Elon Musk sat at the head of the Roosevelt Room table this week, dressed in his signature black ensemble, flanked by three of his top lieutenants at the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE). With the composure of a CEO and the intensity of a political insurgent, Musk reflected on his first 100 days leading what has become the most controversial government experiment in recent memory.
His verdict? Mixed. “Not as effective as I’d like,” he said bluntly, his voice firm but tinged with disappointment, as he admitted DOGE had so far saved $160 billion—far below the $2 trillion target he boldly proclaimed at his Madison Square Garden rally months prior. That initial figure, once the headline of his populist cost-cutting crusade, was quietly revised down to $1 trillion, but even that, Musk now concedes, is “really difficult.”
The man who once electrified the private sector with rockets and electric cars now finds himself mired in the bureaucratic sludge of Washington, fighting what he describes as an “entrenched set of interests” that reflexively default to overspending. “The structure of federal budgeting is almost comical,” Musk said. “It’s like: spend what you did last year plus 5%, forever. It’s like trying to change the direction of a fleet of supertankers.”
Despite the enormity of the resistance, Musk remains publicly proud of what DOGE has achieved so far. “We’re saving $1.6 billion a day, which is not nothing,” he noted, running quick math on the hundred-day total that has triggered both applause and skepticism across Capitol Hill. Still, he admitted that the path toward even hitting the revised $1 trillion savings goal is littered with political landmines.
“It’s possible,” he said, “but it comes down to how much pain the cabinet and Congress are willing to take.”
This pain, in Musk’s telling, is both fiscal and personal. DOGE, he claims, has made him “a lot of enemies and not that many friends,” a dynamic not unfamiliar to the billionaire known for rattling corporate boardrooms and regulatory agencies alike. When pressed about whether the mission can be successful, Musk responded affirmatively, but with caveats.
“Is there political will in Congress and elsewhere? It remains to be seen. If we can do it, we will. Is it possible? Yes. Is it easy? No.”
His words reflected the tone of a man walking a tightrope between aspiration and fatigue. Musk described his early weeks in Washington as “very intense,” even likening the effort to a startup in crisis mode. “I’ve worked seven days a week sometimes,” he admitted.
“Very intense 100 days.” But that intensity may soon taper off. “We’re getting into more of a rhythm,” he said, revealing that he now expects to be in D.C. just once every two weeks, or “as needed” if the President’s cabinet demands his input. “If there’s an emergency, I’ll respond,” Musk said. “Otherwise, it’s manageable.”
He was asked whether he has designated a successor or someone to lead DOGE in his absence. Musk, as always, deflected with flair: “DOGE is a way of life… like Buddhism… you wouldn’t ask, ‘Who would lead Buddhism?’” His answer drew laughter, but also underscored a growing question in Washington’s policy circles: What happens to DOGE without Musk at the helm day-to-day?
For now, the project continues under the watchful eye of his inner circle—Steve Davis, Antonio Gracias, and Anthony Armstrong—each of whom has followed Musk from previous ventures into this unprecedented government overhaul. Together, they navigate the challenges of fraud investigations, budget battles, and inter-cabinet tensions with steely resolve.
Musk revealed that DOGE had referred multiple fraud cases to the Department of Justice, some involving alleged voter fraud among resident aliens. Gracias said 57 cases had already been referred, while Musk hinted at “hundreds of thousands” more waiting in the queue. “The DOJ can’t go after that many people,” Musk said. “So we’re prioritizing the ones that are clean-cut.”
The scale of the fraud claims has raised eyebrows across the aisle, particularly among Democrats who view Musk’s tactics as inflammatory and his data as inflated. Republicans, meanwhile, have been split—some welcoming DOGE as a long-overdue watchdog, others resenting Musk’s disruptive influence.
“The wheels of justice turn slowly,” Musk acknowledged, “but hopefully surely.” DOGE, he emphasized, doesn’t prosecute—it compiles and refers. “We prepare an evidence file for each case. DOJ decides what to do with it.”
Musk also used the Roosevelt Room session to restate his belief in shifting federal defense priorities toward “modern warfare systems.” Hypersonic missiles and long-range drones, he argued, are underfunded compared to “crude systems” that no longer reflect contemporary battlefield needs. He claims to have made this recommendation to Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth repeatedly.
“When he sees me, he says: hypersonic missiles and drones?” Musk laughed. “He doesn’t disagree.”
On the subject of his relationship with President Donald Trump, Musk spoke warmly, describing him as a “friend” and frequent host. Musk recounted nights at Mar-a-Lago and even the Lincoln Bedroom in the White House, often at Trump’s spontaneous invitation. “We’ll be on Marine One, and he’ll say, ‘Where are you staying tonight?’ I say, ‘I don’t know, at a friend’s house, I guess?’ And he says, ‘Stay here.’”
Musk laughed about one particular night when Trump insisted he grab ice cream from the kitchen: “I ate a whole tub… it was epic.”
Asked about friction within Trump’s cabinet, especially with Secretary of State Marco Rubio, Musk offered diplomatic answers. “There are disagreements sometimes, sure,” he said. “But overall, the relationship with the cabinet is extremely good. Even this morning, they credited DOGE with great progress.”
But the mood in Washington tells a more complicated story. While Musk’s inner circle touts fiscal milestones and efficiency metrics, skeptics argue that many of the "savings" are projections, not realized cuts. Others question whether a technocrat with no political experience should wield such sweeping influence in the federal budget process.
Yet even Musk’s critics acknowledge the seismic impact DOGE has had on the culture of Washington. “It’s absurd,” Musk said, smiling as he referenced the meme origins of the department’s name.
“DOGE was a joke I posted on X. Now it’s part of the federal government. How did we get here?” Indeed, the path from internet meme to federal mandate seems to embody the Musk ethos: unconventional, defiant, and undeniably consequential.
Whether DOGE survives Musk’s waning presence remains uncertain. The executive order that birthed the agency expires in July 2026. Musk says its fate rests in Trump’s hands. “It is ultimately up to President Trump,” he noted. “But I expect DOGE to last the full term.”
Still, there is speculation that once Musk steps back entirely, DOGE may lose momentum—or, worse, become politically orphaned. “DOGE is not just me,” Musk insisted. “It’s an idea. A way of operating.”
As for political ambitions, Musk ducked every question about his potential involvement in the 2026 midterms. “That’s not today’s topic,” he said curtly. “Today’s question is about DOGE.” But many observers suspect that Musk’s Washington chapter is only beginning, not ending.
His presence, whether at the White House or in late-night phone calls with the President, has reshaped not just policy conversations but also the very culture of government operations.
What is clear is that Musk’s vision for government reform—radical, data-driven, and often abrasive—has set new precedents. Whether he will ultimately be remembered as a savior of public finances or as a disruptor who bit off more than he could chew remains to be seen.
But in his own words, his regret is already crystallized: not achieving the $2 trillion dream. “We made progress,” he said, eyes narrowing. “But not as effective as I’d like.”