Musk claimed that the two spoke daily and had frequent conversations about where the South African-born billionaire should concentrate his efforts within the government.

The billionaire Trump ally pushes back at criticism over transparency, saying his department's work is 'common sense'.

The world's richest man took questions for the first time since he was appointed to lead a sweeping government cost-cutting effort.

The tech billionaire was questioned by reporters on what some have called a 'hostile takeover' of government.

Amid the flurry of changes to the face of American government—the president may or may not have the right to unilaterally eliminate agencies; engaging in insurrection has been decriminalized while prosecuting it has become grounds for termination; wars of conquest are now on the table—you could be forgiven for missing the news that bribery is basically legal now, as long as you support, or are, Donald Trump.

Consider the Trump administration’s actions yesterday alone: The president officially pardoned Rod Blagojevich, the former Illinois governor who served eight years in prison for corruption, and his Department of Justice suspended its prosecution of New York Mayor Eric Adams for allegedly soliciting bribes from Turkey, despite extremely compelling evidence. (Adams has denied the allegations.) Trump fired the director of the Office of Government Ethics, the chief official making sure government employees comply with ethics requirements, including those concerning conflicts of interest. And he directed the Justice Department to cease enforcing the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act, which prevents American businesses from bribing foreign officials.

Not bad for a day’s work—but Trump wasn’t done. Today, the administration told The New York Times that Elon Musk’s financial disclosures would not be made public, allowing the shadow president to direct vast swaths of government policy with enormous stakes for his personal fortune without the public knowing the precise areas of overlap.

A running joke in the first Trump term was “Infrastructure Week,” a recurring attempt by the administration to focus media attention on a subject (passing an infrastructure bill) that had no real policy meat to it. This time around, Trump has quietly put together a policy theme—call it “Corruption Week”—for which he has actually delivered the goods. Whether Trump did this intentionally or just had numerous pro-corruption initiatives coincidentally stacked up on his desk is hard to say. What seems clear, however, is that Trump genuinely believes in corruption as a normal and acceptable way to do business.

When he first ran for president, in 2016, Trump cast himself as a master of the system who had strategically donated to public officials in exchange for favors that would advance his business career. This was not mere bluster. Trump’s breakthrough experience in business came by working the corrupt nexis between real estate and politics in New York City. The late journalist Wayne Barrett, writing in The Village Voice, exhaustively detailed Trump’s wheeling and dealing to obtain a subsidized permit to develop a prized spot of land: the Commodore Hotel deal, which put Trump on the map and seeded his reputation as a symbol of capitalism.

[David A. Graham: Eric Adams’s totally predictable MAGA turn]

Trump recognized that design and construction had little to do with success in this project. The whole trick was to gain influence among the political brokers who controlled land permitting and could dole out lucrative tax abatements.

Trump’s winning bid for the coveted land “had nothing going for it but connections,” Barrett wrote. On top of being born rich, Trump displayed a genuine talent for finding and exploiting the soft spots in the system. He not only donated to the necessary public officials; he put the governor’s top fundraiser on his own payroll. Trump sought to influence Barrett’s reporting with a mix of threats, promises of some ongoing future relationship between them, and what sounded like a bribe. After discovering that Barrett lived in Brownsville, Trump proposed, “I could get you an apartment, you know. That must be an awfully tough neighborhood.”

As a politician, Trump positioned himself as standing above the corruption of the system. That pose was also a way of defining corruption as so endemic that it could not be identified as a discrete form of behavior. Trump calls everything he opposes “corrupt”: political opposition, news reports, judicial rulings, election results, and so on.

That tactic has worked. In part because the word has grown so ubiquitous during the period when Trump has dominated news coverage, it barely registers anymore. Trump was able to continue owning a private business during his first term while refusing to disclose his tax returns, at the time a stunning violation of anti-corruption norms. Early in his second term, he not only continued those practices but opened up a lucrative new business selling a crypto memecoin that serves both to exploit his own fans and to allow anyone anywhere in the world to enrich him directly.

The chance that any corrupt behavior on behalf of Trump, Musk, or any other member of his administration will be exposed is significantly dampened by Trump’s decision to fire inspectors general en masse. If, by chance, some corruption scandal still comes to light, Trump has stacked the Justice Department with loyalists who will almost certainly look the other way.

You can call this hypocritical, but a more realistic description is that it follows Trump’s understanding of how power works: The people running the system operate it for their own benefit. Smart people figure out how to get in on the corruption and get rich themselves. The people who get left out are suckers.

Trump’s cynical model of the world is not purely a matter of self-interest. His suspension of the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act is an actual policy agenda to enable American businesses to bribe officials overseas without violating American law. Trump himself has no need to grease anybody’s palms. He therefore appears to support this reform, as it were, because he genuinely believes in it. And unlike most of his flailing efforts to advance policy objectives, his pro-corruption agenda is comprehensive and well designed. How the rest of Trump’s presidency plays out is anyone’s guess. The consequences of legalizing corruption, however, will be utterly predictable.

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During his most recent presidential campaign, Donald Trump promised to “put unelected bureaucrats back in their place.” Apparently, that place is in the federal government, doing what they want with little accountability.

The most powerful unelected bureaucrat in the United States today—and perhaps ever—is Elon Musk. The social-media troll and tech mogul is currently a “special government employee” leading something called the Department of Government Efficiency, though it is neither a department nor, as far as can be ascertained, all that interested in improving efficiency. DOGE’s clearest goal seems to be getting rid of as many civil servants as possible, by whatever means possible—including cajoling, buyouts, and firings, some of which have drawn reproach from courts.

The assault on government workers has been a long time coming. In 2017, during his first term, Trump began referring to federal employees as the “deep state,” and he often accused them of undermining him or slow-walking his ideas. It didn’t help that he often asked for impossible or illegal things, though the most prominent examples of defiance came from Cabinet-level, Senate-confirmed officials whom Trump himself had appointed. While campaigning as a quasi-populist, Trump railed against unelected officials who he argued treated ordinary citizens with disdain, assuming they knew best, or who were deeply enmeshed in conflicts of interest and lining their own pockets. Trump and his allies repeatedly suggested that Joe Biden’s aides were running the government because the president was too checked out to manage.

Now an unelected aide, beset with conflicts of interest, seems to be effectively running the government. He’s barreling through carefully constructed guardrails, acting as though he knows better than anyone else how the government ought to run, while a passive president looks on. No one’s pretending that Trump is particularly interested in the software systems of the government, and he’s made clear that he’s pretty detached from it all. “Sometimes we won’t agree with it, and we’ll not go where he wants to go,” he said of Musk’s role recently. In short, Trump has set a broad direction and tasked Musk with executing the details. That’s what bureaucrats do.

Because this is exactly what Trump campaigned against, justifying it is challenging, though apologists like Turning Point USA founder Charlie Kirk are game to try. “The American people quite literally voted for Elon Musk and DOGE when they elected Donald Trump with a historic mandate,” Kirk posted on X. But that’s absurd. Trump said on the trail that Musk would help him, but he didn’t outline this. The DOGE idea wasn’t formally announced until after the election, and Trump didn’t run on dismantling USAID or selling off half the government’s real-estate portfolio. Musk wasn’t elected, hasn’t been vetted or confirmed by the Senate, and didn’t even have to go through the standard hiring process. This is probably just as well; his admitted use of controlled substances might pose some challenges. He will reportedly not release a financial disclosure, and the White House says he’ll police his own conflicts of interest. Unfortunately, he has a long track record of questionable ethical decisions.

Democrats, otherwise reeling in the first weeks of the Trump administration, have picked up on the fact that Musk may be a useful target. Although most Democratic attacks on Trump’s populist persona have fallen short, this one seems more promising. Firing thousands of federal workers for nothing more than doing their job, while clinging to a self-described racist and a teenager nicknamed “Big Balls,” may not go over well with voters who just wanted inflation fixed. Representative Jared Golden, a Democrat from a red district in Maine, reported that he was getting a flood of constituent calls about Musk.

Focusing on Musk’s outrageous abuse of power may not be as effective as Democrats hope. Musk obviously hates many of the same people whom Trump’s fans hate, and that’s a powerful bonding force. What sinks Musk may ultimately be not populist resentment but court rulings against him, Trump’s need to remain the center of attention, or backlash when the cuts he’s pursuing start affecting voters’ lives directly.

“An unelected shadow government is conducting a hostile takeover of the federal government,” Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer posted on X last week. “Congress must take action to restore the rule of law.” (If only Schumer knew anyone in Congress!) Musk quickly replied: “This is the one shot the American people have to defeat BUREAUcracy, rule of the bureaucrats, and restore DEMOcracy, rule of the people. We’re never going to get another chance like this. It’s now or never. Your support is crucial to the success of the revolution of the people.”

The most striking thing about this response—other than the world’s richest man adopting Leninist rhetoric about “the revolution of the people”—is its reversal of reality. Schumer won an election; Musk is just a bureaucrat.

Related:

Elon Musk is president. Elon Musk’s bureaucratic coup is under way.

Here are four new stories from The Atlantic:

Is this what cancel culture achieved? Trump says the corrupt part out loud. DOGE is failing on its own terms. What happens when bird flu gets worse?

Today’s News

Trump hosted Jordanian King Abdullah II at the White House, where they discussed the president’s plan to relocate Palestinians from Gaza to Jordan and Egypt. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu said that the Gaza cease-fire would end if Hamas did not go through with the hostage release scheduled for Saturday. The Justice Department ordered federal prosecutors yesterday to withdraw the corruption charges against New York City Mayor Eric Adams.

Evening Read

Illustration by Matteo Giuseppe Pani / The Atlantic

What an ‘America First’ Diet Would Really Look Like

By Yasmin Tayag

Trump’s stance on agriculture is the same as his stance on everything else: “America First.”

The notion that the country could produce all of its food domestically is nice—even admirable. An America First food system would promote eating seasonally and locally, supporting more small farmers in the process. But that is not how most people eat now.

Read the full article.

More From The Atlantic

The cruel attack on USAID Good on Paper: The great political sort is happening at the office. Blame Gerald Ford for Trump’s unaccountability. It’s time to worry about DOGE’s AI plans.

Culture Break

Illustration by Panayiotis Terzis

Read. Mood Machine will make you marvel at how much effort Spotify puts into recommending a song that sounds like a different song you liked three months ago, Brad Shoup writes.

Ponder. “Should I leave my American partner?” one reader asks James Parker in the latest edition of “Dear James.” “I love him, but I don’t know if I can live in the U.S. forever.”

Play our daily crossword.

P.S.

To me, Kendrick Lamar’s use of American-flag and Uncle Sam imagery at Sunday’s Super Bowl was fairly clearly political—and subversive. What it was not, however, was blunt. Perhaps the overly literal protest gestures of the first Trump administration have somewhat numbed viewers to anything more subtle. Regardless, I was amused and perplexed to see some commentators taking the flag’s presence as a signal of alignment with the president. “When backup dancers dressed in red, white, and blue formed the American flag, it felt more patriotic than political,” wrote The Free Press’s River Page, as though patriotism can ever be apolitical.

All of this reminded me of George Will’s review of a 1984 Bruce Springsteen show. “For the initiated, which included most of the 20,000 the night I experienced him, the lyrics, believe it or not, are most important,” Will observed. But apparently the famously erudite columnist’s insights failed him, as he badly misunderstood one of the sharpest critiques (and critics) of the Reagan era. “I have not got a clue about Springsteen’s politics, if any, but flags get waved at his concerts while he sings songs about hard times. He is no whiner, and the recitation of closed factories and other problems always seems punctuated by a grand, cheerful affirmation: ‘Born in the U.S.A.!’” So close, and yet so far.

— David

Stephanie Bai contributed to this newsletter.

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Over the past few weeks, Donald Trump has positioned himself as an unabashed bull on America’s need to dominate AI. Yet the president has also tied this newfound and futuristic priority to a more traditional mission of his: to go big with fossil fuels. A true AI revolution will need “double the energy” that America produces today, Trump said in a recent address to the World Economic Forum, days after declaring a national energy emergency. And he noted a few ways to supply that power: “We have more coal than anybody. We also have more oil and gas than anybody.”

When the executives of AI companies talk about their ambitions, they tend to shy away from the environmental albatross of fossil fuels, pointing instead to renewable and nuclear energy as the power sources of the future for their data centers. But many of those executives, including OpenAI’s Sam Altman and Microsoft’s Satya Nadella, have also expressed concern that America could run out of the energy needed to sustain AI’s rapid development. An electricity shortage for AI chips, Elon Musk predicted last March, would arrive this year.

Both Trump and the oil and gas industry—which donated tens of millions of dollars to his presidential campaign—seem to have recognized an opportunity in the panic. The American Petroleum Institute has repeatedly stressed that natural gas will be crucial in powering the AI revolution. Now the doors are open. The oil giants Chevron and Exxon have both declared plans to build natural-gas-powered facilities connected directly to data centers. Major utilities are planning large fossil-fuel build-outs in part to meet the forecasted electricity demands of data centers. Meta is planning to build a massive data center in Louisiana for which Entergy, a major utility, will construct three new gas-powered turbines. Both the $500 billion Stargate AI-infrastructure venture and Musk’s AI supercomputer reportedly already or will rely on some fossil fuels.

If one takes the dire warnings of an energy apocalypse at face value, there’s a fair logic to drawing from the nation’s existing sources, at least in the near term, to build a more sustainable, AI-powered future. The problem, though, is that the U.S. is not actually in an energy crunch. “It is not a crisis,” Jonathan Koomey, an expert on energy and digital technology who has extensively studied data centers, recently told me. “There is no explosive electricity demand at the national level.” The evidence is ambiguous about a pending, AI-driven energy shortage, offering plenty of reason to believe that America would be fine without a major expansion in oil, coal, or natural-gas production—the latter of which the U.S. is already the world’s biggest exporter of. Rather than necessitating a fossil-fuel build-out, AI seems more to be a convenient excuse for Trump to pursue one. (The White House and its Office for Science and Technology Policy did not respond to requests for comment.)

Certainly, data centers will drive up U.S. energy consumption over the next few years. An analysis conducted by the Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory (LBNL) and published by the Department of Energy in December found that data centers’ energy demand doubled from 2017 to 2023, ultimately accounting for 4.4 percent of nationwide electricity consumption—a number that could rise to somewhere between 6.7 and 12 percent by 2028. Some parts of the country will be affected more than others. Northern Virginia has the highest concentration of data centers in the world, and the state is facing “the largest growth in power demand since the years following World War II,” Aaron Ruby, a spokesperson for Dominion Energy, Virginia’s largest utility, told me. Georgia Power, similarly, is forecasting significant demand growth, likely driven by data-center development. In the meantime, Microsoft, Google, and Meta are all rapidly building out power-hungry data centers.

But as Koomey, who co-authored the LBNL forecast, argued, that forecasted growth does not seem likely to push the nation’s electricity demands past some precipice. Overall U.S. electricity consumption grew by 2 percent in 2024, according to federal data, and the Energy Information Administration predicted similar growth for the following two years. A good chunk of that growth has nothing to do with AI, but is the result of national efforts to electrify transportation, heating, and various industrial operations—factors that, in their own right, will continue to substantially increase the country’s electricity consumption. Even then, the U.S. produced more energy than it consumed every year from 2019 to 2023, as well as for all but one month for which there is data in 2024. An EIA outlook published last month expects natural-gas-fired electricity use to decline through 2026. John Larsen, who leads research into U.S. energy systems and climate policy at the Rhodium Group, analyzed the EIA’s power-plant data and found that 90 percent of all planned electric-capacity additions through 2028 will be from renewables or storage—and that the remaining additions, from natural gas, will be built at two-thirds the rate they have been over the past decade.

None of this discounts the fact that the AI industry is rapidly expanding. The near-term electricity-demand growth is likely real and “a little surprising,” Eric Masanet, a sustainability researcher at UC Santa Barbara and another co-author of the LBNL forecast, told me. More people are using AI products, tech companies are building more data centers to serve their customers, and more powerful bots may also need more power. Last year, Rene Haas, the CEO of Arm Holdings, which designs semiconductors, attracted much attention for his prediction that data centers around the world may use more electricity than the entire country of India by 2030. Some regional utilities have projected much higher demand growth into the late 2030s than nationwide estimates suggest. And chatbots or not, building enough electricity generation and power lines for transportation, heating, and industry in the coming years will be a challenge.

Still, tremendous uncertainty exists around just how power-hungry the AI industry will be in the long term. State utilities, for instance, are likely exaggerating demand, according to a recent analysis from the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis. That might be because utilities are overestimating the number of proposed data centers that will actually be built in their territories, according to a new Bipartisan Policy Center report that Koomey co-authored. And AI still could not turn out to be as world-changing and money-making as its makers want everyone to believe. Even if it does, the energy costs are not straightforward. Last month, the success of DeepSeek—an AI model from a Chinese start-up that matched top American models for lower costs—suggested that AI can be developed with lower resource demands, although DeepSeek’s cost and energy efficiency are still being debated. “It’s really not a good idea” to look beyond the next two to three years, Masanet said. “The uncertainties are just so large that, frankly, it’s kind of a futile exercise.”

If AI and data centers drive sustained, explosive electricity demand, natural gas and coal need not be the energy sources of choice. For now, utilities are likely planning to use some fossil fuels to meet short-term demand, because these facilities are more familiar and much quicker to integrate into the grid than renewable sources, Larsen told me. Plus, natural-gas turbines can operate around the clock and be ramped up to meet surges in demand, unlike solar and wind. But clean energy will also meet much of that short-term demand, if for no reasons other than cost and inertia: Solar panels, wind turbines, and batteries are becoming cost-competitive with natural gas and getting cheaper, while a growing number of industries are turning to renewable energy sources. The tech firms leading the AI race are major purchasers of and investors in clean energy, and many of these companies have also made substantial investments in nuclear power.

Using natural gas, coal, or oil to power the way to an AI future will not be the inevitable result of the physics, chemistry, or economics of electricity generation so much as a decision driven by politics and profit. AI proponents and energy companies “have an incentive to argue there’s going to be explosive demand,” Koomey told me. Tech firms benefit from the perception that they are building something so awe-inspiring and expensive that they need every possible source of energy they can get. Any federal blessing for data-center construction, as Trump granted Stargate, is a boon to production. Meanwhile, oil and gas companies want to sell more energy; utilities earn higher profits the more they spend on infrastructure; and the Republican Party, Trump included, has a pretense to satisfy demand to ramp up fossil-fuel production.

Of course, AI needn’t precipitate a national energy shortage to add to a different crisis. Microsoft and Google, despite promising to significantly reduce and offset their carbon footprints, both emit more greenhouse gases across their operations than they did a few years ago. Google’s emissions grew 48 percent from 2019 to 2023, the most recent year for which there is public data, and Microsoft’s are up 29 percent since 2020, an increase driven substantially by data centers. These companies want more power, and the fossil-fuel industry wants to supply it. While AI’s energy needs remain uncertain, the environmental damages of fossil-fuel extraction do not.

THE SPEED OF THE CRUELTY has been stunning.

In a matter of a few weeks, the Trump administration, led by Elon Musk, has decimated America’s main provider of global humanitarian aid, the U.S. Agency for International Development.

Founded in 1961, USAID has, until now, worked in more than 100 countries, promoting global health, fighting epidemics and starvation, providing treatment for people with HIV/AIDS, educating children and combatting child sex trafficking, resettling refugees and supplying shelter to displaced people across the globe, and supporting programs in maternal and child health and anti-corruption work.

USAID accounts for less than 1 percent of the federal budget. With those funds, it has been responsible for building field hospitals in war-ravaged Syria and removing land mines in Cambodia, funding vaccination programs in Nigeria and access to food, water, electricity, and basic health care for millions of people in eastern Congo. It contained a major outbreak of Ebola a decade ago and prevented massive famine in southern Africa in the 1990s. More than 3 million lives are saved every year through USAID immunization programs.

[Read: America can’t just unpause USAID]

People who have worked in international development for decades will tell you that there is not a single area of development and humanitarian assistance USAID has not been involved in.

On the day of his second inauguration, Donald Trump instituted a 90-day freeze on foreign assistance. Almost all USAID contractors and staff have since been fired or put on administrative leave, the website taken down and signage removed from its headquarters in Washington, D.C. On Friday, a federal judge issued a temporary restraining order, enjoining the administration from placing 2,200 USAID employees on leave, but the chaos has already generated a global humanitarian crisis.

Many small organizations that relied on USAID have shut down; even the largest ones have been severely weakened. One survey reports that about a quarter of nonprofits said they might last a month; more than half said they had enough reserves to survive for three months at most.

The New York Times reports that funding for treatment for infants born in Uganda with HIV has been stopped, while in South Africa, researchers were forced to end an HIV-prevention trial, leaving women with experimental implants inside their bodies and without ongoing medical oversight. A cholera-treatment trial has been abandoned in Bangladesh. Patients have been told to leave refugee hospitals in Thailand. Soup kitchens that feed hundreds of thousands of people in Sudan have been closed.

As Mitchell Warren, the executive director of the HIV-prevention organization AVAC, told the Times’ Apoorva Mandavilli, “You’ve gotten rid of all of the staff, all of the institutional memory, all of the trust and confidence, not only in the United States but in the dozens of countries in which U.S.A.I.D. works. Those things have taken decades to build up but two weeks to destroy.”

A humanitarian worker in Sudan told The Washington Post that their organization received a stop-work order for grants covering hundreds of millions of dollars. “It means that over 8 million people in extreme levels of hunger could die of starvation,” said the aid worker. “What’s next? What do we do?”

IT WAS NOT ENOUGH for Trump and Musk, the head of the so-called Department of Government Efficiency, to unleash mass suffering and death with the stroke of a pen. They had to slander USAID and spread lies about the agency in the process.

Musk has called USAID “evil” and a “criminal organization.” It is, according to Musk, “a viper’s nest of radical-left marxists who hate America.” The agency, Musk added, isn’t “an apple with a worm in it” but “a ball of worms.”

“Time for it to die,” Musk posted on X.

[Read: Paranoia is winning]

For his part, Trump said USAID is a “tremendous fraud” and claimed that the people in the agency “turned out to be radical left lunatics.”

In order to promote this calumny, Trump, Musk, and their acolytes have unleashed an avalanche of falsehoods and disinformation. Not that USAID should be above criticism: As the New York Times columnist Nicholas Kristoff has argued, it can be overreliant on contractors, endlessly bureaucratic, and prone to paying consultants with money that could be better used elsewhere. But none of that matches up with the way Musk and Trump have described it. And authoritarian leaders from around the world are now celebrating the destruction of one of the most important humanitarian organizations in the world.

“Power is in tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing,” George Orwell wrote in 1984.

Six years ago, my colleague Adam Serwer wrote of Trump and his movement that “the cruelty is the point.” That has never been more clear than in the president’s decision to demolish USAID. The cost savings will be minimal; the carnage will be massive. And all of the agony that will be unleashed by this decision—the cries of pain that Trump will never hear, the tears of grief Musk will never see—is not accidental. It was done with malice. This is what Trump and MAGA represent, what lies at their moral core. To be silent in the face of this is to be complicit in what they are doing.

FOR THE PAST six years, Anne Linn has worked for the President’s Malaria Initiative, another U.S. program. But she lost her job earlier this month because of Trump and Musk’s actions. Her contract with PMI was canceled.

She’s proud of her work, and proud of the fact that in the 30 countries where PMI has been operating, the malaria mortality rate has been reduced by half since President George W. Bush launched the initiative, in 2006. (Malaria still kills more than half a million people each year, about three-quarters of whom are children under 5.)

Linn is aware that foreign assistance improves America’s image in the world and helps economies prosper. But that’s not why she’s doing what she’s doing.

“As a Christian,” Linn wrote in the Bozeman Daily Chronicle, “I was compelled by the Gospel, the words of Jesus, to use my life to try to diminish suffering for the world’s most vulnerable.”

She was doing that until Trump and Musk set their sights on USAID. Now, she wrote, “children, children of God, will die unnecessarily.”

In an interview with Time, Linn put it this way: “I’m here to do what I can, to be the hands and feet of God in this world. Like, what can I do to alleviate the suffering of others, of my neighbors?”

She’s worried that their suffering will increase because bed nets used to protect people from malaria are still in the warehouse and the people contracted to deliver them have a stop-work order. She spoke of her fears for the pregnant mothers and the children under 5, whom malaria can kill. “Who can read the words of Jesus Christ and think this is okay?” she asked. “That is baffling to me. If we say that we are pro-life, we cannot be okay with this.”

Linn’s question—Who can read the words of Jesus Christ and think this is okay?—haunts me and many others like me. No group is more responsible for the reign of Trump than white evangelicals. In 2024, for the third time, they voted in overwhelming numbers for Trump. Most white evangelicals will not, under any circumstances, break with him. They are beholden to him.

[Read: Trump’s assault on USAID makes Project 2025 look like child’s play]

They read the same words of Jesus as Linn does, but whereas those words have led her to relieve suffering for the world’s most vulnerable, many white evangelicals have ended up in a different place. They are in lockstep with a man who is taking delight in destroying an agency whose decimation will dramatically increase suffering for the world’s most vulnerable.

It is a remarkable thing to witness. There are tens of millions of men and women who are regular churchgoers, who attend Bible studies and Sunday-school classes and listen to Christian worship music, and who would raise a ruckus if anyone in Church leadership interpreted the Bible in a way that deviated even slightly from their doctrine on any number of issues.

And yet, many of these same people insist that their faith commitments have led them to support a president for whom the cruelty is the point. As a result, there is, somewhere in Kenya right now, a mother of three asking, “If I die, who will take care of my children?” Donald Trump and Elon Musk don’t care. It turns out that millions and millions of people who claim to be followers of Jesus don’t, either.

Sam Altman and Elon Musk are trading barbs about OpenAI again — this time after Musk’s reported offer to buy the artificial intelligence startup’s assets for $97.4 billion.

Read more...

The Trump administration has set its sights on basic science. Last week, the National Science Foundation revealed plans to lay off between a quarter and half of its staff, and the National Institutes of Health announced that it would drastically reduce grants to university research programs. Meanwhile, Donald Trump has nominated the longtime NIH critic Robert F. Kennedy Jr. to run the Department of Health and Human Services, the agency that oversees NIH funding, and the president’s initial budget request will reportedly ask Congress to slash the NSF’s budget by as much as 66 percent.

The cuts are being justified in terms of efficiency. The change at NIH will cap payments for administrative support—known as indirect costs, or “overhead”—at 15 percent of direct funding. (Last night, a federal judge temporarily blocked the NIH policy from going into effect—but only in the 22 states that sued to stop it.) The administration claims that this will save the government more than $4 billion a year. Elon Musk, whose Department of Government Efficiency has been empowered by executive order to “maximize governmental efficiency and productivity,” has already taken a victory lap. “Can you believe that universities with tens of billions in endowments were siphoning off 60% of research award money for ‘overhead’?” he wrote on X. “What a ripoff!”

Let’s set aside the arguments about the constitutionality or wisdom of turning Musk loose on the federal bureaucracy. With its attack on research, DOGE is failing on its own terms. Cutting basic science funding violates its mandate to make government more efficient. If they survive legal challenges, the moves might save money in the short run, but in the years and decades to come, they will cost taxpayers dearly by slowing down innovation and making America’s future less prosperous.

[Ian Bogost: The chaos in higher ed is only getting started]

Many breakthrough technologies began as highly speculative, taxpayer-funded projects with no immediate practical value. The first computers were connected in 1969 through ARPANET, a Department of Defense–funded communication network. ARPANET’s narrow purpose at the time was to facilitate the sharing of costly computing resources across project sites. In the 1980s, the NSF funded an expansion of the ARPANET concept to more than a dozen universities and, eventually, a nationwide network of supercomputing centers. This became the backbone of the modern internet when it was opened up to commercial activity in the 1990s.

The practical value of a connected computer network did not become apparent until decades after the early ideas were funded. If DOGE had been around in the 1980s, cuts in the name of “efficiency” might have prevented or greatly delayed the development of one of the most important technologies in human history. Similarly, an NSF-funded project on the chopping block today might be on track to unlock future breakthroughs in clean energy or artificial intelligence.

In medicine, too, government funding of abstract, seemingly useless research can lay the groundwork for transformative discoveries. To take just one recent example, the development of Ozempic and other GLP-1 weight-loss drugs originated in NIH-funded research into reptiles. In the early 1980s, Jean-Pierre Raufman, a scientist doing postdoctoral research at NIH, discovered that Gila-monster venom stimulated cell growth in the pancreas, the organ that synthesizes insulin. A few years later, Raufman and John Eng, an endocrinologist at a Veterans Affairs hospital, discovered that the venom contained a peptide that stimulates insulin production for much longer than the natural GLP-1 produced by the human body. Eng patented the peptide and licensed the patent to Amylin Pharmaceuticals, which developed it as a diabetes treatment with NIH support. Twenty years later, pharmaceutical companies realized the drug’s revolutionary potential for weight loss.

Scientific discovery is unpredictable and haphazard, with many surprises and dead ends. You can imagine a member of Congress in the 1980s denouncing the NIH’s wasteful spending on useless studies of Gila-monster venom. But Musk and his Silicon Valley allies should know better. Like scientific research, venture capital is built on funding lots of ideas that go nowhere. Most venture-capital investments fail, but the small number of wild successes makes the whole enterprise worthwhile. These successes are hard to predict because they can arise from seemingly outlandish new ideas, such as a virtual yearbook for college students.

The public has a right to demand that its tax dollars are spent wisely. One good measure of the efficiency of government spending is whether it beats the alternative: returning the money to citizens as a tax cut.

Funding for basic research is efficient by this very strict definition. Multiple studies have concluded  that $1 spent on research typically returns several dollars of value to society through increases in private-sector innovation. Nearly one-third of NIH grants over a 27-year period led to the publication of research that was eventually cited in commercial patent applications, and one in 10 NIH grants was cited in a patent directly. One cleverly designed study estimated that an additional $10 million of NIH funding generates about $23 million in sales of newly patented drugs. And a working paper posted a few weeks ago found that major NSF investment in science and engineering infrastructure at non-elite research universities increased the annual patenting rate in the surrounding local economy by 18 to 32 percent. The overall picture is very consistent: Government funding of basic science research generates very large social returns, even when we can’t accurately predict the good ideas ahead of time.

[Ian Bogost: A new kind of crisis for American universities]

This makes indiscriminate cuts harmful and inefficient. Consider the NIH’s proposal to limit university research funding. Government research grants provide funding for both direct costs—meaning personnel and material support, such as lab equipment, for specific projects—and indirect costs, which it calculates as a percentage of the direct costs. Indirect costs fund the infrastructure that makes projects possible, including lab facilities, heat and electricity, finance and administration, data privacy, and compliance with regulations. In announcing the new policy, the NIH said that the average indirect grant in recent years was about 27 to 28 percent of direct funding.

The Trump administration argues that a 15 percent cap on indirect costs is reasonable because that is the rate typically paid by private foundations. But private-foundation grants can be so low only because of the existence of larger government grants that support basic research infrastructure. Lowering the NIH rate to 15 percent will force universities to spend much more of their own money to support basic research. Even if rich private schools like Harvard, where I teach, can take the hit, most NIH funds go to cash-strapped public universities without big endowments. If government funding goes away, so will much of the research. The long-run cost will be staggering. We’ll have fewer medical breakthroughs, the progress of lifesaving medical treatments will stall, and America may fall behind in its efforts to train the next generation of great scientists and engineers.

There are many ways to make government funding of scientific research more efficient. The nonpartisan Institute for Progress commissioned a series of papers about how to improve NIH funding, including speeding up grant review, funding riskier but higher-upside research, and smoothing the path to commercialization. One could even lower NIH spending by creating categories of grants with different indirect rates that depend on the scale and scope of the project. Doctoral-training grants, for example, might not really justify high overhead costs. But the biggest, most ambitious projects require substantial investments of energy and space that a 15 percent rate will not begin to cover. DOGE should focus on these and other reforms, rather than confusing efficiency with ill-conceived budget cuts that will make us sicker, poorer, and less innovative in the years to come.