The “invisible” trade-off? Security.

“For twenty years, people have been leaving security till last.”

Colleague (in a meeting): “For twenty years, people have been leaving security till last.”

Me (in response): “You could have left out those last two words.”

This article will be a short one, and it’s a plea.  It’s also not aimed at my regular readership, because if you’re part of my regular readership, then you don’t need telling.  Many of the articles on this blog, however, are written with the express intention of meeting two criteria:

  1. they should be technical credible[1].
  2. you should be able to show them to your parents or to your manager[2].

I suspect that it’s your manager, this time round, who I’ll be targeting, but I don’t want to make assumptions about your parents’ roles or influence, so let’s leave it open.

The issue I want to address this week is the impact of not placing security firmly at the beginning, middle and end of any system or application design process.  As we all know, security isn’t something that you can bolt onto the end of a project and hope that you’ll be OK.  Equally, if you think about it only at the beginning, you’ll find that by the end, your requirements, use cases, infrastructure or personae will have changed[3], and what you planned at the beginning is no longer fit for purpose.  After all, if you know that your functional requirements will change (and everybody knows this), then why would your non-functional requirements be subject to the same drift?

The problem is that security, being a non-functional requirement[4], doesn’t get the up-front visibility that it needs.  And, because it’s difficult to do well, and it’s often the responsibility of a non-core team member “flown in” as a consultant or expert for a small percentage design meetings, security is the area that it’s easy to decide to let slide a bit.  Or a lot.  Or completely.

If there’s a trade-off around features, functionality or resource location, it’s likely to be security, and often, nobody even raises the point that there has been a trade-off: it’s completely invisible (this is one of the reasons Why I love technical debt).  This is also the reason that whenever I look at a system, I try to think “what were the decisions made about security?”, because, too often, no decisions were made about security at all.

So, if you’re a manager[6], and you’re involved with designing a system or application, don’t let security be the invisible trade-off.  I’m not saying that it needs to be the be-all and end-all of the project, but at least ensure that you think about it.  Thank you.


1 – they should be accurate, to be honest, but I also try not to dive deeper into technical topics than is absolutely required for context.

2 – to be clear, this isn’t about making them work- and parent-safe, but about presenting the topics in a manner that is approachable by non-experts.

3 – or, equally likely, all of them.

4 – I don’t mean that security doesn’t function correctly[5], but rather that it’s not one of the key functions of the system or application that’s being designed.

5 – though, now you mention it…

6 – or parent – see above.

Will quantum computing break security?

Do you want J. Random Hacker to be able to pretend that they’re your bank?

Over the past few years, a new type of computer has arrived on the block: the quantum computer.  It’s arguably the sixth type of computer:

  1. humans – before there were artificial computers, people used, well, people.  And people with this job were called “computers”.
  2. mechanical analogue – devices such as the Antikythera mechanism, astrolabes or slide rules.
  3. mechanical digital – in this category I’d count anything that allowed discrete mathematics, but didn’t use electronics for the actual calculation: the abacus, Babbage’s Difference Engine, etc.
  4. electronic analogue – many of these were invented for military uses such as bomb sights, gun aiming, etc.
  5. electronic digital – I’m going to go out on a limb here, and characterise Colossus as the first electronic digital computer[1]: these are basically what we use today for anything from mobile phones to supercomputers.
  6. quantum computers – these are coming, and are fundamentally different to all of the previous generations.

What is quantum computing?

Quantum computing uses concepts from quantum mechanics to allow very different types of calculations to what we’re used to in “classical computing”.  I’m not even going to try to explain, because I know that I’d do a terrible job, so I suggest you try something like Wikipedia’s definition as a starting point.  What’s important for our purposes is to understand that quantum computers use qubits to do calculations, and for quite a few types of mathematical algorithms – and therefore computing operations – they can solve problems much faster than classical computers.

What’s “much faster”?  Much, much faster: orders of magnitude faster.  A calculation that might take years or decades with a classical computer could, in certain circumstances, take seconds.  Impressive, yes?  And scary.  Because one of the types of problems that quantum computers should be good at solving is decrypting encrypted messages, even without the keys.

This means that someone with a sufficiently powerful quantum computer should be able to read all of your current and past messages, decrypt any stored data, and maybe fake digital signatures.  Is this a big thing?  Yes.  Do you want J. Random Hacker to be able to pretend that they’re your bank[2]?  Do you want that transaction on the blockchain where you were sold a 10 bedroom mansion in Mayfair to be “corrected” to be a bedsit in Weston-super-Mare[3]?

Some good news

This is all scary stuff, but there’s good news, of various types.

The first is that in order to make any of this work at all, you need a quantum computer with a good number of qubits operating, and this is turning out to be hard[4].  The general consensus is that we’ve got a few years before anybody has a “big” enough quantum computer to do serious damage to classical encryption algorithms.

The second is that, even with a sufficient number of qubits to attacks our existing algorithms, you still need even more in order to allow for error correction.

The third is that although there are theoretical models to show how to attack some of our existing algorithms, actually making them work is significantly harder than you or I[5] might expect.  In fact, some of the attacks may turn out to be infeasible, or just take more years to perfect that we’d worried about.

The fourth is that there are clever people out there who are designing quantum-computation resistant algorithms (sometimes referred to as “post-quantum algorithms”) that we can use, at least for new encryption, once they’ve been tested and become widely available.

All-in-all, in fact, there’s a strong body of expert opinion that says that we shouldn’t be overly worried about quantum computing breaking our encryption in the next 5 or even 10 years.

And some bad news

It’s not all rosy, however.  Two issues stick out to me as areas of concern.

  1. People are still designing and rolling out systems which don’t consider the issue.  If you’re coming up with a system which is likely to be in use for ten or more years, or which will be encrypting or signing data which must remain confidential or attributable over those sorts of periods, then you should be considering what the possible impact of quantum computing may have on your system.
  2. some of the new, quantum-computing resistant algorithms are proprietary.  This means that when you and I want to start implementing systems which are designed to be quantum-computing resistant, we’ll have to pay to do so.  I’m a big proponent of open source, and particularly of open source cryptography, and my big worry is that we just won’t be able to open source these things, and worse, that when new protocol standards are created – either de facto or through standards bodies – they will choose proprietary algorithms that exclude the use of open source, whether on purpose, through ignorance, or because few good alternatives are available.

What to do?

Luckily, there are things you can do to address both of the issues above.  The first is to think and plan, when designing a system, about what the impact of quantum computing might be on it.  Often – very often – you won’t actually need to implement anything explicit now (and it could be hard to, given the current state of the art), but you should at least embrace the concept of crypto-agility: designing protocols and systems so that you can swap out algorithms if required[7].

The second is a call to arms: get involved in the open source movement, and encourage everybody you know who has anything to do with cryptography to rally for open standards and for research into non-proprietary, quantum-computing resistant algorithms.  This is something that’s very much on my to-do list, and an area where pressure and lobbying is just as important as the research itself.


1 – I think it’s fair to call it the first electronic, programmable computer.  I know there were earlier non-programmable ones, and that some claim ENIAC, but I don’t have the space or the energy to argue the case here.

2 – no.

3 – see [2].  Don’t get me wrong, by the way – I grew up near Weston-super-Mare, and it’s got things going for it, but it’s not Mayfair.

4 – and if a quantum physicist says that something’s hard, then, to my mind, it’s hard.

5 – and I’m assuming that neither of us is a quantum physicist or mathematician[6].

6 – I’m definitely not.

7 – and not just for quantum-computing reasons: there’s a good chance that some of our existing classical algorithms may just fall to other, non-quantum attacks such as new mathematical approaches.

What’s a certificate?

For want of a nail, the kingdom was lost.

There was a huge story in the UK last week about how an expired certificate basically brought an entire mobile phone network (O2) to its knees. But what is a certificate, why do they expire, and why would that have such a big impact? In order to understand, let’s step back a bit and look at why you need certificates in the first place.

Let’s assume that two people, Alice and Bob, want to exchange some secret information. Let’s go further, and say that Bob is actually Bobcorp, Alice’s bank, and she wants to be able send and receive her bank statements in encrypted form. There are well established ways to do this, and the easiest way is for them to agree on a shared key that they use to both encrypt and decrypt each others’ messages. How do they agrees this key? Luckily, there are some clever ways in which they can manage a “handshake” between they two of them, even if they’ve not communicated before, which ends in their both having a copy of the key, without the chance of anybody else getting hold of it.

The problem is that Alice can’t actually be sure that she’s talking to Bobcorp (or vice versa). Bobcorp probably doesn’t mind, at this point, because he can ask Alice to provide her login credentials, which will allow him to authenticate her. But Alice really does care: she certainly shouldn’t be handing her login details to somebody – let’s call her “Eve” – who’s just pretending to be Bob.

The solution to this problems comes in two parts: certificates and Certificate Authorities (CAs). A CA is a well-known and trusted party with whom Bobcorp has already established a relationship: typically by providing company details, website details and the like. Bobcorp also creates and sends the CA a special key and very specific information about itself (maybe including the business name, address and website information). The CA, having established Bobcorp’s bona fides, creates a certificate for Bobcorp, incorporating the information that was requested – in fact, some of the information that Bobcorp sends the CA is usually in the form of a “self-signed certificate”, so pretty much all that the CA needs to do is provide its own signature.

Astute readers will be asking themselves: “How did this help? Alice still needs to trust the CA, right?” The answer is that she does. But there will typically be a very small number of CAs in comparison to Bobcorp-type companies, so all Alice needs to do is ensure that she can trust a few CAs, and she’s now good to go. In a Web-browsing scenario, Alice will usually have downloaded a browser which already has appropriate trust relationships with the main CAs built in. She can now perform safe handshakes with lots of companies, and as long as she (or her browser) checks that they provide certificates signed by a CA that she trusts, she’s relatively safe.

But there’s a twist. The certificates that the CA issues to Bobcorp (and others) typically have an expiration date on them. This isn’t just to provide the CA with a recurring revenue stream – though I’m sure that’s a nice benefit – but also in case Bobcorp’s situation changes: what if it has gone bankrupt, for instance, or changed its country of business?[1] So after a period of time (typically in the time frame of a year or two, but maybe less or more), Bobcorp needs to reapply to get a new certificate.

What if Bobcorp forgets? Well, when Alice visits Bobcorp’s site and the browser notices an expired certificate, it should want her not to proceed, and she shouldn’t give them any information until it’s renewed. This sounds like a pain, and it is: Bobcorp and its customers are going to be severely inconvenienced. Somebody within Bobcorp whose job it was to renew the certificate is going to be in trouble.

Life is even worse in the case where no actual people are involved. If, instead of Alice, we have an automated system A, and instead of Bob, we have an automated system, B. A still needs to trust that it’s talking to the real B in case an evil system E is pretending to be B, so certificates are still required. In this case, if, B’s certificate expires, A should quite rightly refuse to connect to it. This seems to have been what happened to cause the mobile data outage that O2 is blaming on Ericsson, one of its suppliers. There was no easy way to fix the problem, or tell the many, many A-type systems that may have been trying to communicate with the B system(s) to carry on regardless. And so, for want of a nail, the kingdom was lost.

The lesson? Avoid single points of failure, think about fall-back modes. And be ready to move to remedy unexpected errors. Quickly.


1 – there are also various mechanisms to revoke, or cancel, certificates but hey they are typically complex, ill-implemented in many cases, and consequently little-used.

Playing a game

I’m at an EU Cybercrime Summit today and yesterday.  This may not sound very exciting, and, maybe considering this, the organisers arranged a game for us to play yesterday.  It was a simulation of a couple of different, but connected scenarios, and there was a web interface via which we could all interact with the engine.

The first scenario revolved around managing an attack on a piece of critical national infrastructure: we were acting as the CISO, and trying to work out our best course of action in terms of managing responses and communicating with various external agencies.  The second scenario had us as the head of a national cybersecurity agency, watching and trying to manage an emerging set of issues, including a Meltdown/Spectre-type vulnerability and various piggy-backed attacks.

At each stage, there was some explanation, and then a serious of options for us to choose, along with a countdown, adding an element of tension to the process as we had to submit our answers[1].  Sometimes we had to choose a single option – “How serious is this issue? Not an issue; minor; substantial; significant; major; national crisis; international crisis” – and sometimes we could choose two or more – “Who will you inform about this?  Internal only; trusted parties; national cybersecurity bodies; national intelligence; international parties.”  We were encouraged to discuss our choices with our neighbours before we made them, and once all the answers were in, bar charts were displayed on the screen in front of us (and on our devices) showing how everbody had voted.

At the beginning of the process, we had been asked to enter some basic information about ourselves such as sector (public, industry, academic, etc.) and expertise (security, policy, justice, etc.), and for some of the bar charts, a further breakdown as given, showing how the sector and expertise voting had gone.  Experts at the front gave their opinions of the “correct” answers, and reactions as to how people had voted.

I’d not participated in a game/simulation like this before, and had no idea either how it would go, nor how beneficial it might be.  To my surprise, I enjoyed it and found it both interesting and educational.  The scenarios were broad enough that they were unlikely to be many people in the room who had expertise across all of the different issues, I enjoyed discussing my thoughts with a neighbour who I’d only met earlier that day, and then discussing with him whether we agreed with the experts’ views.

In short, it was a very useful exercise, and I’m wondering how I could apply it to my work in different contexts.  It was educational, fun, provided opportunities for forming relationships – we found ourselves discussing scenarios and issues with others around us – and allows for further analysis after the evene.t


1 – I’m not often one to link to external products, but this one seemed good, and has a free pricing tier: it was called Mentimeter. The game was run by AIT (Austrian Institute of Technology), Center for Digital Safety & Security.

I’m turning off your security.

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

Today’s security story is people turning security off.  For me, the fact that it’s even a story is the story.  This particular story is covered in The Register, who explain (to nobody’s surprise) that some of the patches to fix issues identified in CPU’s (think Spectre, Meltdown, etc.) can actually slow down the applications running on them.  The problem is that, in some cases, they don’t slow them down a little bit, but rather a lot.  By which I mean up to 50%.  And if you’ve bought expensive hardware – or rented it [1] – then you’d generally prefer it if it runs your applications/programs/workloads quickly, rather than just half as fast as they might run.

And so you turn off the security patches.  Your decision: fine.

No, stop: this isn’t what has happened.

The mythical “you”, the person running the workload, isn’t the person who makes the decision, in most cases, because it’s been made for you.  This is the real story.

Linus Torvalds, and a bunch of other experts in the Linux kernel[2], have decided that although the patch that could make your workloads secure is available, the functionality that does it should be “off” by default.  They reason – quite correctly, in my opinion – that the vast majority of people running workloads, won’t easily be able to turn this functionality on themselves

They also reason – again, correctly, in my opinion – that most people will care more about how quickly their workloads run than about how secure they are.  I’m not happy about this, but that’s the way it is.

What I worry about is the final step in the logic to making the decision.  I’m going to quote Linus:

“Have you seen any actual realistic attacks for normal human users?” he asked. “Things where the kernel should actually care? The JavaScript thing is for the browser to fix up, not for the kernel to say ‘now everything should run up to 50 per cent slower.'”

I get the reasoning behind this, but I don’t like it.  To give some context, somebody came up with an example attack which could compromise certain workloads, and Linus points out that there are better ways to fix this attack than fixing it in the kernel. My concerns are two-fold:

  1. although there may be better places to fix that particular attack, a kernel-level fix is likely to fix an entire class of attacks, meaning better protection for users who are using any application which might include an attack vector.
  2. pointing out that there haven’t been any attacks yet not only ignores the fact that there is a future out there[3] but also points malicious actors in the direction of a likely attack vector.

Now, I know that the more dedicated malicious actors are already looking for these things, but do we really need to advertise?

What’s my fix?

I don’t have one, or at least not an easy one.

Somebody, somewhere, needs to decide whether security is turned on or off.  What I’d honestly like to see is an easier set of controls to allow people to turn on or off security, and to understand the trade-offs when they do that.  The problems with that are:

  • the trade-offs are often much more complex than just “fast and insecure” or “slow and secure”, and are really difficult to explain.
  • in order to make a sensible decision about trade-offs, people need to understand risk.  And people are awful at understanding risk.

And there’s a “chicken and egg problem”[7] here: people won’t understand risk until they are offered the chance to make decisions, but there’s little incentive to offer them complex decisions unless they understand risk.

My plea?  Where possible, expose risk, and explain what it is.  And if you’re turning off security-related functionality, make it easy to turn back on for those who need it.


1 – a quick heads-up: this is what “deploying to the cloud” actually is.

2 – what sits at the bottom of many of the workloads that are running in servers.

3 – hopefully.  If the Three Minute Warning[4] sounds while you’re reading this, you may wish to duck and cover.  You can come back to it later[6].

4 – “… sounds like this …”[5].

5 – 80s reference.

6 – or not.  See [3].

7 – for non-native English readers, this means “a problem where the solution requires two pieces, both of which are dependent on each other”.

Why security policies are worthless

A policy, to have any utility at all, needs to exist in a larger context.

“We need a policy on that.” This is a phrase that seems to act as a universal panacea to too many managers. When a problem is identified, and the blame game has been exhausted, the way to sort things out, they believe, is to create a policy. If you’ve got a policy, then everything will be fine, because everything will be clear, and everyone will obey the policy, and nothing can go wrong.

Right[1].

The problem is that policy, on its own, is worthless.

A policy, to have any utility at all, needs to exist in a larger context, or, to think of it in a different way, to sit in a chain of artefacts.  It is its place in this chain that actually gives it meaning.  Let me explain.

When that manager said that they wanted a policy, what did that actually mean?  That rather depends on how wise the manager is[2].  Hopefully, the reason that the manager identified the need for a policy was because:

  1. they noticed that something had gone wrong that shouldn’t have done and;
  2. they wanted to have a way to make sure it didn’t happen again.

The problem with policy on its own is that it doesn’t actually help with either of those points.  What use does it have, then?

Governance

Let’s look at those pieces separately.  When we say that “something had gone wrong that shouldn’t have done“, what we’re saying is that there is some sort of model for what the world should look like, giving us often general advice on our preferred state.  Sometimes this is a legal framework, sometimes it’s a regulatory framework, and sometimes it’s a looser governance model.  The sort of thing I’d expect to see at this level would be statements like:

  • patient data must be secured against theft;
  • details of unannounced mergers must not be made available to employees who are not directors of the company;
  • only authorised persons may access the military base[4].

These are high level requirements, and are statements of intent.  They don’t tell you what to do in order to make these things happen (or not happen), they just tell you that you have to do them (or not do them).  I’m going to call collections of these types of requirements “governance models”.

Processes

At the other end of the spectrum, you’ve got the actual processes (in the broader sense of the term) required to make the general intent happen.  For the examples above, these might include:

  • AES-256 encryption using OpenSSL version 1.1.1 FIPS[5], with key patient-sym-current for all data on database patients-20162019;
  • documents Indigo-1, Indigo-3, Indigo-4 to be collected after meeting and locked in cabinet Socrates by CEO or CFO;
  • guards on duty at post Alpha must report any expired passes to the base commander and refuse entry to all those producing them.

These are concrete processes that must be followed, which will hopefully allow the statements of intent that we noted above to be carried out.

Policies and audit

The problem with both the governance statements and the processes identified is that they’re both insufficient.  The governance statements don’t tell you how to do what needs to be done, and the processes are context-less, which means that you can’t tell what they relate to, or how they’re helping.  It’s also difficult to know what to do if they fail: what happens, for example, if the base commander turns up with an expired pass?

Policies are what sit in the middle.  They provide guidance as to how to implement the governance model, and provide context for the processes.  They should give you enough detail to cover all eventualities, even if that’s to say “consult the Legal Department when unsure[6]”.  What’s more, they should be auditable.  If you can’t audit your security measures, then how can you be sure that your governance model is being followed?  But governance models, as we’ve already discovered, are at the level of intent – not the sort of thing that can be audited.

Policies, then, should provide enough detail that they can be auditable, but they should also preferably be separated enough from implementation that rules can be written that are applicable in different circumstances.  Here are a few policies that we might create to follow the first governance model examples above:

  • patient data must be secured against theft;
    • Policy 1: all data at rest must be encrypted by a symmetric key of at least 256 bits or equivalent;
    • Policy 2: all storage keys must be rotated at least once a month;
    • Policy 3: in the event of a suspected key compromise, all keys at the same level in that department must be rotated.

You can argue that these policies are too detailed, or you can argue that they’re not detailed enough: both arguments are fair, and level of detail (or granularity) should depend on the context and the use to which they are being put.  However, though I’m sure that all of the example policies I’ve given could be improved, I hope that they are all:

  • auditable;
  • able to be implemented by one or more well-defined processes;
  • understandable by both those who concerned with the governance level and those involved at the process implementation and operations level.

The value of auditing

I’ve written about auditing before (Confessions of an auditor).  I think it’s really important.  Done well, it should allow you to discover whether:

  1. your processes are covering all of the eventualities of your policies;
  2. whether your policies are actually being implemented correctly.

Auditing may also address whether your policies fully meet your governance model.  Auditing well is a skill, but in order to help your auditor – whether they are good at it or bad at it – having a clearly defined set of policies is a must.  But, as I pointed out at the beginning of this article, policies for policies’ sake are worthless: put them together with governance and processes, however, and they provide technical and business value.


1 – this is sarcasm.

2 – yes, I know.  But let’s not be rude if we can avoid it.  We want to help managers, because the more clue we deliver to them, the easier our lives will be[3].

3 – and you never know: one day, even you might be a manager.

4 – which is probably not a US military base, given the spelling of “authorised”.

5 – example only…

6 – this, in my experience, is the correct answer to many questions.

The 3 things you need to know about disk encryption

Use software encryption, preferably an open-source and audited solution.

It turns out that somebody – well, lots of people, in fact – failed to implement a cryptographic standard very well.  This isn’t a surprise, I’m afraid, but it’s bad news.  I’ve written before about how important it is to be using disk encryption, but it turns out that the advice I gave wasn’t sufficient, or detailed enough.

Here’s a bit of background.  There are two ways to do disk encryption:

  1. let the disk hardware (and firmware) manage it: HDD (hard disk drive), SSD (solid state drive) and hybrid (a mix of HDD and SDD technologies) manufacturers create drives which have encryption built in.
  2. allow your Operating System (e.g. Linux[0], OSX[1], Windows[2]) to do the job: the O/S will have a little bit of itself on the disk unencrypted, which will allow it to decrypt the rest of the disk (which is encrypted) when provided with a password or key.

You’d think, wouldn’t you, that option 1 would be the safest?  It should be quick, as it’s done in hardware, and well, the companies who manufacture these disks will know that they’re doing, right?

No.

A paper (link opens a PDF file) written by some researchers in the Netherlands reveals some work that they did on several SSD drives to try to work out how good a job had been done on the encryption security.  They are all supposed to have implemented a fairly complex standard from the TCG[4] called Opal, but it seems that none of them did it right.  It turns out that someone with physical access to your hardware can, fairly trivially, decrypt what’s on your drive.  And they can do this without the password that you use to lock it or any associated key(s).  The simple lesson from this is that you shouldn’t trust hardware disk encryption.

So, software disk encryption is OK, then?

Also no.

Well, actually yes, as long as you’re not using Microsoft’s BitLocker in its default mode.  It turns out that BitLocker will just use hardware encryption if the drive its using supports it.  In other words, using BitLocker just uses hardware encryption unless you tell it not to do so.

What about other options?  Well, you can tell BitLocker not to use hardware encryption, but only for a new installation: it won’t change on an existing disk.  The best option[5] is to use a software encryption solution which is open source and audited by the wider community.  LUKS is the default for most Linux distributions.  One suggested by the papers’ authors for Windows is Veracrypt.  Can we be certain that there are no holes or mistakes in the implementation of these solutions?  No, we can’t, but the chances of security issues being found and fixed are much, much higher than for proprietary software[6].

What, then are my recommendations?

  1. Don’t use hardware disk encryption.  It’s been shown to be flawed in many implementations.
  2. Don’t use proprietary software.  For anything, honestly, particularly anything security-related, but specifically not for disk encryption.
  3. If you have to use Windows, and are using BitLocker, run with VeraCrypt on top.

 


1 – GNU Linux.

2 – I’m not even sure if this is the OS that Macs run anymore, to be honest.

3 – not my thing either, but I’m pretty sure this is what it’s call.  Couldn’t be certain of the version, though.

4 – Trusted Computing Group.

5 – as noted by the paper’s authors, and heartily endorsed by me.

6 – I’m not aware of any problems with Macintosh-based implementations, but open source is just better – read the article linked from earlier in the sentence.