ALBRIGHT, W.Va. — A music and art festival nestled in an Appalachian river valley wouldn’t immediately seem like a place where President Trump’s Department of Government Efficiency would be top of mind. But outdoorsy locals at the annual Cheat River Festival last weekend were indeed ruminating on the many ways the long arm of Washington has disrupted life in these verdant woods. Sitting in lawn chairs with friends listening to a folk band was a Forest Service employee who’s lost so many colleagues to layoffs and buyouts that he worries about the cascading effects of the cuts on local communities and forests. An artist selling wood work inlaid with stone lost a grant to help grow the whitewater rafting business she owns with her husband. Seeking refuge from the intermittent sun and showers under the communal tent were PhD students in natural resources from nearby West Virginia University, in danger of losing funding and feeling their longtime dream of ultimately working in federal jobs was no longer viable. There were also retired longtime Office of Surface Mining workers worrying about government environmental and safety oversight of nearby coal mining operations after the loss of experienced staff. And the organizers of the festival, a local watershed organization, had the AmeriCorps position for their no-cost summer youth programs terminated just that week, while partner organizations and supporters are also losing funding and jobs at an alarming rate. The omnipresence of concern illustrated how Trump’s dramatic efforts to downsize the federal government through the Elon Musk-initiated DOGE project are both reverberating around the country and coursing through single communities from multiple directions. And in this small but bustling area in north-central West Virginia, locals fear the compounding effects from the cuts could threaten their very town. “It feels inescapable,” said Andrew Matheny, 40, a software engineer from nearby Morgantown who was at the festival with his wife and kids and had a friend who lost his federal job. “It’s not hard to believe that we haven’t seen the worst of it yet, too, right? It’s a lot to take in. . . . It doesn’t leave you very optimistic about what’s in the future for Morgantown.” West Virginia was the second most pro-Trump state in the country in the 2024 election, with 70 percent support, though Morgantown is a bluer area. But the state is also one of the most reliant on federal funds . More than half its budget comes from federal money, according to the West Virginia Center on Budget and Policy. With one of the nation’s highest poverty rates, nearly one-third of the state’s population is on Medicaid and many receive other government benefits such as food stamps. It also boasts a number of federal jobs and facilities, thanks in part to the late longtime senator Robert Byrd, who steered billions in federal money to West Virginia as chair of the Senate Appropriations Committee and Democratic party leader. Now, those previous bright spots — and sources of higher-income jobs — are becoming their own pain points. That pinch is epitomized by Morgantown, a college town of 30,000 in the mountains, where kayaks were mounted on car roof racks and the scars of coal mining are still visible on the rolling terrain. It is home to West Virginia University, the only top-tier research institution in the state , which receives more than $100 million in federal research funds, according to a recent presentation . The university warned that an attempt by the National Institutes of Health to cap indirect costs on grants, since blocked, would cost it $12 million and have significant impacts . A spokesperson for the university declined to comment, but students and faculty described a pervasive sense of fear and uncertainty. The National Institute for Occupational Safety and Health, which researches safety hazards experienced by workers, has a 400-person headquarters in Morgantown. There, researchers with specialties in inhaled dangers worked on projects to limit dangers from coal mining, toxic mold, exposure to forever chemicals by firefighters, and to deadly stone dust by workers making countertops. On April 1, virtually all those employees were given layoff notices and forced to stop working, effectively ruining research projects years in the making and cutting off even nongovernment researchers who were using NIOSH’s unique equipment to study toxins in the human body. After complaints from the state’s Republican lawmakers, employees who worked on coal mining safety were called back temporarily, but have not had their layoffs rescinded, according to employees. The US Health and Human Services Department in May moved to close virtually all of NIOSH. Many of the laid-off scientists are considering leaving the state. At the end of April, further cuts shut down numerous AmeriCorps programs, immediately ending the small stipends of service members who worked in classrooms, workforce development, and health resources. Money cut from the Agriculture Department that allowed food banks and schools to buy from local farmers devastated growers and food programs alike. Other cuts included a grant to clean forever chemicals from local waters and funds for substance abuse and mental health to fight opioid addiction and youth suicide, according to a database obtained by the West Virginia Center on Budget and Policy. The White House did not respond to a request for comment. The state’s three Republicans in Congress — Representative Riley Moore and Senators Shelly Moore Capito and Jim Justice — all say they’ve been working to reverse some of the cuts, particularly to NIOSH. But they also downplayed overreaching by the administration, and reiterated support for Trump’s mission to reduce government waste. “We’re all going to have to make some adjustments as we move forward in changing the whole course of this whole nation,” Justice said. “We’re going to mow not only close up against the fence, there’s going to be times when we move too far up against the fence, and then we’re going to have to adjust. . . . So I think it’s premature” to worry. But many of those affected in his home state are less optimistic and questioned why their programs had gotten the ax. “If they knew what we actually did, I can’t imagine they would cut us,” said Sarah Riley, executive director of High Rocks, an education and youth development nonprofit in West Virginia that had its 70-member AmeriCorps program closed. “You’re just pulling the rug out from people and communities. . . . We already have an uphill battle even with these programs, and we’ve all been making such strides — you take that away and you’re setting us back.” And some said that even if the cuts were eventually reversed, the damage may be done. Businesses could go under waiting for reimbursements, talented young people could leave the state, and promising projects would not come to fruition, they said. Hunter Snoderly, a biomedical engineer and NIOSH employee, was researching a strain of black mold and about to embark on a research project with the military on the effects of breathing in engine fumes. Then he was laid off and is now looking for work outside of West Virginia and government service altogether. Meanwhile, all his government-funded research is effectively wasted, ending any hope of potential health advances. “I mean, the costs are far beyond any savings,” Snoderly said, speaking in his personal capacity. “It’s kind of a ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it burned in one’ situation.” Back at the Cheat Fest, as locals call it, the very river that the event’s proceeds benefit now risks falling victim to the prevailing winds in Washington. For decades, Friends of the Cheat has worked to reverse the contamination from nearby abandoned coal mines and transform the Cheat River and lake it feeds from an environmental disaster into a local driver of tourism, economy, and recreation. “It’s all connected,” executive director Amanda Pitzer. If the group were to lose funding as so many others around it have, the impacts would cascade, Pitzer warned. Acid mine drainage from coal mining requires constant maintenance, and she fears the water quality would revert to its former toxic solution that “you used to be able to develop film in.” That would cost the area both high- and low-skilled jobs: among her staff, the construction and engineering firms on its projects, as well as the revenue from ecotourism. “It’s kind of whiplash. We’re having these celebrations, this weekend, we’re going to welcome 2,500 people to the banks of the Cheat River to celebrate success and hope,” Pitzer said, her voice laden with emotion. “But man . . . you just don’t know what’s going to happen next.”
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