I recently sat with a young scientist in my office, tears in my eyes, who asked for advice: his grant had been canceled by the government. Years of hard work and training seemed to disappear in an instant. She was – an exceptional scientist, having won one of the most prestigious career prizes at the National Institutes of Health, a prize that reflects a history of federal investment in the science of tomorrow. But without warning, and for reasons that had nothing to do with her science, she had disappeared.
Yes, funding was important for important reasons. But more than that, funding represented confidence in the next generation of scientists. She had devoted her twenty to the continuation of knowledge, hoping to improve the life of all of us. She had seen, in her own family, the devastation of diseases such as Alzheimer’s disease and Parkinson. She believed, like many of us, in the promise of dedication and hard work. And then, just as this promise was starting to materialize, it was removed.
I hear these stories every day now. They are the subject of corridors, laboratory discussions and personal sorrows. This particular subsidy is only one of the hundreds canceled at Columbia University and thousands of others across the country. At the Institute that I direct, almost all the canceled subsidies were those specifically awarded to support the training of young scientists. Each of these young scientists represents the future of American science: the next innovators, mentors and developers of vital treatment.
These cancellations were framed As a way to hold responsible universities, to send a message. But let’s be clear: these are not institutions that are punished. It is the researchers who are the future of science in this country – those who spend long hours on laboratory benches, management of experiences, data analysis. What logic is there to remove the carpet under them, especially when their work has nothing to do with problems at hand?
As a memory researcher, I know how much moments of training like these are. It is not only a professional setback; It is a moment that fundamentally modifies the way a young man sees the world and his place. Psychologists call it “reminiscence bump” – important events from the beginning of adulthood leave an indelible trace on memory. For young scientists, the impact of this crisis will collapse, not only shape their individual paths, but also to disturb the transfer of knowledge from one generation to another. Some will leave science. Others will leave the country, looking for institutions that still believe in their future.
And it’s not just their future. This is ours. Thanks to the breakthroughs motivated by these scientists, the Americans are living longer and in better health today. Cancer treatments, heart disease, diabetes and HIV are emerged from the very work of work that these young scientists make, often funded by federal partnerships. These achievements make the difference between life and death for millions of people. And behind each of them is a young scientist who, like the student of my office, believed that this country believed in the value of science.
I listen to them now and I worry about all of us. Some are pursuing scientific opportunities abroad, while others plan to leave years of training to start completely new careers. The young scientists with whom I did not expect an easy path – science has always been demanding, even in the best of cases. I advise them to continue, to continue to advance their discoveries, to resist the storm. But in the current environment, I cannot blame them to wonder if it was hopeless. I understand why they wonder if there is a future for them in science.
This is not how the history of American excellence is supposed to take place. I know it from the first hand: I moved to the United States of Israel in my twenties, attracted by the promise of an unequaled scientific opportunity. As a young scientist, I received an NIH award that gave me the boost I needed to devote myself to this work for decades. If I had lost this funding, I don’t know what I would have done. But I know that uncertainty, discouragement and instability will cost the United States a generation of scientific talents. And once this momentum is lost, it is incredibly difficult to regain.
If the government’s objective is to strengthen university culture or improve public confidence, it is not the way of doing so. Presentation of the future of American science is not a way to responsibility – it is a decline. We should ask ourselves: what kind of country turns their back on its brightest minds? What happens when these spirits stop seeing a future here?
If the Americans want to maintain our leadership in science and innovation, we must restore the pact that has always supported it: that when the students dedicate their lives to the discovery that we use us all, we will serve them. Nothing less is a betrayal – not only of them, but of the future they are trying to build for all of us.
Daphna Shohamy, Ph.D. is a neuroscientist who studies memory and decision -making. She is director of Zuckerman Mind Brain Behavior Institute of Columbia University and co -director of the Kavli Institute for Brain Science in Columbia.