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After years of work, Chile has passed a new law governing technology transfer, and it’s a surprisingly progressive set of provisions from a country that once had a law allowing it to reclaim project funding plus 5% from spinouts. The shift signals genuine learning from past mistakes, and raises some urgent questions about how it will actually work.
Chilean universities will retain ownership of intellectual property generated by faculty, which is standard practice in most countries – though New Zealand notably made the opposite choice a year ago.
What’s genuinely novel is what comes next: the law attempts to balance three competing objectives simultaneously – institutional sustainability, researcher protection, and radical public benefit – in ways that will test both policy design and institutional discipline.
Álvaro Ossa, director of transfer and development at UC Chile and president of the Network of Technological Managers of Chile, views it as a watershed moment: “The new law is a major step forward for Chile’s technology transfer ecosystem. It was approved with 135 votes in favour and none against, with support across two different governments. In a country where consensus can be difficult, that is significant.”
He continues: “For me, one of its most important contributions is that it levels the playing field between public and private universities when it comes to creating spinoffs. For public universities, this was particularly challenging because researchers are public servants and, under the previous rules, could not hold more than 10% of a spinoff. Private universities faced different restrictions, particularly around related-party transactions. The new law changes this and makes it much easier for researchers to participate in spinoffs based on their own research.”
Beyond levelling the playing field, the law introduces a daring mechanism for open science: a mandatory public repository of scientific and technological knowledge. If an institution fails to protect IP for publicly funded research within a specified timeframe, it becomes public domain. That’s a powerful, but potentially contentious, tool for preventing knowledge hoarding.
Ossa is cautiously optimistic about the tension, saying “the balance between open research and commercialisation is very important.”
He adds: “The National Repository can be a valuable initiative to make publicly funded knowledge more accessible. But if poorly managed, it could also result in the loss of valuable intellectual property, particularly knowledge that could give Chile a strategic competitive advantage.”
The most provocative element, however, is Article 5. It mandates “socially responsible licensing”, requiring that any exploitation of publicly funded research prioritise social commitment, equity, and public responsibility. While noble in intent, that’s a potential legal minefield.
For a tech transfer manager, negotiating terms that satisfy a commercial licensee without appearing to violate “social responsibility” will be a delicate art. For now, it’s guesswork what the rules might be: the government has yet to release the specific regulations. The law does include a built-in safety valve: a public evaluation every January, offering a structured opportunity for course-correction.
“I think the principle is a good one and an important initiative,” says Ossa. “The challenge will be making sure it does not become so strict that it creates uncertainty or discourages investment in bringing technologies to market.”
This ethos of radical openness permeates the rest of the legislation. Institutions must now inform all contributors of any achieved results, even if those researchers have since left. It protects researcher interests over institutional control, while at the same time ensuring knowledge isn’t siloed within the institution.
And universities are now required to list, on their website, any spinouts they produce or own a stake in, the percentage of their shareholding in each company, and any financial interest held by academics or staff. The list has to be updated at least once every six months. Failure to do so will be considered a serious offence or even extremely serious if the omission is deemed deliberate.
It’s more stick than carrot, but it has every potential of avoiding the kind of opacity that can breed resentment (one only has to read the “observations” section of Spinout.fyi).
In the long term, this forced transparency may organically harmonise equity stakes without first requiring work on a national framework.
And by requiring that cooperation agreements with spinouts be registered with the Superintendency of Higher Education within 30 days, Chile is treating the democratisation of knowledge as a core policy objective.
The legislation walks a razor-thin line between the profit motives of commercialisation and the moral mandates of public benefit. If successful, Chile may provide a blueprint for other emerging innovation ecosystems.
Ossa concludes: “For me, the real test starts now. Much of the law’s impact will depend on the regulation that still needs to be developed. A good law can become a powerful incentive for moving research from the lab to the market, but its implementation will determine much of the outcome.”
