What Did Donald Trump Do Today?
March 20, 2025 Recap
President Trump’s executive order, Improving Education Outcomes by Empowering Parents, States, and Communities, is a sweeping ideological statement that proposes dismantling the U.S. Department of Education under the guise of restoring power to parents and local communities. While framed as a move toward educational empowerment and decentralization, the order reads more like a politically charged manifesto than a practical or legally viable policy. It opens with a revisionist critique of the Department’s creation, attributing its existence solely to partisan politics and union influence while ignoring the broader bipartisan efforts that shaped national education policy in the late 20th century.
The order hinges on the assertion that federal involvement in education has failed, citing poor standardized test scores and the Department’s bureaucracy as proof. However, this oversimplifies the systemic and deeply rooted issues contributing to educational challenges in the U.S., such as poverty, funding inequities, and the lingering effects of the COVID-19 pandemic. By blaming a single federal agency for the nation’s complex education problems, the order offers a reductive diagnosis without a coherent or actionable solution.
The most radical element is the call to close the Department of Education entirely—a proposal that is not only unprecedented but also logistically and legally dubious. Suggesting that the department’s core responsibilities, including managing a $1.6 trillion student loan portfolio, can simply be reassigned or absorbed by states or other entities reveals a troubling lack of understanding about the federal government’s administrative infrastructure. Furthermore, the order includes pointed attacks on “diversity, equity, and inclusion” initiatives and what it refers to as “gender ideology,” indicating that this directive is as much about enforcing a culture war agenda as it is about education reform.
Despite its bold tone, the order’s legal language ultimately tempers its impact. It acknowledges that all actions must be consistent with existing law and subject to the availability of appropriations, signaling that many of its directives are aspirational at best. In reality, the dissolution of a Cabinet-level agency would require congressional approval—a hurdle this order cannot overcome alone.
This executive order represents an extreme and symbolic gesture rather than a substantive or implementable policy. It politicizes education through ideological language, proposes infeasible structural changes without adequate justification or planning, and weaponizes executive power to advance a narrow sociopolitical agenda. Rather than addressing the root causes of educational decline, it undermines the very systems designed to support students and families across the country.
President Trump’s remarks preceding the signing of an executive order to eliminate the Department of Education were emblematic of his typical rhetorical style—rambling, self-congratulatory, and heavy on political theater, yet light on substantive policy detail. The speech opened with references to unrelated foreign policy matters, including rare earth mineral deals with Ukraine and calls with Presidents Zelenskyy and Putin, which seemed oddly placed in a domestic education announcement. This set the tone for a speech that frequently veered off-topic, with Trump shifting between praising Republican allies in the audience and listing statistics about educational shortcomings without offering a cohesive plan for reform.
At the core of his message, Trump declared the Department of Education a failed experiment, arguing that education should return entirely to the states. He cited poor national test scores and high per-pupil spending as proof that the federal government’s involvement has been detrimental. However, this is a gross oversimplification. Trump ignored the complex socioeconomic factors that contribute to educational disparities and offered no acknowledgment of the states' existing control over public education. His criticism failed to account for the Department’s crucial roles in civil rights enforcement, special education funding, and federal student aid—responsibilities he briefly mentioned would be preserved, though without explaining how or through what agencies.
The speech leaned heavily on anecdotal approval and nostalgic anti-government sentiment, claiming that “everyone” agrees with the decision, including Democrats, though he provided no evidence for bipartisan support. Trump framed the move as both "popular" and "common sense" while declaring it long overdue. Yet, he offered no clear policy roadmap for how the transition would work, how federal protections for vulnerable students would be maintained, or how educational equity would be safeguarded across all 50 states. The repeated comparison to countries like Denmark and Sweden, often held up as education success stories, rang hollow given the lack of any actual plan to emulate their strategies.
Adding to the contradictions, Trump expressed admiration for teachers, calling them some of the most important people in the country, and promised they would be “taken care of”—but again, failed to outline how. He alluded to merit-based pay and said the states would handle support systems, but without the infrastructure of the federal Department, it’s unclear how states with fewer resources or weaker governance structures will manage these responsibilities. The promise of better outcomes at half the cost felt more like a campaign slogan than a viable policy.
Ultimately, the remarks seemed less focused on improving education and more aligned with Trump’s broader ideological goal of dismantling federal agencies and reducing the size of government. The event itself felt more like a rally than a presidential policy announcement, filled with applause breaks, name-dropping of allies, and even a superstitious comment about reusing a “lucky pen.” While Trump portrayed the elimination of the Department of Education as a long-awaited correction, the absence of a transition framework, the lack of stakeholder input, and the sweeping generalizations about student performance suggest the move is driven more by political symbolism than a serious attempt at education reform.
President Trump issued an executive order on Domestic Mineral Production in a sweeping, high-stakes directive that frames U.S. mineral independence as a matter of urgent national security. It paints a stark picture of economic vulnerability stemming from decades of federal overregulation and foreign dependency—particularly on “hostile” powers—for critical mineral resources. In response, the order mobilizes nearly every relevant agency to accelerate domestic mining, processing, and refining operations rapidly. It centralizes oversight under the newly empowered National Energy Dominance Council (NEDC) and delegates broad authority to the Department of Defense and other executive entities, aiming to fast-track project approvals, open up federal lands, and redirect capital flows to revitalize a domestic supply chain.
While the order’s strategic focus on mineral security is warranted—given the role these resources play in defense, infrastructure, and emerging technologies—it aggressively sidelines environmental protections, public input, and regulatory review. The language throughout emphasizes urgency, but in doing so, it waives key oversight mechanisms and strips transparency requirements from financing processes. Delegations of power under the Defense Production Act (DPA) are expansive and vaguely defined, leaving room for discretion and potential misuse. The decision to revive the 19th-century Mining Act as a policy anchor rather than reform it further signals a preference for extractive deregulation over modern environmental and indigenous considerations.
The order’s strong interagency coordination and capital mobilization mechanisms represent one of its few structural strengths. It assigns roles to the SBA, Export-Import Bank, and the Development Finance Corporation to support private enterprises in mineral ventures, including small businesses. However, financial transparency is compromised by exemptions from disclosure rules, and its emphasis on “favorable terms and conditions” opens the door to insider dealings or corporate favoritism. Moreover, while the order claims to support technological advancement, it fails to consider non-extractive strategies like mineral recycling, substitution, or circular economy principles—signaling a narrow, industrial-era vision of energy dominance.
Politically, the order functions as both policy and performance. It channels Trump’s America First ethos into a high-impact sector, using the declared National Energy Emergency as justification for executive overreach. It places a premium on speed and sovereignty, characterizing environmental regulations and permitting processes as threats rather than safeguards. This executive order identifies real vulnerabilities in America’s mineral supply chain. Still, it offers an overzealous and under-accountable response that sacrifices long-term sustainability, democratic oversight, and ecological balance in the name of short-term control and economic nationalism.
President Trump’s executive order, “Eliminating Waste and Saving Taxpayer Dollars by Consolidating Procurement,” claims to streamline federal spending by consolidating procurement of common goods and services under the General Services Administration (GSA). However, the order reflects a troubling combination of executive overreach, bureaucratic naïveté, and political posturing. Beneath the surface-level appeal of "efficiency" and "waste elimination" lies a deeply flawed approach prioritizing optics over substance and centralization over competence.
The core premise of the order—that centralized procurement will inherently reduce duplication and save money—is overly simplistic and ignores the realities of agency-specific needs and operational complexity. Federal departments do not operate with interchangeable mandates; attempting to funnel their procurement processes through a single administrative body, regardless of their missions, is not modernization—it’s forced homogenization. While historically tasked with procurement functions, the GSA is not equipped to become a universal provider for the vast, diverse, and often highly specialized needs of every federal agency. This move risks stripping agencies of the agility they require to adapt quickly to emerging challenges and undermines their operational autonomy.
Moreover, the timeline dictated by the order is unrealistic to the point of irresponsibility. Expecting comprehensive agency proposals within 60 days and a full GSA implementation plan within 90 days is emblematic of the Trump administration’s frequent disregard for institutional processes. Federal contracting is a legally intricate and operationally layered endeavor. These timelines suggest a top-down mandate unconcerned with practical execution or stakeholder input. Worse, the order empowers the Office of Management and Budget and the GSA to make sweeping decisions without meaningful interagency collaboration, further marginalizing the expertise of procurement officials who understand the risks and nuances of their contracts.
Equally hypocritical is the decision to exempt the Executive Office of the President from the consolidation effort it imposes on others. If the objective is truly to eliminate waste and standardize procurement, excluding the White House from scrutiny undermines the initiative's credibility and integrity. It sends a clear message: accountability is for everyone else. This double standard reveals the political nature of the order, which seems more focused on creating the appearance of fiscal responsibility than implementing it equitably.
Perhaps most concerning is the quiet power grab embedded in the IT procurement provisions. By naming the GSA the executive agent for all government-wide acquisition contracts related to information technology, the order consolidates immense control over digital infrastructure in a single executive-aligned agency. This centralization of IT purchasing authority raises red flags about security, politicization, and the stifling of innovation. With minimal guardrails and vague language about deferrals and rationalization, the door is wide open for arbitrary or partisan decision-making in an area as critical as federal technology systems.
In its final section, the order attempts to inoculate itself from legal challenge by asserting it creates no enforceable rights and must adhere to existing law. This boilerplate language cannot mask the broader intention: to bypass deliberative policy development in favor of a rapid, unilateral reorganization of government operations. Rather than enhancing procurement efficiency, this executive order reflects the Trump administration’s broader pattern of centralized control, disdain for institutional norms, and preference for hollow administrative theatrics over meaningful reform.
The order is less about saving taxpayer dollars and more about expanding executive control under the guise of efficiency. It weaponizes bureaucracy to consolidate power while exempting the very office that issued it.
Federal Judge James Boasberg sharply criticized the Trump administration for failing to adequately respond to his court orders regarding deportation flights involving alleged Venezuelan gang members. Despite a restraining order to halt the flights, the government continued them and offered a minimal explanation—submitting a short, repetitive declaration from a regional ICE official. Boasberg rejected this as "woefully insufficient" and noted that the official had no authority to speak on Cabinet-level decisions.
The judge had requested detailed information about the deportation flights or a formal invocation of the state secrets privilege, which the government says it's still considering. Boasberg extended the deadline, requiring further explanation by 10 a.m. Friday, and a final decision by March 25.
Meanwhile, the Department of Justice accused the court of overreach, and Trump escalated the conflict by calling Boasberg a “lunatic” and suggesting his impeachment.
A federal judge has temporarily blocked Elon Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) from accessing Social Security Administration (SSA) systems that contain sensitive personal data, calling their investigation a “fishing expedition” with little justification. U.S. District Judge Ellen Hollander, based in Maryland, issued the order, also requiring DOGE to delete any personally identifiable information (PII) currently in its possession. While the ruling prohibits access to unredacted data, it still allows DOGE staff to work with redacted or anonymized information, provided they undergo proper training and background checks.
DOGE, created under the Trump administration and led in vision by Musk, has targeted Social Security as a source of alleged fraud and waste, which Musk has publicly referred to as a “Ponzi scheme.” The administration defends DOGE’s efforts as necessary cost-cutting measures. However, the judge’s ruling came in response to a lawsuit filed by labor unions, retirees, and the advocacy group Democracy Forward, who argue that DOGE’s access violates federal privacy laws and endangers data security. A former SSA official testified that the DOGE team swept into the agency shortly after Trump’s inauguration and demanded unusually quick and expansive access to restricted data systems—actions she described as reckless and based on misunderstandings.
Government attorneys argue that the DOGE staffers, all federal employees, were granted read-only access and operated within legal parameters. They also claim such access is not unusual for internal investigations. However, the plaintiffs maintain that the scale and nature of DOGE’s access is unprecedented. Judge Hollander emphasized that while rooting out waste and fraud is a legitimate goal, it cannot justify bypassing established legal protections.
The court’s decision has been celebrated by critics of DOGE. Lee Saunders, president of the American Federation of State, County, and Municipal Employees, called the ruling a major win for workers and retirees. Skye Perryman of Democracy Forward praised the judge for recognizing the dangers posed by DOGE’s actions. This ruling adds to growing legal challenges facing DOGE, which is involved in nearly two dozen lawsuits. Just days earlier, another Maryland judge ruled that DOGE’s dismantling of the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID) was likely unconstitutional. While previous judges have raised concerns about DOGE’s sweeping actions, Hollander’s decision is among the clearest rebukes, signaling increasing judicial scrutiny of the Musk-led initiative.
The Department of Justice’s recent decision to rescind 11 pieces of Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) compliance guidance marks a troubling rollback of protections for the disability community under the guise of bureaucratic efficiency. Framing the move as an effort to reduce “unnecessary” red tape, the DOJ claims this will streamline processes and cut costs for businesses and consumers. However, this rationale appears to prioritize corporate convenience over civil rights enforcement.
Among the rescinded guidance were policies directly tied to COVID-19 accommodations—such as mask exemptions, hospital aide access, and ADA compliance for outdoor dining—and longstanding accessibility standards in retail, lodging, customer service, and fuel stations. The decision to discard these resources undermines the everyday realities faced by people with disabilities, who continue to encounter physical and systemic barriers in public life.
Although the DOJ points to tax incentives as a tool for easing compliance costs, removing clear and practical guidance strips businesses of the resources they need to navigate ADA obligations. The notion that pulling support documents somehow benefits the public by boosting the economy is a false equivalence that places short-term profit above equity and inclusion.
Disability rights advocates have swiftly and pointedly criticized the ADA. Maria Town, president of the American Association of People with Disabilities, emphasized that despite the ADA's nearly 35-year age, its principles are far from fully realized in practice. Mayor Neil McDevitt went further, accusing the Trump-aligned DOJ of dismantling civil rights enforcement under the radar without legislative repeal—an accusation that, if accurate, reveals a deeper political agenda to hollow out disability protections without accountability.
Ultimately, this move appears less about regulatory reform and more about sidelining vulnerable communities under the pretext of economic relief. By eliminating tools that help ensure ADA compliance, the DOJ risks sending a message that accessibility is optional.
I agree with you. There have been a series of "consolidations" since January 20th that have effectively slid past the radar of front page reporting. This is no longer just a "slippery slope." We're in a total free fall into fascism.
The consolidation of agency procurement processes through the already badly compromised GSA is so wrongheaded as to venture on lunacy were it not for my paranoid suspicion that there is coldly calculated method behind the madness. This is the federal government we're talking about, not a pop.15,000 small town which could get by with one accountant sitting at a desk in the corner. I feel something very very sinister is going on; not content with damaging our government, they seek to wreck it. But why?