What is DOGE really doing—and why is it so controversial? The answer lies in an esoteric if straightforward concept that began in the world of budgeting: Zero-basing.
As a general rule, most organizations, businesses, agencies, and even households building budgets start by asking themselves a simple question: What did we spend last year? To answer, they compile a list of expense categories and the amounts spent in each one. Next, they look ahead to the coming year to see which categories will require a bump up and where they can cut. Finally, they look at projected revenues to see whether they can expect to cover planned spending.
In such a process, last year’s budget serves as the “baseline” for this year’s budget.
That’s a perfectly reasonable approach if the goal is performance more-or-less on par with last year’s. An entity displeased with past performance and contemplating major reforms must take a radically different approach.
“Zero-Based Budgeting” rejects using last year’s budget as a baseline. Instead, it sets the baseline for each category at zero. It then considers each contemplated expenditure, one at a time, and asks whether current circumstances can justify it or require it. If so, it gets added to the budget. If not, it’s rejected.
Though zero-basing may have begun in the world of budgeting, it’s a powerful concept that can be applied quite broadly. I’ve long advocated its deployment in regulatory reform, and I’ve used it in my day job to revamp college admissions processes.
Stripped to its essentials, zero-based reforms reject inertia and incumbency as reasons for doing anything. They begin assuming nothing, review everything from first principles, and retain only that which is justifiable given current circumstances.
President Trump assumed office believing that the performance of the Executive Branch—not just last year, but for decades—has been entirely unacceptable. A majority of Americans agree with that assessment. Under such circumstances, preserving existing structures as a baseline would have been deeply foolish—not to mention counterproductive and destructive.
He thus called upon Elon Musk and his team at DOGE to zero base the entire government. That’s exactly what DOGE has been doing.
Consider, for example, a pair of messages that started with an announcement on X: “Consistent with President @realDonaldTrump’s instructions, all federal employees will shortly receive an email requesting to understand what they got done last week. Failure to respond will be taken as a resignation.” The promised email requested approximately five bullet points describing the employee’s accomplishments.
This request raised a furor. Why? Because it inverted the “normal” order.
Under normal circumstances, new management inherits a workforce, then makes decisions about who to retain and who to cut. Even if management suspects that payrolls have been padded with phantom employees and kickbacks, they typically leave things in place until they can identify the improprieties. If you’re on payroll, you’re assumed to be earning your keep until someone proves otherwise.
In other words, the status quo defines the baseline.
Musk’s message went wisely in the opposite direction. It reset the federal workforce to zero and shifted the burden of proving value. The “proof” required was negligible—but noticeably greater than the zero to which federal employees had grown accustomed.
Anyone receiving the e-mail message—in effect, anyone claiming to be a federal employee—was given a minimal but real challenge: Reply with an e-mail stating “I exist, I read e-mail from my employer, and at least in my own opinion, I confer value in exchange for my paycheck.”
Hardly a high standard, but enough to infuriate those who believe that the status quo must be maintained at all costs independent of the acceptability of past performance.
Even a quick glimpse at DOGE’s other moves highlights their consistency, appropriateness, and brilliance—with parallels emerging throughout the Trump Administration:
First, announce the termination or planned demise of an agency—say, USAID or the Department of Education. That resets its baseline to zero and shifts the burden to those claiming that said agency confers value in excess of cost upon the American people.
Next, let those who wish to preserve the program make their case: Justify the continuation of this expense given current circumstances. Past importance is irrelevant. Perhaps this program, when first introduced, solved a pressing problem. So what? Why do we need it in 2025?
In most cases, the burden of proving value should be higher than the one Musk set for employee maintenance—but still something that reasonable people making a reasonable case can meet. Activities capable of clearing that hurdle will be preserved; even if the agency housing them is eliminated, they can be relocated to one of the many agencies that will prove their worth.
The beauty of this approach is that it achieves two great results simultaneously:
One, it maximizes the chances of eliminating deadweight bloat and outright fraud by cutting as a default, then adding back only what can be justified.
Two, it aligns incentives appropriately by making the people best positioned to justify each governmental activity responsible for providing the justifications.
That’s what it means to zero-base a federal government returning far too little on the taxpayer dollar.
That’s precisely what DOGE is doing.
It’s far beyond time.
Bruce Abramson is a senior administrator at New College of Florida and a Fellow of the Coalition for America. His books include The New Civil War (RealClearPublishing, 2021) and most recently, American Spirit or Great Awokening? (Academica Press, 2024).
