Return of the Four Horsemen

The themes at this week’s Scrambling for Safety, hosted by the Foundation for Information Policy Research, are topical but not new since the original 1997 event: chat control; the online safety act; and AI in government decision making.

The EU proposal chat control would require platforms served with a detection order to scan people’s phones for both new and previously known child sexual abuse materialclient-side scanning. Robin Wilton prefers to call this “preemptive monitoring” to clarify that it’s an attack.

Yet it’s not fit even for its stated purpose, as Claudia Peersman showed, based on research conducted at REPHRAIN. They set out to develop a human-centric evaluation framework for the AI tools needed at the scale chat control would require. Their main conclusion: AI tools are not ready to be deployed on end-to-end-encrypted private communications. This was also Ross Anderson‘s argument in his 2022 paper on chat control (PDF) showing why it won’t meet the stated goals. Peersman also noted an important oversight: none of the stakeholder groups consulted in developing these tools include the children they’re supposed to protect.

This led Jen Persson to ask: “What are we doing to young people?” Children may not understand encryption, she said, but they do know what privacy means to them, as numerous researchers have found. If violating children’s right to privacy by dismantling encryption means ignoring the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child, “What world are we leaving for them? How do we deal with a lack of privacy in trusted relationships?”

All this led Wilton to comment that if the technology doesn’t work, that’s hard evidence that it is neither “necessary” nor “proportionate”, as human rights law demands. Yet, Persson pointed out, legislators keep passing laws that technologists insist are unworkable. Studies in both France and Australia have found that there is no viable privacy-preserving age verification technology – but the UK’s Online Safety Act (2023) still requires it.

In both examples – and in introducing AI into government decision making – a key element is false positives, which swamp human adjudicators in any large-scale automated system. In outlining the practicality of the Online Safety Act, Graham Smith cited the recent case of Marieha Hussein, who carried a placard at a pro-Palestinian protest that depicted former prime minister Rishi Sunak and former home secretary Suella Braverman as coconuts. After two days of evidence, the judge concluded the placard was (allowed) political satire rather than (criminal) racial abuse. What automated system can understand that the same image means different things in different contexts? What human moderator has two days? Platforms will simply remove content that would never have led to a conviction in court.

Or, asked Monica Horten suggested, how does a platform identify the new offense of coercive control?

Lisa Sugiura, who campaigns to end violence against women and girls, had already noted that the same apps parents install so they can monitor their children (and are reluctant to give up later) are openly advertised with slogans like “Use this to check up on your cheating wife”. (See also Cindy Southworth, 2010, on stalker apps.) The dots connect into reports Persson heard at last week’s Safer Internet Forum that young women find it hard to refuse when potential partners want parental-style monitoring rights and then find it even harder to extricate themselves from abusive situations.

Design teams don’t count the cost of this sort of collateral damage, just as their companies have little liability for the human cost of false positives, and the narrow lens of child safety also ignores these wider costs. Yet they can be staggering: the 1990s US law requiring ISPs to facilitate wiretapping, CALEA, created the vulnerability that enabled widescale Chinese spying in 2024.

Wilton called laws that essentially treat all of us as suspects “a rule to make good people behave well, instead of preventing bad people from behaving badly”. Big organized crime cases like the Silk Road, Encrochat, and Sky ECC, relied on infiltration, not breaking encryption. Once upon a time, veterans know, there were four horsemen always cited by proponents of such laws: organized crime, drug dealers, terorrists, and child abusers. We hear little about the first three these days.

All of this will take new forms as the new government adopts AI in decision making with the same old hopes: increased efficiency, lowered costs. Government is not learning from the previous waves of technoutopianism, which brought us things like the Post Office Horizon scandal, said Gavin Freeguard. Under data protection law we were “data subjects”; now we are becoming “decision subjects” whose voices are not being heard.

There is some hope: Swee Leng Harris sees improvements in the reissued data bill, though she stresses that it’s important to remind people that the “cloud” is really material data centers that consume energy (and use water) at staggering rates (see also Kate Crawford’s book, Atlas of AI). It’s no help that UK ministers and civil servants move on to other jobs at pace, ensuring there is no accountability. As Sam Smith said, computers have made it possible to do things faster – but also to go wrong faster at a much larger scale.

Illustrations: Time magazine’s 1995 “Cyberporn” cover, the first children and online pornography scare, based on a fraudulent study.

Wendy M. Grossman is the 2013 winner of the Enigma Award. Her Web site has an extensive archive of her books, articles, and music, and an archive of earlier columns in this series. She is a contributing editor for the Plutopia News Network podcast. Follow on Mastodon.

The good fight

This week saw a small gathering to celebrate the 25th anniversary (more or less) of the Foundation for Information Policy Research, a think tank led by Cambridge and Edinburgh University professor Ross Anderson. FIPR’s main purpose is to produce tools and information that campaigners for digital rights can use. Obdisclosure: I am a member of its advisory council.

What, Anderson asked those assembled, should FIPR be thinking about for the next five years?

When my turn came, I said something about the burnout that comes to many campaigners after years of fighting the same fights. Digital rights organizations – Open Rights Group, EFF, Privacy International, to name three – find themselves trying to explain the same realities of math and technology decade after decade. Small wonder so many burn out eventually. The technology around the debates about copyright, encryption, and data protection has changed over the years, but in general the fundamental issues have not.

In part, this is because what people want from technology doesn’t change much. A tangential example of this presented itself this week, when I read the following in the New York Times, written by Peter C Baker about the “Beatles'” new mash-up recording:

“So while the current legacy-I.P. production boom is focused on fictional characters, there’s no reason to think it won’t, in the future, take the form of beloved real-life entertainers being endlessly re-presented to us with help from new tools. There has always been money in taking known cash cows — the Beatles prominent among them — and sprucing them up for new media or new sensibilities: new mixes, remasters, deluxe editions. But the story embedded in “Now and Then” isn’t “here’s a new way of hearing an existing Beatles recording” or “here’s something the Beatles made together that we’ve never heard before.” It is Lennon’s ideas from 45 years ago and Harrison’s from 30 and McCartney and Starr’s from the present, all welded together into an officially certified New Track from the Fab Four.”

I vividly remembered this particular vision of the future because just a few days earlier I’d had occasion to look it up – a March 1992 interview for Personal Computer World with the ILM animator Steve Williams, who the year before had led the team that produced the liquid metal man for the movie Terminator 2. Williams imagined CGI would become pervasive (as it has):

“…computer animation blends invisibly with live action to create an effect that has no counterpart in the real world. Williams sees a future in which directors can mix and match actors’ body parts at will. We could, he predicts, see footage of dead presidents giving speeches, films starring dead or retired actors, even wholly digital actors. The arguments recently seen over musicians who lip-synch to recordings during supposedly ‘live’ concerts are likely to be repeated over such movie effects.”

Williams’ latest work at the time was on Death Becomes Her. Among his calmer predictions was that as CGI became increasingly sophisticated the boundary between computer-generated characters and enhancements would become invisible. Thirty years on, the big excitement recently has been Harrison Ford’s deaging for Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny. That used CGI, AI, and other tools to digitally swap in his face from 1980s footage.

Side note: in talking about the Ford work to Wired, ILM supervisor Andrew Whitehurst, exactly like Williams in 1992, called the new technology “another pencil”.

Williams also predicted endless legal fights over copyright and other rights. That at least was spot-on; AI and the perpetual reuse of retained footage without further payment is part of what the recent SAG-AFTRA strikes were about.

Yet, the problem here isn’t really technology; it’s the incentives. The businessfolk of Hollywood’s eternal desire is to guarantee their return on investment, and they think recycling old successes is the safest way to do that. Closer to digital rights, law enforcement always wants greater access to private communications; the frustration is that incoming generations of politicians don’t understand the laws of mathematics any better than their predecessors in the 1990s.

Many of the speakers focused on the issue of getting government to listen to and understand the limits of technology. Increasingly, though, a new problem is that, as Bruce Schneier writes in his latest book, The Hacker’s Mind, everyone has learned to think like hackers and subvert the systems they’re supposed to protect. The Silicon Valley mantra of “ask forgiveness, not permission” has become pervasive, whether it’s a technology platform deciding to collect masses of data about us or a police force deciding to stick a live facial recognition pilot next to Oxford Circus tube station. Except no one asks for forgiveness either.

Five years ago, at FIPR’s 20th anniversary, when GDPR is new, Anderson predicted (correctly) that the battles over encryption would move to device access. Today, it’s less clear what’s next. Facial recognition represents a step change; it overrides consent and embeds distrust in our public infrastructure.

If I were to predict the battles of the next five years, I’d look at the technologies being deployed around European and US borders to surveil migrants. Migrants make easy targets for this type of experimentatioon because they can’t afford to protest and can’t vote. “Automated suspicion,” Euronews.next calls it. That habit of mind is danagerous.

Illustrations: The liquid metal man in Terminator 2 reconstituting itself.

Wendy M. Grossman is the 2013 winner of the Enigma Award. Her Web site has an extensive archive of her books, articles, and music, and an archive of earlier columns in this series. She is a contributing editor for the Plutopia News Network podcast. Follow on Mastodon