Using the code name of a cryptocurrency to name government departments sounds like a joke, but it actually happened. A department called DOGE was established, promising to cut through the bureaucratic system with a chainsaw, but quietly disappeared in less than 10 months. From inception to dissolution, the entire cycle lasted only 294 days—this number seems like a satire of the short-lived meme coins.
On January 20, 2025, the day Trump was sworn in, he signed an executive order to establish the Department of Efficiency, with the code name DOGE—directly referencing the Dogecoin ticker. This is no coincidence; Elon Musk, a long-time supporter of Dogecoin, carefully crafted this narrative. The visual design of the official website is even more impressive, filled with elements from the crypto world—Shiba Inu images, meme culture vibes. At first glance, it looks more like a marketing campaign for a crypto project than a government agency.
Elon Musk amplified the effect on social media, posting a photo of himself holding a chainsaw with the caption “Chainsaw for Bureaucracy,” matching his tone when promoting Dogecoin. This highly symbolic communication strategy essentially forcibly injects internet meme culture into politics, attempting to resonate with young netizens through exaggeration and satire.
Silicon Valley Style Meets Washington Swamp
The operation of DOGE completely broke the traditional government agency mold. Musk’s team averaged in their twenties, dubbed the “Doll Army,” dressed in hoodies and jeans, with the startup vibe. They relied on Red Bull to keep going, quickly placing personnel in major federal agencies within three weeks, rapidly controlling funding flows and conducting comprehensive contract reviews.
AI became their secret weapon. From idle office buildings to employee travel reimbursements, all data was digitized for AI to quickly identify waste. Just by discovering and leasing back idle office space, they saved $150 million. This “rapid iteration, breaking norms” Silicon Valley spirit caused a huge stir in Washington. Mandatory weekly reports, handling absences as administrative leave—applying internet company management tactics to civil servants directly angered the entire system.
Grand Promises and the Gap with Reality
There was ambition. Musk announced plans to cut $2 trillion from the federal budget, while Ramachandran vowed to streamline 70% of federal employees—these exaggerated figures are like the hype in crypto, creating buzz with sensational targets.
But reality was often harsh. DOGE claimed to have cut about $160 billion in spending, which is less than a fifth of the $2 trillion goal. A subsequent report by the Senate Permanent Investigations Subcommittee pointed out that DOGE “wasted” over $21 billion in just six months. The Department of Energy’s loan programs were frozen, costing the government $263 million in interest income; the U.S. Agency for International Development shut down, leading to $110 million worth of food and medicine rotting in warehouses.
This aggressive approach enraged many. Democratic attorneys general from 14 states filed lawsuits against Musk and Trump for violating constitutional appointment clauses. Nearly 20 lawsuits are queued, alleging violations of the Privacy Act, unauthorized access to sensitive government data, and more. DOGE aimed to be a hero but instead became a target.
The Sudden End of the White House Meme Coin
In May, the story took a turn. Musk announced his resignation and publicly clashed with Trump over the “Big and Beautiful” bill. By summer, DOGE personnel had begun evacuating headquarters, with security posts and access badges disappearing one after another.
The final nail in the coffin was the recent confirmation by Scott Cooper, director of the U.S. Office of Personnel Management: DOGE no longer exists. The once-iconic government-wide hiring freeze had already been lifted, and its functions absorbed into the Office of Personnel Management. The DOGE members were not laid off but reassigned—Airbnb co-founder Joe Gebbia moved to the National Design Office, and Zachary Treil became CTO of the Department of Health and Human Services.
Florida Governor Ron DeSantis’s comment on social media was the most sarcastic: “DOGE fought the Swamp, but the Swamp won.” This political meme experiment was ultimately swallowed by the traditional power structure.
The Tug of Symbols and Substance
This 294-day farce exposed a core issue: the power of narrative is limited. Symbol economy is indeed infiltrating traditional politics, and the fusion of crypto culture and politics is irreversible. But when the hype fades and heat cools, what truly survives are those that can solve real problems.
The DOGE experiment was essentially a symbol-driven political show. It used meme coin tactics to package political reform, leveraging crypto discourse to attract young people. But once it touched on reality—budget cuts, process optimization, power restructuring—all the flashy design and hype appeared pale and powerless. Narratives can rally consensus, but without technological implementation and value creation, they are ultimately castles in the air.
The demise of DOGE may not be a bad sign. It reminds us that no matter how innovative crypto culture appears or how clever the symbolic packaging, politics and governance ultimately depend on fundamentals like efficiency, fairness, and sustainability. True innovation lies not in rebranding old ideas with new bottles but in finding methodologies that preserve cutting-edge spirit while maintaining traditional stability.
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From political memes to real-world clashes: Why the 294-day experiment of the DOGE department ended in failure
The Shiba Inu Drama on the Political Stage
Using the code name of a cryptocurrency to name government departments sounds like a joke, but it actually happened. A department called DOGE was established, promising to cut through the bureaucratic system with a chainsaw, but quietly disappeared in less than 10 months. From inception to dissolution, the entire cycle lasted only 294 days—this number seems like a satire of the short-lived meme coins.
On January 20, 2025, the day Trump was sworn in, he signed an executive order to establish the Department of Efficiency, with the code name DOGE—directly referencing the Dogecoin ticker. This is no coincidence; Elon Musk, a long-time supporter of Dogecoin, carefully crafted this narrative. The visual design of the official website is even more impressive, filled with elements from the crypto world—Shiba Inu images, meme culture vibes. At first glance, it looks more like a marketing campaign for a crypto project than a government agency.
Elon Musk amplified the effect on social media, posting a photo of himself holding a chainsaw with the caption “Chainsaw for Bureaucracy,” matching his tone when promoting Dogecoin. This highly symbolic communication strategy essentially forcibly injects internet meme culture into politics, attempting to resonate with young netizens through exaggeration and satire.
Silicon Valley Style Meets Washington Swamp
The operation of DOGE completely broke the traditional government agency mold. Musk’s team averaged in their twenties, dubbed the “Doll Army,” dressed in hoodies and jeans, with the startup vibe. They relied on Red Bull to keep going, quickly placing personnel in major federal agencies within three weeks, rapidly controlling funding flows and conducting comprehensive contract reviews.
AI became their secret weapon. From idle office buildings to employee travel reimbursements, all data was digitized for AI to quickly identify waste. Just by discovering and leasing back idle office space, they saved $150 million. This “rapid iteration, breaking norms” Silicon Valley spirit caused a huge stir in Washington. Mandatory weekly reports, handling absences as administrative leave—applying internet company management tactics to civil servants directly angered the entire system.
Grand Promises and the Gap with Reality
There was ambition. Musk announced plans to cut $2 trillion from the federal budget, while Ramachandran vowed to streamline 70% of federal employees—these exaggerated figures are like the hype in crypto, creating buzz with sensational targets.
But reality was often harsh. DOGE claimed to have cut about $160 billion in spending, which is less than a fifth of the $2 trillion goal. A subsequent report by the Senate Permanent Investigations Subcommittee pointed out that DOGE “wasted” over $21 billion in just six months. The Department of Energy’s loan programs were frozen, costing the government $263 million in interest income; the U.S. Agency for International Development shut down, leading to $110 million worth of food and medicine rotting in warehouses.
This aggressive approach enraged many. Democratic attorneys general from 14 states filed lawsuits against Musk and Trump for violating constitutional appointment clauses. Nearly 20 lawsuits are queued, alleging violations of the Privacy Act, unauthorized access to sensitive government data, and more. DOGE aimed to be a hero but instead became a target.
The Sudden End of the White House Meme Coin
In May, the story took a turn. Musk announced his resignation and publicly clashed with Trump over the “Big and Beautiful” bill. By summer, DOGE personnel had begun evacuating headquarters, with security posts and access badges disappearing one after another.
The final nail in the coffin was the recent confirmation by Scott Cooper, director of the U.S. Office of Personnel Management: DOGE no longer exists. The once-iconic government-wide hiring freeze had already been lifted, and its functions absorbed into the Office of Personnel Management. The DOGE members were not laid off but reassigned—Airbnb co-founder Joe Gebbia moved to the National Design Office, and Zachary Treil became CTO of the Department of Health and Human Services.
Florida Governor Ron DeSantis’s comment on social media was the most sarcastic: “DOGE fought the Swamp, but the Swamp won.” This political meme experiment was ultimately swallowed by the traditional power structure.
The Tug of Symbols and Substance
This 294-day farce exposed a core issue: the power of narrative is limited. Symbol economy is indeed infiltrating traditional politics, and the fusion of crypto culture and politics is irreversible. But when the hype fades and heat cools, what truly survives are those that can solve real problems.
The DOGE experiment was essentially a symbol-driven political show. It used meme coin tactics to package political reform, leveraging crypto discourse to attract young people. But once it touched on reality—budget cuts, process optimization, power restructuring—all the flashy design and hype appeared pale and powerless. Narratives can rally consensus, but without technological implementation and value creation, they are ultimately castles in the air.
The demise of DOGE may not be a bad sign. It reminds us that no matter how innovative crypto culture appears or how clever the symbolic packaging, politics and governance ultimately depend on fundamentals like efficiency, fairness, and sustainability. True innovation lies not in rebranding old ideas with new bottles but in finding methodologies that preserve cutting-edge spirit while maintaining traditional stability.