During the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, I was an undergraduate student volunteering in medical clinics, watching our health care system stretch and fray in real time. That experience drove me to pursue a Master of Public Health and become an infection preventionist. I entered this field to strengthen the very systems that failed too many people — and now I’m watching one of our most essential safeguards be quietly dismantled.

The Healthcare Infection Control Practices Advisory Committee (HICPAC) was a cornerstone of infection prevention in the U.S. for over 30 years. It didn’t make headlines, but it made hospitals safer, nursing homes more prepared and health care workers better protected. From hand hygiene to central line protocols to airborne pathogen guidance, HICPAC translated science into practice in ways that saved lives.

This isn’t just a committee being phased out. It’s a broader dismantling of the guardrails that prevented infections from becoming disasters. The Trump administration’s decision to eliminate HICPAC — alongside major workforce cuts at HHS and the CDC — signals a dangerous retreat from evidence-based policy.

What many don’t realize is how much HICPAC shaped. Its guidance on standard precautions changed how we handle bodily fluids in clinical settings. Its promotion of alcohol-based hand rubs revolutionized hand hygiene. And its protocols on airborne transmission — under long-overdue review — were especially crucial after what COVID taught us about aerosol spread. That work is now frozen.

Maine may be small, but we are not immune to the effects. Our aging population, rural hospitals and long-term care facilities depend on clear, evidence-based standards. Already, signs of increased risk are emerging. CDC data show Maine experienced a 50% increase in reported tuberculosis cases and a 49% increase in the rate from 2023 to 2024. This sharp rise highlights a growing vulnerability — one that will worsen without science-backed guidance.

Maine’s public health system is unique in its decentralized structure. Unlike states with county-level health departments, Maine relies on eight regional districts, a tribal health district and a network of local health officers (LHOs). While this emphasizes local expertise, it also makes our infrastructure particularly susceptible to disruptions.

Without centralized, expert-driven infection control standards, these local systems — already stretched thin — must shoulder increasing burdens. And in rural, underserved communities, inconsistent practices could lead to preventable outbreaks.

Public health professionals have been told to speak up, to educate, to rebuild trust in science. That’s what we’ve been trying to do. But decisions like this undermine those efforts. This isn’t just politics — it’s about whether we’re serious about preventing the next pandemic or doomed to repeat our mistakes. We need stronger, more transparent, more inclusive guidance — not less.

I didn’t choose this profession to be quiet when the systems meant to protect us are being taken apart. As someone who came of age during COVID and chose to stay in public health despite burnout and broken systems, I can’t stand by silently. We must strengthen infection prevention — not dismantle it. HICPAC matters. And so does every life it helps protect.

Every day, I watch colleagues and classmates lose their jobs and funding. Science is under attack. Public health is under attack. And when we stay silent, the dismantling continues. Call your representatives. Speak up. Keep talking about what’s happening — even when it feels like no one is listening. Don’t wait until the next outbreak or until this failure hits home.

Every headline might feel like another uphill climb, but that doesn’t mean the fight isn’t worth it. I believe in the power of science, in health equity, in community and in data-driven decision-making. We cannot afford to give up — not now.