The University of Michigan runs on an enormous amount of federal money. In 2024, $1.17 billion of the University’s $2 billion research expenditure came through federal grants, $762 million of it from National Institutes of Health alone.
In its first four months, President Donald Trump’s administration terminated more than $1.5 billion in National Science Foundation grants alone, a wave that has already reached the University. The U.S. Department of Health and Human Services canceled five University of Michigan grants covering HIV, reproductive health and race-related research. The Social Security Administration halted cooperative agreements with research centers “addressing DEI in Social Security, retirement, and disability policy,” including a $15 million study housed on campus.
Former University President Santa Ono warned these cuts could have “significant repercussions” for the University’s budget. Although the University knows these terminations are happening, the people absorbing the downside — almost entirely graduate researchers and postdoctoral students — are often left waiting without clear timelines. In many cases, departments delay firm decisions until they know whether replacement funding will materialize, leaving researchers uncertain about next steps.
The University’s obligations to those affected by these funding cuts demand attention. When the University admits a PhD student with a five-year funding commitment, that commitment is presented as the institution’s, not NIH’s. A student’s admission letter does not say “contingent on federal cooperation,” and no one sitting across from a faculty recruiter is told that the five years are really one year increments renewed at the federal government’s discretion. Graduate researchers and postdoctoral fellows — often working under fixed-term contracts — face the same uncertainty. Federal cuts are now exposing commitments as conditional in ways that are not disclosed when students are admitted.
So far, the University’s response to these cuts has been a bridge program announced in April 2025, routed through each school’s dean. The program is narrowly designed and excludes funding delays and grant nonrenewals. As a result, it covers only clear-cut cases, not those that fall in gray areas. Because requests must be submitted through each school’s dean’s office, affected researchers may be left waiting to learn whether or not they will be routed into the program. Meanwhile, funding delays and typical grant life-cycle non-renewals fall outside the program’s stated scope. This bridge program is limited, slow and discretionary. When support falls through in ambiguous situations — delays, nonrenewals or partial gaps — it often happens quietly, without formal denial or clear acknowledgment. In those spaces, commitments fade without scrutiny, because there is no single decision to contest — only an absence of action.
The University should respond in two ways. First, it should publish a centralized, public and regularly updated account of which grants have been terminated or frozen, how many graduate students and postdocs are affected, what the bridge program has actually covered and what remains uncovered. Graduate researchers are making decisions right now that will shape their careers and lives, yet those decisions depend on information that only the University controls. They should not make these decisions without all the necessary decision-informing details, which the University should do a better job providing.
However, disclosure without substance is only another way of confirming that commitments were never real. The second way in which the University should respond is to publicly commit to backstopping funding for currently enrolled graduate students and postdocs through the term of their admission or contract, regardless of federal status.
It cannot insure against indefinite federal collapse, but it does have a duty to honor commitments already made to people who are already here. The University has a roughly $21.2 billion endowment and spends billions on research annually. In that context, continuing to fund affected graduate students and postdocs would be a small share of its overall resources. The University can afford to continue paying these graduate students and postdocs, given the scale of its endowment and available funds. Whether it will choose to do so remains unclear.
The University is already working with peer institutions to challenge federal funding cuts. That same coalition could jointly commit to protecting graduate students and postdocs. A shared pledge would be a visible, credible means of assurance.
University leadership has argued that funding constraints and restrictions on institutional funds limit how far the University can go in replacing lost federal support, raising concerns about cost and precedent. Devotion to backstop every federal shortfall creates an expectation that the institution cannot sustain across a multiyear funding collapse. Long-term fund redirection could financially impact other students, faculty and core university functions, creating tradeoffs across the institution. These concerns make sense, but because this protection proposal only applies to students currently enrolled in the University, they do not apply. The University is already publicly engaged in disputes over funding, so making explicit commitments would not go beyond its existing position.
Protecting institutional image by quietly walking back funding guarantees is a choice with its own costs, borne entirely by students. The commitments were made in the University’s name. Honoring them is its duty.
Alexander Voorhees is an Opinion Columnist who writes “On Public Life,” a column on how national politics and institutions shape campus life and democratic legitimacy. He can be reached at avoorh@umich.edu.
