MAY 1 — Starting today, the Ministry of Health made it official: drug prices must now be publicly displayed in every private hospital and GP clinic.
It was introduced under the banner of “transparency” — a word that sounds noble, but in this case, serves more as a curtain than a window.
Stakeholders were consulted. Concerns were acknowledged. Realities were made plain. And yet, the directive moved forward — untouched by reason, unmoved by nuance, as if the entire process had been theatre from the start.
Let’s be clear: private providers are not against transparency.
But listing the price of a tablet in isolation — stripped of the cost structures, operational demands, and regulatory burdens surrounding it — doesn’t make healthcare more affordable. It just makes it easier to blame.
A drug’s price carries more than its chemical compound. It carries the cost of keeping it stocked, the pharmacist who dispenses it, the refrigeration that preserves it, the system that logs, tracks, documents, and ensures its given safely. It carries the weight of readiness.
In clinics, where consultation fees have remained capped for decades, GPs are expected to absorb rising operational costs — rent, salaries, waste disposal, digital systems — with little room to adjust.
Specialists are often paid less than what some spend on aesthetic services, yet shoulder far greater risk, accountability, and compliance obligations.
So those costs are recovered where they can be — often through medication margins. Not for profit, but for survival.
We made this clear. We warned that isolating one number without rethinking the structure would simply shift the cost elsewhere — unseen, but no less essential.
Still, the directive moved forward.
And perhaps that reveals the larger truth: that the system’s safety net is wearing thin.
Public hospitals — meant to be the front line of affordable care — are overstretched and under-resourced. And when they fail to absorb the pressure, the private sector becomes the fallback. And then the target.
Instead of fortifying the institutions meant to carry the load, we shine the spotlight on those catching the fallout — as if regulation can substitute for responsibility.
If this is truly about empowering patients, then let’s start where it matters: by strengthening the public hospitals and clinics meant to protect them. Because when that net frays, what follows isn’t reform. It’s blame redistribution.
Transparency should illuminate the architecture of care — not just the corner most convenient to politicise.
Because without that, this isn’t transparency. It’s theatre.
And in theatre, the audience may applaud the simplicity of the scene but those behind the curtain know what it really costs to hold it together.
