For Humanitarian Research Lab—a Dunkirk moment

Nathaniel Raymond calls it his “Dunkirk moment.”

It was early June and the Yale School of Public Health’s Humanitarian Research Lab (HRL), which Raymond directs, only had funding on hand to stay open through July 1. Raymond had been fighting this moment since February, when he first received official word that the lab’s federal funding was ending.

Congress had appropriated $8 million for the HRL, but the State Department refused to release it, even ignoring bipartisan calls from Congress to do so. On June 11, former Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton, JD ’73, asked for donations to the lab on social media.

No one knew how people would respond—it was believed to be the first crowdsourcing campaign led by the Yale School of Public Health (YSPH).

It had been sparked by desperation. The loss of almost all federal funding for global health this past summer meant large philanthropic donors were overwhelmed with requests for support.

“Suddenly, it was like, no one’s coming to save us,” Raymond said. “That was when we realized it had to be individual civilians because there was no one else, and we needed a lot of money very fast.”

Now, like the Allied soldiers stranded on the beaches of Dunkirk early in World War II, all Raymond and his team could do was hope. In the meantime, they started preparing to shut down the satellite and internet monitoring networks they used to document potential war crimes and crimes against humanity in Ukraine and in the raging civil war in Sudan.

They started getting donations. Some were just a few dollars; others were gifts of four and five figures. Yale’s Ukrainian community responded. The Ukrainian National Women’s League of America activated its network, and Ukrainian immigrants across the country sent what they could. Many came with heart-wrenching letters attached. “One person felt bad they could only give $1,000 because they were on a fixed income,” Raymond said. “We told them we appreciated their support, but they didn’t have to send us money if they couldn’t afford it. Their response was they had to help; they would feel awful if they didn’t, given the plight of Ukrainian children because of the war.”

The individual donations weren’t by themselves enough to sustain the lab, but it quickly became apparent that Raymond and his team had tapped into something valuable—they had forged a connection with Ukrainian pride, resilience, and the fortitude of a populace under attack.

At a Ukrainian Days advocacy event on Capitol Hill in mid-June, Raymond found himself standing in an impromptu photo line as dozens of Ukrainian visitors asked to have a picture taken with him. Some gave him gifts—a painting, a necklace, a bookmark, personal gestures of gratitude that made him feel overwhelmed. And they urged him to continue his work.

It was unlike anything Raymond had experienced in 25 years of nonprofit work.

“That day we realized what our lab meant to people. We were a symbol of resistance, a symbol of hope,” Raymond said. “This was something bigger than us.”

Word of the lab’s pending closure also reached the Sudanese diaspora. “The Sudanese Echo,” an online news platform, wrote what Raymond calls “an obituary” for the lab. The article referred to the lab as “a lifeline in a sea of indifference.”

It praised the HRL for not forgetting the war, writing: “They turned satellite images into testimonies. They transformed silence into evidence. They documented what others refused to name: genocide. Now, that voice is falling silent.”

By the end of June, the lab announced that it had received enough donations from both the Sudanese and Ukrainian communities to continue its operations through at least October, with the Sudanese work potentially running longer, thanks to a $500,000 matching grant. Just as at Dunkirk—where a ragtag flotilla of hundreds of private pleasure craft, merchant marine boats, fishing boats, and lifeboats called into service in Britain helped rescue hundreds of thousands of soldiers and brought them to waiting naval vessels offshore —hundreds of small individual donations had sparked relief for the HRL.

For Raymond and the rest of the HRL team, the private donations and heartfelt stories brought renewed vigor to their work. In August, the lab announced it had secured enough private funding to keep operating until January 2026. Without crucial federal funding, the lab’s future beyond that date is uncertain.

“We deeply appreciate all of the people who have already made gifts to the HRL,” said Dean Megan L. Ranney, MD, MPH. “I’m thrilled that their infrastructure, science, and impact can continue! But for long-term success, federal funding must be restored. Your voices can help raise awareness of that need, too.”

For Raymond, the moment brought him back to his roots as the son of Lithuanian immigrants growing up in a small town in western Massachusetts. Home was a place of volunteer fire departments and community pride—a place where people wouldn’t think twice about helping a neighbor in a time of need.

“I started the process not very hopeful about our lab, and I ended it with this immense sense of hope for humanity,” Raymond said. “We wondered whether people would come to help us, and they did.”

Please consider contacting your Congressional representatives and urge them to support federal funding for science and research.