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Donald Trump’s war on science has been vicious and hugely damaging, but it is worth noting that he has lost some of its biggest battles. Last year, Mr Trump demanded that US federal scientific and medical research funding be cut by about half. But the budget Congress passed in February actually delivered a slight increase in overall funding – although specific Trump targets such as the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention were cut. He also continues to chip away at science in other ways such as dismissing the board overseeing the National Science Foundation this week.

Maga’s attacks on science have been nakedly political. Its defeats have been politics of a different sort, showing that the bipartisan pro-science consensus is still intact, and for the moment has the power to hold Mr Trump in check. Scientists themselves appear to be waking up to the potential of such politics. The organisation 314 Action, which supports Democratic scientists running for office, reported that more than 700 candidates – vying for local, congressional and gubernatorial positions – have sought its support ahead of the midterm elections this year, three times the usual number. Many gave the White House’s war on science as the reason for their political turn.

What is happening in the US is not unique. Wherever rightwing populists triumph, science is likely to suffer. Jair Bolsonaro’s rule in Brazil saw him attack scientists and cut environmental funding. In India, Narendra Modi’s Hindu nationalist government purged the theory of evolution from school textbooks. In Britain, Reform UK has already attempted local government cuts, targeting net zero spending. Having scientists in office will not solve this problem alone – but as unexpected targets of populist politics, they are now part of the coalition resisting it.

Scientists have tended to avoid party politics for a specific reason. Historians identify an implicit scientific social contract that emerged in western states after the second world war, which established the state as the main funder of research, but in theory discouraged direct political interference by government. Many scientists believe that engaging in politics endangers this compact: if scientists don’t bother politics, it won’t bother them. In Mr Trump’s first term, some argued that even protesting against cuts to science would lead to scientists being caught up in the culture wars. Scientists may be uncomfortable with politics, but the foundation of their relationship with the state is under attack.

Indeed, one of the lessons of recent decades is that science increasingly cannot avoid politics. There has been a concerted campaign by the right to sow doubt about health and climate science; from the left there has been a push for diversity and a tendency to examine the social value of scientific research. While many see the latter as positive developments, earlier generations of scientists might have argued that they compromised scientific autonomy.

Scientists are no longer just defending funding. They are defending the idea that science should be independent of politics. What scientists gain by organising protests, speaking to the public through their academies and now running for office is a better understanding of the changing public sphere that they are part of. The public may gain an ally against rightwing populism – and a deeper, more serious engagement with the scientific challenges facing society. Mr Trump set out to tame scientists. He may have politicised them instead.