MongoDB just announced that they were relicensing under their new Server Side Public License. This is basically the Affero GPL except with section 13 largely replaced with new text, as follows:

If you make the functionality of the Program or a modified version available to third parties as a service, you must make the Service Source Code available via network download to everyone at no charge, under the terms of this License. Making the functionality of the Program or modified version available to third parties as a service includes, without limitation, enabling third parties to interact with the functionality of the Program or modified version remotely through a computer network, offering a service the value of which entirely or primarily derives from the value of the Program or modified version, or offering a service that accomplishes for users the primary purpose of the Software or modified version.

“Service Source Code” means the Corresponding Source for the Program or the modified version, and the Corresponding Source for all programs that you use to make the Program or modified version available as a service, including, without limitation, management software, user interfaces, application program interfaces, automation software, monitoring software, backup software, storage software and hosting software, all such that a user could run an instance of the service using the Service Source Code you make available.


MongoDB admit that this license is not currently open source in the sense of being approved by the Open Source Initiative, but say:We believe that the SSPL meets the standards for an open source license and are working to have it approved by the OSI.

At the broadest level, AGPL requires you to distribute the source code to the AGPLed work[1] while the SSPL requires you to distribute the source code to everything involved in providing the service. Having a license place requirements around things that aren't derived works of the covered code is unusual but not entirely unheard of - the GPL requires you to provide build scripts even if they're not strictly derived works, and you could probably make an argument that the anti-Tivoisation provisions of GPL3 fall into this category.

A stranger point is that you're required to provide all of this under the terms of the SSPL. If you have any code in your stack that can't be released under those terms then it's literally impossible for you to comply with this license. I'm not a lawyer, so I'll leave it up to them to figure out whether this means you're now only allowed to deploy MongoDB on BSD because the license would require you to relicense Linux away from the GPL. This feels sloppy rather than deliberate, but if it is deliberate then it's a massively greater reach than any existing copyleft license.

You can definitely make arguments that this is just a maximalist copyleft license, the AGPL taken to extreme, and therefore it fits the open source criteria. But there's a point where something is so far from the previously accepted scenarios that it's actually something different, and should be examined as a new category rather than already approved categories. I suspect that this license has been written to conform to a strict reading of the Open Source Definition, and that any attempt by OSI to declare it as not being open source will receive pushback. But definitions don't exist to be weaponised against the communities that they seek to protect, and a license that has overly onerous terms should be rejected even if that means changing the definition.

In general I am strongly in favour of licenses ensuring that users have the freedom to take advantage of modifications that people have made to free software, and I'm a fan of the AGPL. But my initial feeling is that this license is a deliberate attempt to make it practically impossible to take advantage of the freedoms that the license nominally grants, and this impression is strengthened by it being something that's been announced with immediate effect rather than something that's been developed with community input. I think there's a bunch of worthwhile discussion to have about whether the AGPL is strong and clear enough to achieve its goals, but I don't think that this SSPL is the answer to that - and I lean towards thinking that it's not a good faith attempt to produce a usable open source license.

(It should go without saying that this is my personal opinion as a member of the free software community, and not that of my employer)

[1] There's some complexities around GPL3 code that's incorporated into the AGPLed work, but if it's not part of the AGPLed work then it's not covered
The Commons Clause was announced recently, along with several projects moving portions of their codebase under it. It's an additional restriction intended to be applied to existing open source licenses with the effect of preventing the work from being sold[1], where the definition of being sold includes being used as a component of an online pay-for service. As described in the FAQ, this changes the effective license of the work from an open source license to a source-available license. However, the site doesn't go into a great deal of detail as to why you'd want to do that.

Fortunately one of the VCs behind this move wrote an opinion article that goes into more detail. The central argument is that Amazon make use of a great deal of open source software and integrate it into commercial products that are incredibly lucrative, but give little back to the community in return. By adopting the commons clause, Amazon will be forced to negotiate with the projects before being able to use covered versions of the software. This will, apparently, prevent behaviour that is not conducive to sustainable open-source communities.

But this is where things get somewhat confusing. The author continues:

Our view is that open-source software was never intended for cloud infrastructure companies to take and sell. That is not the original ethos of open source.

which is a pretty astonishingly unsupported argument. Open source code has been incorporated into proprietary applications without giving back to the originating community since before the term open source even existed. MIT-licensed X11 became part of not only multiple Unixes, but also a variety of proprietary commercial products for non-Unix platforms. Large portions of BSD ended up in a whole range of proprietary operating systems (including older versions of Windows). The only argument in favour of this assertion is that cloud infrastructure companies didn't exist at that point in time, so they weren't taken into consideration[2] - but no argument is made as to why cloud infrastructure companies are fundamentally different to proprietary operating system companies in this respect. Both took open source code, incorporated it into other products and sold them on without (in most cases) giving anything back.

There's one counter-argument. When companies sold products based on open source code, they distributed it. Copyleft licenses like the GPL trigger on distribution, and as a result selling products based on copyleft code meant that the community would gain access to any modifications the vendor had made - improvements could be incorporated back into the original work, and everyone benefited. Incorporating open source code into a cloud product generally doesn't count as distribution, and so the source code disclosure requirements don't trigger. So perhaps that's the distinction being made?

Well, no. The GNU Affero GPL has a clause that covers this case - if you provide a network service based on AGPLed code then you must provide the source code in a similar way to if you distributed it under a more traditional copyleft license. But the article's author goes on to say:

AGPL makes it inconvenient but does not prevent cloud infrastructure providers from engaging in the abusive behavior described above. It simply says that they must release any modifications they make while engaging in such behavior.

IE, the problem isn't that cloud providers aren't giving back code, it's that they're using the code without contributing financially. There's no difference between what cloud providers are doing now and what proprietary operating system vendors were doing 30 years ago. The argument that "open source" was never intended to permit this sort of behaviour is simply untrue. The use of permissive licenses has always allowed large companies to benefit disproportionately when compared to the authors of said code. There's nothing new to see here.

But that doesn't mean that the status quo is good - the argument for why the commons clause is required may be specious, but that doesn't mean it's bad. We've seen multiple cases of open source projects struggling to obtain the resources required to make a project sustainable, even as many large companies make significant amounts of money off that work. Does the commons clause help us here?

As hinted at in the title, the answer's no. The commons clause attempts to change the power dynamic of the author/user role, but it does so in a way that's fundamentally tied to a business model and in a way that prevents many of the things that make open source software interesting to begin with. Let's talk about some problems.

The power dynamic still doesn't favour contributors

The commons clause only really works if there's a single copyright holder - if not, selling the code requires you to get permission from multiple people. But the clause does nothing to guarantee that the people who actually write the code benefit, merely that whoever holds the copyright does. If I rewrite a large part of a covered work and that code is merged (presumably after I've signed a CLA that assigns a copyright grant to the project owners), I have no power in any negotiations with any cloud providers. There's no guarantee that the project stewards will choose to reward me in any way. I contribute to them but get nothing back in return - instead, my improved code allows the project owners to charge more and provide stronger returns for the VCs. The inequity has shifted, but individual contributors still lose out.

It discourages use of covered projects

One of the benefits of being able to use open source software is that you don't need to fill out purchase orders or start commercial negotiations before you're able to deploy. Turns out the project doesn't actually fill your needs? Revert it, and all you've lost is some development time. Adding additional barriers is going to reduce uptake of covered projects, and that does nothing to benefit the contributors.

You can no longer meaningfully fork a project

One of the strengths of open source projects is that if the original project stewards turn out to violate the trust of their community, someone can fork it and provide a reasonable alternative. But if the project is released with the commons clause, it's impossible to sell any forked versions - anyone who wishes to do so would still need the permission of the original copyright holder, and they can refuse that in order to prevent a fork from gaining any significant uptake.

It doesn't inherently benefit the commons

The entire argument here is that the cloud providers are exploiting the commons, and by forcing them to pay for a license that allows them to make use of that software the commons will benefit. But there's no obvious link between these things. Maybe extra money will result in more development work being done and the commons benefiting, but maybe extra money will instead just result in greater payout to shareholders. Forcing cloud providers to release their modifications to the wider world would be of benefit to the commons, but this is explicitly ruled out as a goal. The clause isn't inherently incompatible with this - the negotiations between a vendor and a project to obtain a license to be permitted to sell the code could include a commitment to provide patches rather money, for instance, but the focus on money makes it clear that this wasn't the authors' priority.

What we're left with is a license condition that does nothing to benefit individual contributors or other users, and costs us the opportunity to fork projects in response to disagreements over design decisions or governance. What it does is ensure that a range of VC-backed projects are in a better position to improve their returns, without any guarantee that the commons will be left better off. It's an attempt to solve a problem that's existed since before the term "open source" was even coined, by simply layering on a business model that's also existed since before the term "open source" was even coined[3]. It's not anything new, and open source derives from an explicit rejection of this sort of business model.

That's not to say we're in a good place at the moment. It's clear that there is a giant level of power disparity between many projects and the consumers of those projects. But we're not going to fix that by simply discarding many of the benefits of open source and going back to an older way of doing things. Companies like Tidelift[4] are trying to identify ways of making this sustainable without losing the things that make open source a better way of doing software development in the first place, and that's what we should be focusing on rather than just admitting defeat to satisfy a small number of VC-backed firms that have otherwise failed to develop a sustainable business model.

[1] It is unclear how this interacts with licenses that include clauses that assert you can remove any additional restrictions that have been applied
[2] Although companies like Hotmail were making money from running open source software before the open source definition existed, so this still seems like a reach
[3] "Source available" predates my existence, let alone any existing open source licenses
[4] Disclosure: I know several people involved in Tidelift, but have no financial involvement in the company
The X210 is a strange machine. A set of Chinese enthusiasts developed a series of motherboards that slot into old Thinkpad chassis, providing significantly more up to date hardware. The X210 has a Kabylake CPU, supports up to 32GB of RAM, has an NVMe-capable M.2 slot and has eDP support - and it fits into an X200 or X201 chassis, which means it also comes with a classic Thinkpad keyboard . We ordered some from a Facebook page (a process that involved wiring a large chunk of money to a Chinese bank which wasn't at all stressful), and a couple of weeks later they arrived. Once I'd put mine together I had a quad-core i7-8550U with 16GB of RAM, a 512GB NVMe drive and a 1920x1200 display. I'd transplanted over the drive from my XPS13, so I was running stock Fedora for most of this development process.

The other fun thing about it is that none of the firmware flashing protection is enabled, including Intel Boot Guard. This means running a custom firmware image is possible, and what would a ridiculous custom Thinkpad be without ridiculous custom firmware? A shadow of its potential, that's what. So, I read the Coreboot[1] motherboard porting guide and set to.

My life was made a great deal easier by the existence of a port for the Purism Librem 13v2. This is a Skylake system, and Skylake and Kabylake are very similar platforms. So, the first job was to just copy that into a new directory and start from there. The first step was to update the Inteltool utility so it understood the chipset - this commit shows what was necessary there. It's mostly just adding new PCI IDs, but it also needed some adjustment to account for the GPIO allocation being different on mobile parts when compared to desktop ones. One thing that bit me - Inteltool relies on being able to mmap() arbitrary bits of physical address space, and the kernel doesn't allow that if CONFIG_STRICT_DEVMEM is enabled. I had to disable that first.

The GPIO pins got dropped into gpio.h. I ended up just pushing the raw values into there rather than parsing them back into more semantically meaningful definitions, partly because I don't understand what these things do that well and largely because I'm lazy. Once that was done, on to the next step.

High Definition Audio devices (or HDA) have a standard interface, but the codecs attached to the HDA device vary - both in terms of their own configuration, and in terms of dealing with how the board designer may have laid things out. Thankfully the existing configuration could be copied from /sys/class/sound/card0/hwC0D0/init_pin_configs[2] and then hda_verb.h could be updated.

One more piece of hardware-specific configuration is the Video BIOS Table, or VBT. This contains information used by the graphics drivers (firmware or OS-level) to configure the display correctly, and again is somewhat system-specific. This can be grabbed from /sys/kernel/debug/dri/0/i915_vbt.

A lot of the remaining platform-specific configuration has been split out into board-specific config files. and this also needed updating. Most stuff was the same, but I confirmed the GPE and genx_dec register values by using Inteltool to dump them from the vendor system and copy them over. lspci -t gave me the bus topology and told me which PCIe root ports were in use, and lsusb -t gave me port numbers for USB. That let me update the root port and USB tables.

The final code update required was to tell the OS how to communicate with the embedded controller. Various ACPI functions are actually handled by this autonomous device, but it's still necessary for the OS to know how to obtain information from it. This involves writing some ACPI code, but that's largely a matter of cutting and pasting from the vendor firmware - the EC layout depends on the EC firmware rather than the system firmware, and we weren't planning on changing the EC firmware in any way. Using ifdtool told me that the vendor firmware image wasn't using the EC region of the flash, so my assumption was that the EC had its own firmware stored somewhere else. I was ready to flash.

The first attempt involved isis' machine, using their Beaglebone Black as a flashing device - the lack of protection in the firmware meant we ought to be able to get away with using flashrom directly on the host SPI controller, but using an external flasher meant we stood a better chance of being able to recover if something went wrong. We flashed, plugged in the power and… nothing. Literally. The power LED didn't turn on. The machine was very, very dead.

Things like managing battery charging and status indicators are up to the EC, and the complete absence of anything going on here meant that the EC wasn't running. The most likely reason for that was that the system flash did contain the EC's firmware even though the descriptor said it didn't, and now the system was very unhappy. Worse, the flash wouldn't speak to us any more - the power supply from the Beaglebone to the flash chip was sufficient to power up the EC, and the EC was then holding onto the SPI bus desperately trying to read its firmware. Bother. This was made rather more embarrassing because isis had explicitly raised concern about flashing an image that didn't contain any EC firmware, and now I'd killed their laptop.

After some digging I was able to find EC firmware for a related 51NB system, and looking at that gave me a bunch of strings that seemed reasonably identifiable. Looking at the original vendor ROM showed very similar code located at offset 0x00200000 into the image, so I added a small tool to inject the EC firmware (basing it on an existing tool that does something similar for the EC in some HP laptops). I now had an image that I was reasonably confident would get further, but we couldn't flash it. Next step seemed like it was going to involve desoldering the flash from the board, which is a colossal pain. Time to sleep on the problem.

The next morning we were able to borrow a Dediprog SPI flasher. These are much faster than doing SPI over GPIO lines, and also support running the flash at different voltage. At 3.5V the behaviour was the same as we'd seen the previous night - nothing. According to the datasheet, the flash required at least 2.7V to run, but flashrom listed 1.8V as the next lower voltage so we tried. And, amazingly, it worked - not reliably, but sufficiently. Our hypothesis is that the chip is marginally able to run at that voltage, but that the EC isn't - we were no longer powering the EC up, so could communicated with the flash. After a couple of attempts we were able to write enough that we had EC firmware on there, at which point we could shift back to flashing at 3.5V because the EC was leaving the flash alone.

So, we flashed again. And, amazingly, we ended up staring at a UEFI shell prompt[3]. USB wasn't working, and nor was the onboard keyboard, but we had graphics and were executing actual firmware code. I was able to get USB working fairly quickly - it turns out that Linux numbers USB ports from 1 and the FSP numbers them from 0, and fixing that up gave us working USB. We were able to boot Linux! Except there were a whole bunch of errors complaining about EC timeouts, and also we only had half the RAM we should.

After some discussion on the Coreboot IRC channel, we figured out the RAM issue - the Librem13 only has one DIMM slot. The FSP expects to be given a set of i2c addresses to probe, one for each DIMM socket. It is then able to read back the DIMM configuration and configure the memory controller appropriately. Running i2cdetect against the system SMBus gave us a range of devices, including one at 0x50 and one at 0x52. The detected DIMM was at 0x50, which made 0x52 seem like a reasonable bet - and grepping the tree showed that several other systems used 0x52 as the address for their second socket. Adding that to the list of addresses and passing it to the FSP gave us all our RAM.

So, now we just had to deal with the EC. One thing we noticed was that if we flashed the vendor firmware, ran it, flashed Coreboot and then rebooted without cutting the power, the EC worked. This strongly suggested that there was some setup code happening in the vendor firmware that configured the EC appropriately, and if we duplicated that it would probably work. Unfortunately, figuring out what that code was was difficult. I ended up dumping the PCI device configuration for the vendor firmware and for Coreboot in case that would give us any clues, but the only thing that seemed relevant at all was that the LPC controller was configured to pass io ports 0x4e and 0x4f to the LPC bus with the vendor firmware, but not with Coreboot. Unfortunately the EC was supposed to be listening on 0x62 and 0x66, so this wasn't the problem.

I ended up solving this by using UEFITool to extract all the code from the vendor firmware, and then disassembled every object and grepped them for port io. x86 systems have two separate io buses - memory and port IO. Port IO is well suited to simple devices that don't need a lot of bandwidth, and the EC is definitely one of these - there's no way to talk to it other than using port IO, so any configuration was almost certainly happening that way. I found a whole bunch of stuff that touched the EC, but was clearly depending on it already having been enabled. I found a wide range of cases where port IO was being used for early PCI configuration. And, finally, I found some code that reconfigured the LPC bridge to route 0x4e and 0x4f to the LPC bus (explaining the configuration change I'd seen earlier), and then wrote a bunch of values to those addresses. I mimicked those, and suddenly the EC started responding.

It turns out that the writes that made this work weren't terribly magic. PCs used to have a SuperIO chip that provided most of the legacy port functionality, including the floppy drive controller and parallel and serial ports. Individual components (called logical devices, or LDNs) could be enabled and disabled using a sequence of writes that was fairly consistent between vendors. Someone on the Coreboot IRC channel recognised that the writes that enabled the EC were simply using that protocol to enable a series of LDNs, which apparently correspond to things like "Working EC" and "Working keyboard". And with that, we were done.

Coreboot doesn't currently have ACPI support for the latest Intel graphics chipsets, so right now my image doesn't have working backlight control.Backlight control also turned out to be interesting. Most modern Intel systems handle the backlight via registers in the GPU, but the X210 uses the embedded controller (possibly because it supports both LVDS and eDP panels). This means that adding a simple display stub is sufficient - all we have to do on a backlight set request is store the value in the EC, and it does the rest.

Other than that, everything seems to work (although there's probably a bunch of power management optimisation to do). I started this process knowing almost nothing about Coreboot, but thanks to the help of people on IRC I was able to get things working in about two days of work[4] and now have firmware that's about as custom as my laptop.

[1] Why not Libreboot? Because modern Intel SoCs haven't had their memory initialisation code reverse engineered, so the only way to boot them is to use the proprietary Intel Firmware Support Package.
[2] Card 0, device 0
[3] After a few false starts - it turns out that the initial memory training can take a surprisingly long time, and we kept giving up before that had happened
[4] Spread over 5 or so days of real time
David Howells recently published the latest version of his kernel lockdown patchset. This is intended to strengthen the boundary between root and the kernel by imposing additional restrictions that prevent root from modifying the kernel at runtime. It's not the first feature of this sort - /dev/mem no longer allows you to overwrite arbitrary kernel memory, and you can configure the kernel so only signed modules can be loaded. But the present state of things is that these security features can be easily circumvented (by using kexec to modify the kernel security policy, for instance).

Why do you want lockdown? If you've got a setup where you know that your system is booting a trustworthy kernel (you're running a system that does cryptographic verification of its boot chain, or you built and installed the kernel yourself, for instance) then you can trust the kernel to keep secrets safe from even root. But if root is able to modify the running kernel, that guarantee goes away. As a result, it makes sense to extend the security policy from the boot environment up to the running kernel - it's really just an extension of configuring the kernel to require signed modules.

The patchset itself isn't hugely conceptually controversial, although there's disagreement over the precise form of certain restrictions. But one patch has, because it associates whether or not lockdown is enabled with whether or not UEFI Secure Boot is enabled. There's some backstory that's important here.

Most kernel features get turned on or off by either build-time configuration or by passing arguments to the kernel at boot time. There's two ways that this patchset allows a bootloader to tell the kernel to enable lockdown mode - it can either pass the lockdown argument on the kernel command line, or it can set the secure_boot flag in the bootparams structure that's passed to the kernel. If you're running in an environment where you're able to verify the kernel before booting it (either through cryptographic validation of the kernel, or knowing that there's a secret tied to the TPM that will prevent the system booting if the kernel's been tampered with), you can turn on lockdown.

There's a catch on UEFI systems, though - you can build the kernel so that it looks like an EFI executable, and then run it directly from the firmware. The firmware doesn't know about Linux, so can't populate the bootparam structure, and there's no mechanism to enforce command lines so we can't rely on that either. The controversial patch simply adds a kernel configuration option that automatically enables lockdown when UEFI secure boot is enabled and otherwise leaves it up to the user to choose whether or not to turn it on.

Why do we want lockdown enabled when booting via UEFI secure boot? UEFI secure boot is designed to prevent the booting of any bootloaders that the owner of the system doesn't consider trustworthy[1]. But a bootloader is only software - the only thing that distinguishes it from, say, Firefox is that Firefox is running in user mode and has no direct access to the hardware. The kernel does have direct access to the hardware, and so there's no meaningful distinction between what grub can do and what the kernel can do. If you can run arbitrary code in the kernel then you can use the kernel to boot anything you want, which defeats the point of UEFI Secure Boot. Linux distributions don't want their kernels to be used to be used as part of an attack chain against other distributions or operating systems, so they enable lockdown (or equivalent functionality) for kernels booted this way.

So why not enable it everywhere? There's a couple of reasons. The first is that some of the features may break things people need - for instance, some strange embedded apps communicate with PCI devices by mmap()ing resources directly from sysfs[2]. This is blocked by lockdown, which would break them. Distributions would then have to ship an additional kernel that had lockdown disabled (it's not possible to just have a command line argument that disables it, because an attacker could simply pass that), and users would have to disable secure boot to boot that anyway. It's easier to just tie the two together.

The second is that it presents a promise of security that isn't really there if your system didn't verify the kernel. If an attacker can replace your bootloader or kernel then the ability to modify your kernel at runtime is less interesting - they can just wait for the next reboot. Appearing to give users safety assurances that are much less strong than they seem to be isn't good for keeping users safe.

So, what about people whose work is impacted by lockdown? Right now there's two ways to get stuff blocked by lockdown unblocked: either disable secure boot[3] (which will disable it until you enable secure boot again) or press alt-sysrq-x (which will disable it until the next boot). Discussion has suggested that having an additional secure variable that disables lockdown without disabling secure boot validation might be helpful, and it's not difficult to implement that so it'll probably happen.

Overall: the patchset isn't controversial, just the way it's integrated with UEFI secure boot. The reason it's integrated with UEFI secure boot is because that's the policy most distributions want, since the alternative is to enable it everywhere even when it doesn't provide real benefits but does provide additional support overhead. You can use it even if you're not using UEFI secure boot. We should have just called it securelevel.

[1] Of course, if the owner of a system isn't allowed to make that determination themselves, the same technology is restricting the freedom of the user. This is abhorrent, and sadly it's the default situation in many devices outside the PC ecosystem - most of them not using UEFI. But almost any security solution that aims to prevent malicious software from running can also be used to prevent any software from running, and the problem here is the people unwilling to provide that policy to users rather than the security features.
[2] This is how X.org used to work until the advent of kernel modesetting
[3] If your vendor doesn't provide a firmware option for this, run sudo mokutil --disable-validation
Traditionally, devices that were tied to logins tended to indicate that in some way - turn on someone's xbox and it'll show you their account name, run Netflix and it'll ask which profile you want to use. The increasing prevalence of smart devices in the home changes that, in ways that may not be immediately obvious to the majority of people. You can configure a Philips Hue with wall-mounted dimmers, meaning that someone unfamiliar with the system may not recognise that it's a smart lighting system at all. Without any actively malicious intent, you end up with a situation where the account holder is able to infer whether someone is home without that person necessarily having any idea that that's possible. A visitor who uses an Amazon Echo is not necessarily going to know that it's tied to somebody's Amazon account, and even if they do they may not know that the log (and recorded audio!) of all interactions is available to the account holder. And someone grabbing an egg out of your fridge is almost certainly not going to think that your smart egg tray will trigger an immediate notification on the account owner's phone that they need to buy new eggs.

Things get even more complicated when there's multiple account support. Google Home supports multiple users on a single device, using voice recognition to determine which queries should be associated with which account. But the account that was used to initially configure the device remains as the fallback, with unrecognised voices ended up being logged to it. If a voice is misidentified, the query may end up being logged to an unexpected account.

There's some interesting questions about consent and expectations of privacy here. If someone sets up a smart device in their home then at some point they'll agree to the manufacturer's privacy policy. But if someone else makes use of the system (by pressing a lightswitch, making a spoken query or, uh, picking up an egg), have they consented? Who has the social obligation to explain to them that the information they're producing may be stored elsewhere and visible to someone else? If I use an Echo in a hotel room, who has access to the Amazon account it's associated with? How do you explain to a teenager that there's a chance that when they asked their Home for contact details for an abortion clinic, it ended up in their parent's activity log? Who's going to be the first person divorced for claiming that they were vegan but having been the only person home when an egg was taken out of the fridge?

To be clear, I'm not arguing against the design choices involved in the implementation of these devices. In many cases it's hard to see how the desired functionality could be implemented without this sort of issue arising. But we're gradually shifting to a place where the data we generate is not only available to corporations who probably don't care about us as individuals, it's also becoming available to people who own the more private spaces we inhabit. We have social norms against bugging our houseguests, but we have no social norms that require us to explain to them that there'll be a record of every light that they turn on or off. This feels like it's going to end badly.

(Thanks to Nikki Everett for conversations that inspired this post)

(Disclaimer: while I work for Google, I am not involved in any of the products or teams described in this post and my opinions are my own rather than those of my employer's)
Free software communities don't exist in a vacuum. They're made up of people who are also members of other communities, people who have other interests and engage in other activities. Sometimes these people engage in behaviour outside the community that may be perceived as negatively impacting communities that they're a part of, but most communities have no guidelines for determining whether behaviour outside the community should have any consequences within the community. This post isn't an attempt to provide those guidelines, but aims to provide some things that community leaders should think about when the issue is raised.

Some things to consider

Did the behaviour violate the law?

This seems like an obvious bar, but it turns out to be a pretty bad one. For a start, many things that are common accepted behaviour in various communities may be illegal (eg, reverse engineering work may contravene a strict reading of US copyright law), and taking this to an extreme would result in expelling anyone who's ever broken a speed limit. On the flipside, refusing to act unless someone broke the law is also a bad threshold - much behaviour that communities consider unacceptable may be entirely legal.

There's also the problem of determining whether a law was actually broken. The criminal justice system is (correctly) biased to an extent in favour of the defendant - removing someone's rights in society should require meeting a high burden of proof. However, this is not the threshold that most communities hold themselves to in determining whether to continue permitting an individual to associate with them. An incident that does not result in a finding of criminal guilt (either through an explicit finding or a failure to prosecute the case in the first place) should not be ignored by communities for that reason.

Did the behaviour violate your community norms?

There's plenty of behaviour that may be acceptable within other segments of society but unacceptable within your community (eg, lobbying for the use of proprietary software is considered entirely reasonable in most places, but rather less so at an FSF event). If someone can be trusted to segregate their behaviour appropriately then this may not be a problem, but that's probably not sufficient in all cases. For instance, if someone acts entirely reasonably within your community but engages in lengthy anti-semitic screeds on 4chan, it's legitimate to question whether permitting them to continue being part of your community serves your community's best interests.

Did the behaviour violate the norms of the community in which it occurred?

Of course, the converse is also true - there's behaviour that may be acceptable within your community but unacceptable in another community. It's easy to write off someone acting in a way that contravenes the standards of another community but wouldn't violate your expected behavioural standards - after all, if it wouldn't breach your standards, what grounds do you have for taking action?

But you need to consider that if someone consciously contravenes the behavioural standards of a community they've chosen to participate in, they may be willing to do the same in your community. If pushing boundaries is a frequent trait then it may not be too long until you discover that they're also pushing your boundaries.

Why do you care?

A community's code of conduct can be looked at in two ways - as a list of behaviours that will be punished if they occur, or as a list of behaviours that are unlikely to occur within that community. The former is probably the primary consideration when a community adopts a CoC, but the latter is how many people considering joining a community will think about it.

If your community includes individuals that are known to have engaged in behaviour that would violate your community standards, potential members or contributors may not trust that your CoC will function as adequate protection. A community that contains people known to have engaged in sexual harassment in other settings is unlikely to be seen as hugely welcoming, even if they haven't (as far as you know!) done so within your community. The way your members behave outside your community is going to be seen as saying something about your community, and that needs to be taken into account.

A second (and perhaps less obvious) aspect is that membership of some higher profile communities may be seen as lending general legitimacy to someone, and they may play off that to legitimise behaviour or views that would be seen as abhorrent by the community as a whole. If someone's anti-semitic views (for example) are seen as having more relevance because of their membership of your community, it's reasonable to think about whether keeping them in your community serves the best interests of your community.

Conclusion

I've said things like "considered" or "taken into account" a bunch here, and that's for a good reason - I don't know what the thresholds should be for any of these things, and there doesn't seem to be even a rough consensus in the wider community. We've seen cases in which communities have acted based on behaviour outside their community (eg, Debian removing Jacob Appelbaum after it was revealed that he'd sexually assaulted multiple people), but there's been no real effort to build a meaningful decision making framework around that.

As a result, communities struggle to make consistent decisions. It's unreasonable to expect individual communities to solve these problems on their own, but that doesn't mean we can ignore them. It's time to start coming up with a real set of best practices.
(Note: all discussion here is based on publicly disclosed information, and I am not speaking on behalf of my employers)

I wrote about the potential impact of the most recent Intel ME vulnerabilities a couple of weeks ago. The details of the vulnerability were released last week, and it's not absolutely the worst case scenario but it's still pretty bad. The short version is that one of the (signed) pieces of early bringup code for the ME reads an unsigned file from flash and parses it. Providing a malformed file could result in a buffer overflow, and a moderately complicated exploit chain could be built that allowed the ME's exploit mitigation features to be bypassed, resulting in arbitrary code execution on the ME.

Getting this file into flash in the first place is the difficult bit. The ME region shouldn't be writable at OS runtime, so the most practical way for an attacker to achieve this is to physically disassemble the machine and directly reprogram it. The AMT management interface may provide a vector for a remote attacker to achieve this - for this to be possible, AMT must be enabled and provisioned and the attacker must have valid credentials[1]. Most systems don't have provisioned AMT, so most users don't have to worry about this.

Overall, for most end users there's little to worry about here. But the story changes for corporate users or high value targets who rely on TPM-backed disk encryption. The way the TPM protects access to the disk encryption key is to insist that a series of "measurements" are correct before giving the OS access to the disk encryption key. The first of these measurements is obtained through the ME hashing the first chunk of the system firmware and passing that to the TPM, with the firmware then hashing each component in turn and storing those in the TPM as well. If someone compromises a later point of the chain then the previous step will generate a different measurement, preventing the TPM from releasing the secret.

However, if the first step in the chain can be compromised, all these guarantees vanish. And since the first step in the chain relies on the ME to be running uncompromised code, this vulnerability allows that to be circumvented. The attacker's malicious code can be used to pass the "good" hash to the TPM even if the rest of the firmware has been tampered with. This allows a sufficiently skilled attacker to extract the disk encryption key and read the contents of the disk[2].

In addition, TPMs can be used to perform something called "remote attestation". This allows the TPM to provide a signed copy of the recorded measurements to a remote service, allowing that service to make a policy decision around whether or not to grant access to a resource. Enterprises using remote attestation to verify that systems are appropriately patched (eg) before they allow them access to sensitive material can no longer depend on those results being accurate.

Things are even worse for people relying on Intel's Platform Trust Technology (PTT), which is an implementation of a TPM that runs on the ME itself. Since this vulnerability allows full access to the ME, an attacker can obtain all the private key material held in the PTT implementation and, effectively, adopt the machine's cryptographic identity. This allows them to impersonate the system with arbitrary measurements whenever they want to. This basically renders PTT worthless from an enterprise perspective - unless you've maintained physical control of a machine for its entire lifetime, you have no way of knowing whether it's had its private keys extracted and so you have no way of knowing whether the attestation attempt is coming from the machine or from an attacker pretending to be that machine.

Bootguard, the component of the ME that's responsible for measuring the firmware into the TPM, is also responsible for verifying that the firmware has an appropriate cryptographic signature. Since that can be bypassed, an attacker can reflash modified firmware that can do pretty much anything. Yes, that probably means you can use this vulnerability to install Coreboot on a system locked down using Bootguard.

(An aside: The Titan security chips used in Google Cloud Platform sit between the chipset and the flash and verify the flash before permitting anything to start reading from it. If an attacker tampers with the ME firmware, Titan should detect that and prevent the system from booting. However, I'm not involved in the Titan project and don't know exactly how this works, so don't take my word for this)

Intel have published an update that fixes the vulnerability, but it's pretty pointless - there's apparently no rollback protection in the affected 11.x MEs, so while the attacker is modifying your flash to insert the payload they can just downgrade your ME firmware to a vulnerable version. Version 12 will reportedly include optional rollback protection, which is little comfort to anyone who has current hardware. Basically, anyone whose threat model depends on the low-level security of their Intel system is probably going to have to buy new hardware.

This is a big deal for enterprises and any individuals who may be targeted by skilled attackers who have physical access to their hardware, and entirely irrelevant for almost anybody else. If you don't know that you should be worried, you shouldn't be.

[1] Although admins should bear in mind that any system that hasn't been patched against CVE-2017-5689 considers an empty authentication cookie to be a valid credential

[2] TPMs are not intended to be strongly tamper resistant, so an attacker could also just remove the TPM, decap it and (with some effort) extract the key that way. This is somewhat more time consuming than just reflashing the firmware, so the ME vulnerability still amounts to a change in attack practicality.
(Note: this is my personal opinion based on public knowledge around this issue. I have no knowledge of any non-public details of these vulnerabilities, and this should not be interpreted as the position or opinion of my employer)

Intel's Management Engine (ME) is a small coprocessor built into the majority of Intel CPU chipsets[0]. Older versions were based on the ARC architecture[1] running an embedded realtime operating system, but from version 11 onwards they've been small x86 cores running Minix. The precise capabilities of the ME have not been publicly disclosed, but it is at minimum capable of interacting with the network[2], display[3], USB, input devices and system flash. In other words, software running on the ME is capable of doing a lot, without requiring any OS permission in the process.

Back in May, Intel announced a vulnerability in the Advanced Management Technology (AMT) that runs on the ME. AMT offers functionality like providing a remote console to the system (so IT support can connect to your system and interact with it as if they were physically present), remote disk support (so IT support can reinstall your machine over the network) and various other bits of system management. The vulnerability meant that it was possible to log into systems with enabled AMT with an empty authentication token, making it possible to log in without knowing the configured password.

This vulnerability was less serious than it could have been for a couple of reasons - the first is that "consumer"[4] systems don't ship with AMT, and the second is that AMT is almost always disabled (Shodan found only a few thousand systems on the public internet with AMT enabled, out of many millions of laptops). I wrote more about it here at the time.

How does this compare to the newly announced vulnerabilities? Good question. Two of the announced vulnerabilities are in AMT. The previous AMT vulnerability allowed you to bypass authentication, but restricted you to doing what AMT was designed to let you do. While AMT gives an authenticated user a great deal of power, it's also designed with some degree of privacy protection in mind - for instance, when the remote console is enabled, an animated warning border is drawn on the user's screen to alert them.

This vulnerability is different in that it allows an authenticated attacker to execute arbitrary code within the AMT process. This means that the attacker shouldn't have any capabilities that AMT doesn't, but it's unclear where various aspects of the privacy protection are implemented - for instance, if the warning border is implemented in AMT rather than in hardware, an attacker could duplicate that functionality without drawing the warning. If the USB storage emulation for remote booting is implemented as a generic USB passthrough, the attacker could pretend to be an arbitrary USB device and potentially exploit the operating system through bugs in USB device drivers. Unfortunately we don't currently know.

Note that this exploit still requires two things - first, AMT has to be enabled, and second, the attacker has to be able to log into AMT. If the attacker has physical access to your system and you don't have a BIOS password set, they will be able to enable it - however, if AMT isn't enabled and the attacker isn't physically present, you're probably safe. But if AMT is enabled and you haven't patched the previous vulnerability, the attacker will be able to access AMT over the network without a password and then proceed with the exploit. This is bad, so you should probably (1) ensure that you've updated your BIOS and (2) ensure that AMT is disabled unless you have a really good reason to use it.

The AMT vulnerability applies to a wide range of versions, everything from version 6 (which shipped around 2008) and later. The other vulnerability that Intel describe is restricted to version 11 of the ME, which only applies to much more recent systems. This vulnerability allows an attacker to execute arbitrary code on the ME, which means they can do literally anything the ME is able to do. This probably also means that they are able to interfere with any other code running on the ME. While AMT has been the most frequently discussed part of this, various other Intel technologies are tied to ME functionality.

Intel's Platform Trust Technology (PTT) is a software implementation of a Trusted Platform Module (TPM) that runs on the ME. TPMs are intended to protect access to secrets and encryption keys and record the state of the system as it boots, making it possible to determine whether a system has had part of its boot process modified and denying access to the secrets as a result. The most common usage of TPMs is to protect disk encryption keys - Microsoft Bitlocker defaults to storing its encryption key in the TPM, automatically unlocking the drive if the boot process is unmodified. In addition, TPMs support something called Remote Attestation (I wrote about that here), which allows the TPM to provide a signed copy of information about what the system booted to a remote site. This can be used for various purposes, such as not allowing a compute node to join a cloud unless it's booted the correct version of the OS and is running the latest firmware version. Remote Attestation depends on the TPM having a unique cryptographic identity that is tied to the TPM and inaccessible to the OS.

PTT allows manufacturers to simply license some additional code from Intel and run it on the ME rather than having to pay for an additional chip on the system motherboard. This seems great, but if an attacker is able to run code on the ME then they potentially have the ability to tamper with PTT, which means they can obtain access to disk encryption secrets and circumvent Bitlocker. It also means that they can tamper with Remote Attestation, "attesting" that the system booted a set of software that it didn't or copying the keys to another system and allowing that to impersonate the first. This is, uh, bad.

Intel also recently announced Intel Online Connect, a mechanism for providing the functionality of security keys directly in the operating system. Components of this are run on the ME in order to avoid scenarios where a compromised OS could be used to steal the identity secrets - if the ME is compromised, this may make it possible for an attacker to obtain those secrets and duplicate the keys.

It's also not entirely clear how much of Intel's Secure Guard Extensions (SGX) functionality depends on the ME. The ME does appear to be required for SGX Remote Attestation (which allows an application using SGX to prove to a remote site that it's the SGX app rather than something pretending to be it), and again if those secrets can be extracted from a compromised ME it may be possible to compromise some of the security assumptions around SGX. Again, it's not clear how serious this is because it's not publicly documented.

Various other things also run on the ME, including stuff like video DRM (ensuring that high resolution video streams can't be intercepted by the OS). It may be possible to obtain encryption keys from a compromised ME that allow things like Netflix streams to be decoded and dumped. From a user privacy or security perspective, these things seem less serious.

The big problem at the moment is that we have no idea what the actual process of compromise is. Intel state that it requires local access, but don't describe what kind. Local access in this case could simply require the ability to send commands to the ME (possible on any system that has the ME drivers installed), could require direct hardware access to the exposed ME (which would require either kernel access or the ability to install a custom driver) or even the ability to modify system flash (possible only if the attacker has physical access and enough time and skill to take the system apart and modify the flash contents with an SPI programmer). The other thing we don't know is whether it's possible for an attacker to modify the system such that the ME is persistently compromised or whether it needs to be re-compromised every time the ME reboots. Note that even the latter is more serious than you might think - the ME may only be rebooted if the system loses power completely, so even a "temporary" compromise could affect a system for a long period of time.

It's also almost impossible to determine if a system is compromised. If the ME is compromised then it's probably possible for it to roll back any firmware updates but still report that it's been updated, giving admins a false sense of security. The only way to determine for sure would be to dump the system flash and compare it to a known good image. This is impractical to do at scale.

So, overall, given what we know right now it's hard to say how serious this is in terms of real world impact. It's unlikely that this is the kind of vulnerability that would be used to attack individual end users - anyone able to compromise a system like this could just backdoor your browser instead with much less effort, and that already gives them your banking details. The people who have the most to worry about here are potential targets of skilled attackers, which means activists, dissidents and companies with interesting personal or business data. It's hard to make strong recommendations about what to do here without more insight into what the vulnerability actually is, and we may not know that until this presentation next month.

Summary: Worst case here is terrible, but unlikely to be relevant to the vast majority of users.

[0] Earlier versions of the ME were built into the motherboard chipset, but as portions of that were incorporated onto the CPU package the ME followedEdit: Apparently I was wrong and it's still on the chipset
[1] A descendent of the SuperFX chip used in Super Nintendo cartridges such as Starfox, because why not
[2] Without any OS involvement for wired ethernet and for wireless networks in the system firmware, but requires OS support for wireless access once the OS drivers have loaded
[3] Assuming you're using integrated Intel graphics
[4] "Consumer" is a bit of a misnomer here - "enterprise" laptops like Thinkpads ship with AMT, but are often bought by consumers.
(Note: While the majority of the events described below occurred while I was a member of the board of directors of the Free Software Foundation, I am no longer. This is my personal position and should not be interpreted as the opinion of any other organisation or company I have been affiliated with in any way)

Eben Moglen has done an amazing amount of work for the free software community, serving on the board of the Free Software Foundation and acting as its general counsel for many years, leading the drafting of GPLv3 and giving many forceful speeches on the importance of free software. However, his recent behaviour demonstrates that he is no longer willing to work with other members of the community, and we should reciprocate that.

In early 2016, the FSF board became aware that Eben was briefing clients on an interpretation of the GPL that was incompatible with that held by the FSF. He later released this position publicly with little coordination with the FSF, which was used by Canonical to justify their shipping ZFS in a GPL-violating way. He had provided similar advice to Debian, who were confused about the apparent conflict between the FSF's position and Eben's.

This situation was obviously problematic - Eben is clearly free to provide whatever legal opinion he holds to his clients, but his very public association with the FSF caused many people to assume that these positions were held by the FSF and the FSF were forced into the position of publicly stating that they disagreed with legal positions held by their general counsel. Attempts to mediate this failed, and Eben refused to commit to working with the FSF on avoiding this sort of situation in future[1].

Around the same time, Eben made legal threats towards another project with ties to FSF. These threats were based on a license interpretation that ran contrary to how free software licenses had been interpreted by the community for decades, and was made without any prior discussion with the FSF (2017-12-11 update: page 126 of this document includes the email in which Eben asserts that the Software Freedom Conservancy is engaging in plagiarism by making use of appropriately credited material released under a Creative Commons license). This, in conjunction with his behaviour over the ZFS issue, led to him stepping down as the FSF's general counsel.

Throughout this period, Eben disparaged FSF staff and other free software community members in various semi-public settings. In doing so he harmed the credibility of many people who have devoted significant portions of their lives to aiding the free software community. At Libreplanet earlier this year he made direct threats against an attendee - this was reported as a violation of the conference's anti-harassment policy.

Eben has acted against the best interests of an organisation he publicly represented. He has threatened organisations and individuals who work to further free software. His actions are no longer to the benefit of the free software community and the free software community should cease associating with him.

[1] Contrary to the claim provided here, Bradley was not involved in this process.

(Edit to add: various people have asked for more details of some of the accusations here. Eben is influential in many areas, and publicising details without the direct consent of his victims may put them at professional risk. I'm aware that this reduces my credibility, and it's entirely reasonable for people to choose not to believe me as a result. I will add that I said much of this several months ago, so I'm not making stuff up in response to recent events)
In measured boot, each component of the boot process is "measured" (ie, hashed and that hash recorded) in a register in the Trusted Platform Module (TPM) build into the system. The TPM has several different registers (Platform Configuration Registers, or PCRs) which are typically used for different purposes - for instance, PCR0 contains measurements of various system firmware components, PCR2 contains any option ROMs, PCR4 contains information about the partition table and the bootloader. The allocation of these is defined by the PC Client working group of the Trusted Computing Group. However, once the boot loader takes over, we're outside the spec[1].

One important thing to note here is that the TPM doesn't actually have any ability to directly interfere with the boot process. If you try to boot modified code on a system, the TPM will contain different measurements but boot will still succeed. What the TPM can do is refuse to hand over secrets unless the measurements are correct. This allows for configurations where your disk encryption key can be stored in the TPM and then handed over automatically if the measurements are unaltered. If anybody interferes with your boot process then the measurements will be different, the TPM will refuse to hand over the key, your disk will remain encrypted and whoever's trying to compromise your machine will be sad.

The problem here is that a lot of things can affect the measurements. Upgrading your bootloader or kernel will do so. At that point if you reboot your disk fails to unlock and you become unhappy. To get around this your update system needs to notice that a new component is about to be installed, generate the new expected hashes and re-seal the secret to the TPM using the new hashes. If there are several different points in the update where this can happen, this can quite easily go wrong. And if it goes wrong, you're back to being unhappy.

Is there a way to improve this? Surprisingly, the answer is "yes" and the people to thank are Microsoft. Appendix A of a basically entirely unrelated spec defines a mechanism for storing the UEFI Secure Boot policy and used keys in PCR 7 of the TPM. The idea here is that you trust your OS vendor (since otherwise they could just backdoor your system anyway), so anything signed by your OS vendor is acceptable. If someone tries to boot something signed by a different vendor then PCR 7 will be different. If someone disables secure boot, PCR 7 will be different. If you upgrade your bootloader or kernel, PCR 7 will be the same. This simplifies things significantly.

I've put together a (not well-tested) patchset for Shim that adds support for including Shim's measurements in PCR 7. In conjunction with appropriate firmware, it should then be straightforward to seal secrets to PCR 7 and not worry about things breaking over system updates. This makes tying things like disk encryption keys to the TPM much more reasonable.

However, there's still one pretty major problem, which is that the initramfs (ie, the component responsible for setting up the disk encryption in the first place) isn't signed and isn't included in PCR 7[2]. An attacker can simply modify it to stash any TPM-backed secrets or mount the encrypted filesystem and then drop to a root prompt. This, uh, reduces the utility of the entire exercise.

The simplest solution to this that I've come up with depends on how Linux implements initramfs files. In its simplest form, an initramfs is just a cpio archive. In its slightly more complicated form, it's a compressed cpio archive. And in its peak form of evolution, it's a series of compressed cpio archives concatenated together. As the kernel reads each one in turn, it extracts it over the previous ones. That means that any files in the final archive will overwrite files of the same name in previous archives.

My proposal is to generate a small initramfs whose sole job is to get secrets from the TPM and stash them in the kernel keyring, and then measure an additional value into PCR 7 in order to ensure that the secrets can't be obtained again. Later disk encryption setup will then be able to set up dm-crypt using the secret already stored within the kernel. This small initramfs will be built into the signed kernel image, and the bootloader will be responsible for appending it to the end of any user-provided initramfs. This means that the TPM will only grant access to the secrets while trustworthy code is running - once the secret is in the kernel it will only be available for in-kernel use, and once PCR 7 has been modified the TPM won't give it to anyone else. A similar approach for some kernel command-line arguments (the kernel, module-init-tools and systemd all interpret the kernel command line left-to-right, with later arguments overriding earlier ones) would make it possible to ensure that certain kernel configuration options (such as the iommu) weren't overridable by an attacker.

There's obviously a few things that have to be done here (standardise how to embed such an initramfs in the kernel image, ensure that luks knows how to use the kernel keyring, teach all relevant bootloaders how to handle these images), but overall this should make it practical to use PCR 7 as a mechanism for supporting TPM-backed disk encryption secrets on Linux without introducing a hug support burden in the process.

[1] The patchset I've posted to add measured boot support to Grub use PCRs 8 and 9 to measure various components during the boot process, but other bootloaders may have different policies.

[2] This is because most Linux systems generate the initramfs locally rather than shipping it pre-built. It may also get rebuilt on various userspace updates, even if the kernel hasn't changed. Including it in PCR 7 would entirely break the fragility guarantees and defeat the point of all of this.
More details about Intel's AMT vulnerablity have been released - it's about the worst case scenario, in that it's a total authentication bypass that appears to exist independent of whether the AMT is being used in Small Business or Enterprise modes (more background in my previous post here). One thing I claimed was that even though this was pretty bad it probably wasn't super bad, since Shodan indicated that there were only a small number of thousand machines on the public internet and accessible via AMT. Most deployments were probably behind corporate firewalls, which meant that it was plausibly a vector for spreading within a company but probably wasn't a likely initial vector.

I've since done some more playing and come to the conclusion that it's rather worse than that. AMT actually supports being accessed over wireless networks. Enabling this is a separate option - if you simply provision AMT it won't be accessible over wireless by default, you need to perform additional configuration (although this is as simple as logging into the web UI and turning on the option). Once enabled, there are two cases:
  1. The system is not running an operating system, or the operating system has not taken control of the wireless hardware. In this case AMT will attempt to join any network that it's been explicitly told about. Note that in default configuration, joining a wireless network from the OS is not sufficient for AMT to know about it - there needs to be explicit synchronisation of the network credentials to AMT. Intel provide a wireless manager that does this, but the stock behaviour in Windows (even after you've installed the AMT support drivers) is not to do this.
  2. The system is running an operating system that has taken control of the wireless hardware. In this state, AMT is no longer able to drive the wireless hardware directly and counts on OS support to pass packets on. Under Linux, Intel's wireless drivers do not appear to implement this feature. Under Windows, they do. This does not require any application level support, and uninstalling LMS will not disable this functionality. This also appears to happen at the driver level, which means it bypasses the Windows firewall.
Case 2 is the scary one. If you have a laptop that supports AMT, and if AMT has been provisioned, and if AMT has had wireless support turned on, and if you're running Windows, then connecting your laptop to a public wireless network means that AMT is accessible to anyone else on that network[1]. If it hasn't received a firmware update, they'll be able to do so without needing any valid credentials.

If you're a corporate IT department, and if you have AMT enabled over wifi, turn it off. Now.

[1] Assuming that the network doesn't block client to client traffic, of course
Intel just announced a vulnerability in their Active Management Technology stack. Here's what we know so far.

Background

Intel chipsets for some years have included a Management Engine, a small microprocessor that runs independently of the main CPU and operating system. Various pieces of software run on the ME, ranging from code to handle media DRM to an implementation of a TPM. AMT is another piece of software running on the ME, albeit one that takes advantage of a wide range of ME features.

Active Management Technology

AMT is intended to provide IT departments with a means to manage client systems. When AMT is enabled, any packets sent to the machine's wired network port on port 16992 or 16993 will be redirected to the ME and passed on to AMT - the OS never sees these packets. AMT provides a web UI that allows you to do things like reboot a machine, provide remote install media or even (if the OS is configured appropriately) get a remote console. Access to AMT requires a password - the implication of this vulnerability is that that password can be bypassed.

Remote management

AMT has two types of remote console: emulated serial and full graphical. The emulated serial console requires only that the operating system run a console on that serial port, while the graphical environment requires drivers on the OS side requires that the OS set a compatible video mode but is also otherwise OS-independent[2]. However, an attacker who enables emulated serial support may be able to use that to configure grub to enable serial console. Remote graphical console seems to be problematic under Linux but some people claim to have it working, so an attacker would be able to interact with your graphical console as if you were physically present. Yes, this is terrifying.

Remote media

AMT supports providing an ISO remotely. In older versions of AMT (before 11.0) this was in the form of an emulated IDE controller. In 11.0 and later, this takes the form of an emulated USB device. The nice thing about the latter is that any image provided that way will probably be automounted if there's a logged in user, which probably means it's possible to use a malformed filesystem to get arbitrary code execution in the kernel. Fun!

The other part of the remote media is that systems will happily boot off it. An attacker can reboot a system into their own OS and examine drive contents at their leisure. This doesn't let them bypass disk encryption in a straightforward way[1], so you should probably enable that.

How bad is this

That depends. Unless you've explicitly enabled AMT at any point, you're probably fine. The drivers that allow local users to provision the system would require administrative rights to install, so as long as you don't have them installed then the only local users who can do anything are the ones who are admins anyway. If you do have it enabled, though…

How do I know if I have it enabled?

Yeah this is way more annoying than it should be. First of all, does your system even support AMT? AMT requires a few things:

1) A supported CPU
2) A supported chipset
3) Supported network hardware
4) The ME firmware to contain the AMT firmware

Merely having a "vPRO" CPU and chipset isn't sufficient - your system vendor also needs to have licensed the AMT code. Under Linux, if lspci doesn't show a communication controller with "MEI" or "HECI" in the description, AMT isn't running and you're safe. If it does show an MEI controller, that still doesn't mean you're vulnerable - AMT may still not be provisioned. If you reboot you should see a brief firmware splash mentioning the ME. Hitting ctrl+p at this point should get you into a menu which should let you disable AMT.

How about over Wifi?

Turning on AMT doesn't automatically turn it on for wifi. AMT will also only connect itself to networks it's been explicitly told about. Where things get more confusing is that once the OS is running, responsibility for wifi is switched from the ME to the OS and it forwards packets to AMT. I haven't been able to find good documentation on whether having AMT enabled for wifi results in the OS forwarding packets to AMT on all wifi networks or only ones that are explicitly configured.

What do we not know?

We have zero information about the vulnerability, other than that it allows unauthenticated access to AMT. One big thing that's not clear at the moment is whether this affects all AMT setups, setups that are in Small Business Mode, or setups that are in Enterprise Mode. If the latter, the impact on individual end-users will be basically zero - Enterprise Mode involves a bunch of effort to configure and nobody's doing that for their home systems. If it affects all systems, or just systems in Small Business Mode, things are likely to be worse.
We now know that the vulnerability exists in all configurations.

What should I do?

Make sure AMT is disabled. If it's your own computer, you should then have nothing else to worry about. If you're a Windows admin with untrusted users, you should also disable or uninstall LMS by following these instructions.

Does this mean every Intel system built since 2008 can be taken over by hackers?

No. Most Intel systems don't ship with AMT. Most Intel systems with AMT don't have it turned on.

Does this allow persistent compromise of the system?

Not in any novel way. An attacker could disable Secure Boot and install a backdoored bootloader, just as they could with physical access.

But isn't the ME a giant backdoor with arbitrary access to RAM?

Yes, but there's no indication that this vulnerability allows execution of arbitrary code on the ME - it looks like it's just (ha ha) an authentication bypass for AMT.

Is this a big deal anyway?

Yes. Fixing this requires a system firmware update in order to provide new ME firmware (including an updated copy of the AMT code). Many of the affected machines are no longer receiving firmware updates from their manufacturers, and so will probably never get a fix. Anyone who ever enables AMT on one of these devices will be vulnerable. That's ignoring the fact that firmware updates are rarely flagged as security critical (they don't generally come via Windows update), so even when updates are made available, users probably won't know about them or install them.

Avoiding this kind of thing in future

Users ought to have full control over what's running on their systems, including the ME. If a vendor is no longer providing updates then it should at least be possible for a sufficiently desperate user to pay someone else to do a firmware build with the appropriate fixes. Leaving firmware updates at the whims of hardware manufacturers who will only support systems for a fraction of their useful lifespan is inevitably going to end badly.

How certain are you about any of this?

Not hugely - the quality of public documentation on AMT isn't wonderful, and while I've spent some time playing with it (and related technologies) I'm not an expert. If anything above seems inaccurate, let me know and I'll fix it.

[1] Eh well. They could reboot into their own OS, modify your initramfs (because that's not signed even if you're using UEFI Secure Boot) such that it writes a copy of your disk passphrase to /boot before unlocking it, wait for you to type in your passphrase, reboot again and gain access. Sealing the encryption key to the TPM would avoid this.

[2] Updated after this comment - I thought I'd fixed this before publishing but left that claim in by accident.

(Updated to add the section on wifi)

(Updated to typo replace LSM with LMS)

(Updated to indicate that the vulnerability affects all configurations)
Another in the series of looking at the security of IoT type objects. This time I've gone for the Arlo network connected cameras produced by Netgear, specifically the stock Arlo base system with a single camera. The base station is based on a Broadcom 5358 SoC with an 802.11n radio, along with a single Broadcom gigabit ethernet interface. Other than it only having a single ethernet port, this looks pretty much like a standard Netgear router. There's a convenient unpopulated header on the board that turns out to be a serial console, so getting a shell is only a few minutes work.

Normal setup is straight forward. You plug the base station into a router, wait for all the lights to come on and then you visit arlo.netgear.com and follow the setup instructions - by this point the base station has connected to Netgear's cloud service and you're just associating it to your account. Security here is straightforward: you need to be coming from the same IP address as the Arlo. For most home users with NAT this works fine. I sat frustrated as it repeatedly failed to find any devices, before finally moving everything behind a backup router (my main network isn't NATted) for initial setup. Once you and the Arlo are on the same IP address, the site shows you the base station's serial number for confirmation and then you attach it to your account. Next step is adding cameras. Each base station is broadcasting an 802.11 network on the 2.4GHz spectrum. You connect a camera by pressing the sync button on the base station and then the sync button on the camera. The camera associates with the base station via WPS and now you're up and running.

This is the point where I get bored and stop following instructions, but if you're using a desktop browser (rather than using the mobile app) you appear to need Flash in order to actually see any of the camera footage. Bleah.

But back to the device itself. The first thing I traced was the initial device association. What I found was that once the device is associated with an account, it can't be attached to another account. This is good - I can't simply request that devices be rebound to my account from someone else's. Further, while the serial number is displayed to the user to disambiguate between devices, it doesn't seem to be what's used internally. Tracing the logon traffic from the base station shows it sending a long random device ID along with an authentication token. If you perform a factory reset, these values are regenerated. The device to account mapping seems to be based on this random device ID, which means that once the device is reset and bound to another account there's no way for the initial account owner to regain access (other than resetting it again and binding it back to their account). This is far better than many devices I've looked at.

Performing a factory reset also changes the WPA PSK for the camera network. Newsky Security discovered that doing so originally reset it to 12345678, which is, uh, suboptimal? That's been fixed in newer firmware, along with their discovery that the original random password choice was not terribly random.

All communication from the base station to the cloud seems to be over SSL, and everything validates certificates properly. This also seems to be true for client communication with the cloud service - camera footage is streamed back over port 443 as well.

Most of the functionality of the base station is provided by two daemons, xagent and vzdaemon. xagent appears to be responsible for registering the device with the cloud service, while vzdaemon handles the camera side of things (including motion detection). All of this is running as root, so in the event of any kind of vulnerability the entire platform is owned. For such a single purpose device this isn't really a big deal (the only sensitive data it has is the camera feed - if someone has access to that then root doesn't really buy them anything else). They're statically linked and stripped so I couldn't be bothered spending any significant amount of time digging into them. In any case, they don't expose any remotely accessible ports and only connect to services with verified SSL certificates. They're probably not a big risk.

Other than the dependence on Flash, there's nothing immediately concerning here. What is a little worrying is a family of daemons running on the device and listening to various high numbered UDP ports. These appear to be provided by Broadcom and a standard part of all their router platforms - they're intended for handling various bits of wireless authentication. It's not clear why they're listening on 0.0.0.0 rather than 127.0.0.1, and it's not obvious whether they're vulnerable (they mostly appear to receive packets from the driver itself, process them and then stick packets back into the kernel so who knows what's actually going on), but since you can't set one of these devices up in the first place without it being behind a NAT gateway it's unlikely to be of real concern to most users. On the other hand, the same daemons seem to be present on several Broadcom-based router platforms where they may end up being visible to the outside world. That's probably investigation for another day, though.

Overall: pretty solid, frustrating to set up if your network doesn't match their expectations, wouldn't have grave concerns over having it on an appropriately firewalled network.

(Edited to replace a mistaken reference to WDS with WPS)
Reverse engineering protocols is a great deal easier when they're not encrypted. Thankfully most apps I've dealt with have been doing something convenient like using AES with a key embedded in the app, but others use remote protocols over HTTPS and that makes things much less straightforward. MITMProxy will solve this, as long as you're able to get the app to trust its certificate, but if there's a built-in pinned certificate that's going to be a pain. So, given an app written in C running on an embedded device, and without an easy way to inject new certificates into that device, what do you do?

First: The app is probably using libcurl, because it's free, works and is under a license that allows you to link it into proprietary apps. This is also bad news, because libcurl defaults to having sensible security settings. In the worst case we've got a statically linked binary with all the symbols stripped out, so we're left with the problem of (a) finding the relevant code and (b) replacing it with modified code. Fortuntely, this is much less difficult than you might imagine.

First, let's find where curl sets up its defaults. Curl_init_userdefined() in curl/lib/url.c has the following code:
set->ssl.primary.verifypeer = TRUE;
set->ssl.primary.verifyhost = TRUE;
#ifdef USE_TLS_SRP
set->ssl.authtype = CURL_TLSAUTH_NONE;
#endif
set->ssh_auth_types = CURLSSH_AUTH_DEFAULT; /* defaults to any auth
type */
set->general_ssl.sessionid = TRUE; /* session ID caching enabled by
default */
set->proxy_ssl = set->ssl;

set->new_file_perms = 0644; /* Default permissions */
set->new_directory_perms = 0755; /* Default permissions */

TRUE is defined as 1, so we want to change the code that currently sets verifypeer and verifyhost to 1 to instead set them to 0. How to find it? Look further down - new_file_perms is set to 0644 and new_directory_perms is set to 0755. The leading 0 indicates octal, so these correspond to decimal 420 and 493. Passing the file to objdump -d (assuming a build of objdump that supports this architecture) will give us a disassembled version of the code, so time to fix our problems with grep:
objdump -d target | grep --after=20 ,420 | grep ,493

This gives us the disassembly of target, searches for any occurrence of ",420" (indicating that 420 is being used as an argument in an instruction), prints the following 20 lines and then searches for a reference to 493. It spits out a single hit:
43e864: 240301ed li v1,493
Which is promising. Looking at the surrounding code gives:
43e820: 24030001 li v1,1
43e824: a0430138 sb v1,312(v0)
43e828: 8fc20018 lw v0,24(s8)
43e82c: 24030001 li v1,1
43e830: a0430139 sb v1,313(v0)
43e834: 8fc20018 lw v0,24(s8)
43e838: ac400170 sw zero,368(v0)
43e83c: 8fc20018 lw v0,24(s8)
43e840: 2403ffff li v1,-1
43e844: ac4301dc sw v1,476(v0)
43e848: 8fc20018 lw v0,24(s8)
43e84c: 24030001 li v1,1
43e850: a0430164 sb v1,356(v0)
43e854: 8fc20018 lw v0,24(s8)
43e858: 240301a4 li v1,420
43e85c: ac4301e4 sw v1,484(v0)
43e860: 8fc20018 lw v0,24(s8)
43e864: 240301ed li v1,493
43e868: ac4301e8 sw v1,488(v0)

Towards the end we can see 493 being loaded into v1, and v1 then being copied into an offset from v0. This looks like a structure member being set to 493, which is what we expected. Above that we see the same thing being done to 420. Further up we have some more stuff being set, including a -1 - that corresponds to CURLSSH_AUTH_DEFAULT, so we seem to be in the right place. There's a zero above that, which corresponds to CURL_TLSAUTH_NONE. That means that the two 1 operations above the -1 are the code we want, and simply changing 43e820 and 43e82c to 24030000 instead of 24030001 means that our targets will be set to 0 (ie, FALSE) rather than 1 (ie, TRUE). Copy the modified binary back to the device, run it and now it happily talks to MITMProxy. Huge success.

(If the app calls Curl_setopt() to reconfigure the state of these values, you'll need to stub those out as well - thankfully, recent versions of curl include a convenient string "CURLOPT_SSL_VERIFYHOST no longer supports 1 as value!" in this function, so if the code in question is using semi-recent curl it's easy to find. Then it's just a matter of looking for the constants that CURLOPT_SSL_VERIFYHOST and CURLOPT_SSL_VERIFYPEER are set to, following the jumps and hacking the code to always set them to 0 regardless of the argument)
Ikea recently launched their Trådfri smart lighting platform in the US. The idea of Ikea plus internet security together at last seems like a pretty terrible one, but having taken a look it's surprisingly competent. Hardware-wise, the device is pretty minimal - it seems to be based on the Cypress[1] WICED IoT platform, with 100MBit ethernet and a Silicon Labs Zigbee chipset. It's running the Express Logic ThreadX RTOS, has no running services on any TCP ports and appears to listen on two single UDP ports. As IoT devices go, it's pleasingly minimal.

That single port seems to be a COAP server running with DTLS and a pre-shared key that's printed on the bottom of the device. When you start the app for the first time it prompts you to scan a QR code that's just a machine-readable version of that key. The Android app has code for using the insecure COAP port rather than the encrypted one, but the device doesn't respond to queries there so it's presumably disabled in release builds. It's also local only, with no cloud support. You can program timers, but they run on the device. The only other service it seems to run is an mdns responder, which responds to the _coap._udp.local query to allow for discovery.

From a security perspective, this is pretty close to ideal. Having no remote APIs means that security is limited to what's exposed locally. The local traffic is all encrypted. You can only authenticate with the device if you have physical access to read the (decently long) key off the bottom. I haven't checked whether the DTLS server is actually well-implemented, but it doesn't seem to respond unless you authenticate first which probably covers off a lot of potential risks. The SoC has wireless support, but it seems to be disabled - there's no antenna on board and no mechanism for configuring it.

However, there's one minor issue. On boot the device grabs the current time from pool.ntp.org (fine) but also hits http://fw.ota.homesmart.ikea.net/feed/version_info.json . That file contains a bunch of links to firmware updates, all of which are also downloaded over http (and not https). The firmware images themselves appear to be signed, but downloading untrusted objects and then parsing them isn't ideal. Realistically, this is only a problem if someone already has enough control over your network to mess with your DNS, and being wired-only makes this pretty unlikely. I'd be surprised if it's ever used as a real avenue of attack.

Overall: as far as design goes, this is one of the most secure IoT-style devices I've looked at. I haven't examined the COAP stack in detail to figure out whether it has any exploitable bugs, but the attack surface is pretty much as minimal as it could be while still retaining any functionality at all. I'm impressed.

[1] Formerly Broadcom
Shim has been hugely successful, to the point of being used by the majority of significant Linux distributions and many other third party products (even, apparently, Solaris). The aim was to ensure that it would remain possible to install free operating systems on UEFI Secure Boot platforms while still allowing machine owners to replace their bootloaders and kernels, and it's achieved this goal.

However, a legitimate criticism has been that there's very little transparency in Microsoft's signing process. Some people have waited for significant periods of time before being receiving a response. A large part of this is simply that demand has been greater than expected, and Microsoft aren't in the best position to review code that they didn't write in the first place.

To that end, we're adopting a new model. A mailing list has been created at shim-review@lists.freedesktop.org, and members of this list will review submissions and provide a recommendation to Microsoft on whether these should be signed or not. The current set of expectations around binaries to be signed documented here and the current process here - it is expected that this will evolve slightly as we get used to the process, and we'll provide a more formal set of documentation once things have settled down.

This is a new initiative and one that will probably take a little while to get working smoothly, but we hope it'll make it much easier to get signed releases of Shim out without compromising security in the process.
The Utah teapot was one of the early 3D reference objects. It's canonically a Melitta but hasn't been part of their range in a long time, so I'd been watching Ebay in the hope of one turning up. Until last week, when I discovered that a company called Friesland had apparently bought a chunk of Melitta's range some years ago and sell the original teapot[1]. I've just ordered one, and am utterly unreasonably excited about this.

Update: Friesland have apparently always produced the Utah teapot, but were part of the Melitta group for some time - they didn't buy the range from Melitta.

[1] They have them in 0.35, 0.85 and 1.4 litre sizes. I believe (based on the measurements here) that the 1.4 litre one matches the Utah teapot.
So the CIA has tools to snoop on you via your TV and your Echo is testifying in a murder case and yet people are still buying connected devices with microphones in and why are they doing that the world is on fire surely this is terrible?

You're right that the world is terrible, but this isn't really a contributing factor to it. There's a few reasons why. The first is that there's really not any indication that the CIA and MI5 ever turned this into an actual deployable exploit. The development reports[1] describe a project that still didn't know what would happen to their exploit over firmware updates and a "fake off" mode that left a lit LED which wouldn't be there if the TV were actually off, so there's a potential for failed updates and people noticing that there's something wrong. It's certainly possible that development continued and it was turned into a polished and usable exploit, but it really just comes across as a bunch of nerds wanting to show off a neat demo.

But let's say it did get to the stage of being deployable - there's still not a great deal to worry about. No remote infection mechanism is described, so they'd need to do it locally. If someone is in a position to reflash your TV without you noticing, they're also in a position to, uh, just leave an internet connected microphone of their own. So how would they infect you remotely? TVs don't actually consume a huge amount of untrusted content from arbitrary sources[2], so that's much harder than it sounds and probably not worth it because:

YOU ARE CARRYING AN INTERNET CONNECTED MICROPHONE THAT CONSUMES VAST QUANTITIES OF UNTRUSTED CONTENT FROM ARBITRARY SOURCES

Seriously your phone is like eleven billion times easier to infect than your TV is and you carry it everywhere. If the CIA want to spy on you, they'll do it via your phone. If you're paranoid enough to take the battery out of your phone before certain conversations, don't have those conversations in front of a TV with a microphone in it. But, uh, it's actually worse than that.

These days audio hardware usually consists of a very generic codec containing a bunch of digital→analogue converters, some analogue→digital converters and a bunch of io pins that can basically be wired up in arbitrary ways. Hardcoding the roles of these pins makes board layout more annoying and some people want more inputs than outputs and some people vice versa, so it's not uncommon for it to be possible to reconfigure an input as an output or vice versa. From software.

Anyone who's ever plugged a microphone into a speaker jack probably knows where I'm going with this. An attacker can "turn off" your TV, reconfigure the internal speaker output as an input and listen to you on your "microphoneless" TV. Have a nice day, and stop telling people that putting glue in their laptop microphone is any use unless you're telling them to disconnect the internal speakers as well.

If you're in a situation where you have to worry about an intelligence agency monitoring you, your TV is the least of your concerns - any device with speakers is just as bad. So what about Alexa? The summary here is, again, it's probably easier and more practical to just break your phone - it's probably near you whenever you're using an Echo anyway, and they also get to record you the rest of the time. The Echo platform is very restricted in terms of where it gets data[3], so it'd be incredibly hard to compromise without Amazon's cooperation. Amazon's not going to give their cooperation unless someone turns up with a warrant, and then we're back to you already being screwed enough that you should have got rid of all your electronics way earlier in this process. There are reasons to be worried about always listening devices, but intelligence agencies monitoring you shouldn't generally be one of them.

tl;dr: The CIA probably isn't listening to you through your TV, and if they are then you're almost certainly going to have a bad time anyway.

[1] Which I have obviously not read
[2] I look forward to the first person demonstrating code execution through malformed MPEG over terrestrial broadcast TV
[3] You'd need a vulnerability in its compressed audio codecs, and you'd need to convince the target to install a skill that played content from your servers
The Fantasyland Institute of Learning is the organisation behind Lambdaconf, a functional programming conference perhaps best known for standing behind a racist they had invited as a speaker. The fallout of that has resulted in them trying to band together events in order to reduce disruption caused by sponsors or speakers declining to be associated with conferences that think inviting racists is more important than the comfort of non-racists, which is weird in all sorts of ways but not what I'm talking about here because they've also written a "Code of Professionalism" which is like a Code of Conduct except it protects abusers rather than minorities and no really it is genuinely as bad as it sounds.

The first thing you need to know is that the document uses its own jargon. Important here are the concepts of active and inactive participation - active participation is anything that you do within the community covered by a specific instance of the Code, inactive participation is anything that happens anywhere ever (ie, active participation is a subset of inactive participation). The restrictions based around active participation are broadly those that you'd expect in a very weak code of conduct - it's basically "Don't be mean", but with some quirks. The most significant is that there's a "Don't moralise" provision, which as written means saying "I think people who support slavery are bad" in a community setting is a violation of the code, but the description of discrimination means saying "I volunteer to mentor anybody from a minority background" could also result in any community member not from a minority background complaining that you've discriminated against them. It's just not very good.

Inactive participation is where things go badly wrong. If you engage in community or professional sabotage, or if you shame a member based on their behaviour inside the community, that's a violation. Community sabotage isn't defined and so basically allows a community to throw out whoever they want to. Professional sabotage means doing anything that can hurt a member's professional career. Shaming is saying anything negative about a member to a non-member if that information was obtained from within the community.

So, what does that mean? Here are some things that you are forbidden from doing:
  • If a member says something racist at a conference, you are not permitted to tell anyone who is not a community member that this happened (shaming)
  • If a member tries to assault you, you are not allowed to tell the police (shaming)
  • If a member gives a horribly racist speech at another conference, you are not allowed to suggest that they shouldn't be allowed to speak at your event (professional sabotage)
  • If a member of your community reports a violation and no action is taken, you are not allowed to warn other people outside the community that this is considered acceptable behaviour (community sabotage)

Now, clearly, some of these are unintentional - I don't think the authors of this policy would want to defend the idea that you can't report something to the police, and I'm sure they'd be willing to modify the document to permit this. But it's indicative of the mindset behind it. This policy has been written to protect people who are accused of doing something bad, not to protect people who have something bad done to them.

There are other examples of this. For instance, violations are not publicised unless the verdict is that they deserve banishment. If a member harasses another member but is merely given a warning, the victim is still not permitted to tell anyone else that this happened. The perpetrator is then free to repeat their behaviour in other communities, and the victim has to choose between either staying silent or warning them and risk being banished from the community for shaming.

If you're an abuser then this is perfect. You're in a position where your victims have to choose between their career (which will be harmed if they're unable to function in the community) and preventing the same thing from happening to others. Many will choose the former, which gives you far more freedom to continue abusing others. Which means that communities adopting the Fantasyland code will be more attractive to abusers, and become disproportionately populated by them.

I don't believe this is the intent, but it's an inevitable consequence of the priorities inherent in this code. No matter how many corner cases are cleaned up, if a code prevents you from saying bad things about people or communities it prevents people from being able to make informed choices about whether that community and its members are people they wish to associate with. When there are greater consequences to saying someone's racist than them being racist, you're fucking up badly.
I wrote a piece a few days ago about how the Meitu app asked for a bunch of permissions in ways that might concern people, but which were not actually any worse than many other apps. The fact that Android makes it so easy for apps to obtain data that's personally identifiable is of concern, but in the absence of another stable device identifier this is the sort of thing that capitalism is inherently going to end up making use of. Fundamentally, this is Google's problem to fix.

Around the same time, Kaspersky, the Russian anti-virus company, wrote a blog post that warned people about this specific app. It was framed somewhat misleadingly - "reading, deleting and modifying the data in your phone's memory" would probably be interpreted by most people as something other than "the ability to modify data on your phone's external storage", although it ends with some reasonable advice that users should ask why an app requires some permissions.

So, to that end, here are the permissions that Kaspersky request on Android:
  • android.permission.READ_CONTACTS
  • android.permission.WRITE_CONTACTS
  • android.permission.READ_SMS
  • android.permission.WRITE_SMS
  • android.permission.READ_PHONE_STATE
  • android.permission.CALL_PHONE
  • android.permission.SEND_SMS
  • android.permission.RECEIVE_SMS
  • android.permission.RECEIVE_BOOT_COMPLETED
  • android.permission.WAKE_LOCK
  • android.permission.WRITE_EXTERNAL_STORAGE
  • android.permission.SUBSCRIBED_FEEDS_READ
  • android.permission.READ_SYNC_SETTINGS
  • android.permission.WRITE_SYNC_SETTINGS
  • android.permission.WRITE_SETTINGS
  • android.permission.INTERNET
  • android.permission.ACCESS_COARSE_LOCATION
  • android.permission.ACCESS_FINE_LOCATION
  • android.permission.READ_CALL_LOG
  • android.permission.WRITE_CALL_LOG
  • android.permission.RECORD_AUDIO
  • android.permission.SET_PREFERRED_APPLICATIONS
  • android.permission.WRITE_APN_SETTINGS
  • android.permission.READ_CALENDAR
  • android.permission.WRITE_CALENDAR
  • android.permission.KILL_BACKGROUND_PROCESSES
  • android.permission.RESTART_PACKAGES
  • android.permission.MANAGE_ACCOUNTS
  • android.permission.GET_ACCOUNTS
  • android.permission.MODIFY_PHONE_STATE
  • android.permission.CHANGE_NETWORK_STATE
  • android.permission.ACCESS_NETWORK_STATE
  • android.permission.ACCESS_LOCATION_EXTRA_COMMANDS
  • android.permission.ACCESS_WIFI_STATE
  • android.permission.CHANGE_WIFI_STATE
  • android.permission.VIBRATE
  • android.permission.READ_LOGS
  • android.permission.GET_TASKS
  • android.permission.EXPAND_STATUS_BAR
  • com.android.browser.permission.READ_HISTORY_BOOKMARKS
  • com.android.browser.permission.WRITE_HISTORY_BOOKMARKS
  • android.permission.CAMERA
  • com.android.vending.BILLING
  • android.permission.SYSTEM_ALERT_WINDOW
  • android.permission.BATTERY_STATS
  • android.permission.MODIFY_AUDIO_SETTINGS
  • com.kms.free.permission.C2D_MESSAGE
  • com.google.android.c2dm.permission.RECEIVE

Every single permission that Kaspersky mention Meitu having? They require it as well. And a lot more. Why does Kaspersky want the ability to record audio? Why does it want to be able to send SMSes? Why does it want to read my contacts? Why does it need my fine-grained location? Why is it able to modify my settings?

There's no reason to assume that they're being malicious here. The reasons that these permissions exist at all is that there are legitimate reasons to use them, and Kaspersky may well have good reason to request them. But they don't explain that, and they do literally everything that their blog post criticises (including explicitly requesting the phone's IMEI). Why should we trust a Russian company more than a Chinese one?

The moral here isn't that Kaspersky are evil or that Meitu are virtuous. It's that talking about application permissions is difficult and we don't have the language to explain to users what our apps are doing and why they're doing it, and Google are still falling far short of where they should be in terms of making this transparent to users. But the other moral is that you shouldn't complain about the permissions an app requires when you're asking for even more of them because it just makes you look stupid and bad at your job.