Once upon a time, Google stood proudly behind three deceptively simple words: Don’t be evil. It wasn’t just a slogan—it was a manifesto, a beacon for a new kind of corporate ethos in the tech world. But fast forward to the gleaming corridors of Alphabet Inc., and those three words are now buried in the footnotes, shoved to the margins of a bloated code of conduct, like an embarrassing relic of a youthful idealism that no longer fits the suit.
In 2015, Google’s restructuring into Alphabet was pitched as a bold evolution—a streamlined parent company managing the increasingly sprawling ambitions of its subsidiaries. But it also marked the beginning of a quiet but unmistakable moral erosion. When Alphabet swapped “Don’t be evil” for the milquetoast Do the right thing, it wasn’t just rebranding—it was a recalibration of conscience. “Don’t be evil” is a constraint. “Do the right thing” is an excuse.
The Soft Clay of Conscience
This semantic sleight of hand has given Alphabet the flexibility to redefine what the “right thing” means—conveniently aligning it with profit margins, shareholder value, and geopolitical interests. It’s a motto made of soft clay, pliable under the pressure of billion-dollar deals with authoritarian regimes, surveillance projects cloaked in euphemism, and algorithmic decisions that quietly deepen inequality and spread misinformation.
After all, what is “evil” in the eyes of a trillion-dollar empire? Is it collaborating with governments to build censored search engines? Is it laying off thousands of workers after record-breaking quarters? Is it helping to develop AI for military purposes while parading as ethical stewards of machine intelligence? Alphabet seems to think that as long as these decisions pass legal muster and bolster quarterly earnings, they must be doing the “right thing.”
When Ethics Are Optional
To frame this as a branding issue is to underestimate the damage. This is not about copywriting. This is about a systemic abdication of responsibility wrapped in a high-gloss user interface. Alphabet’s moral vanishing act sets a dangerous precedent: that ethics are aspirational at best, and disposable at worst.
The shift from a negative imperative (“Don’t be evil”) to a positive suggestion (“Do the right thing”) is more than linguistic—it’s philosophical. The former acknowledges that harm exists and must be actively avoided. The latter suggests a vague moral compass, one easily bent by quarterly projections and geopolitical expediency.
This isn’t a question of failing to live up to a motto. It’s about deliberately downgrading the motto to fit a more cynical reality.
The Algorithmic Abyss
We now live in a world where algorithms decide what we see, what we know, and increasingly, what we believe. And Alphabet is one of the primary architects of that world. Its algorithms are not neutral; they are engineered, fine-tuned, and optimized—not for truth, not for justice, but for engagement and ad revenue.
Even when confronted with the documented harms of YouTube’s recommendation engine—amplifying conspiracy theories, radicalization pipelines, and disinformation campaigns—the company has consistently failed to take meaningful action. Why? Because fixing it might cost too much. Because “doing the right thing” is expensive.
A Call for Moral Specificity
Let’s be clear: moral relativism isn’t innovation. Dressing up ambition as altruism doesn’t change the facts. The removal of “Don’t be evil” was not a minor edit; it was a moral downgrade, a signal that in Silicon Valley’s gleaming towers, ethics are negotiable and ideals are optional—especially when they’re inconvenient.
So here we are, living in the algorithmic shadow of a company that once aspired to be a force for good. Alphabet no longer promises not to be evil. Instead, it promises to do something — the “right” thing, as defined by its boardroom.
And if you’re not sure what that means, don’t worry. Neither are they.
