This came as no surprise. The writing on the wall was perhaps more like a larger-than-life mural that couldn't be missed. But the email still felt like a gut punch.
"After 25 years of FIRST, we regret to inform you that the NIH IRACDA Program has been terminated, with our current funding set to end on August 31, 2025. Please see the e-mail below from NIH..."
And the forwarded email from NIH: "I am writing to let you know that due to changes in NIH/HHS priorities, the Institutional Research and Academic Career Development Award (IRACDA) program has been terminated."
Let me explain. My current position at Emory is as a "postdoctoral research fellow" funded by the NIH (National Institutes of Health) through a program called IRACDA (Institutional Research and Career Development Award). I would direct you to the website, but it doesn't exist anymore. The Emory program is called FIRST (Fellowship in Research and Science Teaching), which is at least a slightly less opaque name and the website does still exist for now. Essentially, the NIH funds Emory to run a program that recruits and trains (diverse) scientists who have recently earned their PhDs to do cutting edge research and also teach at a local "Minority Serving Institution". In my case, I had the privilege of teaching at Spelman College, which is the country's oldest historically black college for women. But that no longer aligns with the NIH's "priorities".
Sure, I'm mad for me. It's scary to not know whether you'll have a job in five months, or whether any of the positions you would have considered applying for will be open or even still exist. But I'm madder for all my friends in the program at Emory and at IRACDA programs around the country. And I'm even madder for the effect that this disruption is having on science and medicine.
This has recently become personal for me in a way that I never imagined. My mother was diagnosed in January with a very rare form of cancer called mesothelioma. The Mayo Clinic website says that mesothelioma "is a fast-growing and deadly form of cancer. There are mesothelioma treatments. But for many people with mesothelioma, there is no cure." She is currently in the middle of a course of combined chemo and immunotherapy (chemunotherapy, as she calls it), and thankfully, it seems to be helping for now. The immunotherapy (Keytruda) was only approved for mesothelioma this past September, after about 10 years of being used to treat other more common cancers. We are so thankful for innovation in cancer treatment using basic science that was funded in large part by the NIH for decades. We are also hoping for continued innovation that will eventually find a cure, and the NIH has been funding multiple promising avenues of research (including mRNA vaccines!). Science saves lives. And sometimes in ways we can't imagine from the titles. (Did you know that GLP-1 medications like Ozempic are based on research on Gila monster venom?)
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In DC last month attending the #StandUpForScience rally in front of the Lincoln Memorial. |
I don't have enough hubris to think my own research is poised to change the world dramatically. But scientific progress is incremental, and the big flashy advances are built on thousands of small discoveries and refinements. These decisions to defund science and scientists ignore this reality and are incredibly short sighted. It's not just my program, it's the firings at the National Institutes of Health and the rest of Health and Human Services (CDC, FDA, etc.), the National Science Foundation, National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, Forest Service, and so much more.
I'm saddened that our society has lost faith in and appreciation for science. I have a wonderful and supportive boss who is going to try to keep me employed after our NIH funding runs out. I have savings. I will apply for other jobs. But these are sad days not only for science and scientists, but for everyone (even those who don't know it yet). If you can, please advocate for science funding: call your representatives, show up to protests, and perhaps most importantly, talk to people. Make sure folks know what's happening and if they don't care already, maybe try to help them connect a few dots. Hopefully this will be a short-term tragedy that we can recover from soon. But some days optimism is hard.