Elon Musk’s DOGE is doing what Congress has never had the guts to do: firing some redundant federal employees, cutting the fat, and making taxpayers the real shareholders of America.
When Elon Musk launched DOGE, the Department of Government Efficiency, critics rolled their eyes as if he had just tweeted another meme. But while some are busy mocking the name, Musk is busy drawing blood from the stone of federal spending. That’s right—he’s hacking at the thick jungle of bureaucracy with the same chainsaw energy that Argentina’s Javier Milei used to slice through decades of economic rot. If government waste were a dog, DOGE just chased it out of the park.
Yes, I’ve heard the complaints. “He’s overstepping.” “He’s moving too fast.” “He’s gutting programs people depend on.” But come on—proceeding with all due caution is often just a recipe for permanent paralysis. Remember the Grace Commission? Probably not. That’s because its careful recommendations to cut waste under Reagan gathered dust in some forgotten archive while the government ballooned in size. Everyone talks about change. Elon is actually changing things.
Take a look around. The federal budget is a leviathan of automatic spending—entitlements, Medicare, Medicaid, Social Security. You can’t even poke those sacred cows without an army of lobbyists screaming. DOGE, for now, targets the little slice of the pie labeled “discretionary,” which is only about 15% of the federal budget. It’s not much—but it’s something. And something is better than the nothing that most politicians have offered for decades.
And let’s be honest: it’s about time someone smashed the vending machine of federal grants and asked, “Who ordered this garbage?” Elon shut down some obscure commissions, killed off a few DEI grants, and suddenly he’s being called a tyrant. But maybe the real tyranny is making taxpayers fund programs that produce reports nobody reads and pay salaries for agencies that couldn’t survive in a private-sector fish tank.
People scream about the methods—but what if the madness works? Musk's “break-it-first” style is nothing new. At Twitter—now X—he walked in, kicked over the desk, fired half the staff, and asked, “Now, what’s left that actually matters?” The app still works, trolls are still trolling, and news still spreads. Maybe his chaotic strategy is more strategic than people think. Destruction first, creation after.
That kind of boldness is not without historical precedent. Ronald Reagan didn’t politely ask if he could tame inflation. He slammed interest rates through the roof, took the hits, and changed the trajectory of the U.S. economy. Margaret Thatcher didn’t nibble at Britain’s bloated unions—she went to war with them. Both were hated at the time. They were mocked, protested, and cursed. But history had the last word: both are now credited with reversing their countries’ decline.
Argentina’s Javier Milei is proof that shock therapy can work. He defunded ministries, slashed energy subsidies, froze government hiring, and stopped public works projects. The result? Inflation, which had reached a blistering 276%, fell by over 90% in a few months. That’s not fiction. That’s a fact. Sure, the people are angry. But sometimes, the cure burns before it heals.
Musk is trying to apply that same bitter medicine to America. He’s not hiding it. He’s saying it plainly: the system is too fat, too slow, and too comfortable. And he’s not waiting for Congress to greenlight every snip. That’s what terrifies the swamp dwellers—he’s doing things they didn’t vote on, using a mandate they didn’t approve, with a speed they can’t match. It’s the creative destruction they read about in business school but hoped would never come for them.
Now, here come the same old scare tactics. “Musk is going to ruin essential services!” “He’s dismantling the safety net!” “He’s a billionaire dictator!” But the facts keep getting in the way. Social Security checks? Not touched. Defense spending? Left alone for now. Core services? Still running. What’s actually happening is that the gravy train is finally slowing down—and the folks in first class are furious.
Even the promise of sharing the spoils—$5,000 “DOGE dividend” checks to every taxpayer if the trillion-dollar cut succeeds—hasn’t quieted the critics. They call it a gimmick. But it’s more like a performance bonus from the world's most reluctant CEO. Think about it: the private sector rewards success. Why shouldn’t taxpayers get a cut when the government finally trims its waistline?
Naturally, the protests have begun. A Tesla dealership in Pasadena became the backdrop for activists chanting slogans and waving signs. The irony? They were using smartphones made possible by private innovation to protest a man trying to inject private-sector efficiency into government. That’s like biting the hand that builds your broadband.
I’m not here to say DOGE is perfect. Its reach is still limited. Its savings, so far, smaller than promised. And its strategy is loud, messy, and unpredictable. But if the goal is true transformation, then some transgressions might be worth it. Revolution doesn’t come with a return policy. It comes with broken glass, shouting matches, and second thoughts. But the alternative is standing still while the world sprints forward.
I see Musk’s tactics as necessary chaos. The old way hasn’t worked. The polite memos and blue-ribbon panels gave us nothing but more spending, more deficits, and more excuses. Maybe now, in a time of peacetime stagnation and peacetime spending, we need wartime urgency. Maybe we need to break the system before it breaks us.
And if a few toes are stepped on in the process, so be it. Because the last time government got serious about waste, Reagan had a full head of black hair, and people still used typewriters. Musk is taking a flamethrower to bureaucracy, and maybe—just maybe—that’s exactly what it takes to clear the dead wood.
If nothing else, DOGE has shown us that when government is treated like a business, it gets scared. It panics. It howls. But it also starts paying attention. And maybe that’s the biggest efficiency of all.
Because if we wait for Congress to cut spending, we’ll be using Bitcoin to buy toilet paper in 2030.
And if Musk’s plan fails? At least he’ll fail faster than the government’s usual slow-motion collapse into debt.