Trump earlier said he was going to host "a very special group of people" in Mar-a-Lago in Florida.

X has always had a Nazi problem. I’ve covered the site, formerly known as Twitter, for more than a decade and reported extensively on its harassment problems, its verification (and then de-verification) of a white nationalist, and the glut of anti-Semitic hatred that roiled the platform in 2016.

But something is different today. Heaps of unfiltered posts that plainly celebrate racism, anti-Semitism, and outright Nazism are easily accessible and possibly even promoted by the site’s algorithms. All the while, Elon Musk—a far-right activist and the site’s owner, who is campaigning for and giving away millions to help elect Donald Trump—amplifies horrendous conspiracy theories about voter fraud, migrants run amok, and the idea that Jewish people hate white people. Twitter was always bad if you knew where to look, but because of Musk, X is far worse. (X and Musk did not respond to requests for comment for this article.)

It takes little effort to find neo-Nazi accounts that have built up substantial audiences on X. “Thank you all for 7K,” one white-nationalist meme account posted on October 17, complete with a heil-Hitler emoji reference. One week later, the account, which mostly posts old clips of Hitler speeches and content about how “Hitler was right,” celebrated 14,000 followers. One post, a black-and-white video of Nazis goose-stepping, has more than 187,000 views. Another racist and anti-Semitic video about Jewish women and Black men—clearly AI-generated—has more than 306,000 views. It was also posted in late October.

Many who remain on the platform have noticed X decaying even more than usual in recent months. “I’ve seen SO many seemingly unironic posts like this on Twitter recently this is getting insane,” one X user posted in response to a meme that the far-right influencer Stew Peters recently shared. It showed an image of Adolf Hitler holding a telephone with overlaid text reading, “Hello … 2024? Are you guys starting to get it yet?” Peters appended the commentary, “Yes. We’ve noticed.” The idea is simply that Hitler was right, and X users ate it up: As of this writing, the post has received about 67,000 likes, 10,000 reposts, and 11.4 million views. When Musk took over, in 2022, there were initial reports that hate speech (anti-Black and anti-Semitic slurs) was surging on the platform. By December of that year, one research group described the increase in hate speech as “unprecedented.” And it seems to only have gotten worse. There are far more blatant examples of racism now, even compared with a year ago. In September, the World Bank halted advertising on X after its promoted ads were showing up in the replies to pro-Nazi and white-nationalist content from accounts with hundreds of thousands of followers. Search queries such as Hitler was right return posts with tens of thousands of views—they’re indistinguishable from the poison once relegated to the worst sites on the internet, including 4chan, Gab, and Stormfront.

The hatred isn’t just coming from anonymous fringe posters either. Late last month, Clay Higgins, a Republican congressman from Louisiana, published a racist, threatening post about the Haitians in Springfield, Ohio, saying they’re from the “nastiest country in the western hemisphere.” Then he issued an ultimatum: “All these thugs better get their mind right and their ass out of our country before January 20th,” he wrote in the post, referencing Inauguration Day. Higgins eventually deleted the post at the request of his House colleagues on both sides of the aisle but refused to apologize. “I can put up another controversial post tomorrow if you want me to. I mean, we do have freedom of speech. I’ll say what I want,” he told CNN later that day.

And although Higgins did eventually try to walk his initial post back, clarifying that he was really referring to Haitian gangs, the sentiment he shared with CNN is right. The lawmaker can put up another vile post maligning an entire country whenever he desires. Not because of his right to free speech—which exists to protect against government interference—but because of how Musk chooses to operate his platform. Despite the social network’s policy that prohibits “incitement of harassment,” X seemingly took no issue with Higgins’s racist post or its potential to cause real-world harm for Springfield residents. (The town has already closed and evacuated its schools twice because of bomb threats.) And why would X care? The platform, which reinstated thousands of banned accounts following Musk’s takeover, in 2022—accounts that belong to QAnon supporters, political hucksters, conspiracy theorists, and at least one bona fide neo-Nazi—is so inundated with bigoted memes, racist AI slop, and unspeakable slurs that Higgins’s post seemed almost measured by comparison. In the past, when Twitter seemed more interested in enforcing content-moderation standards, the lawmaker’s comments may have resulted in a ban or some other disciplinary response: On X, he found an eager, sympathetic audience willing to amplify his hateful message.

His deleted post is instructive, though, as a way to measure the degradation of X under Musk. The site is a political project run by a politically radicalized centibillionaire. The worthwhile parts of Twitter (real-time news, sports, culture, silly memes, spontaneous encounters with celebrity accounts) have been drowned out by hateful garbage. X is no longer a social-media site with a white-supremacy problem, but a white-supremacist site with a social-media problem.

Musk has certainly bent the social network to support his politics, which has recently involved joking on Tucker Carlson’s show (which streams on X) that “nobody is even bothering to try to kill Kamala” and repurposing the @america handle from an inactive user to turn it into a megaphone for his pro-Trump super PAC. Musk has also quite clearly reengineered the site so that users see him, and his tweets, whether or not they follow him.

When Musk announced his intent to purchase Twitter, in April 2022, the New York Times columnist Ezra Klein aptly noted that “Musk reveals what he wants Twitter to be by how he acts on it.” By this logic, it would seem that X is vying to be the official propaganda outlet not just for Trump generally but also for the “Great Replacement” theory, which states that there is a global plot to eradicate the white race and its culture through immigration. In just the past year, Musk has endorsed multiple posts about the conspiracy theory. In November 2023, in response to a user named @breakingbaht who accused Jews of supporting bringing “hordes of minorities” into the United States, Musk replied, “You have said the actual truth.” Musk’s post was viewed more than 8 million times.

[Read: Musk’s Twitter is the blueprint for a MAGA government]

Though Musk has publicly claimed that he doesn’t “subscribe” to the “Great Replacement” theory, he appears obsessed with the idea that Republican voters in America are under attack from immigrants. Last December, he posted a misleading graph suggesting that the number of immigrants arriving illegally was overtaking domestic birth rates. He has repeatedly referenced a supposed Democratic plot to “legalize vast numbers of illegals” and put an end to fair elections. He has falsely suggested that the Biden administration was “flying ‘asylum seekers’, who are fast-tracked to citizenship, directly into swing states like Pennsylvania, Ohio, Wisconsin and Arizona” and argued that, soon, “everywhere in America will be like the nightmare that is downtown San Francisco.” According to a recent Bloomberg analysis of 53,000 of Musk’s posts, the billionaire has posted more about immigration and voter fraud than any other topic (more than 1,300 posts in total), garnering roughly 10 billion views.

But Musk’s interests extend beyond the United States. This summer, during a period of unrest and rioting in the United Kingdom over a mass stabbing that killed three children, the centibillionaire used his account to suggest that a civil war there was “inevitable.” He also shared (and subsequently deleted) a conspiracy theory that the U.K. government was building detainment camps for people rioting against Muslims. Additionally, X was instrumental in spreading misinformation and fueling outrage among far-right, anti-immigration protesters.

In Springfield, Ohio, X played a similar role as a conduit for white supremacists and far-right extremists to fuel real-world harm. One of the groups taking credit for singling out Springfield’s Haitian community was Blood Tribe, a neo-Nazi group known for marching through city streets waving swastikas. Blood Tribe had been focused on the town for months, but not until prominent X accounts (including Musk’s, J. D. Vance’s, and Trump’s) seized on a Facebook post from the region did Springfield become a national target. “It is no coincidence that there was an online rumor mill ready to amplify any social media posts about Springfield because Blood Tribe has been targeting the town in an effort to stoke racial resentment against ‘subhuman’ Haitians,” the journalist Robert Tracinski wrote recently. Tracinski argues that social-media channels (like X) have been instrumental in transferring neo-Nazi propaganda into the public consciousness—all the way to the presidential-debate stage. He is right. Musk’s platform has become a political tool for stoking racial hatred online and translating it into harassment in the physical world.

The ability to drag fringe ideas and theories into mainstream political discourse has long been a hallmark of X, even back when it was known as Twitter. There’s always been a trade-off with the platform’s ability to narrow the distance between activists and people in positions of power. Social-justice movements such as the Arab Spring and Black Lives Matter owe some of the success of their early organizing efforts to the platform.

Yet the website has also been one of the most reliable mainstream destinations on the internet to see Photoshopped images of public figures (or their family members) in gas chambers, or crude, racist cartoons of Jewish men. Now, under Musk’s stewardship, X seems to run in only one direction. The platform eschews healthy conversation. It abhors nuance, instead favoring constant escalation and engagement-baiting behavior. And it empowers movements that seek to enrage and divide. In April, an NBC News investigation found that “at least 150 paid ‘Premium’ subscriber X accounts and thousands of unpaid accounts have posted or amplified pro-Nazi content on X in recent months.” According to research from the extremism expert Colin Henry, since Musk’s purchase, there’s been a decline in anti-Semitic posts on 4chan’s infamous “anything goes” forum, and a simultaneous rise in posts targeting Jewish people on X.

X’s own transparency reports show that the social network has allowed hateful content to flourish on its site. In its last report before Musk’s acquisition, in just the second half of 2021, Twitter suspended about 105,000 of the more than 5 million accounts reported for hateful conduct. In the first half of 2024, according to X, the social network received more than 66 million hateful-conduct reports, but suspended just 2,361 accounts. It’s not a perfect comparison, as the way X reports and analyzes data has changed under Musk, but the company is clearly taking action far less frequently.

[Read: I’m running out of ways to explain how bad this is]

Because X has made it more difficult for researchers to access data by switching to a paid plan that prices out many academics, it is now difficult to get a quantitative understanding of the platform’s degradation. The statistics that do exist are alarming. Research from the Center for Countering Digital Hate found that in just the first month of Musk’s ownership, anti–Black American slurs used on the platform increased by 202 percent. The Anti-Defamation League found that anti-Semitic tweets on the platform increased by 61 percent in just two weeks after Musk’s takeover. But much of the evidence is anecdotal. The Washington Post summed up a recent report from the Institute for Strategic Dialogue, noting that pro-Hitler content “reached the largest audiences on X [relative to other social-media platforms], where it was also most likely to be recommended via the site’s algorithm.” Since Musk took over, X has done the following:

Seemingly failed to block a misleading advertisement post purchased by Jason Köhne, a white nationalist with the handle @NoWhiteGuiltNWG. Seemingly failed to block an advertisement calling to reinstate the death penalty for gay people. Reportedly run ads on 20 racist and anti-Semitic hashtags, including #whitepower, despite Musk pledging that he would demonetize posts that included hate speech. (After NBC asked about these, X removed the ability for users to search for some of these hashtags.) Granted blue-check verification to an account with the N-word in its handle. (The account has since been suspended.) Allowed an account that praised Hitler to purchase a gold-check badge, which denotes an “official organization” and is typically used by brands such as Doritos and BlackRock. (This account has since been suspended.) Seemingly failed to take immediate action on 63 of 66 accounts flagged for disseminating AI-generated Nazi memes from 4chan. More than half of the posts were made by paid accounts with verified badges, according to research by the nonprofit Center for Countering Digital Hate.

None of this is accidental. The output of a platform tells you what it is designed to do: In X’s case, all of this is proof of a system engineered to give voice to hateful ideas and reward those who espouse them. If one is to judge X by its main exports, then X, as it exists now under Musk, is a white-supremacist website.

You might scoff at this notion, especially if you, like me, have spent nearly two decades willingly logged on to the site, or if you, like me, have had your professional life influenced in surprising, occasionally delightful ways by the platform. Even now, I can scroll through the site’s algorithmic pond scum and find things worth saving—interesting commentary, breaking news, posts and observations that make me laugh. But these exceptional morsels are what make the platform so insidious, in part because they give cover to the true political project that X now represents and empowers.

As I was preparing to write this story, I visited some of the most vile corners of the internet. I’ve monitored these spaces for years, and yet this time, I was struck by how little distance there was between them and what X has become. It is impossible to ignore: The difference between X and a known hateful site such as Gab are people like myself. The majority of users are no doubt creators, businesses, journalists, celebrities, political junkies, sports fans, and other perfectly normal people who hold their nose and cling to the site. We are the human shield of respectability that keeps Musk’s disastrous $44 billion investment from being little more than an algorithmically powered Stormfront.

The justifications—the lure of the community, the (now-limited) ability to bear witness to news in real time, and of the reach of one’s audience of followers—feel particularly weak today. X’s cultural impact is still real, but its promotional use is nonexistent. (A recent post linking to a story of mine generated 289,000 impressions and 12,900 interactions, but only 948 link clicks—a click rate of roughly 0.00328027682 percent.) NPR, which left the platform in April 2023, reported almost negligible declines in traffic referrals after abandoning the site.

Continuing to post on X has been indefensible for some time. But now, more than ever, there is no good justification for adding one’s name to X’s list of active users. To leave the platform, some have argued, is to cede an important ideological battleground to the right. I’ve been sympathetic to this line of thinking, but the battle, on this particular platform, is lost. As long as Musk owns the site, its architecture will favor his political allies. If you see posting to X as a fight, then know it is not a fair one. For example: In October, Musk shared a fake screenshot of an Atlantic article, manipulated to show a fake headline—his post, which he never deleted, garnered more than 18 million views. The Atlantic’s X post debunking Musk’s claim received just 28,000 views. Musk is unfathomably rich. He’s used that money to purchase a platform, take it private, and effectively turn it into a megaphone for the world’s loudest racists. Now he’s attempting to use it to elect a corrupt, election-denying felon to the presidency.

To stay on X is not an explicit endorsement of this behavior, but it does help enable it. I’m not at all suggesting—as Musk has previously alleged—that the site be shut down or that Musk should be silenced. But there’s no need to stick around and listen. Why allow Musk to appear even slightly more credible by lending our names, our brands, and our movements to a platform that makes the world more dangerous for real people? To my dismay, I’ve hid from these questions for too long. Now that I’ve confronted them, I have no good answers.

If NASA’s current schedule sticks, the next American president will oversee the first moon landing since the Apollo era and preside over the agency’s plans for sending astronauts deeper into the solar system. Elon Musk, the CEO of the world’s most successful private-spaceflight company, has made clear who he thinks that president should be. This fall, he declared that Kamala Harris would doom humankind to an earthbound existence, whereas Donald Trump would fulfill SpaceX’s founding dream of putting people on Mars. Trump seems equally enthusiastic about Musk’s space plans. “Elon, get those rocket ships going, because we want to reach Mars before the end of my term,” he said on the campaign trail.

A Trump presidency could push America toward a new era of space travel, and Trump has demonstrated his enthusiasm for space exploration—as president, he created the Space Force. Otherworldly ambitions, though, can come with earthly costs.

The American government is already relying on SpaceX to fly astronauts to space, provide satellite internet for operations across the U.S. military, and help realize its plans to return to the moon. A Trump administration could increase that codependence, further embedding SpaceX—and its CEO—in the framework of American governance. NASA has always used private companies to fulfill its greatest ambitions, but Trump could essentially outsource the imagination driving the future of American spaceflight to Musk.

No matter who is president, Musk will play a role in America’s future in space. NASA has hired SpaceX to develop a version of Starship, its biggest rocket yet, to land astronauts on the lunar surface by the end of the decade. The agency will also likely rely on the vehicle to make its Mars dreams a reality in the decade after that. SpaceX has launched Starship prototypes steadily over the past year from its South Texas base, and seeks to dramatically increase its annual cadence of test flights, from five to 25. But according to Musk and other company officials, the Federal Aviation Administration, which is responsible for approving rocket launches, is holding them back from testing Starship and sending commercial payloads into orbit as quickly as they’d like. FAA officials have defended the agency’s process for launch evaluations, saying that SpaceX—whose Starship project is unlike any previous space program—must meet safety requirements before every takeoff.

[Read: What’s standing in Elon Musk’s way?]

A newly reinstalled President Trump, who once asked NASA to hurry up and squeeze in a Mars mission before the end of his first term, would presumably take no issue with a pressure campaign against his own FAA to remove regulations. He could instruct the agency to relax its rules, even give Musk some (official or unofficial) power over it. Trump has promised to instate Musk as the head of a government-efficiency commission. Such an appointment could lead to all sorts of conflicts of interest, and perhaps even unprecedented results. “You have potentially a high-level senior adviser in the person who owns the largest and most capable private space company in the world, with a direct line to the president of the United States, pitching a Mars mission in four years,” Casey Dreier, the chief of space policy at the Planetary Society, who has written extensively about the politics of America’s moon and Mars efforts, told me. “We don’t have historical examples of that.” (NASA could not make agency officials available for an interview before this story was published.)

Unshackled from the FAA, SpaceX could run dozens of Starship missions in the next few years, which is exactly what NASA needs in order to start dropping astronauts on the moon and beyond (and achieving those feats before rival nations do). Space travel is an itch that the United States, under any president, seems unable to resist scratching. “We do it because we can—and because we probably will not be satisfied until we do,” John Logsdon, a space historian, once told me. Musk has long argued that the future of the human species depends on reaching Mars. Government officials may not use the same vocabulary as Musk, but they have bought into his vision nonetheless. In recent years, former top officials in NASA’s human-spaceflight program have taken jobs at SpaceX.

In the meantime, though, more SpaceX flights—and more power for Musk—could be messy, or even dangerous. As Starship development has quickened in recent years, SpaceX’s rate of worker injuries has outpaced the industry average. Federal and state regulators say that SpaceX has disregarded environmental rules at its launch site in South Texas, violating the Clean Water Act by releasing industrial wastewater during launches. (The company has said that the water is not hazardous.) And perhaps most concerning, where a Trump administration could clear hurdles for SpaceX, it could also embolden the company’s chief executive, a man whose conduct is often questionable at best. Recent reports alleging that Musk engages in regular conversations with Russian President Vladimir Putin led NASA’s chief to call for an investigation.

NASA has previously acted in response to comparatively mild Musk antics; in 2018, the agency ordered a review of workplace culture at SpaceX, which was preparing to fly NASA astronauts on a brand-new spacecraft, after Musk smoked weed on Joe Rogan’s podcast. The Trump administration didn’t stand in the way of that investigation, but that was before Musk became the former president’s No. 1 donor and certified hype man. A Putin-related inquiry under a second Trump administration is unlikely. Trump, who has praised the Russian dictator and refused to vocally support Ukraine, would sooner hop on a three-way phone call with Musk and Putin. Already, with SpaceX’s growing inventory of Starlink internet satellites, Musk has tremendous control over how the world communicates, and has maintained Starlink’s independence from the U.S. government and others. But if President Trump asks Government-Efficiency Adviser Musk to, say, shut off Starlink services over a NATO ally or a nuclear power, one wonders how Musk would react.

[Read: The unique danger of a Trumpist oligarchy]

A Harris administration would, of course, approach Musk differently. Musk has publicly mused about why no one has attempted to assassinate Harris and suggested that Harris would order his arrest if she wins the presidency. That’s far-fetched, even if a Harris administration might be less reluctant to investigate the billionaire’s ties to Putin. And no matter who takes the White House, to spurn SpaceX would mean hurting the U.S. space program. Boeing bungled its recent mission to ferry astronauts to the ISS so badly that SpaceX has at least a temporary monopoly over astronaut launches from American soil.

The American space program needs Musk, and he knows it. Without SpaceX, NASA astronauts could fly around the moon a dozen times and never touch down: NASA’s own rocket is supposed to get them into lunar orbit, but Starship is their ride to the surface. That leverage raises a worrying—if unlikely—possibility. Earlier this year, Musk told my colleague Damon Beres that he is willing to accept a Harris presidency, but only “if, after review of the election results, it turns out that Kamala wins.” Dreier suggested this hypothetical scenario: “What if Elon Musk just declared SpaceX won’t work with the Harris administration if he considers it illegitimate?” (Musk is certainly laying the groundwork for election denial—it appears to be his primary preoccupation on X these days.) Although such a decision would put SpaceX in breach of various contracts and cause tremendous turmoil, it would also make clear who controls American spaceflight.

Elon Musk's million dollar US election 'lottery' given green light

The giveaway is not a lottery-like contest and the recipients are not chosen randomly, his lawyer said.

The state's top Democratic legal official says the giveaway in states likely to decide the US election is a 'scam'.

In a recent interview, the former Republican presidential candidate Vivek Ramaswamy made an offhanded comment that connected a few dots for me. Ramaswamy was talking with Ezra Klein about the potential for tens of thousands of government workers to lose their job should Donald Trump be reelected. This would be a healthy development, he argued. It could happen, he said, by reinstituting the Trump executive order Schedule F—which stripped certain civil servants of their job protections, allowing them to be fired more easily—and installing a government-efficiency commission to be led by Elon Musk. Ramaswamy said Trump should get rid of 75 percent of federal-government employees “on day one.” Up for debate, he argued, is whether some of those people would eventually be rehired. “That’s not the character of, certainly, what Elon did at Twitter, and I don’t think it’s going to be the character of what the most important part of that project actually looks like, which is shaving down and thinning down the bureaucracy.”

Ramaswamy’s invocation of Twitter is meaningful. In 2022, after acquiring the social network, Musk infamously purged Twitter’s ranks and fired 80 percent of its employees in the first six months, and then made a series of management decisions that ultimately threw the company into further financial disarray. Listening to Ramaswamy speak and hearing the respect in his voice as he cited the centibillionaire’s tenure, it became clear that he sees a blueprint for the Trump administration. Should Musk be appointed as a federal firing czar, it will likely not be because of his electric cars or rockets or internet-beaming satellites: It will be because he acted out the dream of draining the swamp, albeit on a smaller scale. Musk’s purchase of Twitter is not just a Republican success story; it is the template for the MAGA federal government. Even Musk’s mom said as much in a recent interview with Fox News: “He’s going to just get rid of people who are not working, or don’t have a job, or not doing a job well, just like he did on Twitter … He can do it for the government, too.”

Musk’s argument for gutting Twitter was that the company was so overstaffed that it was running out of money and had only “four months to live.” Musk cut so close to the bone that there were genuine concerns among employees I spoke with at the time that the site might crash during big news events, or fall into a state of disrepair. “I am fully convinced that if Musk does what he is saying he will do, it will be an absolute shitshow,” a trust-and-safety engineer at a different tech company told me in 2022. Musk did fire most of the trust-and-safety employees, as well as those in charge of curation and “human rights,” and the Machine Learning Ethics, Transparency, and Accountability team. The purge of these people in particular delighted some right-wing commentators, who saw Musk’s dismissals as a long-overdue excision of the woke bureaucracy inside the company. “Nothing of value was lost,” one MAGA account tweeted at the news of the firings.

[Read: I watched Elon Musk kill Twitter’s culture from the inside]

Twitter did not self-destruct as my sources feared it would (though parts of it have, perhaps most memorably when Musk tried to host Spaces events with Trump and with Florida Governor Ron DeSantis, only for them to glitch out). Small-scale disruptions aside, the site has mostly functioned during elections, World Cups, Super Bowls, and world-historic news events. But Musk’s cuts have not spared the platform from deep financial hardship. His chaotic managerial strategy for Twitter has been to rebrand the site as X, alienate many of its most important advertisers, institute a dubious paid subscription program, and dabble in AI features in the hopes of someday turning the platform into an “everything app.” The end result has been calamitous for the company’s bottom line. Soon after taking over, ad revenues plummeted 40 percent, and the bleeding hasn’t stopped. According to estimates, last year, X lost about 52 percent of its U.S. advertising revenue. A recent Fidelity report suggested that the company may have lost nearly 80 percent of its value since Musk bought it (for arguably way more than it was worth). If this keeps up, some have speculated that Musk may have to sell some of his Tesla stock to keep the company afloat. Musk’s financiers have also been left with massive loans on their balance sheets in what The Wall Street Journal has called “the worst buyout for banks since the financial crisis.”

Trump and Ramaswamy don’t seem to care about any of this. What matters is that Musk has turned X into a political weapon in service of the MAGA movement. X, as I wrote last week, has become a formidable vector for amplifying far-right accounts and talking points; it is poisoning the information environment with unverified rumors and conspiracy theories about election fraud. The far-right faithful do not care that his platform has occasionally labeled pro–Kamala Harris accounts as spam, temporarily banned journalists, restricted accounts that have tweeted the word cisgender, and complied with foreign-government requests to censor speech. Nor do Republican lawmakers seem to care that Musk is wielding his platform to get Trump elected, even after they spent the better part of a decade outraged that tech platforms were supposedly biased against conservatives. Their silence on Musk’s clear bias coupled with their admiration for his activism suggest that what they really value is the way that Musk was able to seize a popular communication platform and turn it into something that they can control and wield against their political enemies.

This idea is not dissimilar from the vision articulated by the Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025, the conservative policy proposal to reshape the federal government in a second Trump administration. Project 2025 is a dense, often radical, and unpopular set of policy proposals that, as my colleague David A. Graham notes, “would dissolve the Education Department and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, slash Medicare and Medicaid, ban pornography, establish federal abortion restrictions, repeal some child-labor protections, and enable the president to lay off tens of thousands of federal career workers and replace them with political appointees.” Put another way: If Trump were elected and decided to make Project 2025 a reality, his administration would take an existing piece of bureaucratic infrastructure, strip it of many of those who can check its power, and then wield that power to ideological ends and against their political enemies.

The parallels between this element of Project 2025 and Musk’s Twitter are stark. They should also be alarming. The federal government is not a software company, nor should it be run like one. Perhaps there is bloat in our departments and agencies, but civil servants labor over daily technical problems that are crucial to a functioning country—such as census taking, storm tracking, and preparing for pandemics. To simply cut these people with abandon (and replace others with political appointees) could have severe consequences, such as stifling disaster response and increasing the likelihood of corruption.

Consider also the financial dynamic. Last week in a virtual town hall, Musk said that the Trump administration’s second-term agenda—which includes tax cuts, slashing the federal budget, and tariffs on imports, “necessarily involves some temporary hardship,” but would ultimately result in longer-term prosperity. “We have to reduce spending to live within our means,” Musk added. The line is similar to his justification for the layoffs at Twitter, which at the time he called “painful” and necessary so that Twitter could balance its budget. But Musk bought the platform with no idea of how to turn it into a profitable business. His primary interest seems to be prioritizing shitposting and trolling rather than finding advertisers or making good on his ideas to turn X into a WeChat-style commercial app. Musk has never appeared interested in understanding the mechanics of a social network or the complexities of content moderation or even the specifics of the First Amendment. His incuriousness about the thing he ended up in charge of has been exceeded only by his desire to use it as a personal playground and political weapon.

Before Musk officially took over Twitter, the tech oligarch at least feigned an interest in running the company with an eye toward actual governance. “For Twitter to deserve public trust, it must be politically neutral, which effectively means upsetting the far right and the far left equally,” he tweeted in 2022. Trump, however, has made no effort to disguise the vindictive goals of his next administration and how he plans, in the words of the New York Times columnist Jamelle Bouie, to “merge the office of the presidency with himself” and “rebuild it as an instrument of his will, wielded for his friends and against his enemies.” In other words, he plans to run the Elon Musk Twitter playbook on the entire country.