Introduction
Recent discussions surrounding the future of American science reveal significant shifts in funding strategies and priorities. From the White House’s latest directives to concerns over health initiatives and global health, the landscape appears to be changing rapidly. This article delves into the implications of these transformations, highlighting the vital role institutions play in scientific research and the cascading effects of policy shifts on public health.
Part the First: They Are Committed to Undermining American Science (but this has been apparent for some time). The Wall Street Journal reports: White House to Direct Billions in Research Funds Toward AI, Away from Colleges (no archive).
The White House Office of Science and Technology Policy recently published a report and memo stating that individual scientists can accelerate the nation’s advancement in AI for scientific research. This directive will influence an estimated $200 billion federal research and development budget throughout President Trump’s second term.
This guidance could further disadvantage large universities reliant on federal research funding. The administration aims to prioritize fellowships and awards that create opportunities for individuals rather than institutions, as indicated in the report. Notable programs mentioned for emulation include a distinguished National Science Foundation initiative for graduate students and an award from the National Institutes of Health aimed at innovative scientists.
It’s essential to remind policymakers that “individuals” lack the foundational resources provided by institutions, such as libraries, laboratories, offices, graduate students, and essential facilities, including animal care units. Research today cannot thrive in isolation. The long-ago story of a theoretical physicist working alone in a patent office to revolutionize his field is outdated. Nowadays, without institutional backing to cover utility expenses like electricity and internet, individual contributions are severely limited. Debating the significance of individuals, institutions, and indirect costs is analogous to determining the most important leg on a three-legged stool.
Common responses to this narrative frequently reflect a misunderstanding:
Universities typically take 40% of federal research funding for their own bureaucratic needs. This initiative is a move to redirect funds directly to scientists, especially those using AI in research, and could significantly boost science funding without additional government spending.
This view overlooks the complexities involved. A similar viewpoint was echoed by STAT News: White House Offers Its Science Blueprint: More AI, Less Life Sciences (archived). The absurdity of this situation is almost comical:
Inspired by “Science — The Endless Frontier,” a 1945 manifesto that laid the groundwork for American research universities, Trump’s science adviser, Michael Kratsios, recently presented a report titled “Science: A New Golden Age.” This document advocates shifting hundreds of billions of research dollars from universities to industries, particularly tech and AI firms.
We have touched upon Vannevar Bush’s contributions in previous discussions here (the first reference is thanks to Jerri-Lynn Scofield!). Young Michael Kratsios seems unaware of Bush’s profound impact, which transformed American science into a global leader, a position held until 2025. While there is no doubt that ongoing improvements are necessary, they are not presently prioritized.
A former graduate student from my institution asked me recently whether he should abandon a career as a research scientist. Now a postdoctoral fellow at a top medical school, he realizes that this path has always been uncertain. Reflecting on my own career, I recognize the many crossroads that could have led me astray. However, I never anticipated advising a budding scientist that his future in the United States may be bleak unless he settles for an itinerant “technician” role, moving from job to job, devoid of the opportunity to make independent contributions to neuroscience—a field that was once highly esteemed.
Part the Second: A Brief Reflection on Dr. Anthony Fauci—Recognizing Multiple Truths. It is predictable that The Atlantic would feature The Unmaking of Anthony Fauci. Dr. Fauci was at the forefront during the HIV/AIDS crisis and, after an initial hesitance, adapted his approach to allow the use of promising drugs before their efficacy was conclusively demonstrated. His remarkable career culminated amid the post-pandemic period, particularly with Donald Trump’s return to the White House:
Fauci’s professional conclusion has diverged from what his impressive government tenure might have foretold. For decades, he has been among the nation’s most recognized and esteemed scientists. In the late 1960s, he played a significant role at the National Institutes of Health, repurposing cancer therapies for several life-threatening rheumatological conditions. His collaboration with AIDS activists and efforts to hasten experimental drug trials transformed HIV into a manageable condition. He later championed PEPFAR, a global HIV prevention and care initiative credited with saving an estimated 25 million lives since 2003. Over nearly four decades as director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, he transformed a previously low-profile NIH division into a substantial research powerhouse.
However, since President Trump’s reinstatement in 2025, his administration has initiated a concerted effort to dismantle Fauci’s legacy. One of Trump’s first actions upon taking office—shortly after Biden’s pardon—was to revoke Fauci’s government-funded security detail. Fauci’s image was removed from a mural on the NIH campus around the same time. By spring’s end, the administration had redirected government web pages previously dedicated to COVID resources to a new site that suggested Fauci concealed the “true origins” of COVID. Furthermore, Trump’s team largely dismantled PEPFAR, jeopardizing many of the 20 million people dependent on lifesaving treatments. They ousted many longstanding leaders at NIAID and forced out officials who had served under Fauci for years, alongside Jeanne Marrazzo, his successor; they even pushed out his wife, Christine Grady, a former bioethicist at NIH, and arrested David Morens, one of Fauci’s long-term advisors (Morens has pleaded not guilty to charges related to government record destruction). “Anything associated with his name or accomplishments is being dismantled,” stated Judith Currier, an infectious disease specialist at UCLA. (The White House and the Department of Health and Human Services did not respond to requests for comments.)
This past week, Dr. Fauci invoked his Fifth Amendment rights, declining to answer questions posed by a Senate Committee. Herein lies another truth: Senator Rand Paul, a former ophthalmologist who established his own National Board of Ophthalmology, has pursued Fauci for years, and it would be unwise to engage with him. In the meantime, the true origins of COVID-19 remain elusive and are likely to stay that way—a failure primarily attributable to internal lapses.
Part the Third: Is Polio on the Brink of Resurgence? Polio has never truly vanished, but similar to smallpox, the global scientific community is capable of eradicating this scourge. As highlighted in an opinion piece from Nature: Polio Will Surge Again If Efforts to Eliminate It Don’t Conclude Soon:
Despite efforts, the polio eradication curve is stagnating. The small remaining gap is not decreasing. Polio should have long been eradicated but continues to be endemic in Afghanistan and Pakistan, which reported a total of 18 confirmed cases as of July 21 this year. There must be a renewed urgency to finalize this effort for good. The stakes are immense: some disease modelers anticipate hundreds of thousands of new cases annually if global commitment falters (K. M. Thompson et al. Expert Rev. Vaccines 21, 1667–1674; 2022).
In recently polio-free nations, a sense of complacency is emerging, as observed by the Independent Monitoring Board of the Global Polio Eradication Initiative (GPEI). This board has actively worked to eliminate polio since 1988, achieving notable success by administering over one billion doses of polio vaccine annually to around 400 million children. Yet numerous challenges remain in completing the ‘last mile,’ as detailed in the latest report by the monitoring board published last September (see go.nature.com/4g2evvd), and as outlined in a Nature News Feature (Nature 655, 840–842; 2026).
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Moreover, the abrupt discontinuation of the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID) last year halted $85 million in crucial funds for essential polio initiatives, including surveillance and health communications. Although much of this funding was restored by Congress in April, it is now funneled through different channels, mainly the State Department. This change is significant, as the U.S. has imposed bilateral health arrangements with 34 countries, thus limiting funding for global campaigns like the GPEI.
Given the contemporary landscape, where figures like Andrew Wakefield continue to hold sway, it seems likely that polio will remain a persistent challenge for the foreseeable future.
Most of us received the Sabin polio vaccine, which quickly followed the Salk vaccine (killed virus) after its successful campaign. The Sabin vaccine (live attenuated virus, seldom causing disease) was superior in many ways. For my family and me, it was administered over 60 years ago in my elementary school cafeteria as a blue/purple mark on a sugar cube.
Albert Sabin often asserted that he was a superior scientist compared to Jonas Salk. That sentiment might have merit, but it is ultimately irrelevant. Salk’s character as a colleague and friend seemed to eclipse Sabin’s. Their tumultuous relationship is illustrated in the first significant biography of Albert Sabin, which has been recently reviewed in The New York Times.
This narrative captured how Salk’s success catapulted him to fame, causing jealousy among polio researchers who regarded Sabin, despite his abrasive nature, as the superior scientist with the better product. (Tom Rivers described Sabin as “the smart Jew” and Salk as “the young Jew.”) Complications arose for Sabin when he couldn’t conduct tests in the United States due to most children already having received the Salk vaccine. In 1959, however, with permission from both the Kremlin and the U.S. State Department, he was able to perform trials in the Soviet Union, where polio was rampant. Approximately 78 million oral doses were administered, yielding overwhelmingly positive reports. The vaccine was deemed “close to 100 percent effective,” and no serious side effects were recorded. Moreover, it was more affordable and simpler to administer than Salk’s vaccine. Who wouldn’t prefer a sugar cube over a painful injection?
Sabin’s vaccine received full licensing in the U.S. in 1962. The confirmed number of polio cases leading to permanent paralysis or death in 1960 was 2,525, a stark reduction from the high of 21,269 in 1952, prior to the Salk vaccine’s arrival. By the mid-1970s, that number had fallen to below 20, largely attributable to Sabin’s innovations. Polio appeared to be on the verge of eradication.
However, despite his professional achievements, Sabin struggled with personal issues. Fortunately, Torghele refrains from psychoanalyzing him, presenting a straightforward yet painful glimpse into Sabin’s private life. He endured multiple affairs, harshly treated family members, and his first wife tragically took her own life. His second wife quickly realized her mistake and left him. He was so detached from his two daughters that he excluded them from his will. Science and self-promotion were his true priorities.
Albert Sabin was not the first scientist driven by such ambitions or the first to exhibit challenging interpersonal dynamics. The known issue with the Sabin vaccine is its one in a million chance of causing disease. I have a close friend who experienced this unfortunate outcome. In 2000, a new inactivated vaccine replaced the Sabin vaccine. One can only speculate if Sabin would have approved of this change. Nevertheless, when asked why he didn’t patent his vaccine, Jonas Salk famously queried if one could patent the sun. He was a true scientist and benefactor of humanity.
Part the Fourth: Rediscovering Ancient Art We often take pride in the advancements of modern society, but ancient artifacts continually remind us of the sophistication of our predecessors. Recently, excavations in Germany unearthed 40,000-year-old bird carvings that illuminate the creativity of Ice Age humans. The stunning artifacts evoke a sense of wonder, suggesting that we are fortunate to be descendants of such artists. While we cannot yet comprehend how these ancient individuals viewed their world, seeing their art offers us invaluable insights into their perspectives. We would benefit from cultivating similar sensibilities.
Final Thoughts: Do contemporary Zionists know that Moses Maimonides authored A Guide to the Perplexed in Judeo-Arabic? This new translation comes highly recommended. As my beloved partner would affirm, I possess little restraint when it comes to acquiring books. I am determined to ensure that my grandchildren have access to an authentic library filled with thought-provoking materials. Recently, we gifted our 8-year-old granddaughter Where the Sidewalk Ends, and she is enchanted. A promising sign!
Thank you for your time! I apologize for the fragmented nature of this Coffee Break, but life sometimes gets in the way. Reading poetry has a soothing effect and serves as a reminder for us to remain present where we are needed. I recommend Mary Oliver to all when in need of solace. Until next week!
