The Price Controls Washington Promised Would Lower Costs

In 2022 Congress gave Medicare the power to set prices for certain prescription drugs, and the first 10 selected medicines took effect on January 1, 2026, with list-price cuts of 25 to 60 percent affecting Eliquis, Xarelto, Januvia, Jardiance, and Entresto that roughly 9 million seniors use. HHS claims this will save $6 billion in the first year alone.

That sounds like a bargain. It is not.

The list is not random. CMS targeted drugs with the highest spending under Part D and Part B. In 2023 Medicare spent $50.5 billion on these 10 products, according to the agency's own data. The idea is that Uncle Sam will use its bargaining muscle to force lower prices. But price is just a signal wrapped in dollars. When you cap the signal, you cap the response.

Washington sold the plan as a way to stick it to big pharma. Most Americans dislike drug companies and cheered the discounts. And the discounts are real on paper. The statutory savings, however, arrive years before the hidden costs show up in formularies, waiting rooms, and empty pharmacy shelves.

The burden lands hardest on small businesses. The Kaiser Family Foundation's 2024 Employer Health Benefits Survey found that average annual premiums for employer-sponsored family coverage reached $25,572, with workers paying $6,296 out of pocket. Firms with fewer than 200 employees are far more likely to report that cost pressures forced them to drop coverage or cut wages. Medicare price controls do nothing to relieve that pressure; they simply move the squeeze from one part of the system to another.

Small Biotechs Are the First Casualties

Small drug developers live on venture capital and patent cliffs, so when the federal government announces that future revenue for a Medicare blockbuster will be fixed by political negotiation, the money moves somewhere else. Investors do not fund science out of charity; they price risk, and price fixing raises the risk.

The damage shows up first in early-stage research. A 2024 working paper from the University of Chicago's Becker Friedman Institute estimated that the Inflation Reduction Act's drug-pricing provisions could reduce research and development spending by $663 billion through 2039 and produce 135 fewer new drugs. The Congressional Budget Office offered a smaller but still negative projection: roughly a 0.5 percent reduction in new drug approvals over the next 30 years. Either way, the pipeline shrinks.

And the timeline punishes small-molecule pills. Under the law, a small-molecule drug can be selected for negotiation just nine years after FDA approval, while biologics get 13 years. That four-year gap may sound technical. It is not. It tells investors to steer capital toward large-molecule biologics and away from the pills that are usually cheaper to manufacture and easier to store. Seniors in rural Texas, where refrigerated biologics are harder to handle, will notice the difference.

Already the venture markets are reacting. The National Venture Capital Association reported that U.S. biotech venture investment fell by roughly one-third between 2021 and 2024, with early-stage rounds taking the biggest hit. Public biotechs are cutting programs. Startups that might have produced the next generic alternative to a monopoly therapy are instead merging or closing.

Patients Pay the Price for Regulatory Shortcuts

Supporters of Medicare negotiation point to lower co-pays at the pharmacy counter, but co-pays mean little when the drug is not on the shelf. The American Society of Health-System Pharmacists reported more than 300 active drug shortages at the start of 2026, including common antibiotics, chemotherapy agents, and emergency-room staples. Adding price controls to that fragile supply chain is like stepping on a weak bridge.

Shortages are not accidents. They are the predictable result of price ceilings that make production unprofitable. When a manufacturer cannot recover the cost of making a low-margin generic, it stops making it. The FDA then approves imports or grants extensions, but each intervention adds delay. And delay is dangerous for a patient waiting for a blood thinner.

The federal response so far has been more of the same. The Biden administration's 2023 executive order on biotechnology directed agencies to speed domestic manufacturing, but the FDA's Office of Generic Drugs still faces a backlog of thousands of applications. Entrepreneurs who want to enter a shortage market find themselves buried in bioequivalence studies and facility inspections that take years. Bureaucracy does not cure scarcity. It auctions it.

Libertarians have long warned that health care does not stop being a market just because politicians call it a right. Markets are how we discover which treatments patients value enough to pay for and which investments scientists should pursue next. Regulation can police fraud and safety. It cannot repeal scarcity by decree.

The honest path is the harder one. Congress should expand health savings accounts, allow direct primary care arrangements, and remove state certificate-of-need laws that protect hospital monopolies. None of those options fit on a campaign bumper sticker. All of them would do more for a small-business owner in San Antonio who cannot afford her premiums than another federal price board ever will.