In policy circles and startup boardrooms alike, patents are often discussed in procedural terms, filings, timelines, grants. Yet for Abhijit Bhand, the conversation begins elsewhere: with economics.
“Patents are not paperwork,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone. “They are decisions about how a country positions itself in the global value chain.”
Bhand’s view is not romantic, nor purely legalistic. It sits at the intersection of law, markets, and national strategy. At its core is a simple proposition: intellectual property, when treated seriously, can function as infrastructure for economic development.
The philosophical foundation of patents, incentive, disclosure, and diffusion, is well established. States grant temporary exclusivity to encourage invention, inventors disclose knowledge, and markets build on that knowledge over time. But Bhand argues that the real gap, particularly in emerging economies, lies not in understanding these principles, but in applying them with intent.
“Filing a patent without a commercial objective is like building a factory without a distribution plan,” he remarks.
The contrast becomes evident when viewed against countries that have deliberately integrated intellectual property into their development models.
Consider South Korea. Its transformation from a low-income economy in the mid-20th century to a global innovation hub is often attributed to industrial policy and export orientation. But intellectual property played a quieter, equally decisive role. South Korean firms were not only encouraged to manufacture but to invent, and to protect those inventions.
Companies such as Samsung, LG, Hyundai and CJ illustrates this shift. Over decades, Samsung accumulated extensive patent portfolios across electronics and semiconductor technologies, allowing it to compete globally not just on cost, but on technological ownership. Its patents are not peripheral, they are embedded in its business model.
A similar pattern is visible in the United States, though through a more decentralized lens. Firms there have long treated patents as strategic assets rather than regulatory obligations.
Qualcomm is a frequently cited example. It invests heavily in foundational research and monetizes its innovations through licensing, effectively turning intellectual property into a recurring revenue stream. Apple, meanwhile, uses a layered IP approach, combining design, utility, and brand protection, to reinforce product differentiation.
Even legacy technology players such as Microsoft and IBM have historically leveraged patents for cross-licensing and long-term positioning, treating IP portfolios as both shields and negotiating tools.
For Bhand, these examples are less about admiration and more about diagnosis. “These companies understood early that innovation alone is not enough,” he says. “Control over innovation is what creates durable advantage.”
It is this distinction that frames his critique of the Indian landscape.
India, by most measures, is not short on ideas. Its startup ecosystem is expanding, its engineering talent is globally recognized, and its policy discourse increasingly emphasizes innovation. Yet, as Bhand points out, much of this activity remains weakly anchored in intellectual property strategy.
“Too often, patents are filed late, drafted narrowly, or disconnected from business goals,” he observes. “The result is that value leaks out, sometimes to competitors who are better structured to capture it.”
His emphasis, therefore, is not on increasing patent numbers alone, but on improving intent, quality, and alignment. A patent, in his formulation, should answer a set of economic questions: Does it create a barrier to entry? Can it be licensed? Does it strengthen valuation? Does it anticipate future markets?
This approach is particularly relevant in sectors where India is seeking to establish leadership, artificial intelligence, biotechnology, and clean energy. In such domains, early control over core technologies can shape entire industries.
Beyond firm-level strategy, Bhand also situates intellectual property within a broader macroeconomic context. Strong IP regimes, he argues, do more than protect inventors; they signal reliability to global investors, facilitate technology transfer, and contribute to a culture where ideas are treated as assets rather than abstractions.
There is, however, a caution embedded in his perspective. Strengthening intellectual property is not merely a legislative exercise. It requires institutional capacity, awareness among businesses, and a shift in how innovation itself is perceived.
“In countries where IP works well, you see a mindset shift,” he notes. “Engineers don’t just solve problems, they think about ownership. Businesses don’t just sell products, they build positions.”
This notion of “ownership” is central to his broader argument about economic independence. For Bhand, self-reliance is not defined by producing more goods domestically, but by controlling the knowledge that underpins those goods.
“Manufacturing without ownership keeps you in the middle of the value chain,” he says. “Intellectual property is what moves you up.”
It is a perspective that reframes patents from legal instruments into strategic assets, less about exclusion, more about positioning.
Whether India fully adopts this approach remains an open question. But as global competition increasingly shifts toward intangible assets, the argument that patents can serve as economic levers, rather than administrative endpoints, may gain greater traction.
For now, Bhand’s position is clear, if understated: in the evolving architecture of global markets, ideas matter, but ownership of those ideas matters more.
