“Greetings! You’ve been added to our journal’s editorial system because we believe you would serve as an excellent reviewer of [Unexciting Title] manuscript …”
You probably get these, too. It feels like such emails are propagating. The peer-review system may still be the best we have for academic quality assurance, but it is vulnerable to human overload, preferences and even mood. A result can be low-effort, late or unconstructive reviews, but first the editors must be lucky enough to find someone willing to do a review at all. There should be a better way. Here’s an idea of how to rethink the reviewer allocation process.
The Pressure on Peer Review
As the number of academic papers continues to grow, so do refereeing tasks. Scientists struggle to keep up with increasing demands to publish their own work while also accepting the thankless task of reviewing others’ work. In the wake, low-effort, AI-generated and even plagiarized reviewer reports find fertile ground, feeding a vicious circle that slowly undermines the process. Peer review—the bedrock of scientific quality control—is under pressure.
Editors have been experimenting with ways to rethink the peer-reviewing process. Ideas include paying reviewers, distributing review tasks among multiple reviewers (on project proposals), transparently posting reviews (already an option for some Nature journals) or tracking and giving virtual credits for reviews (as with Publon). However, in one aspect, journals have apparently not experimented a lot: how to assign submitted papers to qualified reviewers.
The standard approach for reviewer selection is to match signed-up referees with submitted papers using a keyword search, the paper’s reference list or the editors’ knowledge of the field and community. Reviewers are invited to review only one paper at a time—but often en masse to secure enough reviews—and if they decline, someone else may be invited. It’s an unproductive process.
Choice in Work Task Allocation Can Improve Performance
Inspired by our ongoing research on giving workers more choice in work task allocation in a manufacturing setting, it struck me that academic referees have limited choices when asked to review a paper for a journal. It’s basically a “yes, I’ll take it” or “no, I won’t.” They are only given the choice of accepting or rejecting one paper from a journal at a time. That seems to be the modus operandi across all disciplines I have encountered.
In our study in a factory context, productivity increased when workers could choose among several job tasks. The manufacturer we worked with had implemented a smartwatch-based work task allocation system: Workers wore smartwatches showing open work tasks that they could accept or reject. In a field experiment, we provided some workers the opportunity to select from a menu of open tasks instead of only one. Our results showed that giving choice improved work performance.
A New Approach: Reviewers’ Choice
Similar to the manufacturing setting, academic reviewers might also do better in a system that empowers them with options. One way to improve peer review may be as simple as presenting potential referees with a few submitted papers’ titles and abstracts to choose from for review.
The benefits of choice in reviewer allocation are realistic: Referees may be more likely to accept a review when asked to select one among several, and their resulting review reports should be more timely and developmental when they are genuinely curious about the topic. For example, reviewers could choose one among a limited set of titles and abstracts that fit their area of domain or methodological expertise.
Taking it further, publishers could consider pooling submissions from several journals in a cross-journal submission and peer-review platform. This could help make the review process focus on the research, not where it’s submitted—aligned with the San Francisco Declaration on Research Assessment. I note that double-blind reviews rather than single-blind may be preferable in such a platform to reduce biases based on affiliations and names.
What Can Go Wrong
In light of the increased pressure on the publishing process, rethinking the peer-review process is important in its own right. However, shifting to an alternative system based on choice introduces a few new challenges. First, there is the risk of authors exposing ideas to a broader set of reviewers, who may be more interested in getting ideas for their next project than engaging in a constructive reviewing process.
Relatedly, if the platform is cross-journal, authors may be hesitant to expose their work to many reviewers in case of rejections. Second, authors may be tempted to use clickbait titles and abstracts—although this may backfire on the authors when reviewers don’t find what they expected in the papers. Third, marginalized or new topics may find no interested reviewers. As in the classic review process, such papers can still be handled by editors in parallel. While there are obstacles that should be considered, testing a solution should be low in risk.
Call to Action
Publishers already have multi-journal submission platforms, making it easier for authors to submit papers to a range of journals or transfer manuscripts between them. Granting more choices to reviewers as well should be technically easy to implement. The simplest way would be to use the current platforms to assign reviewers a low number of papers and ask them to choose one. A downside could be extended turnaround times, so pooling papers across a subset of journals could be beneficial.
For success, the reviewers should be vetted and accept a code of conduct. The journal editors must accept that their journals will be reviewed at the same level and with the same scrutiny as other journals in the pool. Perhaps there could be tit-for-tat guidelines, like completing two constructive reviews or more for each paper an author team submits for review. Such rules could work when there is an economy of scale in journals, reviewers and papers. Editors, who will try it first?
Torbjørn Netland is a professor and chair of production and operations management in the Department of Management, Technology, and Economics at ETH Zurich.
This administration’s purported war against campus antisemitism is in fact a crusade against the rights of free expression, academic freedom and due process for everyone involved in higher education in the United States. Those of us in the fields of Jewish and Israel studies strenuously object to being used as pawns in the administration’s venal political games. Threats to cut government-funded research and the deportations of protesters without due process are not solutions to campus tensions and will just intensify the existing polarization.
Teaching about Israel or any contemporary Jewish topic has become a minefield over the past several years. On one side we face campus members who boycott or ostracize anyone who comes from Israel and any academic unit that has “Israel” in its name. On the other side are those within and beyond the academic community whose expectations of advocacy and activism for Israel contradict the scholarly ethos that most of us share.
The campus climate has become difficult to endure for many Jewish students, staff and faculty. The number of tracked antisemitic incidents has skyrocketed since the Hamas terror attack of Oct. 7, 2023, and the start of Israel’s Gaza war. Muslim and Palestinian campus members have also been targeted in violent ways. Several task force reports have concluded that, in many cases, university leaders responded inadequately to incidents of campus antisemitism and Islamophobia.
The field of Israel studies has become a target in the campus battles. Today, our events often can take place only under police protection, lectures on Israel are disrupted and antisemitic tropes are used in activists’ fights against Zionism and Israel. Many Israel and Jewish studies faculty have faced internal boycotts and the refusal of colleagues to engage in any communication. As the director of American University’s Center for Israel Studies, I can testify that my colleagues across the country and I are neither activists for a cause nor spokespersons for a government.
Just as an American studies professor should not be held responsible for the actions of the U.S. government, Israel studies professors should not be associated with the actions of the Israeli government. Our job in Israel studies is to teach critically about Israel, just as scholars of Arab studies are supposed to teach critically about the Arab world and scholars of China about China. Our task is to educate and to present a variety of viewpoints and narratives to our students. We present Israel in all its diversity, which includes its Jewish citizens with ancestry in Europe, the Americas, the Arab world and Ethiopia, as well as the Palestinian citizens, who make up about 20 percent of Israel’s population.
We need to take a clear stance when academics are ostracized and boycotted for the actions of their government or of the country they study instead of for their individual positions. We need to make sure that there is a healthy campus climate and no tolerance for any form of antisemitism, racism or Islamophobia. But we need to fix this without external interventions and threats to our academic freedom.
The case against Columbia University, my own alma mater, is just one in a series of attempts in which the Trump administration has used Jewish students and faculty as pawns in its own attack on the higher education system in this country. Recently, the Department of Education notified 60 universities that they may face enforcement actions for failing to protect Jewish students from antisemitic harassment.
Columbia conceded to the Trump administration’s demands after the cancellation of $400 million in government grants and contracts. Among other things, Columbia’s leadership pledged to adopt a formal definition of antisemitism, to hire an internal security force that will be empowered to make arrests and to place the university’s Middle Eastern, South Asian and African Studies Department under the oversight of a senior vice provost.
Our students are not protected by cutting research programs, and our programs have no intention to thrive at the expense of others. The fight against antisemitism must be waged on our own grounds and within accepted legal parameters. Cracking down on universities is how authoritarian regimes act, not democracies.
Everyone deserves due process in a democratic society, including and especially those with whom we disagree. We need to fight against bigotry on our campuses, rebuild our campus communities and relearn civic dialogue by preserving our academic freedoms.
Michael Brenner is Distinguished Professor of History and director of the Center for Israel Studies at American University in Washington, D.C., and professor of Jewish history and culture at Ludwig Maximilian University in Munich.
The academy is facing a crisis of confidence. Where shared governance once nurtured robust debate and institutional progress, a climate of fear is taking hold, stifling dialogue and endangering the very mission of higher education. Decision-makers, ensnared in an atmosphere marked by uncertainty, are both terrified to act and paralyzed by inaction. They are troubled by a well-orchestrated effort that seeks to fundamentally alter higher education, forcing the sector into a state of existential terror for the foreseeable future. Consequently, we are witnessing a shift from shared governance to scared governance, and the consequences are profound.
At present, presidents seem to be thunderously quiet, boards approach critical issues with trepidation and faculty members feel suppressed in their teaching and research. The insidious costs of these constraints—the lost opportunities, the stifled innovation, the further erosion of trust—are staggering. These costs must be exposed to public scrutiny, as they are not confined to higher education. The repercussions of external intrusion will manifest in every facet of our society.
Governing boards—guardians of institutional mission and values—must recognize the gravity of this moment. This isn’t simply about diversity, equity and inclusion, though the attacks on DEI initiatives are a major part of the problem. This is about institutional independence, the freedom to pursue knowledge and the very DNA of our nation’s colleges and universities. Too often board members have permitted faculty or presidents to take the lead in governance and have used shared governance as an excuse, explanation or cover for their own lack of involvement. They have successfully hidden in plain sight.
Governance, however, is not a spectator sport. Boards have to champion the preservation of institutional independence and recognize that inaction under the guise of shared governance is still inaction. They cannot afford to be passive observers, expecting others to shoulder the burden of defending the institution’s core values while they remain detached. This is not a middle school group project; everyone has to participate or we will all fail the assignment.
The responsibility falls on governing boards to work with presidents to answer (clearly and immediately) some key questions:
What principles defined our institutions before the current political climate?
Do we still stand for these principles? If so, how can we hold fast to them now?
What price are we willing to pay to uphold those foundational values?
If we abandon our values now, what remains of our institutional identity?
Autonomy is not merely a privilege; it’s the bedrock of our academic mission. It is not only our institutional independence at stake, but our very integrity.
Many boards, understandably, are hesitant to address these challenges directly. But silence and inaction are not options. Board members are the ultimate arbiters of their institutions’ destinies. It is time to abandon the narrow focus on isolated initiatives and confront the broader, systemic assault on academic freedom and institutional autonomy. Board leadership will determine how we navigate this defining moment.
Boards of trustees are the protectors of institutional values. They carry the legacies of their institutions forward. If they fail in this duty, the consequences may be irreversible. While other higher education decision-makers respond to executive orders, policy shifts and legal rulings, the board’s role is clear and unchanging. The only uncertainty is whether members will fulfill their responsibilities in alignment with the institution’s mission.
The future of higher education depends on boards of higher education. The 1966 Statement on Government of Colleges and Universities makes it clear that “The governing board has a special obligation to ensure that the history of the college or university shall serve as a prelude and inspiration to the future … When ignorance or ill will threaten the institution or any part of it, the governing board must be available for support. In grave crises, it will be expected to serve as a champion.”
Board members: This is that moment. Your institutions—and the public they serve—are waiting for you to lead. The future of higher education depends on your courage, your convictions and your willingness to champion the values upon which your institutions were built. Will you rise to the occasion? We need you now more than ever.
We’ve recently made some suggestions for concrete actions trustees and senior leaders of institutions can take immediately to advance the great work higher education does while partnering with good-faith collaborators to address the field’s challenges. For those boards that want to be proactive and not just reactive, here are a few ideas.
One key action is to highlight the implications for resources. A public, transparent review of the university’s budget should explicitly showcase areas under threat—like research and DEI programs. To take this further, institutions could consider reallocating funds from traditionally “untouchable” areas, such as athletics, to fortify initiatives focused on inclusivity and academic freedom. Publicly challenging politicians to justify cuts in the face of these demonstrated priorities could push the conversation beyond rhetoric.
Fundraising strategies also need reimagining. Universities could launch targeted campaigns specifically designed to offset federal funding cuts and support programs under siege. A bolder approach might frame these efforts as “impact investments,” emphasizing the societal returns on supporting research and DEI. This reframing could inspire donors who care deeply about the university’s role in shaping a more equitable future.
Equally important is stressing the human cost. Universities should conduct and publish comprehensive reports that quantify the real-world consequences of funding cuts—measuring lives impacted, medical treatments delayed, rising attrition rates and mental health issues among students and staff. Presenting these findings to legislators and the public forces a direct reckoning with the human toll of these policy decisions. The facts, laid bare, can speak louder than fear.
Finally, institutions must build collective strength through research consortia. By forming inter-institutional partnerships to pool resources and expertise, universities can ensure the continuation of vital research projects at risk. A more assertive stance could position these consortia as a direct counter to political interference, underscoring the importance of academic inquiry free from external pressure.
The path forward is clear: Governing boards must lead with transparency, strategy and courage. Higher education’s survival—and its ability to serve the public good—depends on it.
Raquel M. Rall and Demetri L. Morgan are co-founders and co-directors of the Center for Strategic & Inclusive Governance. Rall is an associate professor and associate dean of strategic initiatives in the School of Education at the University of California, Riverside. Morgan is an associate professor of education at the University of Michigan’s Marsal Family School of Education, within the Center for the Study of Postsecondary and Higher Education.
Additionally, the Trump administration has variously moved to cancel or suspend research contracts and grants at Columbia University, the University of Pennsylvania and most recently Princeton University as part of punitive actions tied to investigations of campus antisemitism or, in Penn’s case, the decision to allow a trans woman to compete on the women’s swim team three years ago. The administration also briefly froze (and then unfroze) United States Department of Agriculture funds for the University of Maine system after the state’s governor engaged in a tense exchange with President Trump at the White House.
Below, 15 researchers across nine different research areas who have had their federal grants terminated since the start of the Trump administration share just a few of the thousands of stories behind these cuts.
—Elizabeth Redden, opinion editor
Preventing Intimate Partner Violence
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By Rebecca Fielding-Miller, Nicholas Metheny and Sarah Peitzmeier
Each year, more than 3,000 American women are murdered by their partners. Pregnancy and the postpartum period are high-risk periods for intimate partner violence (IPV), which is linked to negative maternal outcomes such as miscarriage, hemorrhage and postpartum depression. Perinatal IPV is also linked to worse infant health outcomes, such as preterm birth and low birth weight, and to adverse childhood experiences. This makes prevention of perinatal IPV crucial not just for the survivor but for the entire family.
Perinatal IPV and its cascade of negative outcomes are preventable—but only if we study the epidemiology and prevention of IPV as rigorously as we study hypertension or any other perinatal complication. A grant rescinded last month by the NIH would have trained a cohort of 12 early-career clinicians and researchers to learn how to study IPV as part of their ongoing research on pregnancy, birth and the postpartum period. We proposed training investigators working in diverse communities across the spectrum of America, with a commitment to including communities disproportionately impacted by IPV and maternal mortality, including Black and LGBTQ+ communities. To solve a problem with constrained resources, it is efficient to focus efforts on where the problem is most severe. While the termination letter named this targeting of training resources an “amorphous equity objective,” we call it a data-driven approach to rigorous science.
Training grants like this one help shift an entire field by giving young investigators the skills and knowledge to add a focus on IPV to their research for the next several decades. In addition to training these 12 young researchers, the grant would have also supported turning the mentorship curriculum we developed into an open-access online training for clinicians and researchers to access in perpetuity, multiplying the impact of the work to train even more investigators in the field. As with the approximately 700 other terminated NIH grants, cutting this work before our aims are realized but after significant costs have been incurred to establish the mentorship team and design the curriculum is the definition of government inefficiency and waste.
With this grant rescinded, none of the promised training will occur. Pregnant people and their babies from every community across America will continue to suffer, without the benefit of advances in the science of how we prevent these violence exposures. Our termination notice claims that the proposed trainings are “antithetical to the scientific inquiry, do nothing to expand our knowledge of living systems, provide low returns on investment, and ultimately do not enhance health, lengthen life, or reduce illness.” We could not disagree more. Anyone who has cared for a child or for the person who gave birth to them knows that preventing maternal and infant death and abuse should be a nonpartisan issue. The current administration is intent on making even this issue into “us” versus “them.” When it comes to public health, there is no such thing. American families deserve better.
Rebecca Fielding Miller is an associate professor of public health at the University of California, San Diego. Her research focuses on health disparities in infectious disease and gender-based violence.
Nicholas Metheny is an Atlanta-area scientist and registered nurse with clinical and research experience in the post-violence care of women and sexual and gender minority communities.
Sarah Peitzmeier is an assistant professor at the University of Maryland School of Public Health who develops and tests interventions to prevent gender-based violence. She is also a practicing birth doula and victim advocate.
Is Work-Study Working?
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By Judith Scott-Clayton
On March 7, at 9:49 a.m., I received an email with “GRANT AWARD TERMINATION” in all caps in the subject line. Attached to the email was a letter, addressed to me as project director and referring to our Department of Education grant by its award number. The letter was generic, virtually identical to three other termination letters received that day at the Community College Research Center at Columbia University’s Teachers College, where I am affiliated. It did not mention our project title nor provide any project-specific details to explain why our project, as the email states, “is now inconsistent with, and no longer effectuates, the Department’s priorities.” A few hours later, I received a formal notification that the grant end date was that day: March 7, 2025.
The project—a collaboration with Adela Soliz of Vanderbilt University and Tom Brock of CCRC—was titled “Does Federal Work-Study Work for Students? Evidence From a Randomized Controlled Trial.” The Federal Work-Study (FWS) program was created in 1964 as part of the Economic Opportunity Act and covers up to 75 percent of the wages of college students working part-time in mostly on-campus jobs, with colleges paying the rest. In a typical year, the program provides more than $1 billion in support to more than 450,000 college students with financial need at more than 3,000 institutions all across the country. Several states also have their own similar programs.
Our study would be the first to rigorously evaluate the causal impact of the program on students’ enrollment, employment, persistence and degree completion. We were also conducting interviews, focus groups and surveys to understand how students find FWS jobs, what kinds of work they do, what resources institutions devote to running the program and how much it all costs to operate, all with the goal of ensuring the program is delivering the maximum impact for every single student that participates and for every dollar spent.
At the time of its cancellation, we were about four and a half years into a six-year project. We were right in the middle of randomizing what would be the final cohort of our study sample and fielding the final round of a student survey. This final year is especially important, because the early cohorts were heavily impacted by the pandemic. For the past three weeks, we have been scrambling to pull together any other resources we could find to preserve our options and avoid losing this final cohort of participants. We have also been scrambling to figure out how to continue to pay critical staff and doctoral students involved in the project until we can figure out the next steps.
As for the broader impact of the termination: The Federal Work-Study program itself will keep on going, at least for now; we just won’t know whether it works or not. We hypothesize that it may provide valuable work-based learning opportunities that keep students engaged and give them advantages in the labor market after college, but it’s possible that it distracts students from their studies and hurts their academic performance. We may think that it helps students to afford college, but perhaps the complexity of finding a specific job and navigating all the necessary paperwork reduces its value for the students that need help the most. The next time the program is up for debate, policymakers will be flying blind: Without actual evidence all we can do is speculate.
Since 1964, the FWS program has disbursed more than $95 billion in awards. In comparison, our grant was less than three-thousandths of 1 percent of that amount, and the amount remaining to finish our work and share our findings with the public was just a fraction of that. Our project was motivated by a desire to help policymakers ensure that every dollar invested in financial aid has the maximum possible impact for low-income students. So it is discouraging to learn, so close to the finish line, that this first-of-its-kind evaluation of a major federal program is “now inconsistent with, and no longer effectuates, the Department’s priorities.”
Judith Scott-Clayton is a professor of economics and education at Teachers College, Columbia University, in the Department of Education Policy and Social Analysis, where she directs the Economics and Education Program and teaches courses on the economics of education, labor economics and causal inference.
Democracy Research
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By Rob Blair, Jessica Gottlieb, Laura Paler and Julie Anne Weaver
We lost funding for the Democratic Erosion Consortium (DEC) as part of the federal government’s recent cancellation of foreign assistance grants. Directed by scholars at Brown University, the University of Houston and American University, DEC works to make academic research on democratic backsliding accessible to policymakers and practitioners seeking evidence-based strategies to defend democracy around the globe.
Originally launched in 2017 on a shoestring budget, DEC began as an effort to improve pedagogy on a troubling trend observable both abroad and at home: the strategic dismantling of democratic norms and institutions by elected leaders with autocratic ambitions. In 2022, in line with the U.S. government’s dual interests in democratic resilience and evidence-based policymaking, we received a grant from the State Department to expand DEC’s work.
The State Department’s investment enabled us to grow our reach beyond the classroom and into the policy arena. We drew on an expanding network of scholars to synthesize evidence on urgent questions—such as how to reduce the spread of misinformation and measure democratic decline. We also built out a novel event data set on democratic erosion and trained partners around the world to use it in their own work.
The immediate consequences are clear: several full- and part-time staff lost funding for their jobs. But the long-term damage is hard to quantify. It’s difficult to argue for the value of evidence-based policymaking in foreign aid when the entire category of foreign assistance has effectively been gutted. More than that, the partnerships we built between academics, practitioners and policymakers were yielding real-time insights and responses—a rare example of successful research-policy collaboration. That infrastructure is now gone.
And at a moment when democratic backsliding is accelerating in many parts of the world, the U.S. government is stepping away from efforts to understand and counter it. Ending this grant not only weakens the ability to monitor democratic erosion globally, it also reduces public awareness and understanding of a phenomenon that is increasingly visible in the U.S. itself.
With the federal policy audience for our work largely gone, we are refocusing our efforts on our other two core constituencies: students and academics. We continue to support instructors engaged in teaching our democratic erosion course and to improve the Democratic Erosion Event Dataset. And in response to growing concern about democratic backsliding in the U.S., we’re developing a more robust domestic data-collection effort, paired with public engagement.
Given intense partisan disagreement around what even constitutes democratic erosion, we are seeking to increase the credibility of new evidence by capturing partisan-diverse perspectives and applying our established comparative framework to U.S. events. We are hoping to continue this work, despite the loss of our federal grant, because the political reality in the U.S. and around the world tells us we need to be worried about democratic erosion now more than ever.
Rob Blair is the Arkadij Eisler Goldman Sachs Associate Professor of Political Science and International and Public Affairs at Brown University.
Jessica Gottlieb is an associate professor at the University of Houston’s Hobby School of Public Affairs.
Laura Paler is an associate professor in the Department of Government in the School of Public Affairs at American University.
Julie Anne Weaver is the research director of the Democratic Erosion Consortium and a lecturer on government at Harvard University.
COVID-19 and Related Immunology Research
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By Matthew Woodruff
On March 24, 2020, I stood in a Biosafety Level 2+ facility at Emory University with six colleagues being taught best practices for working with the largely unknown pathogen, SARS-CoV-2. Other unknowns included where we would get masks (N95s were unavailable), risks of infection to our young kids at home and who would pay for the experiments needed to gain insight into the deadly new virus sweeping across the nation.
That last question was answered relatively quickly. Rapid investment by the first Trump administration’s NIH launched SeroNet, a five-year effort across 25 institutions to “expand the nation’s capacity for SARS-CoV-2 serologic testing on a population-level and advance research on the immune response to SARS-CoV-2 infection and COVID-19 vaccination among diverse and vulnerable populations.” We did just that. Over the coming years, taxpayer dollars funded more than 600 peer-reviewed publications, reflecting significant advances in disease pathology, treatment strategies, disease impact in immunocompromised patients, vaccine testing and more.
Our team at Emory led projects dedicated to understanding the balance between productive and pathogenic immunity in hopes of alleviating disease. We discovered why your immune system sometimes turns on itself in the throes of severe infection, uncovered similarities between the immune responses of chronically autoimmune patients and those who were seriously ill with COVID-19, and documented continued disturbances in patients with long COVID. Importantly, we learned that these responses weren’t unique to COVID-19 and were broadly relevant to human health.
In 2022, I started my own lab founded on those concepts. We have been optimistic that the work we are doing will ultimately serve the American people in our shared desire to live longer, healthier lives.
But over the past months, that optimism has dissipated. Ham-handed targeting of “DEI” awards leaves us unable to understand how diverse human populations might respond differently to infection or develop different kinds of chronic diseases. Mistrust of the same vaccine programs that have halted the spread of measles globally has left us unable to test next-generation vaccines that might provide broad protection against emerging viral strains. And then, on March 24, it was announced that the five-year commitment that the first Trump administration made to our work would no longer be honored. Our COVID-related funding through SeroNet would be halted, effective immediately.
Our fledgling program, a few months ago extremely promising, is now on life support. My lab has invested heavily with our time and limited resources, which are now running thin, into promising new areas of clinically relevant immunology that suddenly look like financial dead ends. The decision to halt entire fields of study in what was previously highly fertile scientific space is as damaging as it is unprecedented, and our lab is left with a business model that is now fundamentally broken.
Matthew Woodruff is an assistant professor of immunology at the Emory University Lowance Center for Human Immunology. His lab studies antibody responses in the context of infection, vaccination and autoimmune disease.
Training Tomorrow’s Biomedical Workforce
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By Samantha Meenachand Ryan Poling-Skutvik
On March 21, the NIH terminated our training grant award, which supported the Enhancing Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math Education Diversity (ESTEEMED) program at the University of Rhode Island. The mission of URI ESTEEMED was to increase the preparation of undergraduate students—freshmen and sophomores—to conduct biomedical research, enabling them to succeed in advanced research in preparation to pursue a Ph.D. in STEM. Our ultimate goals were to provide students who were from groups underrepresented in STEM or from disadvantaged economic backgrounds with academic enrichment, research and soft skills development, and a sense of community. NIH claims that our award “no longer effectuates agency priorities” and that it involves “amorphous equity objectives, [that] are antithetical to the scientific inquiry.”
While the language in the termination email itself was derisive and political, the fallout from the loss of this award will be felt for years to come. The state of Rhode Island immediately lost $1.2 million in direct economic activity, and an important workforce development initiative will end, significantly reducing state and regional competitiveness in a growing technological field. Like many other states, Rhode Island has a pressing need for professionals trained in biotechnology, and recruiting people to Rhode Island has often proven to be challenging. This challenge is exemplified by the recent establishment of the Rhode Island Life Sciences Hub with a specific mandate to grow the biotechnology sector in the state.
By contrast, there is a large untapped pool of talent within Rhode Island, who are limited by access to education and training in large part due to the financial pressures families face. Our URI ESTEEMED program recruited talented students who likely would not have had the resources necessary to enter these careers. While NIH would like to argue that ESTEEMED was used to “support unlawful discrimination on the basis of race and other protected characteristics,” ESTEEMED trainees were selected through a rigorous and competitive application process, making these awards merit-based. Without the financial support of this program, many of our trainees would not have been able to attend URI or would not have had the opportunity to focus on research.
URI ESTEEMED in its current form will cease to exist at the end of this semester. We are still figuring out to what capacity we can continue to recruit and train students, but without NIH funds, training programs such as ESTEEMED will not be able to alleviate the many pressures these students face. The political decision to terminate this grant inflicts direct financial pain on some of the most promising students, and these effects will reverberate for years to come.
Samantha Meenach is a professor in the Department of Chemical, Biomolecular, and Materials Engineering at the University of Rhode Island.
Ryan Poling-Skutvik is an assistant professor in the Department of Chemical, Biomolecular, and Materials Engineering and the Department of Physics at the University of Rhode Island.
Alzheimer’s and Dementia Research for Diverse Populations
By Jason D. Flatt
Research funding for diverse populations impacted by Alzheimer’s disease and related dementias (ADRD) is currently being terminated by the U.S. federal government. These terminations are attributed to the premise that the research is incompatible with agency priorities. For instance, funding for studies including older transgender individuals, as well as lesbian, gay, bisexual, queer, intersex and other LGBTQIA+ identities, has been terminated. In addition, funding decisions have been rescinded, and grants have been pulled from scientific review. The National Institutes of Health has stated, “Research programs based on gender identity are often unscientific, have little identifiable return on investment, and do nothing to enhance the health of many Americans. Many such studies ignore, rather than seriously examine, biological realities. It is the policy of NIH not to prioritize these research programs.”
To date, around 700 NIH grants have been terminated, including many important studies on HIV/AIDS, cancer, COVID-19 and ADRD. Of these, about 25 have focused on ADRD. Personally, I have lost nearly $5 million in research funding from the NIH and the Department of Defense because my ADRD research includes transgender people. My research focuses on the needs of LGBTQIA+ and non-LGBTQIA+ older adults, particularly those affected by ADRD and Parkinson’s disease, as well as their caregivers and health-care providers. Some have suggested that we remove or rephrase “forbidden” language in future grants and/or exclude transgender people from our studies, but I will not do that. It is not pro-science and will not ensure that all people benefit from our research. The current and future termination of grants and contracts will have a significant impact on the health of older Americans, slow our innovation, limit our ability to provide care and impede progress in finding a cure.
I am working to raise awareness about these terminations and find ways to either reverse the decisions or secure alternative funding for this vital research. This includes speaking with the press, informing policymakers, generating visibility on social media alongside colleagues and peers, consulting with legal experts, and engaging with community members. I am also deeply concerned about the future of early-career scientists, who are essential in leading efforts to find cures for diseases affecting our communities, especially as the baby boomer generation ages. Many of the grants that have been terminated were early-career awards for newly minted doctoral researchers and faculty, diversity supplements for doctoral students, and competitive NIH predoctoral and postdoctoral fellowships.
In light of today’s sociopolitical climate, it is more important than ever for our civic, academic and research communities to unite in advocating for inclusion, standing up for diverse groups, including LGBTQIA+ communities, and ensuring that early-career scholars and the broader aging population have opportunities for potential cures, treatments and health care.
Jason D. Flatt is an associate professor at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, School of Public Health, in the Department of Social and Behavioral Health.
I have spent the past year and a half as a postdoc researching the effects of Virginia’s Get a Skill, Get a Job, Get Ahead (G3) initiative, a tuition-free community college program implemented in 2021. Similar to most statewide free college programs, G3 is a last-dollar scholarship program for state residents attending one of Virginia’s 23 community colleges, though students who already receive the maximum Pell Grant and enroll full-time are eligible for an additional living stipend to support the costs of books, transit and other expenses frequently incurred while enrolled. Virginia implemented the program as a bipartisan pandemic-recovery strategy to reverse steep enrollment declines in community colleges and boost credential completion in five high-demand workforce areas: early childhood education, health care, information technology, manufacturing and skilled trades, and public safety.
Like so many other critical research projects in education, our Institute of Education Sciences funding was terminated by the Trump administration’s ongoing efforts to gut the Department of Education and publicly funded research at large. The abrupt termination of the grant, which supports researchers at both the University of Pennsylvania and the Community College Research Center at Columbia University’s Teachers College, is a depressing way to finish out my postdoc. The project is part of a larger IES grant that established the Accelerating Recovery in Community Colleges network, a group of research teams focused on strategies to improve community college enrollment and student success. The loss of funding means canceled conference presentations and convenings; it means planned collaborations with other research teams in the network will not happen. We simply cannot accomplish all the things we set out to do without the resources provided by the grant.
The grant termination is demoralizing on multiple levels. It funded my postdoc, which has been an invaluable experience in developing my skills as an education policy researcher. While my position was nearing its end regardless, the ongoing forced austerity on public-facing research portends a future where these types of opportunities are not available to later generations of scholars. And on a less personal note, canceling education research, especially toward the end of its life cycle, is extremely wasteful and inefficient. It hinders the completion of projects that public money has already been invested in and limits dissemination efforts that help to drive the overwhelmingly positive return on investment from these types of research projects.
This is a real shame in the case of our work on G3. Our findings and planned future research on the policy hold critical implications for policymakers and institutions in Virginia and across the US. States like Arkansas, Indiana and Kentucky have similarly implemented workforce-targeted free college initiatives. And given the heightened attention from policymakers on career and technical education in recent years, it is reasonable to think more states will follow suit. Our work on G3 is in service of improving community college student outcomes so that more students have the resources and opportunities to pursue meaningful careers and life trajectories. Without any federal funding, it will only be more difficult to uncover the best ways to go about achieving these ends.
Daniel Sparks is a postdoctoral researcher in economics and education at the University of Pennsylvania’s Graduate School of Education.
Training Pediatric Physician-Scientists
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By Sallie Permar
The NIH made the abrupt decision last month to terminate the Pediatric Scientist Development Program (PSDP), a long-standing initiative that has trained generations of physician-scientists dedicated to advancing child health. This decision was made without an opportunity for resubmission or revision, and it appears to be linked to diversity, equity and inclusion requirements in our renewal application, components we were previously required to include and encouraged to expand by our reviewers, and that were later weaponized as justification for defunding.
For more than 40 years, the PSDP has served as a critical pipeline for training pediatric physician-scientists. Through rigorous mentorship, research training and career development, the PSDP has trained more than 270 pediatric physician-scientists, helping launch the careers of child health researchers who have made groundbreaking discoveries in areas such as childhood cancer, genetic disorders, autoimmunity and infectious diseases. At a time when pediatric research faces increasing challenges, this decision further weakens an already fragile infrastructure. It is not merely an administrative setback; it has immediate and far-reaching consequences that will be felt across academic institutions and the future of the health of children and the adults they become. Pediatric research is the highest yield of all medical research, providing lifetimes of health.
Without federal funding, our health as Americans faces several dire immediate and long-term impacts:
Loss of training opportunities and career uncertainty for pediatric researchers: The PSDP was on track to expand through deepening of our public-private institutional partnership funding model, due to increasing interest across states and pediatric specialties. We received a record high number of talented applicants this year. Now we are now forced to determine how many, if any, new trainees can be supported. Additionally, the program serves as the critical bridge between physician-scientists’ clinical training and their ability to secure independent research grants. With NIH funding cut, current trainees will face financial instability, and prospective trainees might be forced to abandon their research, and their career aspirations, altogether.
Weakening of the pediatric research pipeline: The PSDP has been a key factor in addressing the national shortage of pediatric physician-scientists. Without it, fewer pediatricians will enter research careers, exacerbating an already urgent pediatric workforce crisis at a time when children are presenting with more complex health needs.
Children’s health in jeopardy: Cutting PSDP funding halts critical research on chronic childhood diseases like genetic conditions, asthma and obesity, leaving millions of children without hope for better treatments or cures, directly reducing their chance for health and quality of life.
The PSDP’s termination is not just a loss for academic medicine, it is a direct threat to the future of pediatric research and children’s health. Pediatricians pursuing research careers already face significant challenges, including limited funding opportunities and lower salaries compared to other medical specialties. By eliminating the PSDP, the NIH has removed one of the most effective mechanisms for supporting these researchers at a critical stage in their careers.
We call on academic leaders, policymakers and child health advocates to take immediate action. The future of children’s health research depends on our ability to reverse this decision and ensure that pediatric physician-scientists continue to receive the training and support they need to advance medical discoveries for the next generation.
Sallie Permar is the Nancy C. Paduano Professor and Chair at Weill Cornell Medicine and pediatrician in chief at New York–Presbyterian/Weill Cornell Medical Center.
Global Development and Women’s Empowerment
By Denise L. Baer
On Monday, Jan. 27, I received an email from local project staff in Guatemala canceling that day’s key informant interview due to the “review of cooperation projects by the United States government” and the request to “suspend activities” until further notice. This was the first notice that the evaluation of the Legal Reform Fund (LRF) project that I was conducting had been paused—and, in effect, permanently canceled. After checking in with the project implementer, the American Bar Association’s Rule of Law Initiative (ABA-ROLI), I received formal notification of the pause later that same day.
LRF provided contextualized expert legal technical assistance and training to partnering government agencies, parliamentarians, judges, court staff and women entrepreneurs to improve women’s access to land, property rights and credit in Guatemala, Indonesia, Mexico and Timor-Leste. I had been working on the evaluation for about two months, with the intent to complete all initial staff interviews before the end of January and then move on to field data collection. The evaluation had been approved last December by the Department of State, with approval of the inception report coming from the department’s Office of Global Women’s Issues just a week earlier. While I’d been tracking the flurry of executive orders, I doubted that this project would violate the new “two-gender” policy—after all, it was funded through the Women’s Global Development and Prosperity (W-GDP) Initiative created by President Trump himself during his first administration in 2019 and championed by his daughter Ivanka with great fanfare. The initiative aimed to help 50 million women in developing countries realize their economic potential by 2025; the LRF project was only one of many funded by W-GDP initially and later continued by the Biden administration.
The LRF project ended December 2024. Was it effective and efficient? Were the planned outcomes achieved? We will never know. Since I was paid by ABA-ROLI for the work conducted to date before the pause, the primary cost of this discontinuance is not to me personally, but to the American people, who funded this project. The call for this evaluation and the approval of my proposal was born of the government’s desire for efficiency and to ensure funded initiatives were going according to plan. Indeed, the Government Accountability Office had identified a less-than-robust implementation framework in many early W-GDP projects, and this evaluation was intended to provide critical evidence of whether processes had improved.
Now we will never know how strong the evidence base is for supporting women entrepreneurs through this initiative. It is profoundly stunning that not only would the Trump administration stop work midstream for so many projects, but they would also stop evaluations of project work already completed—even for programs they themselves created and supported. How does funding a project and then shutting down the work of determining how effective that project was fight waste, fraud and abuse?
Denise L. Baer is a scholar-practitioner fellow at the Graduate School of Political Management at George Washington University.
When Linda McMahon was initially picked to be the secretary of education, I wrote a piece that detailed how comparing her to former secretary of education Betsy DeVos was likely inappropriate. I ended that piece by cautiously suggesting that McMahon would strongly align with elements of the Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025 and of the think tank she led, the America First Policy Institute. I also suggested that because the president is ambiguous in his attitudes toward following court orders, McMahon might feel emboldened to engage in similar behavior.
Since my previous op-ed, McMahon was confirmed as secretary of education and has since shared her vision for the Department of Education in various interviews. While her focus is primarily on K-12 education issues, for higher education she has consistently emphasized that Pell Grants and loans will remain safe—a topic I will revisit later. However, the most predictable outcome has proven accurate: McMahon’s approach aligns closely with the intentions outlined by Heritage and AFPI, as ED is targeted for closure.
One way to frame McMahon’s leadership and recent behavior as secretary is that she’s the agency’s appointed destructor (just before signing an executive order seeking the dismantlement of the department, President Trump quipped, “Hopefully she will be our last secretary of education.”) Now, ED cannot be eliminated without congressional approval. However, there are many decisions the administration can make to severely hobble the department and offices within it. Some of these decisions have already been executed.
Of the nearly 2,000 layoffs, more than 300 happened within the Federal Student Aid office—and almost immediately the Free Application for Federal Student Aid site went down for a few hours. Even with a full staff, the Biden administration had well-documented issues with keeping the FAFSA running smoothly, which led to a 9 percent decline in FAFSA submissions for first-time applicants in 2024, or about 432,000 fewer applications over all. Given the department’s reduced capabilities, I have little confidence that it can process FAFSA applications promptly.
On March 21, President Trump announced that the Small Business Administration would take over the student loan portfolio, an interesting move given that McMahon was the SBA head during Trump’s first term. No clear explanation has been provided for why the SBA should take charge of the portfolio, and no public plan for such a transfer has been released. Additionally, the SBA intends to cut its staff nearly in half, reducing its 6,500-person workforce by about 2,700 employees, while managing this titanic task.
In recent interviews, McMahon has offered no further clarification on this decision, noting that additional ED functions might also be transferred to other departments. While she proposed working with Congress to interpret the legality of these actions, she also has hinted that congressional approval may not be necessary.
In addition to concerns surrounding financial aid, we should anticipate weaker accountability measures and diminished academic research moving forward. ED’s Institute for Education Sciences has faced significant staff cuts. Although the Integrated Postsecondary Education Data System remains active, providing essential data on enrollment, costs, financial aid and graduation rates, its future is uncertain. This data set is crucial for researchers at foundations and think tanks focused on accountability, as well as for academics studying outcomes in higher education. However, with the survey submission link recently down and limited staff to oversee the system, IPEDS may soon lack accuracy or even public accessibility. As other federal data sets also face potential risks, researchers may need to reconsider the standards for defining good work in this evolving landscape.
Yet, the staff cuts may have been too abrupt, as ED recently asked several dozen employees to return to fulfill statutory obligations, including responsibilities related to financial aid and loans. However, uncertainty persists regarding how the administration and Secretary McMahon interpret these obligations and the level of efficiency required for their execution.
McMahon’s influence on higher education has already extended beyond the “Sweet Chin Music” directive for ED (“Sweet Chin Music” is the finishing move of WWE legend Shawn Michaels—a super kick to the face). She seems eager to serve as a bridge for aligning higher education with conservative priorities, as demonstrated by her direct involvement with the revocation of $400 million in federal grants and contracts to Columbia University—the first test case in a broader strategy to pressure universities over allegations of campus antisemitism. Critics argue this is a pretext for advancing a conservative agenda rather than a genuine effort to protect Jewish students and employees, with similar tactics now being applied to Harvard and Princeton Universities. The administration also seems to be using a similar strategy to pressure other institutions like the University of Pennsylvania over issues related to Title IX and transgender athletes.
To regain federal funding, Columbia was given a list of demands, which included enacting a new campuswide mask ban and placing the Middle Eastern, South Asian and African Studies Department under academic receivership—actions widely criticized as federal overreach. Though Columbia has taken multiple steps to address concerns about antisemitism, including seeking the arrest of pro-Palestinian protesters for trespassing, expelling students and temporarily revoking diplomas, the administration in effect deemed these actions insufficient.
Though Columbia has largely complied with the administration’s demands, there is little indication that the withheld funds will be restored or to what degree. Regardless of readers’ personal views on the outcome, Columbia’s compliance demonstrates that institutions likely are increasingly susceptible to federal interventions. Looking ahead, I expect both Republican and Democratic administrations to exert distinct political pressures on institutions, significantly reshaping higher education—a shift partly influenced by McMahon’s direct role in the Columbia negotiations.
Since the National Institutes of Health grant cancellations began, I have described federal government agencies as “unreliable partners” for higher education. The “unreliable partners” label remains fitting as McMahon continues to dismantle ED and transfer its responsibilities to other departments, which is likely to cause extreme inefficiencies. I am especially concerned about delays in FAFSA processing and whether financial aid will reach institutions and students on time next academic year—if at all. Administrators should prepare for these risks. Furthermore, as Columbia has complied with the administration’s demands, it’s possible that future financial aid may come with new conditions (e.g., mask bans on all campuses)—or be intentionally withheld until expectations are met.
Daniel A. Collier is an assistant professor of higher and adult education at the University of Memphis. His work focuses on higher education policy, leadership and issues like student loan debt and financial aid. Connect with Daniel on Bluesky at @dcollier74.bsky.social.
Additionally, the Trump administration has variously moved to cancel or suspend research contracts and grants at Columbia University, the University of Pennsylvania and most recently Princeton University as part of punitive actions tied to investigations of campus antisemitism or, in Penn’s case, the decision to allow a trans woman to compete on the women’s swim team three years ago. The administration also briefly froze (and then unfroze) United States Department of Agriculture funds for the University of Maine system after the state’s governor engaged in a tense exchange with President Trump at the White House.
Below, 16 researchers across nine different research areas who have had their federal grants terminated since the start of the Trump administration share just a few of the thousands of stories behind these cuts.
—Elizabeth Redden, opinion editor
Preventing Intimate Partner Violence
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By Rebecca Fielding-Miller, Nicholas Metheny, Abigail Hatcher and Sarah Peitzmeier
Each year, more than 3,000 American women are murdered by their partners. Pregnancy and the postpartum period are high-risk periods for intimate partner violence (IPV), which is linked to negative maternal outcomes such as miscarriage, hemorrhage and postpartum depression. Perinatal IPV is also linked to worse infant health outcomes, such as preterm birth and low birth weight, and to adverse childhood experiences. This makes prevention of perinatal IPV crucial not just for the survivor but for the entire family.
Perinatal IPV and its cascade of negative outcomes are preventable—but only if we study the epidemiology and prevention of IPV as rigorously as we study hypertension or any other perinatal complication. A grant rescinded last month by the NIH would have trained a cohort of 12 early-career clinicians and researchers to learn how to study IPV as part of their ongoing research on pregnancy, birth and the postpartum period. We proposed training investigators working in diverse communities across the spectrum of America, with a commitment to including communities disproportionately impacted by IPV and maternal mortality, including Black and LGBTQ+ communities. To solve a problem with constrained resources, it is efficient to focus efforts on where the problem is most severe. While the termination letter named this targeting of training resources an “amorphous equity objective,” we call it a data-driven approach to rigorous science.
Training grants like this one help shift an entire field by giving young investigators the skills and knowledge to add a focus on IPV to their research for the next several decades. In addition to training these 12 young researchers, the grant would have also supported turning the mentorship curriculum we developed into an open-access online training for clinicians and researchers to access in perpetuity, multiplying the impact of the work to train even more investigators in the field. As with the approximately 700 other terminated NIH grants, cutting this work before our aims are realized but after significant costs have been incurred to establish the mentorship team and design the curriculum is the definition of government inefficiency and waste.
With this grant rescinded, none of the promised training will occur. Pregnant people and their babies from every community across America will continue to suffer, without the benefit of advances in the science of how we prevent these violence exposures. Our termination notice claims that the proposed trainings are “antithetical to the scientific inquiry, do nothing to expand our knowledge of living systems, provide low returns on investment, and ultimately do not enhance health, lengthen life, or reduce illness.” We could not disagree more. Anyone who has cared for a child or for the person who gave birth to them knows that preventing maternal and infant death and abuse should be a nonpartisan issue. The current administration is intent on making even this issue into “us” versus “them.” When it comes to public health, there is no such thing. American families deserve better.
Rebecca Fielding Miller is an associate professor of public health at the University of California, San Diego. Her research focuses on health disparities in infectious disease and gender-based violence.
Nicholas Metheny is an Atlanta-area scientist and registered nurse with clinical and research experience in the post-violence care of women and sexual and gender minority communities.
Abigail Hatcher is an associate professor at the University of North Carolina and University of the Witwatersrand, where she develops and tests health sector models for preventing violence in pregnancy.
Sarah Peitzmeier is an assistant professor at the University of Maryland School of Public Health who develops and tests interventions to prevent gender-based violence. She is also a practicing birth doula and victim advocate.
Is Work-Study Working?
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By Judith Scott-Clayton
On March 7, at 9:49 a.m., I received an email with “GRANT AWARD TERMINATION” in all caps in the subject line. Attached to the email was a letter, addressed to me as project director and referring to our Department of Education grant by its award number. The letter was generic, virtually identical to three other termination letters received that day at the Community College Research Center at Columbia University’s Teachers College, where I am affiliated. It did not mention our project title nor provide any project-specific details to explain why our project, as the email states, “is now inconsistent with, and no longer effectuates, the Department’s priorities.” A few hours later, I received a formal notification that the grant end date was that day: March 7, 2025.
The project—a collaboration with Adela Soliz of Vanderbilt University and Tom Brock of CCRC—was titled “Does Federal Work-Study Work for Students? Evidence From a Randomized Controlled Trial.” The Federal Work-Study (FWS) program was created in 1964 as part of the Economic Opportunity Act and covers up to 75 percent of the wages of college students working part-time in mostly on-campus jobs, with colleges paying the rest. In a typical year, the program provides more than $1 billion in support to more than 450,000 college students with financial need at more than 3,000 institutions all across the country. Several states also have their own similar programs.
Our study would be the first to rigorously evaluate the causal impact of the program on students’ enrollment, employment, persistence and degree completion. We were also conducting interviews, focus groups and surveys to understand how students find FWS jobs, what kinds of work they do, what resources institutions devote to running the program and how much it all costs to operate, all with the goal of ensuring the program is delivering the maximum impact for every single student that participates and for every dollar spent.
At the time of its cancellation, we were about four and a half years into a six-year project. We were right in the middle of randomizing what would be the final cohort of our study sample and fielding the final round of a student survey. This final year is especially important, because the early cohorts were heavily impacted by the pandemic. For the past three weeks, we have been scrambling to pull together any other resources we could find to preserve our options and avoid losing this final cohort of participants. We have also been scrambling to figure out how to continue to pay critical staff and doctoral students involved in the project until we can figure out the next steps.
As for the broader impact of the termination: The Federal Work-Study program itself will keep on going, at least for now; we just won’t know whether it works or not. We hypothesize that it may provide valuable work-based learning opportunities that keep students engaged and give them advantages in the labor market after college, but it’s possible that it distracts students from their studies and hurts their academic performance. We may think that it helps students to afford college, but perhaps the complexity of finding a specific job and navigating all the necessary paperwork reduces its value for the students that need help the most. The next time the program is up for debate, policymakers will be flying blind: Without actual evidence all we can do is speculate.
Since 1964, the FWS program has disbursed more than $95 billion in awards. In comparison, our grant was less than three-thousandths of 1 percent of that amount, and the amount remaining to finish our work and share our findings with the public was just a fraction of that. Our project was motivated by a desire to help policymakers ensure that every dollar invested in financial aid has the maximum possible impact for low-income students. So it is discouraging to learn, so close to the finish line, that this first-of-its-kind evaluation of a major federal program is “now inconsistent with, and no longer effectuates, the Department’s priorities.”
Judith Scott-Clayton is a professor of economics and education at Teachers College, Columbia University, in the Department of Education Policy and Social Analysis, where she directs the Economics and Education Program and teaches courses on the economics of education, labor economics and causal inference.
Democracy Research
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By Rob Blair, Jessica Gottlieb, Laura Paler and Julie Anne Weaver
We lost funding for the Democratic Erosion Consortium (DEC) as part of the federal government’s recent cancellation of foreign assistance grants. Directed by scholars at Brown University, the University of Houston and American University, DEC works to make academic research on democratic backsliding accessible to policymakers and practitioners seeking evidence-based strategies to defend democracy around the globe.
Originally launched in 2017 on a shoestring budget, DEC began as an effort to improve pedagogy on a troubling trend observable both abroad and at home: the strategic dismantling of democratic norms and institutions by elected leaders with autocratic ambitions. In 2022, in line with the U.S. government’s dual interests in democratic resilience and evidence-based policymaking, we received a grant from the State Department to expand DEC’s work.
The State Department’s investment enabled us to grow our reach beyond the classroom and into the policy arena. We drew on an expanding network of scholars to synthesize evidence on urgent questions—such as how to reduce the spread of misinformation and measure democratic decline. We also built out a novel event data set on democratic erosion and trained partners around the world to use it in their own work.
The immediate consequences are clear: several full- and part-time staff lost funding for their jobs. But the long-term damage is hard to quantify. It’s difficult to argue for the value of evidence-based policymaking in foreign aid when the entire category of foreign assistance has effectively been gutted. More than that, the partnerships we built between academics, practitioners and policymakers were yielding real-time insights and responses—a rare example of successful research-policy collaboration. That infrastructure is now gone.
And at a moment when democratic backsliding is accelerating in many parts of the world, the U.S. government is stepping away from efforts to understand and counter it. Ending this grant not only weakens the ability to monitor democratic erosion globally, it also reduces public awareness and understanding of a phenomenon that is increasingly visible in the U.S. itself.
With the federal policy audience for our work largely gone, we are refocusing our efforts on our other two core constituencies: students and academics. We continue to support instructors engaged in teaching our democratic erosion course and to improve the Democratic Erosion Event Dataset. And in response to growing concern about democratic backsliding in the U.S., we’re developing a more robust domestic data-collection effort, paired with public engagement.
Given intense partisan disagreement around what even constitutes democratic erosion, we are seeking to increase the credibility of new evidence by capturing partisan-diverse perspectives and applying our established comparative framework to U.S. events. We are hoping to continue this work, despite the loss of our federal grant, because the political reality in the U.S. and around the world tells us we need to be worried about democratic erosion now more than ever.
Rob Blair is the Arkadij Eisler Goldman Sachs Associate Professor of Political Science and International and Public Affairs at Brown University.
Jessica Gottlieb is an associate professor at the University of Houston’s Hobby School of Public Affairs.
Laura Paler is an associate professor in the Department of Government in the School of Public Affairs at American University.
Julie Anne Weaver is the research director of the Democratic Erosion Consortium and a lecturer on government at Harvard University.
COVID-19 and Related Immunology Research
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By Matthew Woodruff
On March 24, 2020, I stood in a Biosafety Level 2+ facility at Emory University with six colleagues being taught best practices for working with the largely unknown pathogen, SARS-CoV-2. Other unknowns included where we would get masks (N95s were unavailable), risks of infection to our young kids at home and who would pay for the experiments needed to gain insight into the deadly new virus sweeping across the nation.
That last question was answered relatively quickly. Rapid investment by the first Trump administration’s NIH launched SeroNet, a five-year effort across 25 institutions to “expand the nation’s capacity for SARS-CoV-2 serologic testing on a population-level and advance research on the immune response to SARS-CoV-2 infection and COVID-19 vaccination among diverse and vulnerable populations.” We did just that. Over the coming years, taxpayer dollars funded more than 600 peer-reviewed publications, reflecting significant advances in disease pathology, treatment strategies, disease impact in immunocompromised patients, vaccine testing and more.
Our team at Emory led projects dedicated to understanding the balance between productive and pathogenic immunity in hopes of alleviating disease. We discovered why your immune system sometimes turns on itself in the throes of severe infection, uncovered similarities between the immune responses of chronically autoimmune patients and those who were seriously ill with COVID-19, and documented continued disturbances in patients with long COVID. Importantly, we learned that these responses weren’t unique to COVID-19 and were broadly relevant to human health.
In 2022, I started my own lab founded on those concepts. We have been optimistic that the work we are doing will ultimately serve the American people in our shared desire to live longer, healthier lives.
But over the past months, that optimism has dissipated. Ham-handed targeting of “DEI” awards leaves us unable to understand how diverse human populations might respond differently to infection or develop different kinds of chronic diseases. Mistrust of the same vaccine programs that have halted the spread of measles globally has left us unable to test next-generation vaccines that might provide broad protection against emerging viral strains. And then, on March 24, it was announced that the five-year commitment that the first Trump administration made to our work would no longer be honored. Our COVID-related funding through SeroNet would be halted, effective immediately.
Our fledgling program, a few months ago extremely promising, is now on life support. My lab has invested heavily with our time and limited resources, which are now running thin, into promising new areas of clinically relevant immunology that suddenly look like financial dead ends. The decision to halt entire fields of study in what was previously highly fertile scientific space is as damaging as it is unprecedented, and our lab is left with a business model that is now fundamentally broken.
Matthew Woodruff is an assistant professor of immunology at the Emory University Lowance Center for Human Immunology. His lab studies antibody responses in the context of infection, vaccination and autoimmune disease.
Training Tomorrow’s Biomedical Workforce
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By Samantha Meenachand Ryan Poling-Skutvik
On March 21, the NIH terminated our training grant award, which supported the Enhancing Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math Education Diversity (ESTEEMED) program at the University of Rhode Island. The mission of URI ESTEEMED was to increase the preparation of undergraduate students—freshmen and sophomores—to conduct biomedical research, enabling them to succeed in advanced research in preparation to pursue a Ph.D. in STEM. Our ultimate goals were to provide students who were from groups underrepresented in STEM or from disadvantaged economic backgrounds with academic enrichment, research and soft skills development, and a sense of community. NIH claims that our award “no longer effectuates agency priorities” and that it involves “amorphous equity objectives, [that] are antithetical to the scientific inquiry.”
While the language in the termination email itself was derisive and political, the fallout from the loss of this award will be felt for years to come. The state of Rhode Island immediately lost $1.2 million in direct economic activity, and an important workforce development initiative will end, significantly reducing state and regional competitiveness in a growing technological field. Like many other states, Rhode Island has a pressing need for professionals trained in biotechnology, and recruiting people to Rhode Island has often proven to be challenging. This challenge is exemplified by the recent establishment of the Rhode Island Life Sciences Hub with a specific mandate to grow the biotechnology sector in the state.
By contrast, there is a large untapped pool of talent within Rhode Island, who are limited by access to education and training in large part due to the financial pressures families face. Our URI ESTEEMED program recruited talented students who likely would not have had the resources necessary to enter these careers. While NIH would like to argue that ESTEEMED was used to “support unlawful discrimination on the basis of race and other protected characteristics,” ESTEEMED trainees were selected through a rigorous and competitive application process, making these awards merit-based. Without the financial support of this program, many of our trainees would not have been able to attend URI or would not have had the opportunity to focus on research.
URI ESTEEMED in its current form will cease to exist at the end of this semester. We are still figuring out to what capacity we can continue to recruit and train students, but without NIH funds, training programs such as ESTEEMED will not be able to alleviate the many pressures these students face. The political decision to terminate this grant inflicts direct financial pain on some of the most promising students, and these effects will reverberate for years to come.
Samantha Meenach is a professor in the Department of Chemical, Biomolecular, and Materials Engineering at the University of Rhode Island.
Ryan Poling-Skutvik is an assistant professor in the Department of Chemical, Biomolecular, and Materials Engineering and the Department of Physics at the University of Rhode Island.
Alzheimer’s and Dementia Research for Diverse Populations
By Jason D. Flatt
Research funding for diverse populations impacted by Alzheimer’s disease and related dementias (ADRD) is currently being terminated by the U.S. federal government. These terminations are attributed to the premise that the research is incompatible with agency priorities. For instance, funding for studies including older transgender individuals, as well as lesbian, gay, bisexual, queer, intersex and other LGBTQIA+ identities, has been terminated. In addition, funding decisions have been rescinded, and grants have been pulled from scientific review. The National Institutes of Health has stated, “Research programs based on gender identity are often unscientific, have little identifiable return on investment, and do nothing to enhance the health of many Americans. Many such studies ignore, rather than seriously examine, biological realities. It is the policy of NIH not to prioritize these research programs.”
To date, around 700 NIH grants have been terminated, including many important studies on HIV/AIDS, cancer, COVID-19 and ADRD. Of these, about 25 have focused on ADRD. Personally, I have lost nearly $5 million in research funding from the NIH and the Department of Defense because my ADRD research includes transgender people. My research focuses on the needs of LGBTQIA+ and non-LGBTQIA+ older adults, particularly those affected by ADRD and Parkinson’s disease, as well as their caregivers and health-care providers. Some have suggested that we remove or rephrase “forbidden” language in future grants and/or exclude transgender people from our studies, but I will not do that. It is not pro-science and will not ensure that all people benefit from our research. The current and future termination of grants and contracts will have a significant impact on the health of older Americans, slow our innovation, limit our ability to provide care and impede progress in finding a cure.
I am working to raise awareness about these terminations and find ways to either reverse the decisions or secure alternative funding for this vital research. This includes speaking with the press, informing policymakers, generating visibility on social media alongside colleagues and peers, consulting with legal experts, and engaging with community members. I am also deeply concerned about the future of early-career scientists, who are essential in leading efforts to find cures for diseases affecting our communities, especially as the baby boomer generation ages. Many of the grants that have been terminated were early-career awards for newly minted doctoral researchers and faculty, diversity supplements for doctoral students, and competitive NIH predoctoral and postdoctoral fellowships.
In light of today’s sociopolitical climate, it is more important than ever for our civic, academic and research communities to unite in advocating for inclusion, standing up for diverse groups, including LGBTQIA+ communities, and ensuring that early-career scholars and the broader aging population have opportunities for potential cures, treatments and health care.
Jason D. Flatt is an associate professor at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, School of Public Health, in the Department of Social and Behavioral Health.
I have spent the past year and a half as a postdoc researching the effects of Virginia’s Get a Skill, Get a Job, Get Ahead (G3) initiative, a tuition-free community college program implemented in 2021. Similar to most statewide free college programs, G3 is a last-dollar scholarship program for state residents attending one of Virginia’s 23 community colleges, though students who already receive the maximum Pell Grant and enroll full-time are eligible for an additional living stipend to support the costs of books, transit and other expenses frequently incurred while enrolled. Virginia implemented the program as a bipartisan pandemic-recovery strategy to reverse steep enrollment declines in community colleges and boost credential completion in five high-demand workforce areas: early childhood education, health care, information technology, manufacturing and skilled trades, and public safety.
Like so many other critical research projects in education, our Institute of Education Sciences funding was terminated by the Trump administration’s ongoing efforts to gut the Department of Education and publicly funded research at large. The abrupt termination of the grant, which supports researchers at both the University of Pennsylvania and the Community College Research Center at Columbia University’s Teachers College, is a depressing way to finish out my postdoc. The project is part of a larger IES grant that established the Accelerating Recovery in Community Colleges network, a group of research teams focused on strategies to improve community college enrollment and student success. The loss of funding means canceled conference presentations and convenings; it means planned collaborations with other research teams in the network will not happen. We simply cannot accomplish all the things we set out to do without the resources provided by the grant.
The grant termination is demoralizing on multiple levels. It funded my postdoc, which has been an invaluable experience in developing my skills as an education policy researcher. While my position was nearing its end regardless, the ongoing forced austerity on public-facing research portends a future where these types of opportunities are not available to later generations of scholars. And on a less personal note, canceling education research, especially toward the end of its life cycle, is extremely wasteful and inefficient. It hinders the completion of projects that public money has already been invested in and limits dissemination efforts that help to drive the overwhelmingly positive return on investment from these types of research projects.
This is a real shame in the case of our work on G3. Our findings and planned future research on the policy hold critical implications for policymakers and institutions in Virginia and across the US. States like Arkansas, Indiana and Kentucky have similarly implemented workforce-targeted free college initiatives. And given the heightened attention from policymakers on career and technical education in recent years, it is reasonable to think more states will follow suit. Our work on G3 is in service of improving community college student outcomes so that more students have the resources and opportunities to pursue meaningful careers and life trajectories. Without any federal funding, it will only be more difficult to uncover the best ways to go about achieving these ends.
Daniel Sparks is a postdoctoral researcher in economics and education at the University of Pennsylvania’s Graduate School of Education.
Training Pediatric Physician-Scientists
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By Sallie Permar
The NIH made the abrupt decision last month to terminate the Pediatric Scientist Development Program (PSDP), a long-standing initiative that has trained generations of physician-scientists dedicated to advancing child health. This decision was made without an opportunity for resubmission or revision, and it appears to be linked to diversity, equity and inclusion requirements in our renewal application, components we were previously required to include and encouraged to expand by our reviewers, and that were later weaponized as justification for defunding.
For more than 40 years, the PSDP has served as a critical pipeline for training pediatric physician-scientists. Through rigorous mentorship, research training and career development, the PSDP has trained more than 270 pediatric physician-scientists, helping launch the careers of child health researchers who have made groundbreaking discoveries in areas such as childhood cancer, genetic disorders, autoimmunity and infectious diseases. At a time when pediatric research faces increasing challenges, this decision further weakens an already fragile infrastructure. It is not merely an administrative setback; it has immediate and far-reaching consequences that will be felt across academic institutions and the future of the health of children and the adults they become. Pediatric research is the highest yield of all medical research, providing lifetimes of health.
Without federal funding, our health as Americans faces several dire immediate and long-term impacts:
Loss of training opportunities and career uncertainty for pediatric researchers: The PSDP was on track to expand through deepening of our public-private institutional partnership funding model, due to increasing interest across states and pediatric specialties. We received a record high number of talented applicants this year. Now we are now forced to determine how many, if any, new trainees can be supported. Additionally, the program serves as the critical bridge between physician-scientists’ clinical training and their ability to secure independent research grants. With NIH funding cut, current trainees will face financial instability, and prospective trainees might be forced to abandon their research, and their career aspirations, altogether.
Weakening of the pediatric research pipeline: The PSDP has been a key factor in addressing the national shortage of pediatric physician-scientists. Without it, fewer pediatricians will enter research careers, exacerbating an already urgent pediatric workforce crisis at a time when children are presenting with more complex health needs.
Children’s health in jeopardy: Cutting PSDP funding halts critical research on chronic childhood diseases like genetic conditions, asthma and obesity, leaving millions of children without hope for better treatments or cures, directly reducing their chance for health and quality of life.
The PSDP’s termination is not just a loss for academic medicine, it is a direct threat to the future of pediatric research and children’s health. Pediatricians pursuing research careers already face significant challenges, including limited funding opportunities and lower salaries compared to other medical specialties. By eliminating the PSDP, the NIH has removed one of the most effective mechanisms for supporting these researchers at a critical stage in their careers.
We call on academic leaders, policymakers and child health advocates to take immediate action. The future of children’s health research depends on our ability to reverse this decision and ensure that pediatric physician-scientists continue to receive the training and support they need to advance medical discoveries for the next generation.
Sallie Permar is the Nancy C. Paduano Professor and Chair at Weill Cornell Medicine and pediatrician in chief at New York–Presbyterian/Weill Cornell Medical Center.
Global Development and Women’s Empowerment
By Denise L. Baer
On Monday, Jan. 27, I received an email from local project staff in Guatemala canceling that day’s key informant interview due to the “review of cooperation projects by the United States government” and the request to “suspend activities” until further notice. This was the first notice that the evaluation of the Legal Reform Fund (LRF) project that I was conducting had been paused—and, in effect, permanently canceled. After checking in with the project implementer, the American Bar Association’s Rule of Law Initiative (ABA-ROLI), I received formal notification of the pause later that same day.
LRF provided contextualized expert legal technical assistance and training to partnering government agencies, parliamentarians, judges, court staff and women entrepreneurs to improve women’s access to land, property rights and credit in Guatemala, Indonesia, Mexico and Timor-Leste. I had been working on the evaluation for about two months, with the intent to complete all initial staff interviews before the end of January and then move on to field data collection. The evaluation had been approved last December by the Department of State, with approval of the inception report coming from the department’s Office of Global Women’s Issues just a week earlier. While I’d been tracking the flurry of executive orders, I doubted that this project would violate the new “two-gender” policy—after all, it was funded through the Women’s Global Development and Prosperity (W-GDP) Initiative created by President Trump himself during his first administration in 2019 and championed by his daughter Ivanka with great fanfare. The initiative aimed to help 50 million women in developing countries realize their economic potential by 2025; the LRF project was only one of many funded by W-GDP initially and later continued by the Biden administration.
The LRF project ended December 2024. Was it effective and efficient? Were the planned outcomes achieved? We will never know. Since I was paid by ABA-ROLI for the work conducted to date before the pause, the primary cost of this discontinuance is not to me personally, but to the American people, who funded this project. The call for this evaluation and the approval of my proposal was born of the government’s desire for efficiency and to ensure funded initiatives were going according to plan. Indeed, the Government Accountability Office had identified a less-than-robust implementation framework in many early W-GDP projects, and this evaluation was intended to provide critical evidence of whether processes had improved.
Now we will never know how strong the evidence base is for supporting women entrepreneurs through this initiative. It is profoundly stunning that not only would the Trump administration stop work midstream for so many projects, but they would also stop evaluations of project work already completed—even for programs they themselves created and supported. How does funding a project and then shutting down the work of determining how effective that project was fight waste, fraud and abuse?
Denise L. Baer is a scholar-practitioner fellow at the Graduate School of Political Management at George Washington University.
If you’ve been watching the rollingthunderstorm of executive orders affecting higher education and thinking, simultaneously, “what a loss to the world” and “what a loss for those scholars” … you are right.
It is a massive and increasingly uncorrectable loss to the world that life-enriching and life-saving research is being stopped in its tracks. We will now not know things that we might have otherwise learned, and we will not think thoughts that might have otherwise given us joy or revelation. These consequences are now unavoidable.
But societal impacts are not the only consequences to consider. The loss of knowledge that is being widely grieved right now goes hand in hand with immediate or forthcomingloss of livelihood for individual scholars. And even though academics have become adept at mourning these individual losses—we write mike-drop essays, lobby our professional associations and contribute to GoFundMe accounts—we have generally limited ourselves to catharsis and critique.
Our current moment calls for more. What we are now experiencing in American higher education and what we will continue to experience for the foreseeable future is a generational loss. We need to understand why it is this kind of loss. We need to be able to explain this to others in ways that do not trigger fresh complaints about ivory tower academics. And we need to grasp the nature of the obligation on those of us left behind.
Put simply, we need to acknowledge, contextualize and equip. With apologies to Erin Bartram for repurposing her excellent title—without any of the irony—we have to sublimate the grief of the left behind.
Academic Job Loss Is Different
Industries change, businesses close and employers lay off existing employees or fail to hire new ones. While this is never easy, people find new jobs all the time. Why can’t a tenured professor or a recent hire or an eager postdoc do likewise? Why isn’t this just another instance of scholars being snowflakes?
Here are just three reasons why job loss is especially fraught for academics. There are more than three reasons, of course—and I discuss many in my forthcoming book, The War on Tenure. But these three are a good place to start.
Institutionalized Employment
To begin with, academia is a highly institutionalized industry.
What does that mean? It means that if you want to be a professor, you need to find one specific type of employer—a university—that will hire you to be that. Sure, without a university employer, you can still be a scholar, a public intellectual, a researcher, a writer or a teacher. Often you can be two or more of these simultaneously. But you cannot be a professor if you are not employed by a university.
Many of academia’s peer professions are not institutionalized to the same degree. You can be a lawyer, an accountant, an architect or a psychologist—you can even practice many types of medicine—all without being hired by specific types of employers. You can, for example, practice the very specific type of law that I teach, employment law, as a solo practitioner, or in a law firm that’s small, medium or large, or as part of a company’s in-house counsel, or for the government (in which case you are exceptionally busy right now). You are not limited to one type of employer if you want to practice employment law. In other fields—like human resources, information technology, sales or communications—you not only can work for different types of employers, you probably should do so to become a well-rounded practitioner.
But there is only one way to be a professor: get hired (and stay employed) by a university.
Because of this institutionalization, when universities stop hiring, as they are increasingly doing in response to federally induced chaos, it isn’t simply that a difficult job market has become harder: It’s that a difficult job market is ceasing to exist altogether. That’s the first reason why academic job loss—and specifically academic opportunity loss—really is different.
Quasi Monopsony
The institutionalized nature of academic employment makes the academic labor market difficult. But that bad situation is made worse by the fact that the academic market consists of a few geographically dispersed employers seeking highly specialized employees. This makes academia a quasi monopsony.
As of 2020, according to U.S. News, there were around 1,400 accredited nonprofit institutions offering four-year degrees and serving at least 200 students each. That may sound like a wealth of job opportunities for aspiring professors. But having just half a dozen potential employers within driving distance of one another is considered an exceptionally dense job market in academia. In other industries—again, say, law—the same market would be considered exceptionally shallow. (Try comparing the number of law schools in Atlanta, where I currently live, with the number of law firms and companies that maintain in-house counsel.)
Thanks to this shallow, thin and quasi-monopsonistic job market, aspiring professors know that whenever a job does arise, you go where it takes you and whether or not it suits you and your family. Or, particularly if you’re a heterosexual woman, maybe you just forgo having family at all.
(The same job market picture gets worse still when you remember that universities don’t just hire professors or even law professors: They hire, for instance, labor and employment law professors or intellectual property law professors … and they usually only need one or two of each. And that job market keeps getting worse when you factor in the adjunctification that has characterized academia for decades, and that I’m largely bypassing in this essay. Forget driving distance: In many subfields, job candidates are lucky if there are half a dozen jobs available nationwide in a given year.)
Given all these difficult market dynamics, what happens when a job that you already have disappears? What happens when four years into a tenure-track position—or 20 years after tenure—your lab or your department is forced to close?
Well, if you’ve committed to a labor market characterized by “a few geographically dispersed employers seeking highly specialized employees,” either you find a comparable employer within your existing geographic market, or you relocate to a new geographic market, or—if neither of these options is available to you—you exit the industry altogether.
This is a second reason why academic job loss is different. Although I can’t offer statistical evidence of this given the lack of prior data collection (and the unlikelihood of future data collection), the scholarship strongly suggests that institutional exits are likely to coincide with industry exits because academic workers often have no other choice.
Autodepreciation
In the influential essay whose title I’ve borrowed, Erin Bertram notes that we avoid grappling with the loss of colleagues who have been forced out of academia by “reminding the departing scholar about all the amazing skills they have.” We tell the departing scholar, “You can use those skills in finance! Insurance! Nonprofits! All sorts of regular jobs that your concerned parents will recognize!” But as Bartram and other commentators observe, you could probably have won those jobs just as easily without the Ph.D. at all.
What even these critics often overlook is that you could actually have won many of those jobs more easily without the Ph.D.
I’m not talking about the mountain of debt and the lost decade or so of earning capacity that come with many Ph.D.s. I’m not even talking about the way in which academic training leaves you with valuable but fairly generic skills (“critical reading”) as well as specific skills that won’t help you in the general labor market (e.g., assembling a syllabus that students find interesting, that strikes the right balance between challenging and feasible assignments, and that accounts for institutional resources, for different learning styles and for applicable accommodations, all without relying on an overly pricey set of books). These things matter, but they are still only some of the ways in which competing to enter and succeed in academia harms the people who do it.
Instead, what I’m referring to here is a phenomenon that many commentators implicitly understand but few explicitly articulate: Academic training, expectations and norms force you to unlearn or forgo skills you might have otherwise had that could have served you well in the general labor market. Put differently, academic training forces you to engage in a kind of autodepreciation.
In my book, I use the example of Judith Butler’s famously critiqued and parodied writing to illustrate this. Butler’s writing is notoriously difficult—characterizing it as such is probably one of the few things their supporters and critics can agree on—but it’s just an extreme example of how scholars are often required to write and speak in ways that won’t serve them well outside academia. Phrases like “Althusserian theory” and “homologous ways,” both taken from Butler’s award-winning “bad sentence,” can be efficient shorthand for people who must contribute to complex debates that have evolved over decades or centuries. It’s not always possible to communicate complicated ideas via relatively short sentences written in the standard American English that I’m using right now. I certainly don’t write this way when I’m discussing worker classification doctrine or theories of democratic sovereignty.
To stand a chance of succeeding in academia, you need to regularly use that type of expert vocabulary and complex sentence structure. You need to write in it to publish scholarship, you need to speak in it to present research and teach students, and this means you must also learn to think in it. But once you’ve had to think, speak and write using expert shorthand for decades—for up to nine years of graduate school, a year or three of postdoctoral fellowships, not to mention any time spent as a full-fledged professor—you will understandably struggle to sound … not like Judith Butler.
What happens, then, if an acute financial shock prompts most universities to stop hiring new professors just as you’re finishing your degree? Or, supposing you’ve already scrambled into a full-time job, what if the same shock forces your department or program to be eliminated? Where does that leave you?
Where it leaves you, in many fields, is holding a too-fancy degree, a handful of irrelevant publications, skills that are either widely possessed (critical reading) or overly specialized (syllabus writing), and a tendency to speak and write in ways that nonacademics find unappealing or confusing, or unappealing because they’re confusing. Where it leaves you, in other words, is having depreciated your own generally valuable skills in order to become competitive for the highly specialized job you tried to get—or actually got—but that no longer exists. This is a third reason why academic job loss really is different.
Whither Now?
What I’ve just said is not uplifting. There is no uplifting way to spin the individual effects of the current assault on higher education. My goal in discussing dynamics like institutionalized employment, quasi monopsony and auto-depreciation was not to set the stage for a happy ending: It was to provide an explanation and a language for the trauma of job loss in academia. It’s not just you. It really is different.
But it’s not enough for us to understand and name these dynamics. If we believe that knowledge is power (and I’m assuming that if you are reading this article, you subscribe to that view on some level), then there must be some way to derive power from this knowledge. Here are a few possibilities.
First, having understood the nature of this loss and some reasons why it is so profound, acknowledge both publicly. Explain the dynamics that make academic job loss different. Explain them to your uncle, your cousin, your neighbor, your college friend. Learn to say them partially, and therefore inadequately, instead of either keeping silent or holding forth in the grocery aisle. It’s true that many nonacademics do not understand why our industry is so difficult and so seemingly distinct from the industries that are familiar to them. But that’s at least partly because we do not explain things to nonacademics nearly as often as we explain—and decry—them to each other. Hand-wringing illuminates nothing and helps no one.
Second, don’t be afraid to encourage early-career researchers to develop Plan B’s and Plan C’s (which they should already have, but that’s a different and well-trodden path). In fact, don’t be afraid to encourage them to pursue those alternative plans right now and even if it comes at some expense to their academic progress. Obviously, the A.B.D. who is one chapter away from finishing should probably finish that chapter given her sunk costs. But discuss with her whether she should postpone graduating until she can develop an alternative income stream.
Third, when academic hiring thaws—whether that is six months from now or several years into the future—give serious consideration to candidates with CV gaps dating to this period, the person who worked in a retail job or in an industry research position for which she was grossly overqualified needed to buy food and pay rent. If she is still qualified for the position you are later lucky enough to offer, do plan to consider her for it—and do plan on indicating that you will do so in the job advertisement so that she knows to apply.
And, fourth, don’t be afraid to ask colleagues who are forced out of academia whether they would like to stay involved somehow. Maybe they would like to work in journal operations (and maybe they would appreciate the small income this kind of work occasionally generates). Maybe they would like to participate in free virtual reading groups or brown-bag lunches. Maybe they would even like to join a mentorship circle, whether as mentor or mentee. Regardless of the nature of the opportunity, don’t be afraid to ask—and don’t take it personally if they decline. Bearing the discomfort of a curt no (or even a verbose one) is something those of us who are left behind can and should do.
Job loss is difficult in all industries, but it is not equally difficult. For the most part, we can’t avoid or undo the job loss that is now unfolding in academia. But we can understand it, name it and explain it to our nonacademic friends and family so that they better understand our grief. And we can work to mitigate the effects of job loss and opportunity loss for our colleagues in whatever small ways are open to us. It is time for academics to hunker down and try to keep each other warm, because winter, as they say, is coming.
Deepa Das Acevedo is a legal anthropologist and associate professor of law at Emory University. Her book, The War on Tenure, is forthcoming this fall from Cambridge University Press.
One of the most common questions I get from Ph.D. students and postdocs is “When should I begin my job search?” Most of the time, they are referring only to the application process—they are asking when they should start actually applying for jobs. While I generally recommend applying three to four months before you are available to start, the job search itself should begin much earlier. There is a lot of information and data that you need to gather in advance so that you are well positioned to recognize that a job is a good fit and make an informed decision with confidence.
I see a lot of similarities between the job search and the way you might approach committing to a large purchase such as that of a car or home: The more research and preparation you do, the more confident and informed you’ll be when the right opportunity comes along.
Like a house, a job needs to align with your values, interests and goals. However, compromise is inevitable. Just as home buyers must balance their wish list with budget constraints and market realities, job seekers must consider factors such as location, salary, job stability and growth potential. A strategic, long-term approach ensures that when the ideal opportunity presents itself, you can recognize it and act decisively.
That said, it’s important to recognize that in both job searching and home buying, there are many variables we can’t control. Many Ph.D. students and postdocs I speak with are understandably concerned about the uncertainty of the job market they’ll be entering into in light of federal employee layoffs and university hiring freezes. This is unfortunate but makes long-term, careful planning all the more important.
The House-Hunting Approach to Job Searching
When I was a postdoc, my husband and I wanted to buy our first home. Initially, I had a long list of must-haves: a safe neighborhood close to work, hardwood floors, a spacious updated kitchen, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a fireplace, a deck, a two-car garage and a lush yard for gardening. We determined our budget and began our search.
For six months, we attended open houses and scoured online listings, refining our expectations along the way. We learned what features were common in our price range and which ones were unrealistic. We adjusted our priorities, and when we finally found the right home, even though it wasn’t exactly what we had first envisioned, we were confident in our decision because of the knowledge we had gained along the way.
The job search follows a similar process. The more job descriptions you analyze and the more people you talk to, the more attuned you become to industry norms, required skills and job value. This preparation allows you to confidently apply and evaluate offers, just as a seasoned home buyer recognizes a great deal when they see one.
To best position yourself for success, your job search should start long before you submit applications. Here’s a suggested timeline.
More Than One Year Out: Laying the Foundation
Identify your career interests: Before house hunting, you need a vision for your ideal home. Likewise, before applying for jobs, you need a clear sense of your desired career path. If you’re unsure, conduct informational interviews to learn from professionals in different fields. Ideally, these conversations would be taking place throughout your graduate and postdoctoral training. More about informational interviewing can be found at Live Career. Resources such as MyIDP (for the sciences) and ImaginePhD (for humanities and social sciences) can help you explore career options. Vanderbilt University’s “Beyond the Lab” video and podcast interview series explores a variety of biomedical career paths, and InterSECT Job Simulations offers job simulation exercises to help Ph.D.-level scientists and humanists learn about various career options. Finally, the Propelling Careers podcast is another resource I would recommend that provides valuable insights into career exploration topics and the entire job search process.
Build your professional presence: Just as no one starts house hunting without securing their financing and mortgage pre-approval, you shouldn’t enter the job market without your professional documents ready. A strong, polished application package is like a solid financial foundation—it ensures you’re taken seriously and can move quickly when the right opportunity appears.
Prepare your CV or résumé well in advance, tailoring it to the roles you’re considering. The National Institutes of Health Office of Intramural Training and Education has a great resource for these on their website. For jobs outside of academia, you will need a résumé, and this can take time to do well. Seek feedback from colleagues and career advisers to refine it. An up-to-date and well-crafted résumé also can be extremely valuable when you are conducting informational interviews to share with the professionals you meet; they will understand your background better, can provide feedback and may pass your document along to hiring managers.
Updating your LinkedIn profile is equally important—it serves as both your online résumé and a networking and research tool. A polished LinkedIn profile increases your visibility and credibility within your target industry.
One Year Out: Researching the Market
Track job postings: A year before you plan to transition, start monitoring job postings, just as you would start researching and looking at houses online and driving through neighborhoods. Save descriptions of roles that interest you and analyze them for common themes. This practice helps refine your job search keywords and informs the skills you should highlight on your résumé.
Identify skill gaps: By analyzing job descriptions early, you may discover missing skills that are crucial for your target roles. By recognizing this in advance, you can take online courses, join organizations or gain hands-on experience to strengthen your qualifications before applying.
Prepare for additional requirements: Depending on the field, you may be asked to share a writing sample or coding project. If you’ve been preparing throughout the year, you won’t be caught off guard.
Experiment with AI assistance: AI tools like ChatGPT can help analyze job descriptions to identify key themes and skills. They can also provide feedback on your résumé and help tailor application materials to specific roles.
Be open to exceptional opportunities: Occasionally, a job posting might appear that is a perfect fit—what I call a “Cinderella’s slipper” job. Even if it’s earlier than your planned timeline, consider applying or reaching out to someone in the organization. Expressing interest might open doors for a future opportunity.
Three to Four Months Out: Start Applying
Start submitting applications: At this stage, it’s time to actively apply for jobs while continuing to network. Informational interviews remain valuable, as many jobs are never publicly posted. Take this time to reach back out to the contacts you have made over the past year or so to let them know you are on the market.
Tailor your application materials: Customize your résumé and cover letter for each application, incorporating language from the job description to highlight your fit. If the application allows an optional cover letter, always include one—it may be the deciding factor between you and another equally qualified candidate.
Leverage networking for hidden opportunities: Identify organizations of interest and connect with employees to learn more. This proactive approach often leads to learning about openings before they’re publicly listed. We’ve all heard stories of people reaching out to homeowners with letters expressing interest in a house—even if it’s not for sale—hoping the owners might consider selling in the future.
Secure references: Consider who can provide strong recommendations. Reach out in advance to confirm their willingness to serve as references and keep them updated on your search.
Keep a job search log: Maintain a spreadsheet to track applications, including submission dates, job descriptions and tailored résumé and cover letter versions. This record will be invaluable when preparing for interviews and following up with employers.
Conclusion: Finding Your Dream Job
Job searching is a complex and important decision-making process, one that also has to remain flexible in light of changing market conditions and unique personal constraints. Just as home buyers don’t purchase the first house they see, job seekers shouldn’t rush into the first opportunity that arises. A strategic job search, like a well-planned home-buying journey, requires research, patience and flexibility. By starting early, refining your criteria, and actively engaging with your field, you’ll be well prepared when the right job—your “dream home” in the professional world—becomes available. With knowledge and preparation, you can confidently apply, interview and accept an offer, knowing you’ve found the right fit for this stage of your career.
Ashley Brady is assistant dean of biomedical career engagement and strategic partnerships and associate professor of medical education and administration at Vanderbilt University in the School of Medicine’s Biomedical Research, Education and Training Office of Career Development ASPIRE Program. She is also a member of the Graduate Career Consortium—an organization providing a national voice for graduate-level career and professional development leaders.
This is a call to my dear faculty friends and colleagues in higher education institutions.
In the first months of the new presidential administration, and indeed since the election, many have been searching for answers. I have been in more meetings, gatherings and brain dump sessions than I can count, all focused on the same existential question: What does this all mean?
I have heard a number of higher education faculty, in particular those who are committed to diversity, equity and inclusion work, who are wondering what this means in terms of their research and teaching. I do not want to minimize these fears, but I would also like to reframe these discussions.
The fears are real, and the threats that people face vary greatly from state to state. That is, the potential repercussions for someone in South Dakota or Idaho are substantially greater than for someone in California, for example. I also fully understand that pretenure or non-tenure-track faculty members risk more than those like me with the protections of tenure. I also am aware that issues around federal research funding for DEI-related topics remain highly unsettled as grant cancellations continue.
I am not calling for us to be lacking in strategy or unaware of our contexts. However, I am extremely concerned that a number of my fellow academics are engaging in pre-emptive self-censorship.
That is, my dear friends and colleagues continually make statements like these behind closed doors:
“Only sign on/speak up on issue X if you are comfortable.”
“We need to be sensitive to the potential harm that can befall our members.”
I do not disagree with these sentiments on their face, but I worry about this on two fronts.
First, there is one key issue I have not seen engaged in these discussions: While tenured faculty are currently under attack across the country, we also have privileges enjoyed by no one else on college campuses, such as academic freedom and tenure.
While this does not absolutely insulate us from potential harms stemming from regressive laws or executive actions, it does mean that relative to professors of practice, adjuncts and staff, we enjoy a number of privileges they do not. For example, in my home state of Arizona, staff are considered at-will employees and can be quickly dismissed for speaking out.
I do not deny that we are living in perilous times, but what good are academic freedom and tenure if we do not use them? Some think, I believe mistakenly, that speaking out will only embolden the attacks on higher education institutions and faculty. I, instead, am more compelled by Frederick Douglass’s proclamation,
Find out just what any people will quietly submit to and you have found out the exact measure of injustice and wrong which will be imposed upon them, and these will continue till they are resisted …”
Generation after generation, people have been convinced that being quiet will quell attacks, and generation after generation, this approach has only invited more of them. It also seems fairly clear that the attacks on higher education are not going to stop any time soon.
I am reminded of the first time I saw Noam Chomsky speak, when he offered, “We are so concerned with the cost of our actions that we forget to ask, what is the cost of inaction?” We are frequently so concerned with the potential consequences of speaking out, we forget what our silence will invite.
This leads to my second point: What good are academic freedom and tenure if we do not use them? We as academics so often talk about the rights afforded us through academic freedom. Much less frequently do we ask what the social responsibilities of said freedom are. Returning to Chomsky, the responsibility of intellectuals is to “speak the truth and expose lies.” There can be no greater calling for academics in a “post-truth” society than to do both publicly and boldly.
Finally, and I cannot stress this enough, we are not going to feel comfortable before speaking out. I am reminded of Archie Gates (George Clooney’s character in Three Kings), who said, “The way this works is, you do the thing you’re scared shitless of and you get the courage after you do it, not before you do it.” This is why I am frustrated by the continual asking if my dear faculty friends and colleagues feel comfortable about speaking up, being identified in actions and putting ourselves in harm’s way. We will not a priori feel comfortable, so this should not be a prerequisite for action.
So let us take comfort in the prophetic words of Audre Lorde in her poem “A Litany for Survival”:
and when we speak we are afraid our words will not be heard nor welcomed but when we are silent we are still afraid
So it is better to speak remembering we were never meant to survive.”
This is extremely misguided, because being quiet will not save us.
Bending the knee and precomplying will not stave off these attacks.
Acquiescing to censorship will not stop the threats.
Only engaging in collective, bold, public, strategic struggle and disruption has the potential to do so.
We did not pick this fight, but this is the fight that we are in.
Nolan L. Cabrera is a professor at the University of Arizona, but he writes this as a private citizen. Views expressed here are only his own. He is the author of Whiteness in the Ivory Tower (Teachers College Press, 2024), and this op-ed is adapted from Chapter 3 of the book. He is also the co-author of Banned: The Fight for Mexican American Studies in the Streets and in the Courts (Cambridge University Press, 2025).
Our scientific enterprise in the United States is the envy of the world. Top scientists from around the globe want to come to work here, specifically because of the environment that we have fostered over decades to support scientific innovation and intellectual freedom. Federal investment in research is one of the primary foundations upon which this extraordinarily successful system has been constructed.
It is not simply the dollar amount of federal funding that makes this system so successful. It is also about how we allocate and distribute the funds. Long before “DEI” was common parlance, we made robust efforts to distribute funds broadly. For example, instead of concentrating funding only in the top research institutions, as many other countries do, we created programs such as EPSCoR (1979) to direct funding to support research and development throughout the entire country, including rural areas. This was done in recognition that excellence in research can be found anywhere that and colleges and universities serving rural and impoverished communities deserve to benefit from and contribute to the economic and scientific engine that the federal government can provide.
The National Science Foundation also implemented Broader Impacts in its grant review process (originating in the 1960s and formalized in 1997). The goal of the NSF review criteria for broader impacts was to ensure that every federally funded project would have some benefit for society. These broader impacts could take a wide variety of forms, including but not limited to new tools and innovations, as well as efforts to grow the STEM workforce by supporting those historically and economically excluded from becoming scientists.
Diversity, equity and inclusion funding is one of the mechanisms that we use to continue this legacy of equity in federal funding of scientific research. This approach has also helped reduce public mistrust of science and scientists—a mistrust attributable to science’s historical abuses—by ensuring that the benefits of scientific progress are shared widely and equitably and by making the work of scientists more transparent and accessible.
Until fairly recently in history, science was primarily an activity for the wealthy. Training as a scientist requires many years of deferred salary, due to the extensive education and practical skill development needed to conduct independent research and start a laboratory. For those who make it through this training, research jobs can be scarce, and the salaries are not high, considering the highly specialized skills required and the high demands of the job. Many of the best and brightest minds have been excluded from the scientific process by this economic reality. Federal funding provides critical support for science workforce development, primarily through stipends and salaries for undergraduates, graduate students and postdoctoral fellows. These stipends ease (but do not erase) the economic burden of training as a scientist.
When you hear “DEI in science,” this is largely what we are talking about. A vast portion of federal DEI funds in the sciences goes directly to support highly talented and accomplished trainees who have deferred their personal economic progress for the opportunity to contribute to science in the U.S. This wise national investment helps to ensure that our science workforce can recruit the most meritorious trainees, regardless of their economic backgrounds. Without these initiatives, our science workforce would be much smaller with a narrower set of perspectives. Our national investment in science training is not altruistic—it is the very reason why the U.S. is a global leader in science and technology. This leadership contributes to our nation’s safety and capacity to deal with the existential problems we now face.
The framework of DEI recognizes that systemic economic and social injustices are present in our society, due to historical and contemporary realities such as slavery, Jim Crow, genocide of Native peoples, redlining, a broken immigration system, educational and health-care disparities, and discriminatory practices in housing and employment against nonwhite, disabled and LGBTQ+ communities. These disparities have resulted in a lack of intergenerational wealth and resources among many communities in the U.S., leading to unequal access to scientific training and careers.
The claim, now made by our federal government, that a meritocracy can be achieved by ignoring these injustices is simply false and illogical. DEI is not only about diversity training and hiring practices. In the sciences, it is essential and existential to the goal of developing the most robust, talented and highly skilled science workforce in the world.
With Executive Order 14151, issued by the Trump administration, this funding is under attack, undoing decades of progress that have fostered some of the most talented and brilliant minds of our time. Rigorous training programs are beingcanceled, graduate students are losing their funding and the training of an entire generation of scientists is being jeopardized. Science will lose an extraordinary amount of talent, necessary for our nation’s industrial and economic leadership, because of this executive order.
Furthermore, this removal of funding is being enacted on the basis of identity, effectively endorsing a form of government-imposed segregation of science. Advancements in science are often determined by the demography of those doing the science, and a diversity of perspectives and research questions is necessary for scientific innovation. For example, sickle cell disease is chronically underfunded and underresearched, despite the severity of the disease, likely because it affects descendants of people from regions with high instances of malaria, including many African Americans. Indeed, some scientific breakthroughs and technologies may never materialize or be greatly delayed due to the exclusion of talented individuals on the basis of their identity. This is a fundamental threat to scientific progress and academic freedom.
The federal banning of DEI programs is a slap in the face to every person who has struggled to become a scientist in the face of systemic injustices. These trainees, past and present, have missed out on economic opportunities, deferred building their families and made many personal sacrifices so that they can create innovative solutions to our nation’s most pressing scientific and technological challenges. The creation of these DEI programs came from the extraordinary efforts of thousands of people, many of whom have overcome injustices themselves, working tirelessly across many decades so that the most meritorious and talented individuals all have an opportunity to succeed as scientists.
Referring to these efforts as “shameful discrimination,” as the Trump administration has now done, is a cruel attempt to destabilize the emotional well-being of everyone who has created and been supported by these essential programs. It is an example of blaming the victims of past and ongoing injustice for their plight in society, rather than working to dismantle the systems that perpetuate inequality and limit access to a fair and just future, where a true meritocracy in science becomes possible.
We believe that the efforts to ban, diminish and misrepresent DEI and diversity, equity, inclusion and accessibility programs should be immediately stopped and reversed to avoid the most serious negative impacts of these new policies. Removal of DEI programs will demoralize and disincentivize an entire generation of scientists in training. It will greatly reduce the scientific workforce and remove top talent from our training programs as funding mechanisms are dismantled.
Our graduate students, undergraduates, postdoctoral fellows and other early-career scientists are those most greatly impacted by the removal of this support. This will severely jeopardize the status of the U.S. as a global leader in science, and the catastrophic impacts will be felt for decades. We stand by those most affected by the DEI ban, especially our trainees, and we demand an immediate reinstatement of DEI funding.
We are speaking out using the speech and intellectual freedoms afforded to us by the U.S. academic system and the U.S. Constitution. We are calling on our institutions to stand with us in defense of DEI in science. Institutions and professional societies must reaffirm their own commitments to DEI. Some institutions have already made strong statements of reaffirmation of these values, but others have begun to remove their internal and external DEI initiatives pre-emptively. We understand the need for institutions to protect their employees and students from adverse consequences, but we argue that the consequences of dismantling diversity programs are much greater for our communities, as these steps usher in a new era of segregation in science and academia.
We urge the public, our lawmakers and politicians to stand with us. We believe that DEI is foundational to science and an attack on DEI is an attack on the core of science itself in the United States.
Joseph L. Graves Jr. is the MacKenzie Scott Endowed Professor of Biology and the director of the Genomic Research and Data Science Center for Computation and Cloud Computing at North Carolina A&T State University.
Stacy C. Farina is an associate professor of biology at Howard University.
Parvin Shahrestani is an associate professor of biological science at California State University, Fullerton.
Vaughn S. Cooper is a professor of microbiology and molecular genetics at the University of Pittsburgh.
Gilda A. Barabino is president and professor of biomedical and chemical engineering at Olin College of Engineering.
