Teaching cybersecurity to criminologists

I recently had the pleasure of teaching my first module at UCL, an introduction to cybersecurity for students in the SECReT doctoral training centre.

The module had been taught before, but always from a fairly computer-science-heavy perspective. Given that the students had largely no background in computer science, and that my joint appointment in the Department of Security and Crime Science has given me at least some small insight into what aspects of cybersecurity criminologists might find interesting, I chose to design the lecture material largely from scratch. I tried to balance the technical components of cybersecurity that I felt everyone needed to know (which, perhaps unsurprisingly, included a fair amount of cryptography) with high-level design principles and the overarching question of how we define security. Although I say I designed the curriculum from scratch, I of course ended up borrowing heavily from others, most notably from the lecture and exam material of my former supervisor’s undergraduate cybersecurity module (thanks, Stefan!) and from George’s lecture material for Introduction to Computer Security. If anyone’s curious, the lecture material is available on my website.

As I said, the students in the Crime Science department (and in particular the ones taking this module) had little to no background in computer science.  Instead, they had a diverse set of academic backgrounds: psychology, political science, forensics, etc. One of the students’ proposed dissertation titles was “Using gold nanoparticles on metal oxide semiconducting gas sensors to increase sensitivity when detecting illicit materials, such as explosives,” so it’s an understatement to say that we were approaching cybersecurity from different directions!

With that in mind, one of the first things I did in my first lecture was to take a poll on who was familiar with certain concepts (e.g., SSH, malware, the structure of the Internet), and what people were interested in learning about (e.g., digital forensics, cryptanalysis, anonymity). I don’t know what I was expecting, but the responses really blew me away! The students overwhelmingly wanted to hear about how to secure themselves on the Internet, both in terms of personal security habits (e.g., using browser extensions) and in terms of understanding what and how things might go wrong. Almost the whole class specifically requested Tor, and a few had even used it before.

This theme of being (pleasantly!) surprised continued throughout the term.  When I taught certificates, the students asked not for more details on how they work, but if there was a body responsible for governing certificate authorities and if it was possible to sue them if they misbehave. When I taught authentication, we played a Scattergories-style game to weigh the pros and cons of various authentication mechanisms, and they came up with answers like “a con of backup security questions is that they reveal cultural trends that may then be used to reveal age, ethnicity, gender, etc.”

There’s still a month and a half left until the students take the exam, so it’s too soon to say how effective it was at teaching them cybersecurity, but for me the experience was a clear success and one that I look forward to repeating and refining in the future.

Tor: the last bastion of online anonymity, but is it still secure after Silk Road?

The Silk Road trial has concluded, with Ross Ulbricht found guilty of running the anonymous online marketplace for illegal goods. But questions remain over how the FBI found its way through Tor, the software that allows anonymous, untraceable use of the web, to gather the evidence against him.

The development of anonymising software such as Tor and Bitcoin has forced law enforcement to develop the expertise needed to identify those using them. But if anything, what we know about the FBI’s case suggests it was tip-offs, inside men, confessions, and Ulbricht’s own errors that were responsible for his conviction.

This is the main problem with these systems: breaking or circumventing anonymity software is hard, but it’s easy to build up evidence against an individual once you can target surveillance, and wait for them to slip up.

The problem

A design decision in the early days of the internet led to a problem: every message sent is tagged with the numerical Internet Protocol (IP) addresses that identify the source and destination computers. The network address indicates how and where to route the message, but there is no equivalent indicating the identity of the sender or intended recipient.

This conflation of addressing and identity is bad for privacy. Any internet traffic you send or receive will have your IP address attached to it. Typically a computer will only have one public IP address at a time, which means your online activity can be linked together using that address. Whether you like it or not, marketers, criminals or investigators use this sort of profiling without consent all the time. The way IP addresses are allocated is geographically and on a per-organisation basis, so it’s even possible to pinpoint a surprisingly accurate location.

This conflation of addressing and identity is also bad for security. The routing protocols which establish the best route between two points on the internet are not secure, and have been exploited by attackers to take control of (hijack) IP addresses they don’t legitimately own. Such attackers then have access to network traffic destined for the hijacked IP addresses, and also to anything the legitimate owner of the IP addresses should have access to.

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