I often wonder why giving has so little to do with how much one has. A millionaire may hesitate to part with even a few thousand dollars for a person in need, while someone with only a modest savings may readily give away a meaningful share of it for a good cause. Clearly, something deeper is at work than what we see outwardly. This raises an important question: why does philanthropy, despite its scale, remain relatively underutilized in supporting scientific research?
In the United States, charitable giving is substantial (about $550 to $600 billion annually in recent years, per the annual Giving USA report), but only a small fraction, roughly 3 to 5 percent (about $15 to $30 billion), supports scientific research. Most donations go to religious organizations, education, health services, and humanitarian causes, while research receives only a modest share. Even a modest shift, for example, increasing this share from roughly 5 percent to 8 to 10 percent, could significantly expand support for early-stage and exploratory research. Federal support for research and development alone exceeds $180 billion per year, far surpassing private charitable contributions to research.
Yet historically the situation was quite different. Before the major expansion of federal science agencies in the mid-twentieth century, much research in American universities and laboratories depended on philanthropy and private foundations, often supplemented by university resources. Organizations such as the Rockefeller Foundation and the Carnegie Institution for Science helped establish laboratories, research institutes, and fellowships that fostered early advances in medicine, biology, chemistry, and physics. This historical reliance contrasts sharply with the present funding landscape.
Many important discoveries in medicine and the natural sciences during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries emerged from institutions sustained largely by philanthropic support, long before large-scale federal funding became dominant. Even in the early decades of modern molecular biology, when research resources were modest by today’s standards, scientists made remarkable advances.
Experiments demonstrating that DNA carried genetic information by Alfred Hershey and Martha Chase, the elucidation of the structure of DNA by James Watson and Francis Crick, the discovery of DNA polymerase by Arthur Kornberg, the deciphering of the genetic code by Marshall Nirenberg, the chemical synthesis of genes by Har Gobind Khorana, and the elucidation of the molecular basis of sickle-cell disease (first recognized as a “molecular disease” by Linus Pauling and later explained through the hemoglobin mutation identified by Vernon Ingram) helped establish the foundations of modern molecular biology and medicine.
Still, the culture of philanthropy in the United States is notable. Yet at a time when concerns are being raised about potential reductions in federal and state support for research, along with escalating tuition and other costs in higher education, scientific organizations such as the American Association for the Advancement of Science and ResearchAmerica continue to advocate for sustained investment in science and biomedical research. This prompts a broader reflection: who teaches societies to give, and how are those priorities shaped?
One further asymmetry emerges in the present moment. Government has become the indispensable patron of basic biomedical science, while industry, though rich in infrastructure, technical capability, and scientific talent, often directs its greatest energies toward nearer-term development. This is understandable, as markets tend to reward products more readily than long-term possibilities.
Yet this emphasis on short-term returns has not always defined industrial science. Discoveries emerging from such laboratories, including the invention of the transistor at Bell Laboratories and the development of the antiparasitic drug ivermectin at Merck & Co., were recognized with Nobel Prizes and helped transform technology and medicine. These examples remind us that industry once played a visible role not only in product development but also in fundamental scientific discovery.
The challenges in biomedical research today are equally profound. They may require not only sustained public support but also a renewed industrial commitment to basic and precompetitive research, where discovery often precedes any clear commercial destination.
In medicine and the health sciences, this asymmetry becomes particularly meaningful. Much of what advances patient care begins as uncertain inquiry, often dependent on sustained support that may not yield immediate results. In that sense, the act of giving is not only generosity, but also a quiet investment in the future of human health.
In this light, there may be a case for major philanthropic organizations, such as the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation and the Chan Zuckerberg Initiative, which have made substantial contributions to applied and translational research, to further expand their support for basic research alongside their important work in global health and mission-driven initiatives. Sustained investment in fundamental science remains essential, as it underpins many advances in medicine and public health. Recognizing philanthropy not only as generosity but as strategic risk capital for discovery may be essential to sustaining the scientific enterprise in the decades ahead.
A newer development suggests another way the landscape of biomedical research support may be changing. Recently, some investigators, particularly those working in universities or nonprofit institutions, have turned to public crowdfunding platforms to present the significance of their work and solicit small contributions from many individuals. These modest donations, when combined, can support pilot experiments or exploratory projects that might otherwise struggle to find funding through traditional mechanisms. While unlikely to replace institutional funding, such crowdfunded science efforts illustrate how public engagement with science may open new avenues for discovery when conventional sources become more constrained. Such models, while limited in scale, may also signal a gradual shift toward more democratized participation in scientific discovery.
My curiosity about patterns of giving also comes from personal experience. I spent the first three decades of my life in India and the following decades in the United States, and these are the societies I know best. Both countries have large populations with deep religious traditions and longstanding commitments to humanitarian charity, which makes the question of generosity particularly interesting.
The ways in which charitable giving becomes organized and visible in public life, however, appear to differ between the two societies, particularly when it comes to philanthropy directed toward research and higher education. In recent years, India itself has been changing: philanthropy and corporate giving have expanded significantly, especially after policies encouraging companies to devote a portion of their profits to social responsibility.
Among some Indians settled in the United States, one often observes another interesting pattern. Many give generously to temples, cultural associations, and community organizations, sometimes more readily than to scientific research or universities. This tendency may reflect a natural desire among immigrant communities to preserve cultural identity and support institutions that sustain their traditions, echoing patterns of giving commonly observed in India itself. Similar patterns, where charitable giving aligns with cultural, religious, or community priorities, can also be observed across many societies.
At the same time, there are notable examples showing how philanthropy can influence research and higher education. In 2015, for example, Indian-American philanthropists Chandrika and Ranjan Tandon donated $100 million to New York University’s engineering school. The gift led to its renaming as the NYU Tandon School of Engineering and helped strengthen its research and academic programs.
Imagine a simple scene, reminiscent of a story often shared on platforms such as Quora. A poor fruit vendor, an elderly woman, notices a young boy early in the morning who is clearly hungry but too shy to ask for food. Sensing his need, she quietly hands him a couple of bananas, easing his hunger.
Years later, the boy becomes very successful through hard work, luck, or both. He remembers the old woman who had shared those two bananas when she herself had so little. Determined to find her, he searches for a long time, and eventually the day comes when they meet again. The woman is happy to see him, and he offers to repay her kindness.
But the woman gently asks him why it had taken so long. She had shared when she had almost nothing; he had waited until he became a millionaire to perform the same simple act she had carried out with meager resources many years earlier.
Perhaps the real measure of giving is not the size of the gift but the moment in which it is offered, whether it is two bananas from a poor vendor or a great endowment to a university. Generosity reveals itself most clearly when it comes without hesitation.
Rao M. Uppu is a professor of environmental toxicology and chemistry.
