Late in the summer of 2022, when President Joe Biden signed the CHIPS and Science Act into law, he did so amid a swirl of urgent questions about America’s shrinking technological edge and the global competition for talent. The legislation, which authorized \$53 billion to rejuvenate the sagging U.S. semiconductor industry, also promised to double the National Science Foundation’s (NSF) budget over 5 years—an unprecedented commitment to science and technology on U.S. soil.
But the Act contained more than just financial lifelines for American research. Buried amid the fine print was a mandate to elevate and broaden diversity in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM). Specifically, it created the position of Chief Diversity Officer at NSF, giving the agency legislative marching orders to ensure that the American STEM enterprise would harness a wider range of talent and backgrounds. And for a moment, many in Congress—led by the late Representative Eddie Bernice Johnson (D–TX) and Representative Zoe Lofgren (D–CA) of the House Science Committee—celebrated the dawn of a new era in which they hoped a far more inclusive national research agenda would take root.
Now, in 2025, the battle over that vision has taken a startling turn: Former President Donald Trump, having returned to the Oval Office, issued a wave of executive orders rolling back “diversity, equity, and inclusion” (DEI) offices across federal agencies—including the NSF’s newly minted diversity office. The scuttling of the NSF DEI mandate, however, appears to contravene the very legislation that created it. The ensuing legal and political firestorm highlights a deeper, far more existential question: Does the United States have enough of the right kind of talent—enough skilled scientific minds—to maintain its global leadership in innovation? And, just as crucially, is the anti-immigrant fervor roiling parts of the country sabotaging that very goal by blocking the next generation of technologists, engineers, and scientists from overseas?
While the White House’s “shutdown” of diversity offices has commanded the headlines, many lawmakers and experts warn that these actions risk doing something far more ominous: fueling a culture in which critical scientific innovation, so often fueled by immigrant and minority talent, is stifled precisely at the moment the nation needs it most. In short, if the Chips and Science Act was a call to arms—a call to recapture semiconductor supremacy and bolster American research—then ignoring its diversity mission threatens to undermine the very foundation on which such supremacy stands. Indeed, if one glances into the graduate programs of America’s top universities or the laboratories of its multinational corporations, one quickly sees how dependent the U.S. STEM sector is on the talents of international scholars, many of whom, as Representative Zoe Lofgren reminds us, “do not have white skin.”
### The High-Stakes Global Brain Race
America’s historical strength in science and technology has long derived from its capacity to attract talent from around the globe. “Diversity is the engine of invention,” says Fei-Fei Li, a Stanford University professor and world-renowned expert in artificial intelligence. “It generates the creativity that enriches the world.” She is but one of countless scientists who came to the United States as an international student, found the educational resources and institutional support to excel, and proceeded to shape her field in transformative ways. Similar stories can be told for physics, biotechnology, computer science, and engineering. If one imagines removing all those contributions, what remains of America’s edge?
A 2021 National Science Board report underscores this very reliance: More than half of U.S. doctorates in engineering and computer science are awarded to international students, many from countries such as China, India, Japan, and South Korea. Likewise, in 2022, the National Foundation for American Policy found that immigrants founded 55% of the United States’ so-called “unicorn” startups—those valued at \$1 billion or more—and that many of these founders had originally come to the United States on temporary visas. Even in fundamental research, foreign-born scholars serve as principal investigators on a large fraction of NSF grants, co-author leading scientific papers, and bring a polyphonic wealth of experience that can seed entirely new disciplines.
“The innovations that produce the next big leaps—whether in quantum computing, bioengineering, or space exploration—are almost always the result of international collaborations,” notes Dr. Francis Collins, former Director of the National Institutes of Health, in an interview last year. “It’s a myth that the United States can go it alone in science and remain at the forefront. We’ve never gone it alone, nor should we start now.”
Despite the clear data, public sentiment around immigration can be contentious. America has a long history of xenophobia flaring in times of national stress, from the Chinese Exclusion Act of the 19th century to the Japanese American internment during World War II. Populist rhetoric might brand foreign students and scholars as “competition” for domestic jobs. But, in reality, these individuals have consistently powered American scientific ascendancy. The CHIPS and Science Act was designed not only to bring semiconductor factories back to U.S. soil but also to funnel resources into educational programs and R&D labs that rely heavily on a global talent pipeline.
Representative Zoe Lofgren, who sits on the House Science Committee and whose Silicon Valley district brims with highly skilled immigrant workers, has long sounded the alarm on the consequences of restricting that flow of talent. “If you close off these pathways,” she said recently, “if you stifle the diversity pipeline or sabotage the acceptance of foreign scholars, you’re literally telling some of the world’s brightest individuals: ‘We don’t want your talents here.’ And let’s be honest, if not here, they’ll go to the European Union, or Canada, or Australia—or they’ll build up the science infrastructure in their home nations. They will not wait for America to come to its senses.”
### An Act in Peril
The CHIPS and Science Act itself remains intact, theoretically. The funding still exists on paper, and the statutory requirement to broaden participation in STEM still stands. Yet the White House’s executive orders shutting down DEI offices across federal agencies—including NSF—threaten to cripple the day-to-day operations needed to meet those legislative goals. As of January 2025, NSF Director Sethuraman Panchanathan has shuttered the Office of the Chief Diversity and Inclusion Officer, citing the new executive mandate. Barber, the original chief diversity officer, departed for the Department of Defense last fall and, presumably, may not be replaced. Meanwhile, diversity-related contracts and programs are being “terminated,” though it remains unclear how many programs or staff members this move directly affects.
Lawmakers like Lofgren contend that the White House’s new edict is illegal. After all, the position was created by congressional action—meaning it’s not at the discretion of the executive branch to terminate. “Trump’s dismantling of diversity, equity, and inclusion efforts across the federal government is just plain wrong,” she said in a statement. “He’s making hypocrites of the Republicans who helped us champion diversity in STEM.” Whether courts will uphold the administration’s action remains uncertain. Yet the intangible damage done by these maneuvers—sending a message that “diversity no longer matters”—could prove more consequential than any administrative scuffle over authority.
### Why We Need New Voices at the Table
At first glance, “diversity” might appear to some as a purely moral or social imperative. But in STEM, diversity is also a strategic advantage. The American workforce is aging, and domestic interest in certain technical fields is not keeping pace with demand. Numerous studies show that students from U.S. high schools are losing ground in math and science performance compared to global counterparts, especially in East Asian countries. For America to maintain a robust innovation pipeline, it needs both the next generation of American students—regardless of race or background—and the continuing influx of international scholars who choose to study, work, and often settle here.
In a 2023 speech at the World Economic Forum, Professor Andrew Ng, an AI pioneer and founder of Coursera, remarked, “AI is advancing so quickly that no single nation can field all the talent it requires by relying solely on domestic graduates. Collaboration and cross-pollination are absolutely essential.” Indeed, as Dr. Ng’s words suggest, the pandemic accelerated the digital transformation in fields from telemedicine to quantum computing, and each of these fields benefits from—and even depends on—global integration. Innovation is no longer a solitary race: it’s a relay, with baton-passing between countries, labs, and cultures.
Moreover, historically marginalized groups within the United States remain an enormous untapped resource for scientific talent. African Americans, Latinos, Native Americans, and women of all races remain underrepresented in many STEM fields. By ignoring the mandated diversity push, the federal government risks suffocating that homegrown pipeline of talent as well. The argument, frequently advanced by the now-closed NSF DEI office, is that new perspectives foster new discoveries: Women’s involvement in engineering, for instance, has driven more ergonomic product designs that were overlooked by male-dominated engineering teams. Immigrant scientists have brought new approaches to everything from vaccine development to environmental conservation.
Nobel laureate Elizabeth Blackburn once quipped that “science thrives on heterodoxy,” but heterodoxy requires that intellectual communities be open to fresh perspectives—be they from across the ocean or from historically excluded corners of American society. In short, shutting down diversity efforts doesn’t merely risk contravening a congressional mandate; it undercuts the intellectual dynamism that keeps U.S. science vibrant.
### The Unseen Impact of Research Globalization
While Washington’s politics swirl, the broader scientific community has been quietly building a deeply interconnected research network over the past several decades. From the International Space Station (jointly operated by multiple nations) to the Large Hadron Collider in Switzerland (which hosts thousands of visiting researchers from across the globe), the largest scientific breakthroughs of our era have transcended national boundaries. The same goes for semiconductor research. Critical breakthroughs in microelectronics—such as extreme ultraviolet lithography—have come from U.S. and European labs working in tandem with Korean, Japanese, and Taiwanese partners.
To illustrate the extent of this cooperation, consider the typical cycle of integrated chip development: A concept might originate in a U.S. university, building on a theoretical framework developed by a German-led consortium, which drew partly on materials science discoveries from Japanese labs, ultimately culminating in advanced manufacturing processes perfected in Taiwan and then re-exported back to U.S. markets. If at any point in this chain we erect walls—be they figurative or literal—we compromise the entire ecosystem.
Maryam Mirzakhani, the late Iranian mathematician and Fields Medal recipient who worked at Stanford, once pointed out in an interview that “the best ideas often spark when mathematicians from very different cultural backgrounds come together.” Although she was speaking of pure mathematics, her observation resonates equally in semiconductors, AI, and biomedical research. Collaboration fosters synergy that no single nation, no matter how technologically advanced, can replicate on its own.
And so, the CHIPS and Science Act’s vision of reinvigorating the American semiconductor sector should be understood not merely as building factories on U.S. soil, but also as ensuring that the pipeline of global talent remains flowing. The irony is that xenophobic or populist pushback to foreign scientists might cripple the same industries that nationalists claim to protect. Ultimately, if America cuts off the intellectual supply chain, it risks becoming a bystander to the next era of global technological breakthroughs.
### Zoe Lofgren’s STEM Insights—and the Law
Representative Zoe Lofgren, though trained as a lawyer, has spent years on the House Judiciary Committee and the House Science, Space, and Technology Committee, representing a Silicon Valley district that thrives on the synergy between immigrant talent and cutting-edge research. She has championed various immigration reforms aimed at encouraging highly skilled workers to remain in the United States. Her legislative focus underscores the reality that “de-globalizing” science could be catastrophic.
Lofgren’s involvement in shaping the CHIPS and Science Act was pivotal. She and her colleagues recognized that the next wave of industry-critical microchips would require manufacturing not just capital, but also a workforce with specialized expertise. True, part of the impetus was a desire to reduce dependency on East Asian factories and global supply chains vulnerable to geopolitical tension. But Lofgren’s stance has always been that you cannot simply wave a wand and produce thousands of advanced semiconductor engineers from thin air. The solution, in her view, is to bolster domestic STEM education, while also attracting the best and brightest from around the globe. That is precisely why the Act enshrined a commitment to broadened participation in STEM—so that Americans of every background could find their way into these lucrative fields, and so that top foreign scholars would be welcomed, not shunned.
Trump’s new executive orders imperil the moral and legislative clarity of that approach. Lofgren has denounced the actions as “just plain wrong,” emphasizing that the executive branch is running afoul of a congressional mandate. Critics might see this as a procedural spat—executive versus legislative authority—but the ramifications go beyond institutional turf. By dismantling diversity offices, the White House is sending a symbolic message that inclusion is optional in STEM. For many potential immigrants, that message resonates: perhaps the United States is not the haven for free inquiry they once imagined.
### The Human Cost of Isolationism
The idea that a country can maintain preeminence in science through purely isolationist policies defies centuries of experience. Even during the Cold War, academic exchange between American and Soviet scientists—albeit fraught—played a significant role in nuclear arms control and basic research. In the words of astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson: “Knowledge has never respected borders. If you stifle the flow of knowledge, you stifle knowledge itself.”
What would our labs, universities, and corporations look like without the diversity of Chinese, Indian, Japanese, South Korean, European, Latin American, and African scholars who populate them? The answer is painfully simple: They would slow to a crawl. Universities rely on international graduate students to staff research labs, teach undergraduates, and maintain the vibrancy of their programs. Corporations rely on foreign-born scientists and engineers to pioneer advancements in areas ranging from high-performance computing to pharmaceuticals.
Moreover, the presence of international and minority scholars changes the nature of the questions asked in research—everything from how algorithms interpret diverse data sets to how environmental policies are shaped by local ecosystems. The synergy of multiple viewpoints consistently spawns unexpected innovations. Without that synergy, we run the risk of stagnation, repeating old paradigms because no new voices are present to challenge them.
Worse yet, sending a message of unwelcome to these scholars encourages them to build thriving tech sectors in their own countries, upending the historical dynamic in which America was the default hub for global innovation. The seeds of that shift are already visible in the booming tech scenes of Beijing, Bangalore, Berlin, and beyond.
### From Tides to Tsunamis
History is rife with examples of scientific progress receding under tides of political folly. The leaps and bounds that placed the United States at the forefront of innovation throughout the 20th century were themselves grounded in openness—openness to Jewish scientists fleeing Nazi Germany, to waves of doctoral students from Asia, to collaborative international projects like the Human Genome Project.
When we chip away at that openness—whether through shutting down federal diversity initiatives, restricting visas, or fueling xenophobic rhetoric—we risk unraveling those gains at a startling speed. The CHIPS and Science Act is a blueprint for a more robust, more inclusive future in which advanced manufacturing and top-tier research flourish in the United States. But that blueprint depends on an influx of talent and a broadening of the STEM pipeline at home.
The irony is that some of the loudest voices championing a “strong” America simultaneously push to curtail the very diversity that undergirds American strength. If these forces succeed, it could mean that future breakthroughs—be they in quantum computing or personalized medicine—happen elsewhere. The tide of talent, once it stops flowing here, is unlikely to surge back anytime soon.
### A Path Forward
Amid these swirling political dynamics, one must ask: What can be done? First, legal challenges to the White House’s executive orders will likely clarify whether an act of Congress can be negated by presidential fiat. If the courts uphold the CHIPS and Science Act’s DEI mandate, the NSF will be obligated to restore the Chief Diversity Officer position and ensure compliance.
Second, defenders of a robust, inclusive STEM ecosystem must not only press for legal remedies, but also engage the public more directly. The stakes can’t be couched merely in moral or theoretical terms. Americans need to see the stark reality: If we close the door on foreign scholars and minority talent, the next life-saving vaccine might not be developed in the United States. The next microchip that powers advanced AI might not be “Made in America.” The next frontier of space exploration might be claimed by nations that remain open to outside talent.
Finally, lawmakers like Zoe Lofgren, who grasp the interplay between immigration, diversity, and innovation, will be crucial voices. They must keep reaffirming the data: no matter personal preferences about immigration, the reality is that America’s share of global STEM experts is shrinking, and we need all the help we can get—both from underrepresented Americans and from the best and brightest overseas.
### Conclusion
In an era of global competition, America’s greatest asset has always been the allure of opportunity—the promise that someone from across the ocean, or across the tracks, can ascend to the pinnacle of scientific discovery if they bring the requisite curiosity, brilliance, and determination. That promise fueled much of the 20th century’s innovation boom, from Silicon Valley’s earliest hardware revolution to the biotech corridors of Boston.
To sabotage that promise now, in the name of populist fervor or misplaced nationalism, is to hack away at the branches of the very tree that gave us our competitive edge. The CHIPS and Science Act was an emphatic statement: We can’t rebuild our semiconductor industry—and we can’t sustain our research enterprise—without a fresh, diverse, and global pipeline of talent. To ignore the diversity mandate in that law is not only illegal, as many argue, but also short-sighted and self-defeating.
As the world forges ahead into an era of AI-driven breakthroughs and new frontiers in quantum computing, the question America faces is whether it wants to lead or watch from the sidelines. “Discovery belongs to those who welcome it,” said Dr. Gerty Cori, the first American woman to win a Nobel Prize in science, “and often it arrives in the minds of those who have journeyed far.” Those journeys, both literal and metaphorical, define the tapestry of American science. If, in 2025, the United States chooses to unravel that tapestry, it may soon discover just how cold and barren scientific isolation can be.
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