On Feb. 7, under the directive of President Donald Trump, the National Institutes of Health (NIH) enacted a policy change that could significantly alter the landscape of academic research—capping indirect costs on all current and future NIH grants at 15%. To clarify: When a lab receives an NIH grant, it also receives an additional percentage of that total amount to cover “indirect costs” associated with research — more formally termed Facilities & Administrative (F&A) rates. To get a sense, indirect costs cover expenses like building maintenance, utilities, administrative work and other operational overhead that support research but are not directly tied to specific project activities.
For example a university that has negotiated an indirect cost rate of 30%, a $100,000 grant would include an additional $30,000 to cover expenses; under the new NIH policy, this would mean a $15,000 loss for the lab. However, Duke receives just a little more than $100,000 in NIH funding. It receives $580 million at an indirect cost rate of around 61%. In other words, a cap at 15% would result in a staggering $194 million loss in funding.
Let’s say it how it is. Elon Musk and President Trump have now taken their DOGE-imprinted, Trump Tower-sized chainsaw to academia, and the fallout could be devastating.
In an email sent from Duke's administration, including President Vincent Price, they acknowledge the harm of such a policy, stating “This abrupt shift in policy would significantly slow or halt discovery in critical areas such as cancer, Alzheimer’s, infectious diseases and pediatric health.”
In Boston, a federal judge has prolonged a temporary block against this executive order, preserving the existing framework for research operations and at least granting universities a window to devise fallback strategies should the 15% cap take effect. I fear though that no preparation period may prove sufficient to sustain the caliber of groundbreaking health research currently underway. In other words, the position of the U.S. as the preeminent leader in biomedical research is under threat.
Now, I beg the researchers reading this to restrain your pitchforks and torches. I say this as someone who actually intends to complete a Ph.D. in biology.
I can understand the desire to lower the indirect cost rate.
After all, it is no secret that the favorite word of schools like Duke is “administration.” When paperwork needs to be done, we hire more staff. If a lab mouse escapes, we don’t just set a trap—we fund a task force to pioneer “next-gen rodent retrieval systems.” And if President Price ever needs his shoes tied god-forbid, we build a department “dedicated to innovating cutting-edge strategies to craft the perfect butterfly loop.” Therefore, in theory — and I emphasize “in theory” — by capping indirect costs, such as administrative overhead, facilities and maintenance, this ensures that more grant money is allocated directly to research rather than funding institutional bureaucracy. Essentially, Trump’s 15% cap is a fat wake up call to universities to get their affairs in order and maximize research efficiency.
The problem is that this wake-up call isn’t just a phone alarm or even an obnoxious 8 a.m. fire drill — it’s an atomic bomb for institutions like Duke.
Labs at Duke depend heavily on indirect grant funding — it’s what keeps the lights on, the equipment running and the admin staff handling the paperwork so scientists can focus on research. At Duke, that 61.5% indirect cost rate isn’t just padding: it pays for the HVAC system that keeps cell cultures alive, the compliance officers who navigate federal regulations and the maintenance crews who fix the ancient autoclaves that sterilize our tools. Sure, in a perfect world, labs could streamline, trim the fat and redirect more cash to pipettes and petri dishes. But a hard 15% cap doesn’t allow for that gradual shift — it’s an instant cut with no adjustment period.
So even if Trump and Musk are correct in their assertion that research is strangled by administrative overhead, labs must be afforded the time to adapt to this new landscape of cost cuts. That is, such a drastic and immediate reduction in grants would not only result in a slashing of “overhead,” it would lead to a slashing of biomedical research altogether. As put by Devon Cimini, a grants administrator at Florida State University, the lower rate would be “similar to forcing a company to sell a product for $10 that costs $15 to produce.” and if the cap goes into effect, “quite bluntly, there wouldn’t be much research anymore.” If Musk cannot see that, he’s either simply obtuse or blissfully ignorant.
Namely, without the time to adapt to this new landscape of research, departments will be unable to carefully curate a plan for a new way forward and will be left with no other choice but to make extremely difficult cuts. Specifically, labs will be forced to scale back quietly ambitious projects — perhaps studies on gene therapies or rare conditions — as resources thin out. Ph.D. students and postdocs might see fewer opportunities (it has already been reported that the University of Pennsylvania directed department chairs to reduce graduate admissions and rescind acceptances), with positions trimmed to fit shrinking budgets, while funding for basic supplies or software dwindles. For heavily funded labs conducting breakthrough research in disease, a substantial reduction in funding might mean pausing a promising lead or delaying a trial, subtly eroding the momentum of discovery before a new balance can even be found.
Although predicting the exact changes ahead for Duke is certainly challenging and may not even be worth speculating until we know more, one thing is for certain: imposing a 15% cap on indirect costs would fundamentally reshape biomedical research — and not for the better. For as we know, malignant cancers, degenerative neurological diseases, swift and kniving infectious pathogens, chronic obesity and all the other diseases WORTH studying will not be so kind as to slow their rampant spread to accommodate OUR need to adapt. So, let us not be so foolish to forget why we do science and why we are so committed to pushing it forward.
Though I suppose it is not you who needs to hear that.
It’s the White House.
Alex Berkman is a Trinity junior. His pieces typically run on alternate Wednesdays.
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