Figuring out what to focus on now & next in science and higher ed

This newsletter is my part of an ongoing conversation among colleagues who’ve had a rough week. I share two or three pieces of the puzzle that feel the most important, hazard a guess about what to expect next, and offer at least one useful thing to do.

MEETING THE MOMENT: 2025-05-16

Hello friends,

How are you holding up? Maybe you’re at the end of the semester; perhaps at the end of your rope? Maybe, like me, you’re feeling a queasy mix of gratitude for everything we have, grief over everything we’re losing, and gnawing uncertainty about what is to come next.

I can’t stop thinking that it feels like we are making our way into some grimly metaphorical commencement. The hugs, the tears, the banality, the profundity: it’s all here; we’re all in it. Here we stand on the precipice, struggling with that odd double vision: we’re still in a familiar place, surrounded by familiar people, knowing that it is over. It will never be the same again.

We cannot be in denial, but I refuse to give in to despair. So let’s talk about what those changes are, okay? This was week 17.

What’s happening now

• On Tuesday, members of the Senate committee on Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions (HELP) updated our understanding of the damage unleashed in the first three months of 2024. Their staff report a $2.7 billion decrease in total NIH funding obligations in Q1. These cuts don’t just hurt researchers and their institutions: it is patients who will suffer. And remember, the cuts so far are small potatoes compared to the $18 billion (40%) reduction to the NIH proposed in the skinny budget. On the NSF front, 264 more grants have been terminated since Monday. The majority of those are from Harvard, where multiple federal agencies all issued terminations to research programs all across the campus. I hold all that in my head while I watch skeleton crews scrambling to protect the public from storms and air travel disasters. And then I think about how conservatives have blocked the budget reconciliation process because the proposed cuts are not large enough.
• It’s not only a question of how much funding is being cut, but who it’s being taken away from.
  • This week, we confirmed the wildly disproportionate impact of NSF cuts on minoritized researchers: grants with Hispanic, disabled, or women PIs were twice as likely to lose a grant. Black PIs were four times as likely to have had a grant cut.
  • The NIH is functionally blocking international collaboration. Instead of receiving subawards, which are regulated, counterparts outside the US will be required to independently submit grant applications for review.
  • In my first meeting of the morning, I heard that HHMI suspended the Hanna Gray Fellows Program. I hoped it wasn’t true - applications were already submitted and under review - but many applicants have now independently confirmed. This comes just three months after HHMI stripped language about inclusivity from this program and others, before reaffirming their commitment to them. Worse, the notification email states that all competitions are paused. It looks like all we have right now is speculation about why and what's next. I hope to see much more about this next week.
• Amidst all the bad news, I’m making a point to search for the bright spots. They might look like principled refusals to ignore a broken status quo. Those might look like specific models for bridge funding, like Harvard’s new Research Continuity Funding program. And a few grants are being reinstated. Similarly, some climate datasets are being restored to the public after farmers’ groups fought for them in court. Oh, and I saw a small update yesterday on the lawsuit against NSF’s attempt to cap indirects at 15%. The government has agreed to stay implementation until June 13 to avoid a preliminary injunction.
• Okay, one final item, and I’m sorry in advance. That HELP staff report I mentioned earlier was released in advance of two back-to-back congressional committee hearings that generated a head-spinning set of headlines. My personal didn't-realize-I-could-still-be-shocked moment came at the part where we found out we do not seem to have an acting CDC director? Y’all.

What’s next & what to do

Take a walk. Take a nap. Water your plants. (Water yourself while you’re at it).

And when you’re ready, let’s walk through a line of thinking that is scaring me. In keeping with my opening thoughts about commencement, my attention is turning to this summer and the reckoning I anticipate.

As graduations wrap up, I’m wondering how many foreboding letters about difficult financial decisions are about to land in inboxes. When I see Princeton - one of the wealthiest universities in the world - freezing most staff hires and implementing permanent 5-10% cuts, I worry. I’m thinking about how the grant funding situation intersects with summer salaries for those of us who are faculty, especially for labs also struggling to cover costs in the wake of grant cancellations. And then I think about the broader context as we head into summer. Do you see where I’m going with this? I do think this is the summer that changes everything in American science.

I think we are in the midst of a disaster, and I think we should act like it.

And I understand that there are no good options for lots of us. I cannot fathom how hard things might be for you right now. On top of everything I write about every week, the people I love are coping with miscarriages, moves, metastasis, and more. The loss of a brother. A dad in hospice. A kiddo who needs attention more than anything right now. So yes, specific, coordinated action is essential, but first? We need to get as stable as we can.

So when I say “act like we’re in a disaster”, I mean it. We need to put aside every distraction. Pool the resources we do have. Check in on our people. Help without needing to be asked.

Together, we can do more than simply survive our losses: we can turn them into fuel for our fires. As Solnit writes, “We don’t even have a language for this emotion, in which the wonderful comes wrapped in the terrible, joy in sorrow, courage in fear. We cannot welcome disaster, but we can value the responses, both practical and psychological.”

I value you. Thanks for being here with me.

Liz