November 25, 2024

NY Times Should Report on NY Times Ad Malware

Yesterday morning, while reading the New York Times online, I was confronted with an attempted security attack, apparently delivered through an advertisement. A window popped up, mimicking an antivirus scanner. After “scanning” my computer, it reported finding viruses and invited me to download a free antivirus scanner. The displays implied, without quite saying so, that the messages came from my antivirus vendor and that the download would come from there too. Knowing how these things work, I recognized it right away as an attack, probably carried by an ad. So I didn’t click on anything, and I’m fairly certain my computer wasn’t infected.

I wasn’t the only person who saw this attack. The Times posted a brief note on its site yesterday, and followed up today with a longer blog post.

What is interesting about the Times’s response is that it consists of security warnings, rather than journalism. Security warnings are good as far as they go; the Times owed that much to its users, at least. But it’s also newsworthy that a major, respected news site was facilitating cybercrime, even unintentionally. Somebody should report on this story — and who better than the Times itself?

It’s probably an interesting story, involving the ugly underside of the online ad business. Most likely, ad space in the Times was sold and, presumably, resold to an actual attacker; or a legitimate ad placement service was penetrated. Either way, other people are at risk of the same attack. Even better, the story opens issues such as the difficulties of securing the web, what vendors are doing to improve matters, what the bad buys are trying to achieve, and what happens to the victims.

An enterprising technology reporter might find a fascinating story here — and it’s right under the noses of the Times staff. Let’s hope they jump on it.

UPDATE (Sept. 15): As Barry points out in the comments below, the Times wrote a good article the day after this post appeared. It turns out that the booby-trapped ad was not sold through an ad network, as one might have expected. Instead, the ad space was sold directly by the Times, to a party who was pretending to be Vonage. The perpetrators ran Vonage ads for a while, then switched over to serving the malicious ads.

Consolidation in E-Voting Market: ES&S Buys Premier

Yesterday Diebold sold its e-voting division, known as Premier Election Systems, to ES&S, one of Premier’s competitors. The price was low: about $5 million.

ES&S is reportedly the largest e-voting company, and Premier was the second-largest, so the deal represents a substantial consolidation in the market. The odds of one major e-voting company breaking from the pack and embracing up-to-date security engineering are now even slimmer than before. Premier had seemed like the company most likely to change its ways.

The sale represents the end of an embarrassing era for Diebold. The company must have had high hopes when it first bought a small e-voting company, but the new Diebold e-voting division never approached the parent companies standards for security and product quality. Over time the small e-voting division became an embarrassment, and the parent company distanced itself by renaming the division from Diebold to Premier and publicizing the division’s independence. Now Diebold is finally rid of its e-voting division and can return to doing what it does relatively well.

Finding and Fixing Errors in Google's Book Catalog

There was a fascinating exchange about errors in Google’s book catalog over at the Language Log recently. We rarely see such an open and constructive discussion of errors in large data sets, so this is an unusual opportunity to learn about how errors arise and what can be done about them.

The exchange started with Geoffrey Nunberg pointing to many errors in the metadata associated with Google’s book search project. (Here “metadata” refers to the kind of information that would have been on a card in the card catalog of an traditional library: a book’s date of publication, subject classification, an so on.) Some of the errors are pretty amusing, including Dickens writing books before he was born, a Bob Dylan biography published in the nineteenth century, Moby Dick classified under “computers”. Nunberg called this a “train wreck” and blamed Google’s overaggressive use of computer analysis to extract bibliographic information from scanned images.

Things really got interesting when Google’s Jon Orwant replied (note that the red text starting “GN” is Nunberg’s response to Orwant), with an extraordinarily open and constructive discussion of how the errors described by Nunberg arose, and the problems Google faces in trying to ensure accuracy of a huge dataset drawn from diverse sources.

Orwant starts, for example, by acknowledging that Google’s metadata probably contains millions of errors. But he asserts that that is to be expected, at least at first: “we’ve learned the hard way that when you’re dealing with a trillion metadata fields, one-in-a-million errors happen a million times over.” If you take catalogs from many sources and aggregate them into a single meta-catalog — more or less what Google is doing — you’ll inherit all the errors of your sources, unless you’re extraordinarily clever and diligent in comparing different sources to sniff out likely errors.

To make things worse, the very power and flexibility of a digital index can raise the visibility of the errors that do exist, by making them easy to find. Want to find all of the books, anywhere in the world, written by Charles Dickens and (wrongly thought to be) published before 1850? Just type a simple query. Google’s search technology did a lot to help Nunberg find errors. But it’s not just error-hunters who will find more errors — if a more powerful metadata search facility is more useful, researchers will rely on it more, and will therefore be tripped up by more errors.

What’s most interesting to me is a seeming difference in mindset between critics like Nunberg on the one hand, and Google on the other. Nunberg thinks of Google’s metadata catalog as a fixed product that has some (unfortunately large) number of errors, whereas Google sees the catalog as a work in progress, subject to continual improvement. Even calling Google’s metadata a “catalog” seems to connote a level of completion and immutability that Google might not assert. An electronic “card catalog” can change every day — a good thing if the changes are strict improvements such as error fixes — in a way that a traditional card catalog wouldn’t.

Over time, the errors Nunberg reported will be fixed, and as a side effect some errors with similar causes will be fixed too. Whether that is good enough remains to be seen.

When spammers try to go legitimate

I hate to sound like a broken record, complaining about professional mail distribution / spam-houses that are entirely unwilling to require their customers to follow a strict opt-in discipline. But I’m going to complain again and I’m going to name names.

Today, I got a spam touting a Citrix product (“Free virtualization training for you and your students!”). This message arrived in my mailbox with an unsubscribe link hosted by xmr3.com which bounced me back to a page at Citrix. The Citrix page then asks me for assorted personal information (name, email, country, employer). There was also a mailto link from xmr3 allowing me to opt-out.

At no time did I ever opt into any communication from Citrix. I’ve never done business with them. I don’t know anybody who works there. I could care less about their product.

What’s wrong here? A seemingly legitimate company is sending out spam to people who have never requested anything from them. They’re not employing any of the tactics that are normally employed by spammers to hide themselves. They’re not advertising drugs for sexual dysfunction or replicas of expensive watches. Maybe they got my email by surfing through faculty web pages. Maybe they got my email from some conference registration list. They’ve used a dubious third-party to distribute the spam who provides no method for indicating that their client is violating their terms of service (nor can their terms of service be found anywhere on their home page).

Based on this, it’s easy to advocate technical countermeasures (e.g., black-hole treatment for xmr3.com and citrix.com) or improvements to laws (the message appears to be superficially compliant with the CAN-SPAM act, but a detailed analysis would take more time than it’s worth). My hope is that we can maybe also apply some measure of shame. Citrix, as a company, should be embarrassed and ashamed to advertise itself this way. If it ever became culturally acceptable for companies to do this sort of thing, then the deluge of “legitimate” spam will be intolerable.

Subpoenas and Search Warrants as Security Threats

When I teach computer security, one of the first lessons is on the need to have a clear threat model, that is, a clearly defined statement of which harms you are trying to prevent, and what assumptions you are making about the capabilities and motivation of the adversaries who are trying to cause those harms. Many security failures stem from threat model confusion. Conversely, a good threat model often shapes the solution.

The same is true for security research: the solutions you develop will depend strongly on what threat you are trying to address.

Lately I’ve noticed more and more papers in the computer security research literature that include subpoenas and/or search warrants as part of their threat model. For example, the Vanish paper, which won Best Student Paper (the de facto best paper award) at the recent Usenix Security symposium, uses the word “subpoena” 13 times, in passages like this:

Attackers. Our motivation is to protect against retroactive data disclosures, e.g., in response to a subpoena, court order, malicious compromise of archived data, or accidental data leakage. For some of these cases, such as the subpoena, the party initiating the subpoena is the obvious “attacker.” The final attacker could be a user’s ex-husband’s lawyer, an insurance company, or a prosecutor. But executing a subpoena is a complex process involving many other actors …. For our purposes we define all the involved actors as the “adversary.”

(I don’t mean to single out this particular paper. This is just the paper I had at hand — others make the same move.)

Certainly, subpoenas are no fun for any of the parties involved. They’re costly to deal with, not to mention the ick factor inherent in compelled disclosure to a stranger, even if you’re totally blameless. And certainly, subpoenas are sometimes used to harass, rather than to gather legitimately relevant evidence. But are subpoenas really the biggest threat to email confidentiality? Are they anywhere close to the biggest threat? Almost certainly not.

Usually when the threat model mentions subpoenas, the bigger threats in reality come from malicious intruders or insiders. The biggest risk in storing my documents on CloudCorp’s servers is probably that somebody working at CloudCorp, or a contractor hired by them, will mess up or misbehave.

So why talk about subpoenas rather than intruders or insiders? Perhaps this kind of talk is more diplomatic than the alternative. If I’m talking about the risks of Gmail, I might prefer not to point out that my friends at Google could hire someone who is less than diligent, or less than honest. If I talk about subpoenas as the threat, nobody in the room is offended, and the security measures I recommend might still be useful against intruders and insiders. It’s more polite to talk about data losses that are compelled by a mysterious, powerful Other — in this case an Anonymous Lawyer.

Politeness aside, overemphasizing subpoena threats can be harmful in at least two ways. First, we can easily forget that enforcement of subpoenas is often, though not always, in society’s interest. Our legal system works better when fact-finders have access to a broader range of truthful evidence. That’s why we have subpoenas in the first place. Not all subpoenas are good — and in some places with corrupt or evil legal systems, subpoenas deserve no legitimacy at all — but we mustn’t lose sight of society’s desire to balance the very real cost imposed on the subpoena’s target and affected third parties, against the usefulness of the resulting evidence in administering justice.

The second harm is to security. To the extent that we focus on the subpoena threat, rather than the larger threats of intruders and insiders, we risk finding “solutions” that fail to solve our biggest problems. We might get lucky and end up with a solution that happens to address the bigger threats too. We might even design a solution for the bigger threats, and simply use subpoenas as a rhetorical device in explaining our solution — though it seems risky to mislead our audience about our motivations. If our solution flows from our threat model, as it should, then we need to be very careful to get our threat model right.