What are the implications of the recent NEH funding cuts for documentary filmmakers? How might these cuts affect the cultural landscape of the United States? What projects were specifically impacted by the funding termination? How does the funding loss relate to broader themes of historical understanding and social issues? What steps are being taken by filmmakers and organizations to contest these terminations?
I just became a member of a group I never wanted to join — filmmakers whose National Endowment for the Humanities grants were terminated.
As you may have heard, President Donald Trump and DOGE recently cut the vast majority of staff and grants at the NEH. It’s hit documentary filmmakers hard.
With the NEH cuts, DOGE has targeted 89 documentary and related “media” projects (this includes podcasts). Among them are a four-part Ken Burns docuseries exploring the history of our criminal justice system; Rita Coburn’s film on W.E.B. Du Bois; and Matia Karrell and Hilary Prentice’s documentary Coming Home: Fight for a Legacy, about America’s overlooked female World War II aviators. Even documentaries on baseball and Nancy Drew saw their funding stopped. The future of many of these projects is now uncertain.
In many cases, the films were stopped midstream — Karrell and Prentice were able to get 20 percent of their funds, for instance, but the remaining $480,000 are currently inaccessible. This sum — earned after a decade of research, filming, and personal investment of time — is everything to the filmmakers, even as it’s peanuts to the federal government. Between $10 million and $20 million in “media funding” were cut. That may sound hefty, but it’s only about 10 percent of the NEH’s overall budget (many other grantees of course saw cuts too) and 0.003 percent of the total federal budget. Hardly a deficit buster.
The mass termination of NEH awards is unprecedented in the agency’s 60-year history, and doesn’t just affect filmmakers. It also impacts the cultural lifeblood of our country. The NEH was established in 1965 by President Lyndon B. Johnson, and over the years has awarded $6 billion in grants to humanities councils in 56 states and jurisdictions to support projects that deepen understanding of our shared humanity. Many NEH-funded films have had major social impact, from Gordon Parks’ 1984 made-for-public television film Solomon Northup’s Odyssey, based on the Twelve Years a Slave author’s odyssey, to A Midwife’s Tale, a docudrama based on the diary of an early American midwife that aired on PBS’s American Experience in 1997. Or 2020’s Crip Camp, an empowering look at the disability rights movement by James Lebrecht, one of its activists and founders. All that is now imperiled.
My own letter was a gut punch. I’d been working on a documentary, My Underground Mother, for over a decade. The film traces my search for my late mother’s hidden Holocaust past, which included time at a Jewish women’s forced labor camp that she and 60 other inmates wrote about in a secret diary (a band of resisters who I locate around the world in real time, combining written passages with new interviews). Their story highlights an untold aspect of the Holocaust and the evil consequences of antisemitism.
But the nonprofit sponsoring my work (all NEH films have one) received a letter last month from Michael McDonald, the NEH’s acting chair, that stated my documentary “no longer effectuates the agency’s needs and priorities and conditions of the Grant Agreement,” based on a rarely used clause that gives federal agencies broad authority to stop funding projects that don’t adhere to an administration’s agenda. “Your grant’s immediate termination is necessary to safeguard the interests of the federal government, including its fiscal priorities,” it read.
Apparently, my small independent film wasn’t only deemed a waste of taxpayers’ money by this administration — its very funding was imperiling the “urgent” fiscal needs of our nation.
All of this seemed especially peculiar given how President Trump is currently at war with major universities for their alleged failures to combat antisemitism. The irony wasn’t lost on Sen. Elizabeth Warren either — she singled out My Underground Mother as an especially egregious example of a bad cut decision. President Trump also stated that many of the terminated projects focused on DEI, but it’s hard to see how that applies to movies about the likes of artist Frida Kahlo or Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel.
As the Academy Award-nominated director Immy Humes — a grantee who has been working on a film about the little-known indie-cinema figure Shirley Clarke and who has organized a group of filmmakers to fight the moves – notes, “The cuts are too sweeping and undefined.” She adds, “I was on cloud nine when I was notified about my NEH grant award. And then boom. This crazy termination with no warning.”
While DOGE’s Elon Musk has characterized federal grants as handouts and grant recipients as freeloaders scamming the federal government, let me be the first to tell you, the NEH grant process isn’t for those looking for easy payouts. Statistically, it’s harder to win an NEH grant than to gain admission to Harvard, and it’s often preceded by rejections. My first award, a film development grant of $75,000, was the culmination of nearly a decade of research, writing, filming, pitching, and fundraising.
I’m not sure the vetting process here was nearly as thorough. One insider said that the only DOGE people who visited were two young men who only spent a few days at the office.
Needless to say, the impact of these cuts will be huge and resonate far beyond the documentary world. Defunding these grants means harming every library, historical society, museum, and organization that produces, distributes, and plays these films. This pipeline is further damaged by Trump’s proposed gutting of the NEA and the Corporation for Public Broadcasting.
It’s hard to know what the next steps could or should be. Instead of issuing clear guidelines on how to appeal, the administration issued a series of confusing directives, extending the 30-day appeal window by another 30 days but also stating: “NEH is not offering a means of dispute resolution.”
A lawsuit has been filed against the NEH in the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of New York by the American Council of Learned Societies, the American Historical Association, and the Modern Language Association. It’s up to the nonprofit organizations the NEH works with, not individual filmmakers, to seek legal redress for the grant terminations. But this makes for a scattershot approach, with many choosing to accept termination out of fear of losing overdue reimbursements. Others, like Prentice, whose production partner Women Make Movies is filing an appeal on behalf of her film, have decided to push back.
Some recent wins in court, most notably by journalists from the Voice of America, do give hope. (Though an appeals court just reversed the ruling.) V.O.A. was founded during World War II to broadcast fact-based journalism to troops and citizens abroad and counter Nazi propaganda. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my film’s deep dive into history, it’s that there’s no better way to counter hate than by humanizing the other. I’ve seen firsthand how meeting a Holocaust survivor, whether in person or through a project, can dispel the most deep-seated antisemitic beliefs. But if the NEH, NEA, and local humanities councils are defunded, the platforms that can bridge divides will be severely limited. And so, too, will our chances of stemming hate’s rising tide.
“The most effective way to destroy people is to deny and obliterate their own understanding of their history,” wrote George Orwell. As we celebrate the Allies’ win over hatred with the 80th anniversary of Victory in Europe Day on Thursday, we can hope, pray — and fight — to ensure that organizations like the NEH are here to stop that destruction.
Marisa Fox is a veteran journalist and television producer and the director of “My Underground Mother.”
An NEH Filmmaker On How She’s Been Targeted by Trump and DOGE
In an era where digital narratives often blend with political discourse, the voice of independent filmmakers becomes crucial. One such voice, that of an NEH-funded filmmaker, has recently emerged, shedding light on unusual confrontations with both political power and social media phenomena. Her journey illustrates the intersection of storytelling, politics, and the sometimes absurd world of cryptocurrency.
Navigating the Landscape of Political Targets
As a culturally attuned maker of documentaries, this filmmaker represents a group that often finds itself on the frontlines of political discourse. With a focus on social justice and representation, her work has been recognized by the National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH). However, her commitment to these themes has also placed her in the crosshairs of political figures, notably former President Donald Trump.
Her films often explore contentious issues such as immigration, gender equity, and racial justice. In doing so, she aims to create an understanding around topics that are deeply polarizing in American society. But in an age dominated by social media, the consequences of such a commitment can be significant. As her films gained traction, she began receiving backlash that at times felt disproportionate to her work.
The Trump Connection
While many filmmakers experience criticism, what makes her story unique are the personal attacks that echo the polarizing rhetoric popularized by Trump. The filmmaker has spoken out against not just Trump’s policies, but the broader cultural attitudes they represent. This defiance has led to online harassment, threats, and a kind of intimidation that feels increasingly prevalent in today’s political climate.
In various interviews, she has recounted instances where her films were singled out by pro-Trump commentators. Her portrayal of issues like police brutality or immigration reform was misconstrued as an attack on American values. The artist found herself labeled as an enemy of the state by those who viewed her work as an indictment of their beliefs. This targeted vitriol has not only affected her peace of mind but also instilled in her a renewed sense of responsibility—to tell stories that matter, no matter the personal cost.
The Digital Currency Debate: DOGE
Ironically, while navigating these treacherous waters, she has also encountered a different kind of frenzy spurred by the rise of cryptocurrencies, particularly Dogecoin (DOGE). Initially created as a joke, DOGE became wildly popular, attracting a community that balances both genuine investment interest and meme-based humor. The intersection of her artistic journey with the rise of this cryptocurrency illustrates a humorous but telling commentary on digital culture in America.
She recalls the absurdity of juxtaposing her serious filmmaking with the frivolous nature of DOGE. Her social media presence, once a safe space for sharing her work and insights, has become a battleground for conversations that oscillate wildly between political outrage and cryptocurrency discussions. With memes appropriating her work, often without context or respect, she has learned to navigate this new terrain—a mix of admiration, frustration, and disbelief.
The Intersection of Art and Activism
This filmmaker’s experience represents a larger trend where art, media, and social movements collide. In many ways, her story becomes a microcosm of the great conversations taking place across the nation—conversations about identity, community, and the role of artists in a society increasingly defined by its divisions.
Art has always been a form of activism, a voice against oppression, and a means of fostering connection. However, her experience shows the double-edged sword of such work in a highly charged political environment. While she has been able to raise awareness and spark dialogue on essential issues, she also faces a hostile response that questions the validity of her voice, simply because it contradicts the mainstream narrative promoted by influential figures like Trump.
Moving Forward: Resilience and Renewal
Rather than succumbing to the pressures of online vitriol or giving into fear, she channels her experiences into her filmmaking. Faced with both political backlash and the ludicrous world of digital currencies, she is more determined than ever to use her platform for social change. Her upcoming projects include a documentary that examines the influence of social media on political sentiments, exploring how platforms are utilized not only for activism but also for misinformation and personal attacks.
Moreover, she is beginning dialogues with other filmmakers and activists to build alliances across various platforms and causes. By leveraging their collective experiences, they aim to push forward a narrative that champions truth and empathy over division.
Conclusion
The journey of this NEH filmmaker underscores the challenges faced by those who dare to speak out and the curious nature of our digital age. As she navigates the political landscape fraught with challenges from figures like Trump and the absurdities of trends like DOGE, she remains unbowed. Her commitment to telling important stories amidst chaos showcases the resilience of artists in an era where every narrative counts. Through her lens, we see not only the struggles but also the potential for transformative discourse, reminding us that art can indeed change lives, even when it invites controversy.
It sounds like you’re referring to a filmmaker’s experiences involving political and cultural tensions, perhaps focusing on themes of censorship or personal attacks. If you need specific insights or a summary regarding her situation, the impact of political figures on art, or the relevance of cryptocurrency like DOGE in such discussions, let me know!