On Tuesday, picketers gathered outside the CDC in Atlanta to protest significant workforce cuts affecting about 10% of its employees. Demonstrators expressed concern not only for public health jobs but also for Atlanta’s status as a global health hub. With potential federal budget cuts, the CDC’s influence and financial contributions to the local economy are at risk, threatening job security and morale. As public health experts caution about the broader implications of these cuts, the city’s reputation for academic and healthcare excellence is under scrutiny. Local leaders and business owners fear that such changes could erode Atlanta’s esteemed position in global health.
On Tuesday, a group of picketers assembled along Clifton Road in Atlanta, just beyond the secured gates of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, selecting a well-known location for demonstrators enraged over various issues like animal research and vaccination policies.
However, this protest was unique: Hundreds came together to support public health workers’ jobs, just days after the C.D.C. started reducing its workforce by about 10 percent.
Outside of the Washington, D.C., vicinity, few areas face as severe a threat from the budget cuts enforced by the Trump administration as Atlanta’s dense medical district, located east of downtown, where the C.D.C., Emory University’s vast scientific endeavors, and a large Veterans Affairs hospital nearly collide. Each year, billions of dollars circulate through these sites, supporting thousands of jobs.
The implications extend beyond employment and financial matters. They threaten the city’s reputation. Atlanta, which takes pride in its business savvy and its role in the civil rights movement, has also valued its prominent position in public health and medical science.
“Atlanta has always viewed itself as a global health capital — at the very least, one of several,” remarked Dr. Mark Rosenberg, a former C.D.C. official and president of the Atlanta-based nonprofit Task Force for Global Health.
Currently, the possible deterioration of the nation’s public health infrastructure risks diminishing Atlanta’s influence. In a city where encountering someone affiliated with the C.D.C. is commonplace in settings like preschool pickup lines, churches, or salons, these cuts are eroding a long-established pillar of shared prestige.
“It made us feel like we were part of something larger,” Todd Ginsberg, who co-owns The General Muir deli, reflected on the influx of C.D.C. employees and visitors to Clifton Road (and his restaurant). “Having the C.D.C. known worldwide, yes, it’s significant to have it just across the street, and it’s a major source of pride.”
During a lively town hall meeting on Thursday night in the affluent suburb of Roswell, approximately 20 miles north of the C.D.C., Republican Representative Rich McCormick supported the White House’s stance. Amid hoots and boos from constituents, he twice mentioned that dismissed C.D.C. workers were performing tasks “duplicative” of what artificial intelligence could do. The atmosphere resembled the early town halls of 2009 and healthcare discussions of 2017, which preceded significant voter backlash against the presidents’ parties the following year.
“I know their research methods,” Mr. McCormick, who is also a physician, stated regarding the C.D.C. He went on to say, “I believe they could achieve more with less, similar to how the Marine Corps operates when faced with necessitated resource reductions.”
A participant at the town hall retorted: “Doing more with less is reasonable. What’s unreasonable is this drastic approach.”
Public health specialists have cautioned that severe cuts at the C.D.C. could lead to significant consequences both domestically and globally. Yet, with the White House seemingly on a mission to slash federal expenditures and skeptics of the C.D.C. taking top government positions, many officials are preparing for possible additional layoffs, along with eliminated budgets and plummeting morale that could push more staff to leave.
Emory administrators also announced to employees this month that government spending reductions could equate to a $140 million annual loss, potentially impacting nearly every academic department at Emory, with both immediate and long-lasting implications for their scientific research, clinical trials, patient care, and other scholarly endeavors. The prominent medical school at Emory, as well as its distinguished National Primate Research Center, could be significantly impacted.
Through a spokesperson, the university’s president, Gregory L. Fenves, declined an interview request but expressed in a public letter on February 11 that there would “likely be more funding adjustments at the federal level in the weeks and months to come.”
The C.D.C. was established in 1946, originally as the Communicable Disease Center, as part of a governmental initiative to tackle malaria. The decision to base the agency in Atlanta stemmed from the area’s mosquito-heavy Southeast, which was a hotspot for the disease. In the subsequent year, the C.D.C. paid Emory $10, roughly $148 today, for 15 acres to set up its headquarters. As time progressed, both institutions evolved into prominent biomedical powerhouses, parallel in their global influence.
For instance, in 2014, C.D.C. officials played a crucial role in addressing the Ebola epidemic in Africa. After American healthcare workers contracted the virus, they were transported from Liberia to Georgia, swiftly heading by ambulance down Clifton Road to the C.D.C.’s offices and into a specialized ward at Emory.
During a Rotary Club meeting last year, Dr. Mandy Cohen, then director of the C.D.C., pointed out that hers was the only major federal agency located outside the D.C., Maryland, or Virginia regions. She noted that over 10,000 C.D.C. employees worked in the Atlanta area.
“If we transformed our budget and economic impact into a publicly traded corporation, we’d rank among the Top 5 companies in Atlanta,” Dr. Cohen claimed — a considerable assertion in a region home to Coca-Cola, Delta Air Lines, Home Depot, and UPS.
“It’s one of our crown jewels,” Senator Jon Ossoff, a Democrat from Georgia, remarked in an interview on Thursday. “Everyone understands that we host the world’s leading public health organization and the foremost epidemiologists dedicated to safeguarding our nation and the globe.”
For the C.D.C., political conflicts have fluctuated throughout its long history. Yet, to both current and former officials — some of whom spoke anonymously due to fears of reprisal — the ongoing tensions with the Trump administration appear more acute, largely due to the uncertainty regarding their outcomes.
Mr. Trump had conflicts with C.D.C. officials during his first term amid the Covid-19 pandemic, and resentment from the far-right has continued to grow since then. Current employees have expressed feelings of fear, confusion, and a notable lack of communication from leadership regarding their future.
Neither the Department of Health and Human Services nor the C.D.C. responded to inquiries for comment.
Governor Brian Kemp, a Republican, has shown minimal public concern regarding the changes affecting one of Georgia’s leading employers.
“I understand there are layoffs at the C.D.C. and other adjustments, but government can benefit from a bit of scaling down,” Mr. Kemp stated at a Politico event in Munich last weekend while highlighting the state government’s history of optimizing its operations.
Mr. Ossoff, who is up for re-election next year and may contend against Mr. Kemp, characterized the undermining of the C.D.C. as “deeply foolish, self-defeating, and dangerous.”
“How is it possible for the governor of Georgia to neglect defending one of the state’s crown jewels, a crucial public health asset for our entire nation, along with the extraordinary personnel working there?” questioned Mr. Ossoff.
Other supporters of the C.D.C. contended that the potential loss to Atlanta could outweigh any monetary savings, given that they believe the agency serves as both a reputational and academic pillar in addition to its economic contributions.
The C.D.C. “contributes significantly to Atlanta’s identity,” stated Dr. Louis W. Sullivan, an Atlanta native who was the founding president of the Morehouse School of Medicine and served as health secretary under George H.W. Bush. “It imbues the city with a character that sets it apart from any other city in the nation.”
Mr. Ginsberg mentioned that he and his business partners selected their restaurant’s location partly because employees from the C.D.C. and Emory had engaged with and appreciated the culture they aimed to introduce to Atlanta. He reminisced about how C.D.C. staff supported his restaurant during the early pandemic by purchasing gift cards. Presently, he noted a decline in business as agency officials canceled events.
“I can’t envision anyone in government wanting to eliminate such an agency,” he expressed, adding, “I remain hopefully optimistic that the C.D.C. will continue to thrive right where it is.”
Current and former C.D.C. staff share the same hopes. However, veterans like Dr. Rosenberg, who claims his departure from the C.D.C. in 1999 was due to disputes with Republicans over public health politics, worry that recent cuts will hasten a talent exodus from Atlanta, diminishing the region’s intellectual capabilities and global clout.
He is particularly concerned about the agency’s and city’s ability to recruit the next generation of scientists.
“For someone from the outside with job offers in sectors that provide significantly higher pay than public health,” he lamented, “I struggle to see why they would consider a position at the C.D.C.”