Patents are often described as a bargain between inventors and society – the inventor gets a temporary monopoly, and the public gets access to the invention once that period ends. But this seemingly straightforward exchange has generated fierce debate for over a century. Who benefits from this bargain? Does it genuinely drive innovation, or does it sometimes do the opposite? And when the patented product is a life-saving medicine, does a 20-year exclusive monopoly serve the public interest or undermine it? These questions sit at the heart of patent controversy – a debate that is far from resolved, and particularly relevant in a country like India, where balancing innovation incentives with public access remains a pressing legal and policy challenge.
Table of Contents
- The utilitarian foundation – and its critics
- The monopoly problem – patents versus competition
- Evergreening and patent thickets – when patents block innovation
- India’s legislative response – Section 3(d) and compulsory licensing
- Compulsory licensing – a sovereign tool against patent abuse
- Traditional knowledge and biopiracy – another dimension of the debate
- The broader tension – patents, innovation, and public interest
The utilitarian foundation – and its critics
The dominant justification for the patent system is utilitarian theory: patents are justified because they produce better outcomes for society overall. By granting inventors a time-limited exclusive right, the law incentivises investment in research and development. Without this protection, competitors could simply copy an invention the moment it was disclosed, making it financially irrational for anyone to invest in developing it in the first place.
The Justice Rajagopala Ayyangar Committee Report, which formed the backbone of India’s Patents Act, 1970, articulated this as a quid pro quo: the monopoly granted to a patentee exists only in exchange for the public disclosure of the invention, which then becomes freely usable after the monopoly period expires. The patentee also bore an obligation to actually work the invention within India.
However, the same committee report candidly admitted that the patent system had largely failed India. Developing economies could not derive the same benefits from patent protection as their industrialised counterparts. Patents were recommended for continuation simply because no better alternative existed – they were, in the committee’s words, the lesser evil. This scepticism about whether patents truly stimulate innovation in all contexts is central to the ongoing controversy surrounding patent rights.
From an academic standpoint, critics of the utilitarian basis argue that courts and legislatures have expanded patentable subject matter far beyond what the utilitarian rationale actually demands. Not all fields of innovation suffer from a lack of investment incentives. Where innovation would occur anyway – as in many areas of software or business methods – granting patents imposes social costs (higher prices, restricted access) without any corresponding benefit in stimulating additional innovation.
The monopoly problem – patents versus competition
At its core, a patent is a legally sanctioned monopoly. Patent law grants IP owners exclusive rights and a temporary monopoly, which by definition reduces competition in the market. This immediately puts patent law in tension with competition law, which is designed to prevent exactly this kind of market concentration.
In India, this tension is governed by the Competition Act, 2002 alongside the Patents Act, 1970. While having a monopoly is not itself illegal, abusing that dominant position is. Section 83(f) of the Patents Act specifically restrains a patentee from abusing its patent right in ways that unreasonably restrain trade, and the Controller of Patents can direct compulsory licensing where the patent holder refuses to grant licences on reasonable terms.
A notable instance of this tension in India emerged in the case of Ericsson v. Micromax, which involved Standard Essential Patents (SEPs). Once a patent is incorporated into an industry standard and widely adopted, it grants near-absolute monopoly power to the SEP holder. The holder is obligated to license such patents on Fair, Reasonable, and Non-Discriminatory (FRAND) terms – and a failure to do so can amount to an abuse of dominance. This case illustrated how the patent monopoly, when combined with the lock-in of industry standards, can cause serious competitive harm.
Evergreening and patent thickets – when patents block innovation
One of the most persistent controversies in patent law is the practice of evergreening – a strategy where companies, particularly in the pharmaceutical sector, obtain multiple overlapping patents on minor modifications of an existing product to extend their effective market exclusivity well beyond the original 20-year term.
Common evergreening tactics include patenting new formulations, new salt forms, new delivery methods, or new therapeutic uses of an already-known drug. The result is a web of patents – often called a patent thicket – that makes it extremely difficult for generic manufacturers to enter the market even after the original patent expires. Consumers end up bearing the cost through higher drug prices, and public health systems are strained.
Defenders of evergreening argue that incremental improvements – such as a reformulation that reduces side effects or improves dosage compliance – can offer genuine clinical benefits. They contend that the incentive to keep innovating on existing products should not be penalised. However, critics characterise it as a deliberate strategy to artificially maintain monopoly pricing and block generic competition by layering new 20-year patents on top of an expiring one, all without any breakthrough discovery.
The ethical dimension is equally sharp. The patent system rests on a social contract: society grants a temporary monopoly in exchange for genuine public benefit through innovation. Evergreening challenges this balance – where monopoly rights are extended without commensurate innovation, there is unjust enrichment at the expense of patients and healthcare systems.
India’s legislative response – Section 3(d) and compulsory licensing
India has taken a notably assertive stance against patent abuse, particularly in the pharmaceutical sector. When India amended its Patents Act in 2005 to comply with the WTO’s TRIPS Agreement, it inserted Section 3(d) – a provision that has since become one of the most debated clauses in global patent law.
Section 3(d) bars the grant of patents for new forms of known substances – such as new salts, polymorphs, or isomers – unless the applicant can demonstrate a significant enhancement in therapeutic efficacy. The provision was designed to prevent companies from obtaining fresh patents on trivially modified versions of existing drugs, thereby blocking the evergreening strategies that had long frustrated access to affordable medicines in developing countries.
The constitutionality and scope of Section 3(d) was directly challenged in Novartis AG v. Union of India (2013), one of the most consequential patent cases ever decided by an Indian court. Novartis sought a patent for the beta crystalline form of imatinib mesylate – the active ingredient in Gleevec, its blockbuster cancer drug. The Supreme Court of India rejected the application, holding that the new form did not demonstrate enhanced therapeutic efficacy as required under Section 3(d). The Court clarified that for pharmaceuticals, “efficacy” means specifically therapeutic efficacy – physical and chemical improvements in stability or bioavailability are insufficient without proof of better clinical outcomes for patients.
The verdict was hailed by public health advocates worldwide as a decisive check on pharmaceutical evergreening. Had Novartis succeeded in eliminating Section 3(d), drug prices in India would have risen sharply, removing affordable treatment from millions. On the other side, multinational pharmaceutical companies argued that the strict standard discourages investment in incremental improvements that may still benefit patients, and creates uncertainty about the returns on R&D in the Indian market.
Compulsory licensing – a sovereign tool against patent abuse
Beyond Section 3(d), India’s Patents Act provides for compulsory licensing under Section 84 – a mechanism that allows the government to permit a third party to manufacture a patented product without the patent holder’s consent, typically when the product is not available at a reasonably affordable price or is not being worked in India.
India exercised this provision for the first time in 2012 in Bayer Corporation v. Natco Pharma. Bayer was charging approximately โน2.8 lakh per month for Nexavar, a kidney and liver cancer drug. India’s Patent Controller deemed this price unaffordable and granted a compulsory license to Natco Pharma, making the generic version available for 97% less – around โน8,880 per month. Bayer received a 6% royalty on Natco’s sales.
The move drew immediate political backlash from the United States, which viewed it as a violation of patent rights and an impediment to pharmaceutical investment in India. From a public health perspective, however, it represented precisely the kind of safeguard that the TRIPS Agreement’s built-in flexibilities were intended to provide. The controversy surrounding this compulsory licence underscores the fundamental tension at the heart of patent law: the right of an inventor to profit from their work versus the right of a population to access essential medicines at prices they can actually afford.
Traditional knowledge and biopiracy – another dimension of the debate
In India, the patent controversy extends beyond pharmaceuticals to the protection of traditional knowledge. Foreign companies have sometimes sought patents on traditional practices and substances – such as the use of turmeric for wound healing, or the properties of neem – that have been part of India’s knowledge heritage for centuries. These applications, if granted, would amount to biopiracy: conferring monopoly rights over knowledge that belongs to no single inventor.
India’s response has been the creation of the Traditional Knowledge Digital Library (TKDL), a database that documents traditional practices in a format accessible to patent examiners worldwide. The TKDL serves as prior art, preventing patent offices from granting patents on traditional knowledge by ensuring examiners can identify that the knowledge already exists in the public domain – without restricting the actual use of that knowledge by communities.
The broader tension – patents, innovation, and public interest
The controversies discussed above all point to the same underlying problem: the patent system was designed to serve the public interest through innovation, but in practice, it can be exploited in ways that harm that very interest. The effect of patent monopoly can be severe in the pharmaceutical sector, especially for life-saving drugs, where the inability to access a medicine is not merely an inconvenience but a matter of survival.
At the same time, dismissing patent protection entirely is not a realistic solution. Without the prospect of recouping enormous R&D investments, the pipeline of new drugs, technologies, and innovations would shrink significantly. The real challenge is calibrating the system – ensuring that patents reward genuine, meaningful innovation rather than incremental tweaks designed to maintain market control, and that robust mechanisms like compulsory licensing and strong patentability standards are available when the balance tips too far against the public.
India’s legal framework – with Section 3(d), compulsory licensing provisions, pre-grant opposition rights, and the TKDL – reflects an attempt to strike that balance for a developing country with both a thriving generic pharmaceutical industry and a massive population dependent on affordable healthcare. Whether this balance is correctly calibrated remains an open and genuinely contested question, one that will continue to shape IP policy debates for years to come.
What do you think? Does a strict standard like Section 3(d) strike the right balance between preventing abuse and encouraging genuine pharmaceutical innovation – or does it risk deterring companies from investing in improvements that could still benefit patients? And when a government exercises compulsory licensing over a life-saving drug, should the original patent holder’s commercial interests take precedence, or does public health always override them?
References
- https://www.wipo.int/patent-judicial-guide/en/full-guide/india
- https://www.templelawreview.org/lawreview/assets/uploads/2011/07/Olson.pdf
- https://asiaiplaw.com/article/indias-ip-and-competition-laws-complementary-or-conflicting
- https://www.azbpartners.com/bank/the-intellectual-property-antitrust-review-india-chapter/
- https://ijlsss.com/patent-evergreening-in-the-pharmaceutical-industry-legal-loophole-or-strategic-innovation/
- https://www.drugpatentwatch.com/blog/unveiling-the-secrets-behind-big-pharmas-patent-thickets/
- https://www.tinnitusjournal.com/articles/harmonizing-access-to-medicine-exploring-indias-process-patent-in-intellectual-property-rights-amid-global-pressures-30127.html
- https://blog.ipleaders.in/analysis-novartis-g-vs-union-india/
- https://www.escr-net.org/caselaw/2020/novartis-ag-v-union-india-2007/
- https://speakingofmedicine.plos.org/2012/10/01/indias-patent-law-on-trial/
- https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC6044128/
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