Mother Jones illustration; Getty
An employee at one government-run national research lab spent half a day this week cancelling orders for equipment—time that, as a technician, he could have spent running experiments.
That worker is one of many whose “PCard,” or purchasing card, will be revoked at the end of the month—part of an internal order by the Department of Energy to “significantly” reduce the number of such cardholders across the system. Effectively an official credit or debit card, PCards are used by the national laboratories, which conduct research on a wide range of scientific and technical subjects ranging from environmental management to national security, to save valuable time and streamline transactions. But to the Trump administration, the cards are further evidence that there’s an epidemic of overspending on science—so they’re on the DOGE chopping block, whatever the consequences.
The technician’s name and the laboratory employing him have been withheld to ensure his safety. He is passionate about the work he does in the field of research: “things [that] have benefited us so much over the years.” He received notice via email, which Mother Jones has reviewed, citing the upcoming changes.
The email conceded that the decrease in PCard holders is “significant” and listed the remaining employees authorized to use the cards. While the email said more announcements would be coming, there was no acknowledgement of how the changes would disrupt workflows or research.
This is not the first time the administration has targeted government cards. At the end of February, the Trump administration ordered all credit cards frozen by March 26th in his “Implementing the President’s ‘Department of Government Efficiency’ Cost Efficiency Initiative” executive order. The order, which was not cited in the Department of Energy email correspondence reviewed, excludes disaster relief or other critical services as determined by the agency head. The National Park Service and parts of the Pentagon were already hit with $1 PCard limits.
Rather than yielding savings, suspending the cards seems to have already cost both time and efficiency on researchers’ part: Some orders the technician had already made—to purchase materials required for ongoing experiments—wouldn’t have been charged for several weeks, forcing him to cancel them so they wouldn’t charge a card that would be defunct.
That just kicks the can down the road: one of the remaining or new cardholders will have to refile the orders. Some have little to no experience with the process, says the technician: “We may eventually get what we need, but it’s just going to push everything back. There’s going to be a lot of delays.”
That felt, he said, like the “opposite of efficiency.” There are already processes in place—not just in that lab, but everywhere government purchasing cards are used—to ensure that there isn’t fraud or misuse of funds. Every purchase requires a paper trail that is reviewed. “If there’s even something slightly off, the accounting department is going to contact me back,” the technician explains.
To the technician blowing the whistle on the changes, it looks more like a method to limit and throw up hurdles to scientific research, which has been a general goal of the Trump administration. He points out that the research funding has already been allocated—the cards do not, in fact, draw on some kind of unchecked scientific slush fund.
“This attack on science and research is not just going to just hinder us from advancing,” the technician said, “but actually set us back.” In that sense, the administration is achieving its goal: there is “apprehension” in the lab these days, he says, and colleagues he works with are fairly certain their contracts will not be renewed.
The policy is only succeeding in “creating a bottleneck,” the technician laments. “We’re going from a five-lane highway down to a two-lane highway.” He pauses. “I should say, two lanes [as in] one way in each direction.”
