After a decade of silence, Elon Musk’s tunneling startup and its reclusive president are entering the media circuit

In late November, Steve Davis, president of Elon Musk’s $5.6 billion tunneling startup The Boring Company, took part in a livestream discussion with a former news broadcaster to talk about the tunnel project the company is seeking to launch in Nashville.

What made the subsequent 90-minute discussion notable was not any specific content from Davis, but simply the fact that he was speaking at all. Like other Musk ventures, The Boring Co. prides itself on avoiding mainstream media—dismissing journalist inquiries and lacking even a public relations team. Davis, a close ally and long-time associate of Musk, is known for shying away from speaking engagements and rarely appears in public.

Yet here he was, sitting for a live conversation with a former TV reporter; weeks later, Davis personally guided a Las Vegas Review Journal reporter on a rare tour of the tunnels The Boring Co. is building beneath the city; in January, he also rode in a [vehicle] with a YouTuber, eagerly pointing out points of interest as they traveled through the completed section of the tunnel known as the Las Vegas Loop.

Davis’ sudden eagerness for media engagement, after a decade of silence, is as puzzling as it is unexpected.

“We’re not transparent enough, so we’re glad that you’re here,” Davis [told] the Las Vegas reporter during the tunnel tour this month.

The timing may not be coincidental. As [Publication] first reported, The Boring Co. was [criticized] for dumping wastewater into Las Vegas manholes, and an [investigation] into firefighters sustaining burns in its tunnels led a member of Congress to [call on] Nevada’s governor for greater transparency. In Nashville, where The Boring Company plans its next project, a [city] Council member has tried to [oppose] the Loop project—widely supported by her peers—while a group calling itself the “Big Dumb Hole Coalition” has [pledged] to resist the initiative.

But for close observers of Musk’s business ecosystem, The Boring Co.’s shift in tactics raises a larger question about the mindset driving one of the world’s most powerful and disruptive corporate groups: Is this media push a temporary concession for damage control, or a deeper acknowledgment of the limits of Musk’s “go direct” strategy?

‘Can’t hide forever’

While no less ambitious than Musk’s Neuralink brain-chip startup or his [space] rocket company, The Boring Company—which aims to eventually build “hyperloop” tunnels where autonomous vehicles speed along at over 100 miles per hour—has advanced at a more incremental pace. Founded roughly a decade ago, it has only opened a 4-mile tunnel in Las Vegas, with human drivers chauffeuring tourists between two resorts and the Convention Center at 35 miles per hour. Potential projects in California, Illinois, Texas, Florida, and Maryland have all [fallen] out. —whether due to lost political momentum or failed environmental assessments.

“I think they’ve realized from setbacks on other projects that they need to be more proactive in their messaging,” says a former Boring Company employee, who spoke anonymously for fear of retaliation. (The embrace of media has its limits, though—Davis and The Boring Co. did not respond to [outlet]’s interview requests for this story.)

Ultimately, The Boring Co.’s projects are public transit initiatives, which are notoriously challenging as they require buy-in from diverse stakeholders: landowners, elected officials, technical experts, emergency responders, and—crucially—the city residents who will use the system. That demands public outreach.

The Boring Company launched a bimonthly blog in Nashville, where it intends to build a 25-mile tunnel network. Company representative Tyler Fairbanks recently addressed a Nevada State Board of Regents meeting to stress that safety is a top priority for the firm.

The primary face of this media charm offensive, however, is Davis, the mid-40s president of The Boring Co.

Though Davis rarely appears in public, he is deeply involved within Musk’s network of companies and pet projects. An early SpaceX engineer, Musk recruited Davis to help cut costs at X shortly after acquiring the platform in 2022. Last year, during Musk’s [involvement] with the White House, he also enlisted Davis to assist in running his Department of Government Efficiency.

Davis has shared little publicly about these roles. He gave a rare interview on [news outlet] with several members of the DOGE team last year, though he [downplayed] his role in the agency, stating only that he was “part of the DOGE team.” Over a decade ago, he spoke with Ashlee Vance for his biography Elon Musk, and his work at SpaceX (and his frozen yogurt shop, Mr. Yogato) were featured in a 2-minute Voice of America video in 2012.

Colleagues have described him as a hands-on manager—active in various text threads with Boring Company employees, personally making requests, and engaging with regulators and government officials about permitting delays—and have [noted] he can be tough and at times insensitive, as [Outlet] has previously reported.

As he makes more public appearances, people are gaining a clearer sense of his personality. While he is a somewhat awkward speaker, Davis was energetic, at ease, and enthusiastic during the tour with the Tesla podcaster. He lit up when discussing the “[plaza name]” in Bastrop, Texas—a workspace plaza for employees at The Boring Company’s R&D facility, where Davis says he eats lunch daily when on-site.

But while Davis’ efforts may make him and the company seem more approachable, the firm will need to deliver results for these public overtures to succeed, says Len Sherman, an adjunct professor at Columbia Business School. “They’ve made claims, and continue to claim they’re the new face of urban mobility,” Sherman says. “But I’ve seen nothing that even comes close to proving people should believe that.”

Even so, Sherman said he was glad to see The Boring Company increasing public engagement and hopes Davis will agree to speak with those who will ask tough questions.

“In the long run, they can’t hide forever,” Sherman says.