The Human Cost of Political Battles in Research Funding

In a troubling development for scientific research in the United States, many respected scientists like Harvard epidemiologist Megan Murray find themselves caught in a political crossfire between the Trump administration and academic institutions. Murray, whose groundbreaking tuberculosis research has helped save countless lives, experienced a bizarre funding limbo for much of 2025. Though officially awarded significant grants from the National Institutes of Health (NIH), including a large new grant to study long-term lung damage from TB, she was unable to access these funds for months. “Weirdly, my grant was not terminated,” Murray explained, describing her strange netherworld of having funding that couldn’t actually be used. This situation reveals the real human and scientific costs when biomedical research becomes entangled in political disputes.

The root of this funding crisis stems from the Trump administration’s broader campaign against what it considers “woke” institutions. In October 2025, Trump posted on Truth Social that “much of Higher Education has lost its way, and is now corrupting our Youth and Society with WOKE, SOCIALIST, and ANTI-AMERICAN Ideology.” This philosophy translated into concrete action when the administration froze $2.2 billion in NIH grants to Harvard researchers, claiming the university failed to protect students and faculty from antisemitism. Although Harvard sued and a federal judge ruled the administration’s actions violated First Amendment rights, the government announced its intention to appeal and continued seeking ways to ban Harvard from receiving federal funds. Meanwhile, some universities like Columbia, Brown, and the University of Pennsylvania struck deals with the administration to keep their funding flowing, while others remained in prolonged negotiations.

The administration’s pressure tactics escalated when it sent a compact to universities nationwide, requiring them to end diversity programs, dismantle certain academic departments, define women according to specific biological characteristics, and limit foreign student enrollment in exchange for priority access to grant money. MIT led seven institutions in publicly rejecting this proposal, with MIT president Sally Kornbluth arguing that “scientific funding should be based on scientific merit alone.” However, some institutions like New College of Florida announced they would “happily embrace” the president’s vision. Sarah Spreitzer from the American Council on Education expressed concern that the compact “seems to be trying to federalize our system of higher education and threaten academic freedom,” warning that these unprecedented actions could allow future administrations from either party to politicize science and education.

The real-world impact of these political maneuvers becomes evident in Murray’s work, which supports large consortia of scientists studying tuberculosis, a disease that affected 173 of every 100,000 people in Peru in 2023 compared to just 3 per 100,000 in the United States. Her research includes irreplaceable biological samples from about 18,000 people, stored in freezers in a Lima lab operated by Socios En Salud, the Peruvian arm of Partners in Health. Without the $400,000 earmarked in Murray’s NIH grant, researchers couldn’t proceed with plans to recontact 1,000 previously cured TB patients for crucial follow-up studies involving CT scans and other expensive procedures. “The faster we get back to them, the more likely it is that we’ll be able to find them,” Murray explained, noting that without funding, not only would these samples become useless for the current study, but the highly trained researchers and healthcare workers conducting the screening might lose their jobs.

The significance of Murray’s research extends far beyond academia. As infectious diseases doctor Richard Chaisson from Johns Hopkins points out, “Everything that we learn there, we use here.” For instance, when a TB outbreak in Kansas infected 178 people in 2024, “all the tools they’re using to diagnose and treat those people were studied overseas.” Similarly, medical epidemiologist Maryline Bonnet emphasizes that Murray’s work on TB’s long-term effects is “extremely important, because we realize now that maybe 50 percent of patients who are cured of the bacteria are living with existing lung damage, which affects significantly their quality of life.” Throughout 2025, Murray scrambled to find alternative funding sources, turning to private donors and non-governmental organizations to ensure that “the freezers aren’t unplugged, lights aren’t turned off and so that we don’t lose our staff who are incredibly well-trained.” However, few charitable organizations can match NIH’s investment level.

The broader implications of this funding crisis are alarming for America’s scientific leadership and public health. Each dollar NIH spends generates $2.56 in economic activity, according to advocacy group United for Medical Research, meaning the president’s proposed 40% budget cuts could substantially harm the economy while slowing the development of new treatments for many diseases. Moreover, infectious diseases physician Stephen Carpenter warns that talented scientists might be lured to China, Europe, or elsewhere, representing “a huge loss for us in innovation, for our intellectual property [and] therapeutics.” For Murray personally, the situation feels oddly personal despite the broader political target. “We’ve been trying to be good global citizens,” she reflected. “It’s weird to be told that we’re evil because we’re doing those things.” As this situation continues to unfold, it raises profound questions about the relationship between politics and science in America, and whether vital research will continue to be held hostage to ideological battles.