The Antidote To E-Snoops
Author: BY HIAWATHA BRAY, GLOBE STAFF
Date: 08/03/2000
Page: C1
Section: Business
TECHNOLOGY & INNOVATION
UPGRADE / HIAWATHA BRAY
Last week, I offered a half-hearted defense of the FBI's notorious
Carnivore program, the one that can scan millions of e-mail messages in
pursuit of terrorists, dope dealers, and sellers of illegal cable TV boxes. It
seems to me that the technology isn't that dangerous if it's hedged about with
strong legal safeguards.
And one other thing - Carnivore won't work. All the e-mail snooping in the
world will be of little value against bad guys who encrypt their messages. The
Feds may be able to read the addresses, which must be sent in the clear. But
use a good crypto program and everything else in the message is just a blur of
seemingly random characters.
Of course, computers can eventually decipher the messages - in a few
million years per message, using your typical supercomputer. And even if some
genius in the basement of the National Security Agency has found a way to
decode each message in, say, a week, he'd still be overwhelmed by the sheer
number of messages he'd have to crack.
It makes you wonder why the FBI even bothered to develop Carnivore, until
you ask yourself whether you encrypt your own e-mail. Here's a good Baptist
bet for you: If 50 readers of this column can prove to me that they use e-mail
encryption, I'll slip an extra $50 into the collection plate next Sunday.
It's been several years since I tried an early version of Pretty Good
Privacy, one of the first e-mail scramblers. With its talk of hash
algorithms, passphrases, public and private keys, it made my brain hurt. Dr.
Evil himself would probably be repulsed by the complexity of the process. For
a law-abiding sort like me, it wasn't worth the bother.
But it needn't be this way. Web browsers come with sophisticated encryption
software built right in. It kicks in automatically when you use your credit
card to buy something online. This same encryption engine can be applied to
your e-mail by obtaining a "digital certificate," basically a set of keys that
let you send and receive scrambled messages. Standard e-mail programs like
Microsoft Outlook and Netscape Communicator let you plug in these certificates
and use them with ease.
Most people haven't known about this feature, or they aren't willing to pay
the minimum of $14.95 a year charged by Verisign Inc., the best known dealer
in digital certificates. But in the grand tradition of the Internet, somebody
thinks he can give away the certificates and make it up in volume. WildID
(www.wildid.com) passes out free certificates good for 30 days, and sends you
an e-mail when it's time to renew. The company hopes to make money by
attracting millions of users to its site and bombarding them with ads.
The WildID system requires you to fiddle with some browser settings that
most folks never touch, but in only a couple of minutes I was sending secret
messages - with nobody to send them to. Just as in the days of Pretty Good
Privacy, WildID sends encrypted messages only to other WildID users. That's
fine if you send messages only to fellow members of the Soprano crime family.
But your notes to others remain insecure.
Another secure mail service called ZixMail (www.zixmail.com) offers a handy
backup. ZixMail runs inside its own client software, instead of the e-mail
program you normally use. Also, it's not as easy to set up as WildID.
But ZixMail has a clever feature that lets you send secure e-mails to
people who don't use the product. What they get is an unencrypted e-mail that
contains a link to a Web page where the message is waiting. When the recipient
clicks the link, the Web page uses the browser's standard encryption system to
download, decode, and display the message. It's pretty slick.
It's still not quite slick enough. Most of us will keep on sending our
e-mails in the clear. But if the government is ever caught abusing its
e-snooping technology, ZixMail and WildID will have all the business they can
handle. And the FBI's poor old Carnivore will starve to death.
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