When politics disrupt science, families pay the price
What ripple effects do cuts in research funding have?
When research funds are cut, the effects go beyond abstract budgets. They are felt by children, their families, and the educators working to support them in classrooms across the United States and, actually, all around Earth. Let me explain.
My colleague at the University of Virginia, Jim Soland, and I wrote an op-ed originally published in the Richmond Times Dispatch on Sunday 1 February 2026 in which we described how research on autism conducted in Kenya has tangible, life-changing benefits for families, both at the research sites and at locations around Earth. In our editorial, we addressed people Virginia, but we think it has a broader reach.
Here is our lede:
A long way from home — halfway around the world, in fact — there’s some research you, as a Virginian, should know and care about. You might care about it because it’s bringing families closer together. You might care about it because it’s helping kids around the world with autism avoid stigma and thrive.
In Kenya, as in much of Africa, misinformation about what causes autism leads to stigma, or being rejected or judged unfairly, and harm to kids. For example, some parents shun their autistic children because they believe autism is caused by matters within their control, such as by a family’s moral failing. In some cases, the moral or spiritual elements seen to drive these diagnoses divide not only parents from children, but husbands from wives.
Yet, that is not the end of the story. In Kenya, as much if not more so than here in the U.S., learning the science behind what causes autism — that it is about brain development, genetics, and environmental factors — wins the day, transforming beliefs overnight. Through simple trainings in Kenyan communities — often standing room only — to explain the science behind autism and give teachers and parents basic strategies to support autistic children, science not only changes minds; it transforms and reconciles families.
Our research in Kenya reduced stigma, strengthened parent–child relationships, and equipped teachers and caregivers with practical, science-based strategies. Through community trainings and community-engaged research, families who once blamed themselves or each other for their child’s autism came to understand autism as a neurodevelopmental condition caused by a combination of genetic and environmental factors. This new perspective lead to reconciliation among parents, advocacy, and renewed hope.
These outcomes are not abstract; they are deeply human, illustrated by parents who moved from isolation and rejection to connection and leadership within their communities. Yet this work, like much autism research, depends heavily on federal funding, which has increasingly become vulnerable to political shifts that can abruptly halt progress.
These issues matter profoundly for special education and autism not only in Kenya, but also in other countries and cultures, including the US. The challenges faced by Kenyan families such as misinformation, service shortages, long waitlists, and isolation are mirrored in many US communities. When research funding is disrupted or politicized, it is not just international partnerships that suffer; U.S. families lose access to evidence-based practices, educators lose opportunities for training, and systems lose the ability to innovate and respond to rising autism prevalence.
In our editorial we explained that research infrastructures cannot be turned on and off without consequence, and instability undermines our collective ability to support children with disabilities—autism in the case or our research—in schools and communities. Protecting sustained investment in autism research is therefore not a partisan issue—it is a commitment to science, equity, and the fundamental goal of helping all children thrive.
For more about the work we are doing in Kenya, see this Special Education Today post of 7 November 2025. For a copy of the editorial, you can write to me.