The standoff at 1300 Pennsylvania Avenue on the first day of February was not a grand spectacle. A small group of men working for Elon Musk arrived at the headquarters of the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID), demanding unrestricted access to its facilities. The agency’s staff refused. No weapons were drawn, no physical altercations occurred, and law enforcement was not called. Yet, in the early days of President Trump’s second administration, no other event illustrated more vividly the shifting balance of power in Washington.
The Clash Between USAID and Musk’s DOGE
On one side stood USAID, an institution with a 64-year legacy, a $35 billion budget, and a mission grounded in federal law. On the other side stood Musk’s self-styled “Department of Government Efficiency” (DOGE), a loosely organized group of temporary staffers with no formal charter, website, or clear legal authority. Their power stemmed solely from Musk, the world’s richest man, who had been granted authority by Trump to dismantle vast portions of the federal government—cutting budgets, eliminating civil service protections, and neutralizing agencies deemed obstacles to the President’s goals.
For several days, USAID leadership had tolerated the presence of Musk’s operatives—many of them young technocrats recruited from his companies—who roamed the halls with clipboards, scrutinizing desks, and interrogating managers. Internally, USAID staff referred to them as the “DOGE kids.” However, their demands escalated, culminating in an insistence on access to secure areas containing classified information. When security officials denied them entry, DOGE members threatened to call in the U.S. Marshals. Musk himself took to his social media platform, X, to denounce the agency. “USAID is a criminal organization,” he declared to his 215 million followers. “Time for it to die.”
The consequences were immediate and devastating. By the following day, USAID—a crucial agency that distributes billions in humanitarian aid, combats global famine, and funds infrastructure projects—had ground to a halt. Within a week, its staff was placed on administrative leave, and its international offices were shuttered.
Musk’s Expanding Influence in Washington
The swift demise of USAID sent shockwaves through the federal government. No single private citizen, let alone one whose business empire depends on federal oversight, had ever wielded such unchecked power over Washington’s machinery. Musk, however, had been granted near-total authority by Trump, who entrusted him with reshaping the government to fit his administration’s agenda. DOGE declined to respond to inquiries from TIME, directing all questions to the White House, which also refused to comment.
DOGE’s reach has since expanded. The group has taken over the U.S. Digital Service (USDS) and infiltrated the Office of Personnel Management (OPM), the federal human resources agency that manages two million employees and oversees pension and health benefits worth $147 billion annually. The Department of Education is bracing for massive staffing cuts. Treasury officials who resisted DOGE’s access to federal payment systems were forced out. Musk’s power is growing—and no agency appears safe.
The Consequences of a Musk-Led Bureaucracy
Musk’s efforts to “streamline” the federal government have been met with mixed reactions. Supporters argue that his approach mirrors his business strategies—slashing inefficiencies and cutting waste. Robert Doar, president of the conservative American Enterprise Institute, views it as a necessary shake-up. “The federal government is so big that there are surely significant opportunities for saving and efficiency,” he says. “The fact that the President and his team are giving this a lot of attention is a good thing.”
Yet, the human costs of Musk’s restructuring are becoming evident. Farmers dependent on USAID-funded buyers may lose access to markets. Companies exporting tech products to China may find themselves without State or Commerce Department advisors to help them navigate regulations. Millions worldwide who rely on U.S. humanitarian aid are now left stranded. Federal employees are increasingly anxious, knowing that their jobs, benefits, and pensions are at risk. One DHS employee described her office’s atmosphere as a “defensive crouch”—waiting for the inevitable DOGE takeover.
Musk’s methods bear striking similarities to his acquisition of Twitter (now X). On January 28, federal employees received emails offering them eight months’ severance pay if they voluntarily resigned—a move reminiscent of Musk’s mass layoffs at Twitter. The subject line was identical: “Fork in the road.”
Project 2025 and the New Federal Order
Musk’s takeover of Washington did not happen overnight. His allies had been laying the groundwork for years. Trump loyalists published a 900-page blueprint known as Project 2025, outlining a systematic purge of civil servants. One of its architects, Russell Vought, had long advocated for gutting the federal workforce. “We want their funding shut,” he declared in a 2022 speech. “We want to put them in trauma.”
During his campaign, Trump distanced himself from the plan. “Some things I vehemently disagreed with,” he told TIME. But upon his return to power, he appointed Vought to head the White House Office of Management and Budget. In this role, Vought now collaborates closely with Musk to enact Project 2025’s most aggressive proposals.
Musk, for his part, never concealed his ambitions. Two weeks after the election, he co-wrote an op-ed in The Wall Street Journal, promising to deploy DOGE to slash government spending and eliminate federal jobs. He quickly began recruiting from his network of Silicon Valley acolytes—many fresh out of college—to execute his plan in Washington.
Steve Davis, a former SpaceX executive, was tapped to oversee staffing for DOGE. Davis’s focus on USDS—a small but powerful digital agency within the White House—allowed Musk to gain access to federal databases and agency contact points, effectively turning the office into a nerve center for dismantling government operations. On Inauguration Day, Trump issued an executive order renaming it the “United States DOGE Service,” reporting directly to the White House chief of staff.
The Growing Resistance
Despite Musk’s aggressive campaign, resistance is mounting. Courts have already ruled against certain DOGE measures, including the mass layoffs and budget freezes. Federal employee unions have filed lawsuits. Congressional Democrats, led by Rep. Jamie Raskin, have begun investigating Musk’s influence over the executive branch. “We don’t have a fourth branch of government called Elon Musk,” Raskin declared outside USAID headquarters.
Public backlash is also brewing. In Northern Virginia, where thousands of government workers reside, local town hall meetings have drawn unprecedented crowds. Democratic Congressman Suhas Subramanyam has been flooded with calls from civil servants detailing what he calls “illegal” actions by DOGE.
Even Musk’s supporters are warning him to proceed with caution. A Wall Street Journal editorial noted that lawsuits could derail Musk’s mission before it fully takes shape. Meanwhile, Trump himself has sent mixed signals, claiming Musk operates with “our approval” but adding that his administration will intervene “where not appropriate.”
The Uncertain Future
The fate of the federal government now hangs in the balance. Musk’s overhaul has disrupted agencies, displaced employees, and jeopardized critical programs. Whether courts, Congress, or public pressure can slow his march remains to be seen.
For now, millions of Americans—government workers, contractors, and those who rely on federal programs—are left in limbo, watching Musk’s next move. “We are being tested,” said one anonymous USAID employee. “He’s daring us to fight back.”
The question remains: Who, if anyone, will stop him?
