Innovative policies and a diverse scorpion population have led to new treatments in Mexico, providing a model for other developing countries, experts say.
PUEBLA STATE, MEXICO - Ojo de Agua Ranch, at the edge of the sleepy town of Agua Fria, is home to nine dogs, six geese, 12 canaries, 21 sheep, and 163 horses. The sprawling 400-acre oasis is the inheritance of five brothers, the eldest of which, Alejandro Alagón, bought the equines in 2008 with a specific purpose in mind: Creating antivenom.
Nearly 140,000 people die from snakebites annually, many of which are treatable with antivenoms, according to the World Health Organization. Envenomations—the term for bites and stings caused by animals such as snakes and scorpions—are also a silent scourge: In 2017, WHO added snakebite envenomations to its list of neglected tropical diseases.
That’s why, throughout the 20th century, Mexican researchers improved and invented over a dozen antivenoms now used in the U.S. and elsewhere. Today, Mexican antivenoms are marketed through the country’s three biggest antivenom firms, Instituto Bioclon, BIRMEX, and Inosan Biopharma, which supplies the U.S. military.
Alagón, who has worked extensively with Bioclon and Inosan, has invented or improved upon 16 antivenom products, two of which have been approved by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration.
A snake's venom gland is located behind the eye. To milk the reptile, scientists force it to bite down on a hard object, releasing the venom into a receptacle.
"My research comes second only to my family. The fact is that, with antivenoms, lives are saved and suffering is diminished,” Alagón says.
Alagón, seen at his university's spider terrarium, has been stung by a bark scorpion twice—and was saved by his own antivenom.
The country’s inroads in drastically reducing envenomation deaths while building a world-leading antivenom industry offers lessons for other countries with high rates of snakebites and stings.
One of the top places for antivenom research in Mexico is the Institute of Biotechnology at the National Autonomous University.
Their herpetarium boasts 61 endemic and foreign serpientes: among them the Nayarit coral snake, the Yucatán hognosed pitviper, and the Mexican green rattler. A smaller room contains scorpions living in boxes.
A scorpion sting is what transformed the Mexican antivenom industry into one of the world’s most prodigious. After the son of then-President Ernesto Zedillo suffered a near-fatal scorpion sting in 1995, the traumatized politician mobilized the medical establishment. Nurses and doctors were trained in administering antivenom. Production was subsidized by the federal government. Rural communities were educated in treatment options. Zedillo’s efforts paid off. From 1990 to 2007, snakebite mortality decreased by 66 percent, and scorpion mortality decreased by 83 percent, according to a 2020 study led by Alagón.
The sun rises over a paddock at the Ojo de Agua ranch, founded by Alagón’s maternal grandfather
Gravity separates the plasma, the antibody-rich part of blood, which collects at the bottom of the bag in a maroon stripe.
Scientists believe that increasing human migration, coupled with environmental and climatic changes, is bringing more people into contact with venomous creatures.
The term “vicious cycle” is used to describe the socioeconomic process by which developing countries become trapped in a state of high envenomation and low antivenom accessibility.
Mexico broke that cycle by marshaling several public and private resources in what some call a “big blitz”: ample funding for antivenom research and manufacturing, nationwide education programs, investment in modern technologies, and skilled scientists.
Mexican companies also remain competitive by keeping up to date on foreign regulatory requirements, a sticking point for many developing countries, and tend to improve their medications based on feedback about their products’ efficacy
Though challenging, that’s the model that would be beautiful to reproduce elsewhere.
