far from being sorted out, from what I know of it. But Substance P had more life in it. As its distribution (and that of the NK1 receptor) in the brain began to be worked out, people noticed that it was often co-localized with the serotonin system, and these lines of evidence suggested a role in depression. Merck's MK-869 was the first compound to go into the clinic for this purpose.

And it died there, too. Initial results looked promising - check out this glowing report from 1998. But the next year, it was dropped, after failing to work better than placebo under controlled conditions. (That link is well worth reading for those interested in the topic of placebo controls, BTW.) After much searching around, NK1 antagonism was found to be imporatant enough in nausea and emesis for MK-869 to make it as an adjunct to cancer therapy. It's on the market as Emend (aprepitant), selling (as I put it in 2003, about one-fiftieth of what Merck had originally hoped. You have to wonder how long it'll take them to get their money back.

Many other companies have reported development of NK1 ligands, but I don't think that any have reached the market yet - and I don't know what they'll do if they get there. The whole area is an excellent lesson in the crazy complexity of drug target validation and drug discovery, and an interesting thing to consider when you wonder why drugs cost what they do. But we won't have to worry about Merck spending the time and money to learn such things if we sue them until they're crippled, now will we?

Comments (5) + TrackBacks (0) | Category: Drug Industry History | The Central Nervous System

August 8, 2005

Room At the Top?

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Posted by Derek

Tangentially related to that last post is a thought that occurred to me while I was writing my monthly column for Contract Pharma magazine. It's on the place of chemists in a drug company, and in the scientific world in general. And what hit me was this: how many drug companies can you think of that are run by someone who came up through the med-chem department?

The only one I can think of, off the top of my head, is Vertex. (And that's because Joshua Boger left Merck to start his own company, so naturally he's the CEO.) But are there any examples of someone working their way up through the ranks?

Plenty of companies are run by M.D.s and MBAs. You don't see as many plain ol' PhDs. CEOs seem to come up through the clinical side and the marketing organization, but it's rare that one comes from the research side of a big drug company. And very few of that small group come from the chemistry department. Why might this be?

I'd like to think that the Jurgen explanation applies, and that we med-chemists are just too darn clever for top management. Frankly, that may be a little big of the explanation, but it's not enough of it to be useful. For one thing, some (not all) of those top managers are pretty brainy, and for another, I've known plenty of chemists who are dull enough for any job you could name.

I hate to advance this explanation, but perhaps part of the reason is social. There's a particular type of personality that tends to make it to the top of a large organization, and that profile doesn't overlap well with the types you find in research. There's some self-selection involved, too. Someone who makes it to the executive boardroom has most likely devoted most of their energy to getting there, and that's someone who would be unlikely to pursue a chemistry PhD. Why take the slow lane to power, or the scenic detour?

(Note: I'm aware that Margaret Thatcher has a chemistry degree - but it's not a doctorate, and she got out of the field pretty quickly and into politics.)

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June 5, 2005

Biotech At Last, Eh?

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Posted by Derek

There's a recent piece in Business Week Online that says nice things about the biotech and pharma industries, and I should be happy about that. But there are so many misconceptions in it that I'm going to fisk the darn thing instead.

After a lead-in which discusses a patient who responded to the Sugen/Pfizer kinase inhibitor for kidney cancer, the BW pieces says that cases like this:

". . .have convinced many doctors that medical care is reaching a tipping point. Not that most patients will be healed right away -- the vast majority of sick people continue to dose themselves with tiny bits of chemicals, otherwise known as pills, that represent medicine's Old Guard.

But the times are changing. The past 30 years of biological discoveries, insights into the human genome, and exotic chemical manipulation have unleashed a wave of biological drugs, many of them reengineered human proteins. These molecules have the power to change the prognoses for a huge range of diseases all but untreatable just five years ago. "

Well, first off, Malcolm Gladwell should ask for royalties for use of the phrase "tipping point." But as he doubtless knows, and the authors of the Business Week article should, the drug industry doesn't quite work that way. This isn't a marketing campaign. Advances come on independently, each at its own pace and with its own problems. If several come at roughly the same time, coincidence is as much a factor as anything else. And it's worth remembering that this particular inflection point has been proclaimed about every ten months since the mid-1980s.

Second, the Sugen/Pfizer compound is nothing more than one of those "tiny bits of chemicals" (known as pills, it seems) straight from the Old Guard. It is nothing even close to a reengineered protein. No exotic chemical manipulations are required to make it; a talented undergraduate could whip up a batch (although I wouldn't recommend that to any talented undergrads who might be reading this.) That's just how we folks in the Old Guard like our compounds to be - not terribly expensive to make.

Later on, we get into the academia (good!) versus the pharmaceutical industry (bad!) debate:

""What's interesting is that it is really the academic researchers that pushed biotech forward, not corporate research and development," says Allan B. Haberman, principal of pharmaceutical consulting firm Haberman Associates in Wayland, Mass.

Academic researchers, unlike traditional drug companies, were willing to champion biotech approaches to drugs even when they were long shot