The Sutton effect

One of the enduring questions in cybersecurity is how much failures cost and who pays. Many companies see cybersecurity as a cost with no return; as in housekeeping only the failures are noticeable.

Certainly, a data breach, bungled software update, or ransomware attack can ding a company’s share price in the short term – but a year later, often they seem to have fully recovered. Meanwhile, the company’s customers may have spent hours monitoring credit reports, replacing credit cards, and other admin to remediate the effects.

Take, for example, Crowdstrike. In July 2024, it rolled out a buggy software update to all its 29,000 clients, many of them large businesses. One of those was Microsoft, which automagically incorporated it into Windows. Result: widespread paralysis. Crowdstrike fixed the error in 79 minutes; it took the rest of the world days to fully recover as each affected machine had to be manually restarted.

The company’s shares soon recovered. In November 2024, Matt Kapko reported at Cybersecurity Dive that the company had retained almost all its customers (which could just be a sign of dangerous market concentration). Similarly, the 2017 Equifax breach didn’t move it out of the heart of consumer credit scoring.

Soon after the Crowdstrike outage, David Jones reported at Cybersecurity Drive estimates that it had cost Fortune 500 companies a collective $5.4 billion, and that only 10% to 20% of that was covered by insurance. At the same time, at Bank Info Security, Matthew J. Schwartz estimated the cost to cyberinsurers at $1.5 billion.

But what about the patients unable to book doctors’ appointments, the airline crews who lost work, the train passengers stuck on platforms? Or, in a data breach, the years-long worry about where the data is now and how it’s being used.

Cyberattacks on companies leave us with what Ryan Calo and Veronica Paternolli called “shadow work” at We Robot a couple of months ago. They proposed that agentic AI might be able to reverse 30 years of companies offloading work onto us. You might – though I doubt it – be able to trust agentic AI to automate generating requests for refunds and new credit cards or rebooking canceled airline flights. But no way will it enable you to recoup the lost hours in an airport, the stress of being unsure what happened, or the ongoing consequences of identity theft.

At this week’s Workshop on the Economics of Information Security, University of Michigan researchers Lina Alkarmi, Armin Sarabi, and Mingyan Liu called these imposed indirect costs the “social cost” of data breaches and noted that typically none of it is measured. In two of the three breaches they studied, their math indicated that the eventual settlements the companies paid to consumers was below their estimate of the lower bound of the actual cost.

An odd finding from their study of three major breaches is that the social cost dropped over the period they studied, 2008-2021. They suggest that the 2015 introduction (in the US) of chip and PIN helped lower the utility of the stolen data. They also surmise that the later breaches added less to an already-saturated black market for data. There is doubtless a lot more work to do on this. Nonetheless, they estimate the national social cost at $7 billion in 2021, for an average per victim of nearly $300.

In a second paper, University of Tulsa researchers Teyyub Mutallimov, Dana Itzhaki, and Tyler Moore examined the long-term impact on corporate results following cyber attacks, looking at financial statements rather than share prices There, it seems that companies don’t recover as fully as you might think. Depending on the type of attack – data breaches trigger financing and investment; ransomware attacks are operationally disruptive. Both involve ongoing costs: remediation, system upgrades, external advice, potentially legal settlements.

In the meantime, it remains unclear whether generative AI will be a net win or a net loss for cybersecurity – finding vulnerabilities, as Anthropic claims Claude Mythos does, exposes them to attackers, although it also offers developers an opportunity to close them (I recall a similar panic in 1995 when Dan Farmer released SATAN). A 2025 report from the Turing Institute found that AI had begun to accelerate crime by enabling it to scale more effectively and exploit personal vulnerabilities. In January, Carly Page reported at The Register that the cost to criminals of renting AI infrastructure was as cheap as a Netflix subscription, based on a paper from researchers at Group-IB. Self-hosted “dark LLMs” are optimized for creating scams and deepfakes for as little as $30 a month.

However, at WEIS, in another paper, Ben Collier, Jack Hughes, and Daniel Thomas studied vibe coding’s early impact on the cybercrime business. So far, they found, it doesn’t seem to be making much change; it’s not yet time to fear “vibercriminals”. One could even imagine that over time generative AI could disrupt the junior-level pipeline that produces senior, skilled workers, as it’s doing in other industries. On the other hand, there’s already long been a lot of automation at the lower levels. So, wash? But if something works, crime will adopt it. Cue Willie Sutton, whose name was invoked at WEIS several times to explain why people pursue cybercrime: “That’s where the money is.”

Illustrations: Willie Sutton (via FBI).

Wendy M. Grossman is an award-winning journalist. 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 or Bluesky.

Core values

Follow the money; follow the incentives.

Cybersecurity is an intractable problem for many of the same reasons climate change is: often the people paying the cost are not the people who derive the benefits. The foundation of the Workshop on the Economics of Information Security is often traced to the 2001 paper Why Information Security is Hard, by the late Ross Anderson. There were earlier hints, most notably in the 1999 paper Users Are Not the Enemy by Angela Sasse and Anne Adams.

Anderson’s paper directly examined and highlighted the influence of incentives on security behavior. Sasse’s paper was ostensibly about password policies and the need to consider human factors in designing them. But hidden underneath was the fact that the company department that called her in was not the IT team or the help desk team but accounting. Help desk costs to support users who forgot their passwords were rising so fast they threatened to swamp the company.

At the 23rd WEIS, held this week in Dallas (see also 2020), papers studied questions like which values drive people’s decisions when hit by ransomware attacks (Zinaida Benenson); whether the psychological phenomenon of delay discounting could be used to understand the security choices people make (Einar Snekkenes); and whether a labeling scheme would help get people to pay for security (L Jean Camp).

The latter study found that if you keep the label simple, people will actually pay for security. It’s a seemingly small but important point: throughout the history of personal computing, security competes with so many other imperatives that it’s rarely a factor in purchasing decisions. Among those other imperatives: cost, convenience, compatibility with others, and ease of use. But also: it remains near-impossible to evaluate how secure a product or provider is. Only the largest companies are in a position to ask detailed questions of cloud providers, for example,

Or, in an example provided by Chitra Marti, rare is the patient who can choose a hospital based on the security arrangements it has in place to protect its data. Marti asked a question I haven’t seen before: what is the role of market concentration in cybersecurity? To get at this, Marti looked at the decade’s experience of electronic medical records in hospitals since the big post-2008 recession push to digitize. Since 2010, more than 150 million records have been breached.

Of course, monoculture is a known problem in cybersecurity as it is in agriculture: if every machine runs the same software all machines are vulnerable to the same attacks. Similarly, the downsides of monopoly – poorer service, higher prices, lower quality – are well known. Marti’s study tying the two together found correlations in the software hospitals run and rarely change, even after a breach, though they do adopt new security measures. Hospitals choose software vendors for all sorts of reasons such as popularity, widspread use in their locality, or market leadership. The difficulty of deciding to change may be exacerbated by positive benefits to their existing choice that would be lost and outweigh the negatives.

These broader incentives help explain, as Richard Clayton set out, why distributed denial of service attacks remain so intractable. A key problem is “reflectors”, which amplify attacks by using spoofed IP addresses to send requests where the size of the response will dwarf the request. With this technique, a modest amount of outgoing traffic lands a flood on the chosen target (the one whose IP address has been spoofed). Fixing infrastructure to prevent these reflectors is tedious and only prevents damage to others. Plus, the provider involved may have to sacrifice the money they are paid to carry the traffic. For reasons like these, over the years the size of DDoS attacks has grown until only the largest anti-DDoS providers can cope with them. These realities are also why the early effort to push providers to fix their systems – RFC 2267 – failed. The incentives, in classic WEIS terms, are misaligned.

Clayton was able to use the traffic data he was already collecting to create a short list of the largest reflected amplified DDoS attacks each week and post it on a private Slack channel so providers could inspect their logs to trace it back to the source

At this point a surprising thing happened: the effort made a difference. Reflected amplified attacks dropped noticeably. The reasons, he and Ben Collier argue in their paper, have to do with the social connections among network engineers, the most senior of whom helped connect the early Internet and have decades-old personal relationships with their peers that have been sustained through forums such as NANOG and M3AAWG. This social capital and shared set of values kicked in when Clayton’s action lists moved the problem from abuse teams into the purview of network engineer s. Individual engineers began racing ahead; Amazon recently highlighted AWS engineer Tom Scholl’s work tracing back traffic and getting attacks stopped.

Clayton concluded by proposing “infrastructural capital” to cover the mix of human relationships and the position in the infrastructure that makes them matter. It’s a reminder that underneath those giant technology companies there still lurks the older ethos on which the Internet was founded, and humans whose incentives are entirely different from profit-making. And also: that sometimes intractable problems can be made less intractable.

Illustrations: WEIS waits for the eclipse.

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.