INVESTIGATION: DOGE Is Dead, Long Live DOGE? What Musk's Departure Leaves in the Federal Bureaucracy

"My planned time as Special Government Employee is coming to an end"

On June 25, 2026, Elon Musk announced on his social network X that his time as a "Special Government Employee" was coming to an end. A White House official confirmed his departure from the Trump administration. The wording is surgical: not a resignation, not a firing — an expiration of a scheduled term. Except that nothing about this departure is as clean as it appears. Musk's exit comes one day after his blistering public criticism of the "Big Beautiful Bill" — President Trump's flagship legislation, which Musk himself called a "massive spending bill" that "undermines the work" of the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE). Coincidence or causation: each reader may judge.

Musk had hoped DOGE would generate $1 trillion in spending cuts. Independent analyses show it has fallen "far short of that goal." The Congressional Budget Office estimated that the fiscal provisions of the Big Beautiful Bill — which Congress passed — would increase federal deficits by $3.8 trillion over ten years, while cuts to Medicaid, food stamps and other services would reduce spending by roughly $1 trillion over the same period. The net result: a worsening deficit. And Musk voted by leaving. Not with his feet — with his tweets.

DOGE without its founding father: institutionalized or evaporated?

The question obsessing Washington since the announcement is simple: can DOGE survive Musk? Musk himself gave his answer: "DOGE's mission will only strengthen over time as it becomes a way of life throughout government." A fine phrase — but uttered by someone who is leaving. The institutional reality is more complex. DOGE is not a federal department in the traditional sense — it has no budget of its own inscribed in law by Congress, no formal hierarchical structure anchored in statute, no clear legislative mandate. Its existence rested largely on Musk's personality and his direct proximity to Trump. Those two pillars have just been separated.

Musk himself acknowledged the difficulty with unusually candid self-deprecation: "The situation with the federal bureaucracy is much worse than I realized. I thought there were problems, but it is really a tough battle trying to improve things in Washington, to say the least." This statement to the Washington Post is remarkable in its candor — and in what it reveals about the gap between promises of bureaucratic reform and the reality of a federal machine that has its own survival logic.

I am going to say something that many progressives will struggle to hear: the idea of reducing government waste and improving the efficiency of the American federal administration is not in itself a bad idea. What was problematic was the Musk method — the cleaver instead of the scalpel, the mass firings without analysis, disruption for the sake of disruption. The objective may have been legitimate. The execution was disastrous. And now we leave with neither truly resolved.

A bill that even Republicans found hard to defend

To understand why Musk left by slamming the door — even diplomatically — one must look at what the Big Beautiful Bill actually is. This legislation, described as President Trump's "flagship bill," is a mix of tax cuts — benefiting primarily high earners and corporations — and stronger immigration law enforcement, financed by cuts to social programs like Medicaid and food stamps. Only two Republicans voted against it in the House: Warren Davidson of Ohio and Thomas Massie of Kentucky. Party discipline held — but Republican senators were already showing signs of concern.

Senator Ron Johnson said he "sympathizes with Elon's discouragement." Senator Mike Lee said there was still "time to fix" the text and announced that the Senate version would be "more aggressive." Trump himself admitted he was not "happy with some aspects" while saying he was "thrilled with other aspects." This bill is not the triumphant victory that White House communications are trying to sell — it is a compromise that satisfies no one, which structurally worsens federal finances at the very moment Musk was claiming to clean them up.

The Musk paradox: saboteur of his own mission

The paradox of Musk's exit is instructive. The man who joined the Trump administration to cut federal spending is now criticizing a bill that significantly increases it. This is consistent with his stated objectives — but it is also a direct criticism of the president who gave him his post. The implicit question this situation raises: why did Musk stay long enough to see this bill pass without managing to steer it in line with his convictions? The answer suggests that his influence over the administration's fiscal policy was considerably smaller than his public appearances alongside the president implied.

The Committee for a Responsible Federal Budget offers the harshest estimate: the Big Beautiful Bill would add $3 trillion to the American debt over the next decade, interest included. That is an increase in the debt Musk was aiming to reduce. His departure is therefore also, in a sense, an admission of mission failure — even if he would prefer to present it as a pre-planned decision. The initial ambition of a trillion dollars in cuts evaporated in Capitol Hill negotiations. Washington's bureaucracy won the first round against the boss of Tesla and SpaceX.

Musk left with this line: "I think I have done enough." I do not share that self-assessment. But I understand the disengagement. The federal bureaucracy is an organism that has survived dozens of reformers with very different intentions and methods. It has an inertia that few outsiders grasp before they are up against it. Musk discovered what many before him have discovered: the American government is not a startup. You cannot "disrupt" it in twelve months.

The real cuts: between genuine effects and headline-grabbing

It would be intellectually dishonest to claim that DOGE accomplished nothing. Mass layoffs were carried out across several federal agencies — notably at USAID, the Department of Education, and the Federal Trade Commission. Government contracts were cancelled. Civil service positions were eliminated. These actions had real consequences for federal employees and the services they managed. On the ground, programs that benefited vulnerable populations were interrupted or reduced.

But in terms of actual budget savings, the figures announced by DOGE have regularly been challenged — overstated, based on hypothetical rather than realized economies, sometimes simply invented. Independent analyses concluded that real savings were significantly below the announcements. And above all: comparing these marginal savings to the cost of the Big Beautiful Bill — which adds $3 trillion in debt over ten years — makes the DOGE exercise statistically negligible. It is like saving on office paper towels while ordering a presidential yacht.

The collateral damage: an administration hollowed out from within

Beyond the savings and cuts, Musk's passage through the Trump administration has caused institutional destabilization whose effects will long outlast his departure. Entire agencies lost irreplaceable human expertise — experienced civil servants who were either fired or resigned in the face of a hostile work environment. Regulatory processes were disrupted, creating uncertainties for businesses and citizens who depended on them. The morale of the federal civil service has been considerably damaged.

These effects are difficult to quantify but real. An effective public administration rests on human capital accumulated over decades — technical specialists, sector experts, inter-agency coordinators whose value only becomes clear in their absence. DOGE treated these human resources as cost lines to be cut, without adequately assessing their functional value. This is a managerial vision that can work in a private company where assets stay — it works less well in a public administration where institutional knowledge walks out with the people.

I want to be clear about something: I am not mourning the American federal bureaucracy as such. It has genuine problems of efficiency, cost and accountability. But there is a difference between reforming an institution methodically and intelligently, and dynamiting it from within hoping that something better will emerge from the rubble. Musk chose the dynamite. The rubble will remain long after his departure.

Friendship as political capital — and its limits

The relationship between Donald Trump and Elon Musk was one of the most spectacular in recent American politics. Musk brought Trump considerable financial support during the 2024 campaign, the endorsement of an iconic tech entrepreneur, and a massive audience on X — the platform he controls and which amplified the Trump message during the campaign. In return, Trump gave him unprecedented access to the corridors of federal power, formalized under the "Special Government Employee" status. It was an exchange of political value that benefited both parties — for a time.

The fracture over the Big Beautiful Bill illustrates the limits of that alliance. Trump did not modify his bill to satisfy Musk — he defended his agenda while admitting he was not "happy with some aspects." Trump's presidential statement "we'll see what happens" is his habitual rhetoric signaling he is not yielding but does not want a complete break either. Musk, for his part, said he would reduce his political spending because he felt he had done "enough." The implicit translation: the political investment did not produce the expected return on investment.

The future question: Musk in politics or in business?

The question agitating American political observers: has Musk left politics for good, or is he preparing his next move? His announcement that he is returning to focus on Tesla and SpaceX is consistent with his economic interests — both companies needed his attention during his absence, as evidenced by Tesla's stock turbulence during his months of partial withdrawal. His announced reduction in political spending would be a sharp break from his 2024 commitment.

But Musk has also demonstrated an unpredictability in his decisions that makes any projection hazardous. The man who bought Twitter for $44 billion on impulse is capable of spectacular U-turns. What can be said with certainty: his time in the Trump administration has changed his public profile, giving him direct experience of government mechanisms — and a disenchanted view of how they operate — that will durably color his future positions.

Musk is not Trump. The fundamental difference between the two men is that Musk genuinely believes — with a sincerity that can be naive — in efficiency as the ultimate value. Trump believes in power. When these two values conflict — when the "big beautiful" bill is neither efficient nor economical — Musk leaves. Trump stays. That is the difference between an entrepreneur and a politician. And for the West, Trump as a necessary evil remains preferable to a total rupture with American commitments. But this spectacle of a billionaires' quarrel is not reassuring.

The structure that remains — and its tensions

DOGE continues to exist formally after Musk's departure. Teams are in place across various federal agencies. Processes have been put in place. But the dynamic has fundamentally changed. Without Musk, DOGE no longer has his direct access to the president, his capacity to attract media attention, nor his tech-disruption aura that intimidated civil servants and energized the Republican base. What remains is an administrative structure — and an administrative structure tasked with reforming administrative structures faces an inherent paradox.

The experience of administrative reform in industrial democracies is consistent on one point: reforms succeed when they are sustained over time, with expert human resources dedicated to analysis rather than mere cutting, and with a clear political mandate that survives personnel changes. DOGE was strong on visibility and weak on analytical method. Without Musk to maintain the visibility, it risks drifting toward becoming one more of the government agencies it was supposed to reform.

What Musk leaves behind — and what he takes with him

The legacy is mixed. Musk leaves behind thousands of dismissed civil servants — some reinstated by court order — cancelled contracts, disrupted processes and an anti-bureaucracy rhetoric that resonated with a portion of the American electorate. He also leaves behind ongoing legal battles over some of his decisions, public-sector unions reinvigorated in their opposition, and a Congress whose Republican majority proved less compliant than expected on budget questions.

What he takes with him: direct political experience from which he may draw lessons, a network of contacts in the administration he helped shape, and the conviction — clearly expressed — that Washington is "much worse" than he imagined. That Musk statement may be the only lasting gift he offers the ordinary American citizen: confirmation that radical promises to reform the federal machine run into institutional realities that even the second-richest man in the world cannot sweep away with a tweet.

There is something ironically satisfying in Musk's Washington trajectory. The man who thought the federal bureaucracy would work like a startup discovered that it works... like a bureaucracy. Complex systems resist simple disruptions. It is a lesson engineers know well — systems optimized for robustness sacrifice efficiency. Washington has survived centuries of reformers. It will survive Musk too.

The credibility of American governance

The spectacle of the past eighteen months — with Musk as de facto "co-president," dominating headlines, firing civil servants by decree on X, then leaving after publicly criticizing the president's fiscal policy — has had an effect on the perception of American governance internationally. European allies, Indo-Pacific partners, countries that depend on American stability for their own security have watched this spectacle with growing unease. American democracy is robust enough to survive this sequence — but it emerges from it weakened in its image as a stable and predictable power.

For the West, the central question is not whether Musk was right or wrong on federal spending. It is whether the American administration is functional enough to honor its collective security commitments — NATO, Indo-Pacific, Ukraine. The answer, so far, is a cautious yes — commitments have held. But institutional turbulence creates uncertainty, and uncertainty is an opportunity for those who wish to exploit Western divisions: Moscow, Beijing, Tehran.

The American deficit as a strategic threat

The real question Musk's departure raises is not symbolic — it is budgetary. The Big Beautiful Bill, with its $3 trillion in additional debt over ten years, worsens an already concerning American fiscal trajectory. The United States is spending enormous sums on its debt service. The more debt grows, the more a share of federal revenues goes to interest payments, leaving less for investments — defence, infrastructure, research, diplomacy. Long-term, this is a structural weakening of American power. Musk was not wrong on that point. He was wrong on the method to address it.

The Fed is maintaining its benchmark rate at 3.625% and is expected to raise it to 3.875% in the third quarter of 2026 according to projections from KBC economists. Higher rates increase the cost of servicing American debt. That is a spiral the Big Beautiful Bill worsens. And it is precisely this spiral that Musk saw — and that Trump chose to ignore by signing his bill. This disagreement is not a personality clash: it is a substantive disagreement about the economic trajectory of the world's leading power.

The West needs a strong and solvent America. Not a perfect one — it never was. But strong and solvent. An American state structurally borrowing to fund tax cuts while reducing its capacity to honor international commitments is a threat to collective security. It is not Musk who can solve this problem — it is Congress. And so far, Congress has chosen debt. That reality should concern our capitals far more than Musk's tweets.

Federal job cuts and their concrete consequences

Estimates of federal job cuts under the DOGE regime vary by source, but the most documented figures put the total at roughly 200,000 to 300,000 positions affected — between direct cuts, encouraged voluntary departures and hiring freezes. These raw figures conceal a very uneven sectoral reality. Environmental regulatory agencies (EPA), the Department of Education, and certain units of USAID were hit disproportionately hard. International aid programs that funded childhood vaccinations in poor countries, post-conflict stabilization projects in Africa, were abruptly cut — with real humanitarian consequences that DOGE's financial statements do not register.

Beyond the eliminated jobs, it is the institutional disorganization that has produced the most lasting effects. Critical federal databases were rendered inaccessible for weeks. Contracts with subcontractors providing essential services were cancelled without planned transitions. Some of those services had to be hastily restored — sometimes at costs exceeding the savings originally achieved. The budgetary efficiency of DOGE, honestly measured across all direct and indirect costs, is far less impressive than the official press releases claimed.

Civil service defenders: legal and institutional resistance

The judicial response to DOGE's actions has been substantial and, in several cases, effective. Dozens of cases were filed in federal courts — by civil service unions, NGOs, Democratic states — challenging the legality of mass layoffs, unauthorized access to federal computer systems, and the dissolution of certain programs by executive order rather than legislation. The Supreme Court and several federal appeals courts temporarily suspended certain measures, illustrating that America's institutional checks and balances are still functioning, even under intense pressure.

This institutional and judicial resistance is one of the most reassuring responses to the DOGE experiment. It proves that American democracy still has effective correction mechanisms. But it also illustrates the cost of disruption: legal resources, institutional energies, precious time have been spent defending gains that should never have been threatened. This friction cost is invisible in DOGE's financial statements — but it is very real in the daily functioning of American institutions.

What the DOGE experiment taught me about American democracy is paradoxically reassuring: the system of checks and balances still works. Courts resisted. Civil servants refused illegal orders. States filed challenges. Democracy has resilience. But that resilience carries a cost — it wears down with each assault, it consumes resources that should be devoted to other priorities, and it cannot be tested indefinitely without risking erosion. The West needs an institutionally strong America, not an America that exhausts itself defending against itself.

Federal digital data: unprecedented access with no rules

One of the least-covered dimensions of the DOGE experience is the unprecedented access granted to private technical teams to federal government computer systems and databases. Developers recruited by Musk were given access to systems at the Treasury, the IRS, the Social Security Administration that had never been opened to private actors. The data protection implications for tens of millions of American citizens are considerable — and they will not disappear with Musk's departure.

Cybersecurity experts and members of Congress have raised serious concerns about the possibility that these access rights may have left vulnerabilities in federal systems — potential entry points for malicious actors, including foreign powers. The Government Accountability Office has launched several audits on these questions. Answers are not yet available. But the question of who had access to what, and with what safeguards, will remain in American political files long after the DOGE episode.

Normalizing the expansive executive: risks for democracy

Beyond DOGE's specific results, the experience has normalized certain practices that raise fundamental questions about the American balance of power. The use of executive orders to bypass Congress, the assignment of de facto authority over government agencies to private actors without an electoral mandate, the pressure on independent civil servants — these practices, even partly invalidated by the courts, have set precedents. The next administration — whatever its political color — will be able to reference the DOGE experience to justify similar expansions of executive power.

American democracy rests on unwritten norms as much as on formal rules. Those norms — deference to the professional expertise of civil servants, respect for the independence of regulatory agencies, transparency in decision-making processes — have been seriously shaken. Rebuilding them will take time and political will. For the West, which counts on the reliability of American institutions, this is a long-term concern that will not disappear with the end of the Trump term.

I look at the DOGE experience and see something I did not expect: a revelation about the fragility of democratic institutions. Not because they yielded — they held, by and large. But because it took so much defensive energy to maintain norms that once seemed taken for granted. That is what worries me about the West: not that Musk succeeded, but that his attempt was possible. American democracy survived — but it emerges from the experience more aware of its own vulnerabilities. And that awareness is the first step toward a necessary strengthening.

Government is not a startup

The main lesson of Musk's time in the Trump administration is almost disappointingly obvious: government is not a startup. The methods that made Tesla successful — bold vision, fast execution, high tolerance for risk, disruption of established actors — do not transfer directly to managing a public administration. The American federal bureaucracy has legal, constitutional and democratic constraints that even the most energetic boss cannot simply ignore. Courts reminded him of this reality multiple times over the course of the DOGE adventure.

This lesson is not specific to Musk — it applies to all reformers who arrive with a technological or managerial vision of government transformation. State reform is possible, even necessary — but it requires a nuanced understanding of institutional constraints, a patience that the media cycle does not favor, and a method that respects the fact that public administrations serve millions of citizens whose rights must be protected even — and especially — during a period of reform.

The future of DOGE — and of administrative reform

DOGE without Musk will continue to exist — in what exact form, with what real effectiveness, with what actual mandate, is an open question. What is certain is that the rhetoric of reducing the American federal state remains politically potent in the Republican landscape. It will not disappear with Musk's departure. It will find other champions, perhaps less high-profile but potentially more patient and methodical. The idea of making the American federal government more efficient is legitimate — it deserves to be championed by actors who truly understand how this machine works, not just how to criticize it from the outside.

For now, what we know: Musk has left, DOGE remains without its creator, American debt is rising, and Trump has his bill. That is the tableau of June 2026. What this produces for America, for the West, for collective security — that is what the coming months will reveal. We will have to watch.

Trump is a necessary evil for the West — that formula I use regularly reflects a reality I do not like but must face. A Trumpist America that maintains its NATO commitments, that supports Ukraine (even imperfectly), that pushes back against China — that is preferable to an isolationist America that abandons its allies. What the Musk-DOGE spectacle confirms is that Trump governs above all for Trump. The West should calibrate its level of trust accordingly.

By Maxime Marquette, columnist

Editorial stance

I am not a journalist but a columnist and analyst. My expertise lies in observing and analysing the geopolitical, economic and strategic dynamics that shape our world. My work is to take political strategies apart, to understand global economic movements, to put the decisions of international actors in context and to offer analytical perspectives on the changes that are redefining our societies.

I do not claim the cold objectivity of traditional journalism, which stops at reporting facts. I claim analytical clarity, rigorous interpretation and a deep understanding of the complex issues that concern us all. My role is to give meaning to the facts, to place them in their historical and strategic context, and to offer a critical reading of events.

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Nature of the analysis

The analyses, interpretations and perspectives in the analytical sections of this article are a critical, contextual synthesis based on the information available, the trends observed and the expert comments cited in the sources consulted.

My role is to interpret these facts, to set them in the context of today's geopolitical and economic dynamics, and to give them a coherent meaning within the larger story of the changes shaping our time. These analyses reflect expertise built through continuous observation of international affairs and an understanding of the strategic mechanisms that drive global actors.

This article describes a documented state of affairs on its publication date, not a prediction: later developments may shift its outlook. No update is promised in advance; when an article is corrected or completed, the change is dated in the text.