Lessons from reading Mitnick
BY SIMSON GARFINKEL
KEVIN MITNICK IS the most famous computer
hacker of our time. His capture in February 1995 by computer
scientist Tsutomu Shimomura was the subject of three hugely
popular books. Since his release from prison on Jan. 21, 2000,
Mitnick has taken on the role of "reformed hacker extraordinaire"—a
man who seeks to undo the damage he has done by teaching corporate
America how to defend against social engineering attacks (while
making a pretty penny in the process).
This month Mitnick releases his first book, The Art
of Deception. It is filled with stories of how an enterprising
social engineer can outsmart office workers, circumvent security
technology, and generally make a mockery of our attempts to protect
computers and networks. Mitnick's message is simple: Humans are the
weakest link in any security system. Companies need to spend more
time training their employees on how to resist such attacks.
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That's all true—and not surprising to hear from an
allegedly reformed con man turned security consultant. (By almost
all accounts, it was Mitnick's ability to trick people, rather than
his skill at computing, which made it possible for him to penetrate
so many organizations.) However, Mitnick's systematic downplay of
technology and its value in defending sensitive information is yet
another act of deception—one that could be far more damaging than
any of his other exploits to date.
Awareness Isn't Everything
To be sure, many
organizations need to improve the security of their "human factor."
Social engineers use internal phone numbers, knowledge of procedures
and even industry lingo to gain the trust of their intended victims.
One Mitnick anecdote: The intrepid social engineer
calls up the network operations center of a cell phone company
during a snowstorm. After befriending the operators, he asks them:
"I left my SecureID card on my desk. Will you fetch it for me?" he
asks. Of course, the network operators are too busy to do that, so
they do the next best thing: They read off the ever-changing code on
their own token, allowing the hacker to break in and steal the
company's source code. In this example, the caller is able to
"prove" his identity by telling the network operators his office
number, the department where he worked and the name of his
supervisor—all information that the attacker had gleaned from
previous phone calls to the company. Mitnick's message is that
organizations need to treat phone lists, org charts, technical
procedure manuals and other information as highly confidential in
order to protect themselves from social engineering attacks.
Alas, trying to keep such information confidential is
ultimately a losing proposition: Companies simply can't assume that
this information won't get out to competitors, recruiters and
potential attackers. If nothing else, employees are sure to take
this information with them when they switch jobs. Years of effort
have also shown the difficulty in training people to resist social
engineering attacks—these attacks are so rare that the troops just
don't get enough practice.
Instead, companies need to adopt both procedures and
technology to minimize the impact that
Perhaps you can't prevent an employee
from e-mailing a critical file to a spy, but you don't have to
keep yourself in the dark about it.
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such confidential information loss can
have—and to create systems and organizations that are resistant to
social engineering attacks.
For example, many of the cons in Mitnick's book
revolve around the theft of a credit card or Social Security number.
In one case, the social engineer who pretends to be the manager at
one video store builds up a friendship over the telephone with the
clerk at a sister store across town. Then one day the engineer calls
up the clerk, claims that his computer is down, and says, "I've got
a customer of yours here who wants to rent Godfather II and
doesn't have his card with him.... Could you verify his information
for me?" Trying to help, the befriended clerk reveals the target
customer's name, address, credit card number and his recent rentals.
It's important to teach clerks not to reveal such
information over the phone. But there's also a technical solution:
Terminals and application programs used by customer service
representatives should never display a customer's credit card
number. This is not a new idea; many firms, including VoiceStream
and Amazon.com, have already deployed such technology. These
companies have computer systems that keep customer credit card
numbers on file for automatically billing future purchases, but the
systems will not reveal a stored credit card number to either the
customer or a customer service representative.
Simple Steps
Many of the most ingenious computer
hacks in The Art of Deception are surprisingly simple: Time
after time, the narrator simply convinces an innocent office worker
to run a remote control program such as Netbus or Back Orifice on
their office PC. Once the program is installed, the hacker can reach
behind the company's firewall and probe for confidential Microsoft
Word files, examine e-mail or an appointment calendar, or whatever.
This attack is particularly effective when it's carried out against
some high-level executive's secretary.
A likely attack? Definitely. But experience has shown
that judiciously used technology can prevent clerical staff from
running the vast majority of malicious software. Most hackers are
incapable of writing their own so-called Trojans; instead, they use
malicious software that's already in circulation—and that's already
recognized by today's antivirus systems. Good antivirus systems
won't let a Trojan be downloaded over the Web or by e-mail, they
won't let it be copied onto a user's hard drive from a floppy, and
if the software is downloaded, the antivirus won't let it run.
A more radical technical solution, of course, is
simply to avoid running Microsoft products. Although Mitnick never
says so, social engineers, virus writers and computer attackers of
all stripes have benefited immeasurably by the computational
monoculture that much of corporate America has created on the
desktop. Companies with Macs or Linux on the desktop simply don't
have problems with viruses and other hostile code that haunt most
Microsoft shops.
Most companies don't know when they've been hacked.
It's all too easy for a social engineer
The best way to teach employees
techniques for resisting social engineering is to repeatedly
hit them with mock social engineering attacks.
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to erase a log file or have an employee
unwittingly e-mail a file to a "drop dead" mailbox somewhere outside
the country. Again, this is a job for technology: For a few hundred
dollars most companies can deploy log servers—special computers that
receive and record log events from elsewhere on your network but
don't allow any remote access. Firewalls can be configured to log
all files that are transferred in or out of an organization. Perhaps
you can't prevent an employee from e-mailing a critical file to a
spy, but you don't have to keep yourself in the dark about it.
Don't get me wrong: Lectures, training sessions and
awareness briefings all have their place. But they only go so far.
Probably the best way to teach employees techniques for resisting
social engineering is to repeatedly hit them with actual social
engineering attacks. That is, CSOs should "penetration test"
employees, the same way we penetration test servers, firewalls and
telecommunications systems.
All companies should have a policy of reporting
attempted social engineering incidents to the corporate security
group. Companies should then randomly call employees, attempt to
hack them and see what gets reported. New employees are exceedingly
vulnerable to attacks; for this reason, new employees should receive
several social engineering attacks during their probationary period,
and then on a regular basis throughout their career.
Fact or Fiction?
It's easy to
imagine that many CSOs will be turned off by the thought of
purchasing a book from a convicted computer criminal. Certainly it's
not good for society when criminal hackers are rewarded for their
misdeeds.
As it turns out, the courts agree. Mitnick, under the
terms of his court-supervised release, is prohibited from selling
his story until 2010. That's why the anecdotes in The Art of
Deception are all told through the veil of fiction. Each con
artist and victim is given a made-up name, history, motivation and
so on. While this artifice results in a book that is unfocused and
frequently repetitive, there are occasional gems contained within
the book's covers—such as when Mitnick explains how Caller ID can be
forged, and why it is so important to protect backup tapes.
In a way, it's too bad that The Art of
Deception doesn't tell Mitnick's story. In my opinion, much of
what has been said about Mitnick over the years has been bald-faced
lies by government officials and others—smear jobs that had the side
effect of increasing budgets for cybercrime fighters. Mitnick is in
fact a person whose story deserves to be told. On the other hand,
there is a big difference between reading a reformed hacker's words
and hiring one to audit your internal systems. Read what Mitnick has
to say, but keep him and his like away from your keyboards.
Simson Garfinkel, CISSP, is a technology writer
based in the Boston area. He is also CTO of Sandstorm Enterprises,
an information warfare software company.
ILLUSTRATION BY
ANASTASIA VASILAKIS