Back in 2024, when the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) was first proposed, its goals were clear.

Elon Musk said he’d attempt to cut $2 trillion from the federal budget. Like many Americans (including me) who are concerned about our debt and deficit, Musk’s view was that if government spending didn’t meaningfully change, the U.S. was headed for a financial crisis that would leave the country in ruins. In a November 2024 op-ed in The Wall Street Journal, he and Vivek Ramaswamy said they’d operate the new agency as “entrepreneurs, not politicians.” They framed themselves as “volunteers” rather than “federal officials or employees,” and “unlike government commissions,” they would “cut costs,” not just “write reports or cut ribbons.” They would launch this project with a comprehensive audit of the federal government’s financial performance to find waste and fraud, then modernize the government to slim down the workforce.

These were not vague assurances or goals. This was a specific plan, in black and white print. 

I remember getting a lot of questions about DOGE in those early days, and I answered all of them with the same stroke of optimism: Government waste is real, and our debt is an ever-growing problem. However you feel about his politics, Musk is one of the great builders of our time, surrounded by an endless supply of talent and resources. It wasn’t inconceivable to me that he could modernize some systems or departments, save taxpayers some money, and push the government toward a more positive future. I did have reservations: The federal government is not a private company, and Musk would need to consult with actual budget and government experts. Also, a lot of people claim to care about debt and deficits, but their actions never back it up, and I was unsure if Musk was one of those people.

Almost immediately, things went awry. 

First, Ramaswamy jumped ship (possibly for his political ambitions, but more likely because Musk wanted him gone). Then President Trump officially created DOGE (officially the “U.S. DOGE Service Temporary Organization”) with an executive order, and — far from being outside advisers or “volunteers” — the group became part of the federal government itself. It joined the Offices of the Inspector General and the Government Accountability Office as another agency to monitor the government for fraud, waste, and (maddeningly) redundancy. Musk got a government email address, and DOGE itself gained access to enough government systems that it would soon draw a pile of lawsuits.

And it immediately became a partisan circus. Musk’s showmanship invited enemies and criticism from people who otherwise would have supported the DOGE effort. Rather than maintain focus on the big government expenditures, the challenging stuff, he started targeting perceived DEI programs and federal employees they saw as hires who came through such initiatives or whose ideological positions were out of step with the administration’s. He framed anyone who questioned his methods as an enemy, and dismissed federal employees as bloat on the American taxpayer. 

By January 2025, the $2 trillion promise became $1 trillion. When Trump’s executive order created DOGE, the mission was pared down to “modernizing Federal technology and software to maximize governmental efficiency and productivity.” Shortly after that, DOGE began emailing federal employees to insist that they report on their weekly activities or lose their jobs — an ask so insulting that Trump’s own cabinet officials refused to respond. By April 2025, Musk had reduced his promise of savings to $150 billion, and was spending a lot of his time picking fights and trolling on X. 

My optimism faded, and my cynicism grew.

But as the second Trump administration began to take more consequential actions, DOGE faded into the background. Global tariffs, the mass deportation efforts and the Iran war all drew our attention, and before I knew it, DOGE was some kind of distant fever dream. Then, last month, on July 4, I saw a news alert pop up in my feed: “DOGE officially shuts down.”

It hit me like a bit of nostalgia. And then I thought, “Okay, well, it’s time to take stock of how DOGE did.”

My expectations weren’t high, as DOGE had left a bad taste in my mouth. But what I found, when I looked under the hood, was far worse than even I imagined.