Lessons from PCSK9, and How We Know Where to Go in Drug Discovery

This article first appeared in the Timmerman Report.

What drug development lessons should we take from the PCSK9 story? That might depend on how and why we know what we know.

The recent news about Amgen’s anti-PCSK9 antibody evolocumab (Repatha) and its effects on cardiovascular outcomes—the FOURIER trial—added another fascinating chapter to the story of how human genetics is becoming more entwined with drug development. It also jogged my curiosity once again in some old liberal arts late night dorm-room discussions about epistemology, the theory of how we reach rational belief.

How do we collect biomedical knowledge? How do we know what we know about biology, about the genes and proteins and networks and physiology and other phenotypes that we’ve built into models and hairballs and devilishly detailed flowcharts over the past few centuries?  And why do we have the current body of facts that we do?

Targeting PCSK9 represents the most prominent example of using human genetics to identify new drug targets. There are others in the works (Sclerostin and APOC3 come to mind) and they herald an exciting new period of drug development in which the process will be expedited by the existence and study of humans with variants, functional and non-, in these targets. If you have a human being, or a closely related cohort of people, who have a certain gene mutation that keeps their cholesterol low and doesn’t appear to cause any detrimental health effects, you have a pretty powerful predictive human model for a drug (See TR contributor Robert Plenge’s case for a “Human Knockout Project”). With this kind of biological information in hand, setting priorities for drug discovery gets easier.

But the commentary following the presentation of FOURIER showed many are underwhelmed. As Plenge points out in an excellent blog post, people are disappointed by the relatively modest gains in cardiovascular outcomes and the implications for blockbuster status (or lack thereof) for Evolocumab and Alirocumab, the competing antibody from Regeneron Pharmaceuticals and Sanofi. However, Plenge points out, the drug development process of going from human mutants (over-expressors and, eventually, under-expressors of PCSK9) to a drug worked quite well on many levels. Dosing was improved, pre-clinical models were leveraged for specific hypothesis tests rather than broad (and possibly meaningless) demonstrations of efficacy, and clinical endpoints were informed by human biology.

As a trained geneticist, I love this terrific biological story. But I can’t dismiss the criticisms either, which brings me back to the question of knowledge. Human genetics will provide an orthogonal method of identifying targets, and will make the overall process more efficient. I wonder though: will it be enough to make a real dent in the problems facing the drug development enterprise? Or will it instead end up helping incrementally when we really need quantum leaps to help with clinical success, pricing and curing patients? And I think the answer comes back to epistemology. How and why do we in biology know what we know?

I’m going to focus on gene-centric discovery here. It’s my background and serves as a relevant example given the current drug development paradigm of focusing on specific gene targets. So: here’s a question a bioinformaticist friend and I debated while we were at a former company. Why do we know so much about some genes and so little about others? This was of particular importance because we had been directed to find novel targets. See the catch-22, though? Novel targets by definition have little known about them, and those making decisions were often leery of investing millions of dollars in a target with a skimpy data package. This, by the way, is one big positive when using human genetics and an allelic series, and is highlighted by PCSK9. That gene had been poorly studied before but human genetics allowed a quick ramp-up in understanding of its biology and role.

The problem of novelty in target identification came clear to me as soon as I tried convincing other scientists to consider some novel targets. Here’s a story familiar to anyone who has done ‘omics research. I did a lot of transcriptomics. Invariably, in comparing different tissues, diseases, cells, I generated a list of differentially expressed genes. Often lots and lots of lists. Buzzfeed had nothing on me! Although maybe I would have been more successful taking a page from their sensationalistic style: “You won’t believe the top 10 most differentially expressed genes between inflamed and normal mouse colons (number 3 is a real shocker)!”

In any case, there would be familiar genes and there would be novel genes. When we showed these lists to the biologists with whom we were working, they mostly gravitated to the genes they recognized. I can’t blame them; they knew they’d be asked to justify further work, and having several hundred papers sure makes it easier to build an argument for biological plausibility (Insert your favorite version of the lamplight/car keys story here). The specific question my friend and I debated was: Are known things known and novel things novel because the known things are more important in terms of biological function and therefore will have the greatest likelihood of being good drug targets? Or are they known because of historical accident? Or, the third option, is what we know due to the tools we use? I don’t think this is a binary (trinary?) choice. The reality is surely a mix of all three. But if the first condition is the most predominant, that has some implications on what we can expect human genetics to do for drug development.

Postulate discovery in biology has a bias toward the genes with the largest effect being found first regardless of how one does the looking. To illustrate this, I’ll use an example from Ted Chiang’s amazing novella, “The Story of Your Life,” which was the basis for one of my favorite movies of last year, Arrival. A central theme in these works was how different ways of perceiving reality can nevertheless lead to the same place.

If one throws a ball through the air, where will it land? One can use Newtonian mechanics to describe the arc, rise and fall. Or one can use Lagrangian formulations to see the pathway as the one of minimizing actions the ball must take. Either method predicts the ball ends up in a specific place. My analogy: is our knowledge of genes like that? Would the accumulation of knowledge have looked pretty much the same even if different scientists had been using different tools to study different biological problems because by the nature of our shared evolutionary history certain genes are just more fundamental, important and pleiotropic? (For a fascinating rumination on the same question in chemistry, take a look at Derek Lowe’s piece here).

Contrast this with historical accident. Here I’ll go back to physics and invoke the idea of the many-worlds hypothesis. If we could rewind the clock of time and start again, how different would our history and discovery be? In this interpretation, initial discoveries are at least somewhat random but once they occur, it becomes more likely that knowledge will accrete around those initial discoveries like nacre around a grain of sand in an oyster’s mantle. Initial discoveries have a canalization effect, in other words, and as data and effects of specific genes accumulate, those canals get deeper. As illustrated in my earlier example of showing people lists of genes, there is a natural and understandable gravitation toward adding another pebble to the hill rather than placing a rock on a novel patch of ground.

And then there are tools. I’ve been a biological technologist for much of my career, using technologies like microarrays and, later, next-gen sequencing to speed, enhance and extend experimental approaches. So I know there are questions we could not have easily asked, biological problems we would not have tried to approach without the right tools. I remember the early days of fluorescent microscopy and how much that changed our view of the cell, and of Sanger and Maxam-Gilbert sequencing, when actually decoding the order of nucleotides for a gene became feasible. I also remember friendly-ish debates among the geneticists, biochemists, molecular biologists and cell biologists about the best way to do research, with each approach having specific benefits. This general assertion—that tools help us do more–seems circular and obvious, but the implications are deep. Just as many believe language shapes how we think, tools shape how we measure and construct our pictures of the world. When you have a hammer, and all that.

Circling back to PCSK9 and other human genetics-enabled targets, having an orthogonal target discovery method may not be enough to really push the industry forward if we’ve already found the majority of the most broadly effective drug targets. New targets may be effective but not better than current therapies except perhaps in niche indications. Good for precision medicine, but not so great amid the current pushback on drug prices. On the other hand, if limitations of tools and/or historical accident played the majority role in limiting discovery in the past, many innovative targets may be right around the corner as we sequence more genomes and begin to connect the dots between genetic abnormalities and problematic (or advantageous) phenotypes.

I don’t know the answer, but we’ll get an idea in the next few years as more of these genetics-derived targets make it to the clinic. If it does turn out that genetics helps with process and speed more than innovative leaps, well, that’s still helpful. That would also push us further toward new approaches, new platforms and combinatorial therapies. None of that will be easy, or quicker, or simpler. Just looking at the PD1/PDL1 combinatorial clinical trials landscape might be a preview of how messy this could be.PDl1

Also, if human genetics is orthogonal, it does increase the number of shots on goal a company can make although there are limits on how many targets any company can take to the clinic. It still begs the question, though, of whether those shots will be better or just different. And if it’s the latter, that’s not the solution the industry needs. Unfortunately, like so many techniques and tools that have come before (high throughput screening, anyone?), we just won’t know until we know. As much as people would like it to be so, knowledge in this area just won’t inexorably march onward and upward in a straight line.

 

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How Valeant, Anthem, and chirping crickets suggest Saunders’ social contract is doomed

This piece originally appeared in the Timmerman Report.

When Allergan CEO Brent Saunders announced his manifesto on drug pricing at Allergan just after Labor Day, he was met with acclaim and approval (some examples here and here). He called for a return to the social contract between biopharma companies and patients. In his view, patients understood in the past that developing drugs was risky and cost a lot of time and money, and therefore patented drugs would be expensive. Drug companies, holding up their end of the social contract, felt an obligation above simple profit-making—that drugs are supposed to keep patients healthy or to get them back to that state. That meant pricing had to take into account the public good, not just profit maximizing, and be reasonable. Moving forward, Saunders announced that, among other things, Allergan would commit to value-based pricing and to limit price increases to no more than single-digit percentage hikes per year.

These are worthy and admirable goals. But I look at other recent events and can’t help feeling his effort is doomed. Continue reading

How Distributed R&D Could Spark Entrepreneurship in Biopharma

This piece originally appeared in the Timmerman Report.

Remember the patent cliff and the general lack of new and innovative medicines in the industry pipeline? That was the big story of the past decade in biopharma. It caused a lot of searching for the next best way to organize R&D to improve productivity. One doesn’t hear that quite as often today. There are more innovative drugs both recently approved and moving forward through the pipelines of several biopharma.

The conversation these days has shifted toward drug pricing, and how the public is going to pay for some of these new, exciting drugs (the answer, in some cases, is maybe it can’t).

I don’t think the industry out of the woods yet. One of the main reasons drug prices have become such an issue is because even though there are new, innovative drugs, there aren’t enough of them. At the same time many of the drugs being approved are incrementally better but nevertheless being priced at a premium. And good reporting has made the public more aware of how many of our existing drugs are rising in price on a yearly basis. Especially in a time of little inflation, prices of most goods have not been going up at nearly the rate of pharmaceuticals.

Biopharma sits in a tough place. Analyses suggest the cost of developing a new drug has generally been doubling every nine years, which may be a by-product of some combination of the complexity of biology, our inability to predict which drugs will work, and the “better than the Beatles” problem. The question then is how to overcome these issues and increase the efficiency of developing new, innovative drugs. Without some kind of change, the industry is looking at a very difficult future in which price hikes run headlong into the wall of payers who finally say enough. Then what? Continue reading

The power law relationship in drug development

All opinions are my own and do not necessarily reflect those of Novo Nordisk.

A few weeks ago a friend and I had the great opportunity to go see Nate Silver speak at the University of Washington. He’s a funny, engaging speaker, and for someone like me who makes his living generating and analyzing data, Silver’s work in sports, politics and other fields has been inspirational.  Much of his talk covered elements of his book, The Signal and the Noise, which I read over a year ago. It was good to get a refresher. One of the elements that particularly struck me this time around, to the point that I took a picture of his slide, was the concept of the power law and its empirical relationship to so many of the phenomena we deal with in life.

Nate Silver graph small

Figure 1: Slide from Nate Silver’s talk demonstrating the power law relationship in business–how often the last 20% of accuracy (or quality or sales or…) comes from the last 80% of effort.

Because I spend way too much time thinking about the business of drug development, I started thinking of how this concept applies to our industry and specifically the problem the industry is facing with creating innovative medicines.

Continue reading

The innovators dilemma in biopharma part 3. What would disruption look like?

All opinions are my own and do not necessarily reflect those of Novo Nordisk.

h/t to @Frank_S_David, @scientre, and the LinkedIn Group Big Ideas in Pharma Innovation and R&D Productivity for links and ideas

Part 1 is here.

Part 2 is here.

In the previous parts to this series I’ve covered both why the biopharma industry is ripe for disruption, and what the markets might be that could support a nascent, potentially disruptive technology until it matures enough to allow it to supplant the current dominant industry players.  In this final part I’d like to ask what disruption would look like and provide some examples of directions and companies that exemplify what are, to my mind, these sorts of disruptive technologies and approaches. With, I might add, the complete and utter knowledge that I’m wrong about who and what specifically will be disruptive! But in any case, before we can identify disruption, it’s worthwhile to ask what are the key elements of biopharma drug development that serve as real bottlenecks to affecting  human health, since these are the elements most likely to provide an avenue for disruption. Continue reading

Biopharma should choose targets using a baseball-style draft

All opinions my own and do not necessarily reflect those of Novo Nordisk

I was sitting around last evening checking out how the end of my fantasy baseball season is working out (for the record, first out of ten in one league and fourth in the league I wrote about here) and I starting thinking again about the parallels between baseball and drug development (which I previously wrote about here and here for example, and also Stewart Lyman has a nice piece on a similar theme here). And it hit me that there’s another way in which biopharma could take a  page from baseball: fantasy and Major League Baseball both.

Biopharma could institute a draft for drug targets.  And to explore this I’m going to employ the time-honored, not to mention trite and artificial, format of a series of questions and answers.

Continue reading

Lack of replication no surprise when we’re studying really complex problems

All opinions are my own and do not necessarily reflect those of Novo Nordisk

For another nice take on this topic see Paul Knoepfler’s blog post here.

One of the sacred (can I say sacred in reference to something scientific?) tenets of the scientific method is reproducibility.  If something is real and measurable, if it’s a fact of the material world, then the expectation is that the result should be reproducible by another experimenter using the same methods as described in the original report.  One of the most well known (among physicists anyway) examples of irreproducible data is the Valentine’s Day Magnetic Monopole detected by Blas Cabrera back in 1982.  Great experimental data.  Never repeated, and therefore viewed as insufficient proof for the existence of a magnetic monopole.

So it’s troubling that in the past few years there have been numerous stories about the lack of reproducibility for different scientific experiments.  In biomedical science the number of  reports on the difficulty of reproducing results has gotten so great that the NIH has begun thinking about how to confirm and require reproducibility of some kinds of experimental results.  Just a few days ago another field, that of psychological priming, saw the publication of an article that the effects of “high-performance priming,” could not be reproduced.  This is another field undergoing serious questioning about whether/why results don’t reproduce, with commentary from such luminaries as Daniel Kahneman. Continue reading