On inauguration day, he signed an executive order creating the Department of Government Efficiency — or DOGE — and placed Elon Musk in charge. Musk, a prominent Trump supporter, now had authority over government agencies, including those that regulate his own companies: Tesla, SpaceX, and Neuralink.
Watchdog groups flagged immediate ethical concerns. DOGE staff were reportedly using encrypted, auto-deleting apps like Signal to communicate — a potential violation of federal record-keeping laws. The agency was also granted sweeping oversight powers: auditing agency budgets, freezing credit card use, and reviewing contracts and grants. Notably, law enforcement, military, and immigration agencies — central to Trump’s political platform — were exempt from DOGE’s oversight.
“It wasn’t about efficiency — it was about control.”
Within weeks, Trump dismissed 17 Inspectors General — internal watchdogs tasked with keeping agencies accountable. One of them had reportedly been investigating a Musk-affiliated company. For critics, this wasn’t about streamlining government. It was about sidelining independent oversight and putting loyalists in charge.
Meanwhile, Trump’s business interests continued to benefit. Political events returned to Mar-a-Lago and Trump-branded resorts, generating millions in revenue. The federal government continued paying Trump properties for lodging when Secret Service agents traveled with him. He even hinted at reacquiring the lease to his former D.C. hotel — the same one that had become a hotspot for foreign lobbyists during his first term.
Abroad, Trump Organization projects re-emerged in Dubai, Saudi Arabia, and Oman. In one case, Trump floated the idea of redeveloping Gaza into a luxury resort — a proposal tied to Jared Kushner, who now leads a private equity firm funded by Gulf monarchies. The overlap between Trump’s foreign policy messaging and his family’s private business ventures raised new concerns about transactional diplomacy.
“Foreign policy is starting to look like a business plan.”
It’s this same pattern — blurring statecraft and self-interest — that makes Trump’s renewed talk about territorial ambitions feel less far-fetched than it once did. In recent months, Trump has once again teased ideas like taking control of Greenland, “partnering” with Canada on resource extraction, or reclaiming strategic oversight of the Panama Canal.
While these proposals might sound unrealistic on their face, the value to Trump lies less in execution and more in optics, leverage, and potential profit.
In Greenland, for example, Trump could pitch military expansion or resource mining as national security imperatives — then steer federal infrastructure projects toward allies or firms with Trump connections. The mere rumor of such development could spike interest in Trump-branded real estate or crypto tied to the initiative.
In the case of Canada, proposals to “streamline” North American energy or water pipelines under a Trump-led agreement could open the door for influence over cross-border projects — again, potentially enriching insiders under the guise of diplomacy.
The Panama Canal, long a symbol of U.S. global control, offers even more opportunity. Any attempt to regain influence — framed as “securing trade routes” — could be used to justify massive government spending, security contracting, and international negotiations.