cryptonews

The Financial Times has a good article on how AI is changing the capabilities of video surveillance, with information from both Israel/Iran and Russia.

I wrote about this sort of thing a few years ago, how AI enables mass spying in the way that computers and networks enabled mass surveillance. The interesting development in the article is that AI allows people to ask natural language questions about video footage to AIs—and AIs can answer them.

In contrast with older tools restricted to a few dozen preset searches, these new tools allow an almost unlimited range of enquiries by enabling language-based searches on video.

That lets intelligence officers hunt through massive streams of videos using simple search terms, such as two men handing a bag to each other; a person who has changed their appearance, or has changed clothes multiple times in a day; or a vehicle that has recently been painted over, or has driven past the same spot several times in a short period.

“This is the holy grail of surveillance,” said a European official whose country uses the technology on its cities. “We are able to look for behaviour, not objects ­ it has created a world of new possibilities.”

Interesting research on a new class of weak RSA keys: keys with lots of zeros. It turns out that these keys are out in the wild.

The badkeys project is an open-source service that checks public keys for known vulnerabilities. While developing this tool, Hanno collected a massive number of real-world keys from public sources, including Certificate Transparency logs, internet-wide TLS and SSH scans, PGP keys, and many others. By searching this dataset for unexpectedly sparse RSA moduli, we uncovered a large number of keys in the wild with the patterns in Figure 1.

Both patterns include several regularly spaced blocks of all zeros interleaved with seemingly random data. Pattern 1 appears in CT logs for certificates issued to several large organizations, including Yahoo and Verizon, and on some devices running NetApp software. Fortunately, these certificates have already expired, but we still shared our findings with these companies. We wanted to learn more about which product could be responsible for generating these keys, but we did not hear back. Pattern 2 appears on SSH hosts running the CompleteFTP software from EnterpriseDT. The underlying vulnerability affects RSA keys generated using versions 10.0.0­12.0.0 (Dec 2016­Mar 2019) and DSA keys generated with v10.0.0­23.0.4 (Dec 2016­Dec 2023).

These vulnerabilities affect a small minority of hosts on the internet, but the more interesting takeaway is that independent cryptographic implementations failed in similar ways. More implementations may include the same bugs, and so it’s worth tailoring cryptanalytic algorithms for this particular type of failure.

The article doesn’t speculate, but I will. This could be a deliberately designed backdoor, of the sort I wrote about back in 2013. I could imagine some government agency figuring out how to break this class of RSA keys, and then convincing different providers to hand them out to users.

We’ve taken one small step towards robot police officers: a drone capable of disarming a suspect:

In a June 22 video posted on the Sacramento County Sheriff’s Office’s Instagram page, an officer wearing goggles can be seen operating a drone to retrieve a knife from an armed suspect hiding inside a cluttered house. “After not responding to negotiators, a drone was deployed inside the residence,” the post says. “Drone pilots located the suspect hiding in a corner of a garage” and then used a high-powered magnet attached to the drone to grab the knife out of the suspect’s hand. In the video ­ which is soundtracked by the “Mission: Impossible” theme song—the intercepted knife can be seen spinning around in the air as the drone carries it back to the deputies.

Slashdot thread.

Chinese companies control nearly two-thirds of Argentina’s own squid fleet.

We know that ICE wants to deploy eyeglasses with facial recognition that can identify people in real time.

Turns out Meta is prototyping the feature with a Pentagon supplier. (Alternate news story.)

A database of almost a million passports from around the world was leaked online.

Note what happened. A high-value credential—a passport—was used in an ancillary low-value authentication system: ID verification for cannabis dispensaries. And it’s the low-value system that got hacked, putting the high-value credential at risk.

Earlier this month, a German court ruled that Google is liable for its AI search summaries. Rejecting defenses like “users can check for themselves,” and that they generally know “that information generated with AI should not be blindly trusted,” the court held that the AI’s summaries are reflections of the company and “above all an expression of Google’s business activities.”

This is the latest skirmish in a decades-old battle over internet publishing. Historically, there were two different types of information distributors: carriers and publishers. A phone company is a carrier. It’ll transmit whatever you say, even discussions about committing a crime. Words are words, and the phone company does not know—nor is it liable for—the words you choose to speak. A newspaper, on the other hand, is a publisher. It decides the words it publishes, and what quotes to include in its articles. If those words or quotes are defamatory or otherwise illegal, it’s liable.

Internet companies have long tried to play both ends of this distinction. They claim to be a carrier when it suits them, and also to be a publisher when that is advantageous. Section 230 of the 1996 Communication Decency Act enshrined this straddling when it shielded internet providers from liability for the speech of others on their platforms: “No provider or user of an interactive computer service shall be treated as the publisher or speaker of any information provided by another information content provider.”

For years, a debate has continued about how to apply this law to social media platforms. When platforms merely displayed people’s posts and comments in reverse-chronological order, they behaved largely like carriers, relaying people’s words without regard to their contents. But the next generation of platforms, like Facebook, curated feeds with algorithms and thereby acted more like publishers, making editorial decisions about who sees what. Some experts think section 230 has gone too far and needs reform; others think that it’s what holds the modern internet together.

Google’s AI overviews are far less nuanced. They work differently from traditional search, which courts have held involves archiving and facilitating access to the editorial content of third parties. AI overviews don’t just quote and republish words from different websites. With overviews, the AI rewrites other people’s words, exercising editorial discretion like a newspaper article or an original essay on a topic.

It’s not only Google’s AI that falls into this category. Imagine a restaurant review site that provides AI summaries, or a site summarizing laws and government procedures. Or a traditional publisher that uses AI to summarize its own publication. Accuracy matters, and liability is one of the most important ways we as a public can demand accuracy and hold companies accountable when they cause harm.

Two years ago, Air Canada learned this lesson. Its AI chatbot promised a discount the company later rescinded, arguing in court that the airline wasn’t responsible for the promises the bot made because it was a “separate legal entity that is responsible for its own actions.” The court sided with the flyer, saying that the airline was just as responsible for what its chatbot says as what’s on its website. The potential precedent here is that corporations have a duty of care for the performance of the AI chatbots they employ.

AI agents are agents of the person or organization that deploys them—and should be treated by the law as such. If a company hired human writers to write its summaries, that company would be liable for inaccuracies in those summaries. If a company’s human agent signed contracts in the company’s name, that company would be bound by those contracts. And if a doctor gave dangerously wrong medical advice, they would be liable for malpractice.

To allow businesses to hide behind the excuse of faulty AI in those same circumstances would be a massive handout to companies, and would introduce disastrous incentives for corporate misbehavior. Why hire human writers, lawyers or doctors when AIs are not only cheaper, but also absolve employers whenever they make a mistake?

We are rapidly moving to a world where AI-powered chatbots will be at the other end of all sorts of corporate communications channels. It makes no sense for a company to be able to honor its statements when it wants to and disavow them when it doesn’t.

Visa and OpenAI recently announced a partnership to build personal AI agents to, among other things, make purchases on our behalf. This is just one of many similar projects in the works, as companies race to provide us all with AI assistants. Will Visa take responsibility when its AI makes a purchase in your name that you don’t want? And if Visa won’t, why would anyone trust the system? Properly allocating liability is key to make this kind of thing work.

If the German ruling holds, it could be devastating for Google’s AI Overview feature. Tests from earlier this year found that it had mistakes about 10% percent of the time. At more than 5tn searches per year, that’s 16,000 erroneous summaries every second. And while most of those errors are benign, some of them will cause harm, be defamatory, or otherwise trigger liability.

Earlier this year, Google’s AI summary falsely identified the Canadian fiddler Ashley MacIsaac of being a sex offender. His lawsuit, filed in Ontario, is ongoing. If Google is forced to invest in improving its AI system until those kinds of errors are exceedingly rare, that seems like a good outcome for users, as well as the subjects of search, like MacIsaac.

More generally, liability concerns could mean that many current use cases for agents won’t be commercially viable. Companies may not be able to profitably operate AI lawyers, doctors and media influencers if they are held responsible for what they say and do.

We’re OK with this outcome. There’s nothing in the law that requires us to accommodate AI systems if they are fundamentally untrustworthy, just as we don’t need to accommodate untrustworthy human systems. Any company that won’t stand by the statements its agents make—whether human or AI—doesn’t deserve users’ time or money.

This is a fascinating explotation of how LLMs fall for prompt injection attacks. It turns out that they learn to recognize the style of text in different role/instruction blocks, and not just the tags.

Their conclusion:

Role tags were a formatting trick that became the security architecture and the cognitive scaffolding of modern LLMs. We’ve shown that this architecture doesn’t survive into the model’s actual representations, and that such role confusion is linked to prompt injection.

Unless LLMs achieve genuine role perception, we think injection defense will remain a perpetual whack-a-mole game. And the continuous nature of role boundaries opens the threat of injections designed to subtly shift LLM states through seemingly innocuous text, legally and at scale.

More generally, roles are quietly one of the most important abstractions in the LLM stack, providing the boundaries meant to separate self from other, thought from communication, instruction from data. They’re human-controlled switches in an otherwise continuous system. We think they deserve a lot more study than they’ve gotten.

Full paper: “Prompt Injection as Role Confusion.” Simon Willison comments.

At least one malware developer is adding text about nuclear and biological weapons to their spyware, in an effort to stop automatic AI analysis.

Details:

The _index.js payload begins with a large JavaScript block comment containing fake system instructions and policy-triggering content. Because it is inside a comment, it does not affect JavaScript execution. The runtime skips it. The real malware begins after the comment with a try{eval(…)} wrapper around a large character-code array and a ROT-style substitution function.

This header appears designed for AI-mediated analysis, not for Node, Bun, or Python. It attempts to derail scanners or analyst copilots that feed the beginning of a file to a language model without clearly isolating the content as untrusted data. In weak pipelines, this can cause refusal behavior, prompt confusion, context pollution, or premature classification before the scanner reaches the actual malware.

This is not a magical bypass against static detection. YARA rules, entropy checks, AST parsing, string extraction, deobfuscation, and behavioral rules still work. But it is a practical anti-analysis trick against naive LLM-first triage systems.

Fable 5 is the supposed safe version of Anthropic’s Mythos Preview, with guardrails to ensure that it can’t be used to create cyberattacks.

Well, that restriction was bypassed within days.

I haven’t thought about the privacy issues surrounding professional athletes and wearables.

Wearables present serious privacy issues for “Average Joe” consumers, who are entrusting tech companies to safely store and protect their biometric data. Imagine the stakes for a professional athlete, whose entire livelihood could be affected by a single biometric data point. To give one of many realistic hypotheticals: a basketball player has a terrible game, and the coach wonders if they showed up to the gym hungover. The coach has access to the player’s wearable data, and checks to see when they went to sleep, as well as what their heart rate looked like during the night. Should the player have been out partying before a game? No. Should the coach be able to surveil them? Definitely not.

It will not surprise you to learn that there’s an emergent gambling angle here: sports leagues would love to commercialize players’ biometric data, and sharp bettors would love access to data about, say, a hungover player. “We’re going to get to a spot where people are betting not just on the velocity of the puck that was shot by a player in the NHL playoffs, but on what the heart rate of a certain player is going to be running down the field,” said Helen “Nellie” Drew, the director of the University of Buffalo’s Center for the Advancement of Sport, and a professor of practice in sports law.

There are other practical considerations, too. What if wearable data reveals that a player isn’t as speedy as they were before, and a team uses that data against the player during contract negotiations? What if a wearable reveals a player is favoring their leg, or is at greater risk of injury? This information is potentially beneficial to a training staff and an athlete, so long as it’s disclosed and used in a responsible manner—­a critical, mostly unresolved caveat. “Aging and injured players are the most at-risk” of wearable data being used against them, said Michael LeRoy, who researches sports labor laws and AI, and is a professor at the University of Illinois’s School of Labor and Employment Relations.

The bit about gamblers is particularly scary.

I have often said that surveillance tech is generally deployed first against people with diminished rights: children, prisoners, military personnel, the mentally impaired. This is another early use case with different dynamics. The surveilled are wealthy and powerful, and—in many cases—unionized.

Dolphins, sharks, turtles, and human workers are all victims of unregulated squid fishing fleets.

Another news article.

As usual, you can also use this squid post to talk about the security stories in the news that I haven’t covered.

Blog moderation policy.

On June 9th, Anthropic released its Fable generative AI model. Three days later, the US government classified it as a dangerous munition, and used its export-control authority to prohibit any foreign nationals from accessing it. Unable to differentiate between Americans and foreigners, the company shut off access for everyone.

The government’s actions won’t help. The problem isn’t any one particular model; it’s the general trend of increasing AI capabilities. And any real solution requires the sort of collective action that just isn’t possible right now.

Fable is the constrained version of Mythos, the AI model Anthropic announced in April. Anthropic only released it to a few selected organizations, because the company claimed it was so good at finding and exploiting vulnerabilities in computer code that releasing it more generally would be dangerous.

It was an obviously self-serving announcement, and because few were able to verify Anthropic’s claims they were met with some skepticism. Those with access used Mythos to find and patch many vulnerabilities in their own software. But one UK group found the latest, already public, OpenAI model to be just as powerful.

Fable is just another incremental improvement in the years-long climb of AI capabilities. But just as important as the AI model is the “harness.” This is typically not AI. It’s ordinary computer code that interfaces with the user. It stitches together AI models, decides how and for what purposes they can be used, and gives them useful tools such as web search and the ability to run their own computer code.

When Mythos first entered limited release, there was widespread debate whether its power came from the model or the harness. With Mythos demonstrating that it was possible, the open-source community scrambled to build harnesses that could steer other AI models towards similar capabilities. Harness improvements don’t need massive data or data centers.

They largely succeeded. For example, a Prague company was able to replicate Anthropic’s few verifiable cybersecurity capabilities with a much smaller and cheaper model—and a more sophisticated harness. Last week, a group showed that multiple cheaper models harnessed in concert matches Fable’s performance.

The broader community had only a few days with Fable, but that time we learned some about its capabilities. Its difference is less the new model’s raw analytical and problem solving capabilities, and more that the model doesn’t need that sophisticated harness.

Fable requires much less expertise and detailed prompting from the human user. You can give it a difficult goal and it will figure out novel and unexpected ways to satisfy it, finding loopholes in whatever constraints you or the system have imposed on it.

“Relentlessly proactive” is how AI researcher Simon Willison described it. Another descriptor might be “creative.” Experienced AI developers have had that combination of creativity and proactivity since last year, but Fable puts it within easy reach of everyone.

In the hands of someone with a legitimate problem that needs solving, that can be an incredibly useful capability. But in the hands of someone who wants to do harm, it can be equally dangerous. AIs don’t have a moral compass in the same way that people do. They are agents of the wants and desires of the people who prompt them.

That points to the real problem with relentlessly proactive AI. In language, wants and desires are always underspecified. If I ask you to get me some coffee, you would probably pour me a cup from the coffeepot, or buy one from a nearby coffee shop.

You couldn’t buy me a pound of raw beans, or a coffee plantation. You wouldn’t order a cup of coffee for delivery next month. You wouldn’t find a nearby person, rip a cup of coffee out of their hands, and bring it to me. I wouldn’t have to specify any of the million limitations to my request; you would just know.

Human stories are filled with warnings about underspecified desires. King Midas wished that everything he touch turn to gold, forgetting to add “but not my food, drink, and daughter.” And genies are notorious for granting your wish in a way you wish they hadn’t.

The deeper point is that it’s impossible to list all limitations and restrictions, and like a malicious genie, a creative AI will find the ones you forgot. Block a database you don’t want it to have access to, and it might figure out how to bypass your control. Ask it to book a flight, and it might hack the airline because the website says the flight is sold out. Ask it to save money on your cellphone plan, and it might cancel it altogether—or get someone else to pay for it. As far as we know now AI has not done any of this yet, but you get the idea.

Malicious intent is not required. To an AI model, constraints are just things to get around and not general truisms about the world. They are creative problem solvers and natural rule breakers. They “hack” in the sense that they find and exploit loopholes.

Human systems rely on so many norms that we scarcely recognize the existence of until they are broken. AIs naturally think outside the box, because they don’t have any real conception of what the box is or why it’s there in the first place.

There is no foolproof way to prevent people from using AI models to complete harmful tasks. There is no way to prevent the models from incidentally causing harm while completing benign tasks. AI models are no longer isolated from the real world. They browse the internet and answer emails.

They trade stocks and make purchases. They control physical systems. They are, in effect, robots that affect life and property. We have no technical mechanisms to verify the integrity of an AI system. This level of capability and creativity in the hands of us untrustworthy humans will have both great and terrible results.

The problem is not unique to Anthropic. Mythos/Fable might currently be the most capable rules hacker, but more sophisticated harnesses give other models similar capabilities. And we should assume that the other frontier models are no more than a few months behind, and that open-source models are less than a year behind. At best, any ban only serves to delay the problem for a short while.

That delay might be useful if we—as a society, as a planet—would use that time to come together and figure out what to do. This isn’t a US/China arms race problem; this a species-level problem that requires coordinated action at that scale. Unfortunately, we have no mechanism to do that. I first wrote about this problem five years ago, but it was all too futuristic.

Today, when its right in front of us, there is no world government that can impose constraints on the for-profit corporations currently controlling AI models and research. The US has no appetite to effectively and even-handedly regulate those corporations, even as they do catastrophic damage to the environment, democracy, and—in this case—society in general.

This all makes an AI public option all the more necessary, and urgent. Today’s AIs can be fast, smart and secure, but only two of the three are possible for any given system. These safety tradeoffs are tightly held secrets of companies racing to beat one another, and they tell us we have to trust them. Instead, the choices and their consequences need to be brought out into the sunlight.

We should be funding open-source harnesses that balance capability and safety—that achieve useful goals without so much power—and open-source AI models whose provenance and biases are public and well understood. We have opened the AI Pandora’s box. Now we have to make the best of it.

This essay originally appeared in The Guardian.

At least one malware developer is adding text about nuclear and biological weapons to their spyware, in an effort to stop automatic AI analysis.

Details:

The _index.js payload begins with a large JavaScript block comment containing fake system instructions and policy-triggering content. Because it is inside a comment, it does not affect JavaScript execution. The runtime skips it. The real malware begins after the comment with a try{eval(…)} wrapper around a large character-code array and a ROT-style substitution function.

This header appears designed for AI-mediated analysis, not for Node, Bun, or Python. It attempts to derail scanners or analyst copilots that feed the beginning of a file to a language model without clearly isolating the content as untrusted data. In weak pipelines, this can cause refusal behavior, prompt confusion, context pollution, or premature classification before the scanner reaches the actual malware.

This is not a magical bypass against static detection. YARA rules, entropy checks, AST parsing, string extraction, deobfuscation, and behavioral rules still work. But it is a practical anti-analysis trick against naive LLM-first triage systems.

On 14 April, the Trump administration quietly acknowledged the widespread use of AI to automate government processes. The office of management and budget (OMB) disclosed a staggering 3,611 active or planned use cases for AI across the federal government. The list has ballooned by 70% from the one published in the final year of the Biden administration, and includes many disturbing-seeming plans to hand over sensitive governmental functions to AI.

Scanning this list, many readers may find many causes for alarm. It represents a transfer of decision processes from human to machine on a massive scale over matters of individual freedom, public health and well-being, nuclear reactor safety and more.

Consider these examples. The Health and Human Services’ (HHS) office of administration for children and families hired the world’s “scariest AI company,” Palantir—notorious for its work on behalf of the military, the CIA and ICE—to scan all grant applications to flag those not ideologically aligned with the administration’s dictates. The Federal Bureau of Prisons is developing an AI system to assess the “potential for misconduct for newly admitted inmates,” routing people into high-security confinement before they have actually done anything wrong in their custody. These read like programs fit for a Philip K Dick or George Orwell novel.

Other use cases insert AI into life-and-death decision making. The Department of Veterans Affairs is developing an AI that will listen in on calls to the veterans crisis line, and then gather information from external databases to assess the mental state and suicide risk of the caller.

The Department of Energy is testing the use of AI to control nuclear reactors, targeting a way to autonomously respond to potential nuclear safety incidents. Here’s one that’s disturbing for its retirement, rather than its deployment: the state department has ended a program to use AI to forecast mass civilian killings, which had been intended to aid conflict prevention.

While it’s easy to raise questions about these and similar uses of AI, the reality is that any of these programs could be implemented responsibly. In some cases, like the HHS system, the AI might be enforcing alignment to a policy prescription that opponents abhor. But that concern is more about the policy itself rather than the idea that agencies should comply with executive orders.

In other cases, there may even be bipartisan agreement on the goal, like taking urgent action to help veterans at risk of self-harm. Lots of work and validation is needed to prove AI safe and effective for these use cases and convince the public it is appropriate, but the idea is plausible.

In other cases, a scary-sounding AI use may not even be new. The use of predictive methods and statistics to assign prisoner security classifications goes back decades, even if such systems are often biased and ineffective.

Using autonomous systems for model predictive control (MPC) of nuclear reactors is a well studied, and a widely applied aspect of nuclear plant management. And the recently disclosed addition of AI was initiated under the Biden administration.

But anyone reviewing the 2025 inventory could be forgiven for leaping to severe conclusions. What matters are the details of how the AI system is used, and here the inventory is severely lacking.

The disclosures carry minimal information, and lack the context necessary to understand their purpose and approach. The descriptions are typically just a sentence, and rarely more than a paragraph.

And while the process theoretically involves some form of public consultation, in reality there is generally none. It would take an eagle-eyed citizen to even come across this disclosure. Unless you read FedScoop regularly, or watch the OMB’s federal chief information officer’s GitHub account, you probably missed it.

Only one of the examples cited above (the DoJ) even proposes to involve the public. Under the administration’s policy, it’s not required for the rest because they are not classified as “high impact” use cases—a label that is applied inconsistently across agencies.

We wrote a book surveying applications of AI to democratic processes worldwide, including executive agencies as well as the courts, legislatures and politics. Our conclusion was that, while there are inappropriate applications of AI in governance that should be resisted, an urgent need to reform the economics of AI, and an imperative for renovating the democratic systems it is being unleashed on, there are also valuable and beneficial use cases for AI in government.

Machine translation is a good example. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) has deployed an AI translation system to help officers when human interpreters are not available. The idea that CBP, an agency under heavy scrutiny for reported abuses of human rights, would direct people to talk to a machine instead of a person may strike many as inhumane.

It’s true that human interpreters have very real advantages when it comes to understanding nuance from physical cues and social context. But an officer with a competent AI translator available immediately is better than one who cannot communicate with the person in front of them.

The Trump administration’s AI use case inventory has 70 such translation use cases, up from 58 in the Biden administration’s 2024 disclosure.

Disclosure of AI use cases could be a means to build public confidence and trust, but only if paired with consistent, meaningful public consultation. Washington DC and California are actively engaging the public to determine where and how it’s appropriate to use AI in government processes, or for government to regulate AI use in society.

Both have held public deliberations on this topic at a wide scale, using AI platforms. These examples demonstrate the potential for capturing broad-based public input to steer AI policy.

The international gold standard was arguably set by the French in 2016, via their Digital Republic Act. The law, itself informed by an online citizen consultation, requires all algorithms used to automate government administrative decisions to be subject to public records requests, to be appealable to a human reviewer, and to have mandatory notification of the use of automation to those affected by the decisions.

Canada offers another example of what more rigorous and participatory disclosure might look like. In 2025, they launched an AI use case registry, not unlike the US inventory. However, Canada also has a federal directive mandating a transparent risk-scoring and impact assessment process for automated systems that make administrative decisions about citizens.

That longstanding directive requires a detailed explanation of risks and benefits as well as consultation with certain stakeholders from the conception of the AI use case. The Canadian system could be improved; it could require a public comment period and an obligation for agencies to respond substantively to feedback before engaging in sensitive uses of AI.

AI offers real potential to improve the efficacy, efficiency and accessibility of government. But, equally, there is legitimate reason for public concern and distrust that can only be addressed through transparency and dialog. The US should adopt, at the federal and state level, algorithmic impact risk assessment procedures and public comment processes to facilitate a safe, trusted, equitable transformation of government agencies to take advantage of modern technology.

This essay was written with Nathan E. Sanders, and originally appeared in The Guardian.

There are over a dozen cases around the country where police officers are using the Flock surveillance camera system to obsessively and illegally stalk people.

Alternate link.

A proposed FCC rule would kill burner phones: phones whose accounts are not attached to a particular person.

The FCC plans to do this by legally forcing the country’s telecoms to store a wealth of personal information about essentially all phone customers, including a government issued identification number and their physical address, alarming privacy advocates and civil rights activists who compare the measures to those from authoritarian countries where it can be difficult to buy a mobile phone plan without giving up your identity.

The proposed change would drastically shake up how people obtain phone plans in the U.S., and have all sorts of privacy and cybersecurity knock-on effects. The FCC is proposing the data collection partly as a way to combat scammers, with telecoms being required to collect other information on business and foreign customers like the intended use case of their bulk phone plan purchase and their IP address. But the changes would mean telecoms collect data on all new and renewing customers, and the FCC provides a long list of other things that the collected data could help authorities with.

Alternate link.

This is a current list of where and when I am scheduled to speak:

• I’m giving a keynote at Cybernation 2026 in Berlin, Germany, on June 24, 2026.
• I’m speaking at the Potsdam Conference on National Cybersecurity at the Hasso Plattner Institut in Potsdam, Germany. The event runs June 24–25, 2026, and my talk will be the evening of June 24.
• I’m participating in a panel discussion at the Austrian Institute for International Affairs in Vienna on Thursday, June 25, 2026.
• I’m speaking at the Digital Humanism Conference in Vienna, Austria, on Friday, June 26, 2026.
• I’m giving a fireside chat for Epicenter Works, to be held at Kaffee Alt Wien in Vienna, Austria, on Friday, June 26, 2026.
• I’m participating (via Zoom) in a panel discussion at Quantum.Tech World in Boston, Massachusetts, USA, on Friday, June 26, 2026. The topic is “Q-Day’s Shortening Deadline: Immediate Solutions.”
• I’m speaking at Czech Technical University in Prague, Czechia, on Monday, June 29, 2026.
• I’m speaking at the Nuremberg Digital Festival in Nuremburg, Germany, on Wednesday, July 1, 2026.
• I’m speaking at CanSecWest 2026 in Vancouver, Canada. The conference runs September 30–October 1, 2026; the time of my talk is TBD.

The list is maintained on this page.

This fluid pump was inspired by the way squids propel themselves through the water.

As usual, you can also use this squid post to talk about the security stories in the news that I haven’t covered.

Blog moderation policy.

Let no one accuse Bernie Sanders of ducking the big questions. Writing in the New York Times last week, the senator asked: “Will the future of humanity be determined by a handful of billionaires who have promoted and developed AI, with virtually no democratic input, who stand to become even richer and more powerful than they are today?”

We agree entirely that this is one of the most potent questions facing global democracy today. Our book, Rewiring Democracy, surveys the emerging uses for and impacts of AI in democracy around the world and reaches the same conclusion: that the most urgent risk posed by AI is the concentration of power, wealth and control among tech oligarchs.

And yet we reached a vastly different conclusion than Sanders on what to do about it.

The senator points to a once radical but increasingly popular solution: creating a US sovereign wealth fund by taking 50% stock in AI companies such as Anthropic, OpenAI and xAI. The argument in favor of this is twofold. One: it would establish democratic control over the AI companies, giving the government “the power, through its voting shares and an equal representation on each company’s board, to block decisions that hurt our citizens and to push for policies that help them”. Two: it would return a big chunk of the economic rewards of soaring AI valuations to the public, ensuring “trillions of dollars potentially generated by AI are used to improve the lives of all of us”.

We laud both these goals unreservedly.

We wholeheartedly agree that there must be public influence over the development and use of AI, just as we demand the government intervene to ensure that automakers, drugmakers, airlines and other industries balance profitability with public safety and the public interest. And we credit the senator with recognizing that there are more levers for the government to pull beyond the promulgation of regulation to achieve this.

And we also agree that the obscene, dangerous accumulation of wealth among AI companies needs to be disrupted. As OpenAI and Anthropic race to be minted as the world’s latest trillion-dollar AI companies, we should recognize that—whether or not it constitutes a bubble—these staggering market capitalizations represent a transfer of wealth. The flow of money goes from the smaller businesses and actual people using AI, and being subjected to it, to the owners of these tech companies.

That includes the world’s 86 AI billionaires “seeking to maximize their power and profit” aiming to decide the “fate of humanity … behind closed doors in Silicon Valley”, as Sanders said.

And yet, while we do not outright oppose the taking of AI company stock, or of a US sovereign wealth fund, there are better ways to achieve Sanders’ stated goals.

Public ownership of these companies entangles corporate profit and valuation with the public interest. It would incentivize the government to clear regulations, permit the exploitation of workers and users, suppress competition, encourage AI adoption regardless of the responsibleness of the implementation or appropriateness of the use case, and otherwise act on behalf of corporate interests.

After all, if growing, say, Nvidia from its first $5tn in value to its next $5tn also represents a doubling in value of this segment of the sovereign wealth fund, then you can expect the fund managers to support chip sales, foreign and domestic, with the same zeal as the company’s private investors.

This is not an effective way to influence corporations to act in the public interest. In fact, it makes corporate influence on the government more likely.

We should be wary of this possibility because we’ve seen it before. Ownership of substantial stakes in oil companies by the Norwegian sovereign wealth fund, the world’s largest, does not seem to have steered those corporations to pro-environmental policies. Instead, the Norwegian government’s dependence on those companies has inhibited them from taking climate action. Here in the US, public employee pension funds merit the same criticism: the fiduciary duty to generate wealth overwhelms any intention to direct their corporate holdings in the public interest.

A better answer is to separate the two goals. The standard way to share private rewards with the broader society that made them possible is taxation. Senator Elizabeth Warren has proposed an excise tax on datacenters’ energy use. Others have proposed an AI token tax, which has much the same effect.

As to the goal of reshaping AI in the public interest, we have proposed an AI Public Option. The concept is for governments, be it federal or state, to establish publicly developed and operated AI models run by public institutions under democratic control. The idea is not to eliminate corporate AI or to seize it as a public asset, but rather for government to provide a competitive baseline that private AI offerings must meet or exceed to win business—just like the notion of a healthcare public option.

The Swiss have trailblazed this approach. Apertus is a large language model built by Swiss public servants, researchers at Swiss universities, using appropriately licensed training data and pre-existing Swiss public supercomputing infrastructure powered by renewable energy.

While Apertus doesn’t seriously compete with the latest OpenAI and Anthropic models on performance benchmarks, it blows them out of the water in transparency, sustainability and compliance with EU regulations including adherence to copyright. It’s a nascent project, but suggestive of how public institutions can apply competitive pressure for corporate actors to behave responsibly.

Don’t confuse public AI with “sovereign AI“, the notion that every country needs to invest in domestic AI infrastructure. Sovereign AI is often invoked as a marketing scheme for big tech companies looking to sell to governments; it demands public investment without guaranteeing public control.

Sanders is a bold and savvy political operator. So why is he pursuing the sovereign wealth fund strategy when he must be aware of these risks? It may be due to another argument he makes in his op-ed: that the Trump administration and the billionaire owners of AI are aligned to the idea.

It’s expedient to capitalize on rare moments of seeming alignment across diverse political factions, but it also behooves us to ask why the AI billionaires are open to this extraordinary intervention. The answer, of course, is that they believe that for every dollar ceded to government stock expropriation, they will get back more in favorable government policies to protect that newfound investment.

Energy taxation is a straightforward way to make AI companies pay for the social disruption of their technologies. Public AI represents a non-monetary mechanism for governments to shape the development of AI, complementary to direct regulation of private actors, one with a far greater chance of influencing corporate behavior towards the public interest. We urge Sanders and other political leaders to consider them.

This essay was written with Nathan E. Sanders, and originally appeared in The Guardian.

The surveillance company Leonardo wants more data:

A surveillance company plans to add sensors to automatic license plate readers (ALPRs) that would mean the devices, as well as capture the license plate of passing vehicles, would also sweep up unique identifiers of mobile phones, wearables, and other Bluetooth-enabled devices in those cars, potentially letting law enforcement identify specific drivers or passengers.

The technology, called SignalTrace, would turn ALPR cameras from devices focused on tracking cars to ones that can more readily track the location of particular people. ALPR cameras have become a commonly deployed technology all across the U.S.; SignalTrace would make some of those cameras capable of collecting much more data.

Yes, it’s bad that more companies are collecting this level of surveillance data. But all of this pales in comparison to the type and quantity of data our smartphones already collect about us.

Alternate link.

WhatsApp has caught the NSO Group phishing its users, in violation of a court order.

This is interesting:

The U.S. military has likely been quietly broadcasting codes for its global encryption network using public GPS for nearly 20 years, turning each satellite into a hidden “numbers station,” according to Steven Murdoch…

That means every device that uses GPS has been receiving hidden government information for years, and nobody outside the military knew it until now.

[…]

Murdoch discovered that this particular sentinel was transmitted by all 31 operational satellites within a window of a few hours on May 26, 2011, potentially heralding the activation of a new operational system. He confirmed that this timeline coincided with the rollout of the military’s Over-the-Air Distribution (OTAD) and the Over-the-Air Rekeying (OTAR) by cross-referencing declassified documents, including a 2015 presentation about the dates of the operation.

“There was a perfect match between the timeline and that presentation and the change points that were automatically identified from the data,” Murdoch said. “That was the smoking gun that made me think: This is what it’s for.”

These automated systems replaced the cumbersome manual distribution of cryptographic keying material, allowing military GPS receivers around the world to be rekeyed remotely through satellite broadcasts rather than through onsite procedures.

If you’re a user—owner?—of this cryptocurrency, this is important:

On May 29, the security researcher Taylor Hornby found a critical vulnerability in Zcash Orchard privacy pool using Claude Opus 4.8. The Zcash team hired Hornby specifically to look for this kind of issue. He found one fast enough to be embarrassing.

The Orchard pool is the newest and most advanced shielded transaction system in the cryptocurrency Zcash. Introduced in 2022, it allows users to send and receive ZEC while keeping transaction details private. It uses zero-knowledge proofs to validate transactions without revealing amounts or participants. The bug: a specific check that was supposed to validate transaction inputs wasn’t actually enforcing the rules it appeared to enforce. An attacker could have exploited the flaw to feed false inputs into that check and generate ZEC from nothing, with the zero-knowledge proof system blessing the fraudulent transaction as valid.

It’s fixed; that’s the good news. The bad news is that there’s no way of knowing if anyone exploited the vulnerability to steal money. And this fragility is the fundamental problem that makes blockchain such a bad idea.

In April, Anthropic initated Project Glasswing. The idea was to let companies use their new model to find and fix vulnerabilities in their own software. It was a fantastic PR move, and so many press outlets have uncritically parroted Anthropic’s claims that it’s now common wisdom that Mythos is better at finding software vulnerabilities than other models. Which is just not true.

In any case, Anthropic has published a Project Glasswing status report. It’s finding a lot of vulnerabilities in software—yay! Some of them are even dangerous. But almost none of them has been patched. It’s weird. There’s something fishy about the data that I don’t understand. That Anthropic refuses to release details—that it just says “trust us”—is a big problem here.

Researchers have prototyped an AI-powered internet worm.

The coolest thing about the prototype is that it carries its own LLM with it, and runs it on computers that have been broken into.

This is the closest to John Brunner’s original 1975 conception of a computer worm that I’ve seen.

Hackers are convincing Meta’s AI support chatbot to let them take over other peoples’ accounts:

A video posted on X showed the step-by-step process to hack someone’s Instagram account. The hacker allegedly used a VPN to spoof the targets’ presumed location to avoid triggering Instagram’s automated account protections. Then, the hacker opened a chat with Meta AI Support Assistant and asked the bot to add a new email address to the target’s account. The chatbot can be seen sending a verification code to the email address provided by the hacker; the hacker then shares the verification code with the chatbot, which prompts the chatbot to show a button to “Reset Password.” The hacker enters a new password and takes over the victim’s account.

[…]

On Monday, Instagram spokesperson Andy Stone said in a reply to Wong’s post and others that the issue was now fixed. It’s unclear how many Instagram users had their accounts improperly accessed.

It’s not that easy. Probably this particular tactic is now blocked. But there are others, many others, and they cannot be blocked as a class. The real problem is that LLM chatbots are not trustworthy enough for this application.

Another news article.

Researchers are using machine learning algorithms to decrypt historical pencil-and-paper ciphers.

As part of their 20th Anniversary celebration, Dark Reading asked five cybersecurity industry leaders who wrote blogs or columns for them over the years to select their favorite piece and share their reflections on the topic today. This is my section.

Renowned technologist and author Bruce Schneier contributed a column on June 20, 2010, warning about cryptography’s inability to secure modern networks, a point he says he has been trying to argue since 2000.

“For a while now, I’ve pointed out that cryptography is singularly ill-suited to solve the major network security problems of today: denial-of-service attacks, website defacement, theft of credit card numbers, identity theft, viruses and worms, DNS attacks, network penetration, and so on.

“Recently, I talked to a former NSA employee at a conference. He told me that back in the 1990s, he had a copy of my book Applied Cryptography by his desk, as did many other cryptographers working at Ft. Meade. People were allowed to refer to it, but they were not allowed to cite it.

“The 1990s were an important decade for cryptography. This was before the internet went mass market, when cryptography was just emerging from a niche academic discipline to a mainstream engineering one. There wasn’t much that programmers could read. The NSA used my book for the same reason it became a bestseller: because it collected all the academic cryptography of the time in one place and made it understandable to people who weren’t mathematicians. They feared it for exactly the same reason.

“I’ve been thinking about that conversation as I revisit a 2010 essay I wrote for Dark Reading, ‘The Failure of Cryptography to Secure Modern Networks.’ Cryptography has inherent mathematical properties that greatly favor the defender. Adding a single bit to the length of a key adds only a slight amount of work for the defender but doubles the amount of work the attacker has to do. Doubling the key length doubles the amount of work the defender has to do (if that—I’m being approximate here) but increases the attacker’s workload exponentially. For many years, we have exploited that mathematical imbalance.

“Computer security is much more balanced. There’ll be a new attack, and a new defense, and a new attack, and a new defense. It’s an arms race between attacker and defender. And it’s a very fast arms race. New vulnerabilities are discovered all the time. The balance can tip from defender to attacker overnight, and back again the night after. Computer security defenses are inherently very fragile.

“That isn’t a new idea. I said much the same thing in the preface to my 2000 book, Secrets and Lies:

“‘Cryptography is a branch of mathematics. And like all mathematics, it involves numbers, equations, and logic. Security, real security that you or I might find useful in our lives, involves people: things people know, relationships between people, people and how they relate to machines. Digital security involves computers: complex, unstable, buggy computers.’

“I especially like how I phrased it in 2016: ‘Cryptography is harder than it looks, primarily because it looks like math. Both algorithms and protocols can be precisely defined and analyzed. This isn’t easy, and there’s a lot of insecure crypto out there, but we cryptographers have gotten pretty good at getting this part right. However, math has no agency; it can’t actually secure anything. For cryptography to work, it needs to be written in software, embedded in a larger software system, managed by an operating system, run on hardware, connected to a network, and configured and operated by users. Each of these steps brings with it difficulties and vulnerabilities.’

“It’s a lesson we have all learned over the decades. Cryptography is still necessary for cybersecurity—although I wouldn’t have used that word back then—but is not sufficient. There are particular attack and forms of mass surveillance that cryptography prevents. But as computers have infused throughout our lives, and networks have connected all those computers, those aspects of cybersecurity have become increasingly important, and vulnerable.

“Today, the cybersecurity world is changing yet again, this time due to the capabilities of artificial intelligence. AI isn’t advancing cryptography, but it’s changing cybersecurity. AI has demonstrated a superhuman ability to find vulnerabilities in software and to write exploits. A similar ability to write patches is probably coming. This has profound implications for both attackers and defenders, and it is unclear who will win the particular arms race in a world of what I call instant software.”

An anonymous security researcher called “Nightmare Eclipse” has been publishing a series of significant security exploits against Microsoft Windows—including one that breaks BitLocker. Microsoft has threatened legal action against the researcher. Lots of recriminations are being traded back and forth.

New article: “Responsible Disclosure in the Age of AI: A Call for Urgent Action,” by Melissa Hathaway.

Abstract: Artificial intelligence is fundamentally reshaping the balance between vulnerability discovery and remediation. Frontier AI models are now capable of autonomously identifying exploitable software vulnerabilities at unprecedented speed and scale. This development exposes decades of accumulated technical debt created by a software industry that prioritized rapid deployment over secure-by-design engineering practices. Drawing on the evolution of software assurance, vulnerability disclosure frameworks, and U.S. cyber policy, this perspective argues that the current moment represents a strategic inflection point for governments, industry, and critical infrastructure operators. The author examines the growing tension between offensive and defensive equities in cyberspace, the emergence of AI-enabled vulnerability discovery capabilities in both the U.S. and China, and the increasing risks posed by unsupported legacy systems and AI-assisted code generation practices. Responsible disclosure can no longer remain a reactive or fragmented process, but must become a coordinated national and international resilience effort involving governments, software vendors, infrastructure operators, and emergency response organizations. The article concludes with an urgent call for accelerated remediation, large-scale patch management coordination, and sustained investment in automated vulnerability repair capabilities before adversaries exploit this rapidly narrowing window of opportunity.