New Lawsuit Attempting to Make Adversarial Interoperability Legal
Lots of complicated details here: too many for me to summarize well. It involves an obscure Section 230 provision—and an even more obscure typo. Read this.
Entries Tagged "courts"
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Class-Action Lawsuit against Google’s Incognito Mode
The lawsuit has been settled:
Google has agreed to delete “billions of data records” the company collected while users browsed the web using Incognito mode, according to documents filed in federal court in San Francisco on Monday. The agreement, part of a settlement in a class action lawsuit filed in 2020, caps off years of disclosures about Google’s practices that shed light on how much data the tech giant siphons from its users—even when they’re in private-browsing mode.
Under the terms of the settlement, Google must further update the Incognito mode “splash page” that appears anytime you open an Incognito mode Chrome window after previously updating it in January. The Incognito splash page will explicitly state that Google collects data from third-party websites “regardless of which browsing or browser mode you use,” and stipulate that “third-party sites and apps that integrate our services may still share information with Google,” among other changes. Details about Google’s private-browsing data collection must also appear in the company’s privacy policy.
I was an expert witness for the prosecution (that’s the class, against Google). I don’t know if my declarations and deposition will become public.
Canadian Citizen Gets Phone Back from Police
After 175 million failed password guesses, a judge rules that the Canadian police must return a suspect’s phone.
[Judge] Carter said the investigation can continue without the phones, and he noted that Ottawa police have made a formal request to obtain more data from Google.
“This strikes me as a potentially more fruitful avenue of investigation than using brute force to enter the phones,” he said.
Surveillance Cameras Disguised as Clothes Hooks
This seems like a bad idea. And there are ongoing lawsuits against Amazon for selling them.
AI and Microdirectives
Imagine a future in which AIs automatically interpret—and enforce—laws.
All day and every day, you constantly receive highly personalized instructions for how to comply with the law, sent directly by your government and law enforcement. You’re told how to cross the street, how fast to drive on the way to work, and what you’re allowed to say or do online—if you’re in any situation that might have legal implications, you’re told exactly what to do, in real time.
Imagine that the computer system formulating these personal legal directives at mass scale is so complex that no one can explain how it reasons or works. But if you ignore a directive, the system will know, and it’ll be used as evidence in the prosecution that’s sure to follow.
This future may not be far off—automatic detection of lawbreaking is nothing new. Speed cameras and traffic-light cameras have been around for years. These systems automatically issue citations to the car’s owner based on the license plate. In such cases, the defendant is presumed guilty unless they prove otherwise, by naming and notifying the driver.
In New York, AI systems equipped with facial recognition technology are being used by businesses to identify shoplifters. Similar AI-powered systems are being used by retailers in Australia and the United Kingdom to identify shoplifters and provide real-time tailored alerts to employees or security personnel. China is experimenting with even more powerful forms of automated legal enforcement and targeted surveillance.
Breathalyzers are another example of automatic detection. They estimate blood alcohol content by calculating the number of alcohol molecules in the breath via an electrochemical reaction or infrared analysis (they’re basically computers with fuel cells or spectrometers attached). And they’re not without controversy: Courts across the country have found serious flaws and technical deficiencies with Breathalyzer devices and the software that powers them. Despite this, criminal defendants struggle to obtain access to devices or their software source code, with Breathalyzer companies and courts often refusing to grant such access. In the few cases where courts have actually ordered such disclosures, that has usually followed costly legal battles spanning many years.
AI is about to make this issue much more complicated, and could drastically expand the types of laws that can be enforced in this manner. Some legal scholars predict that computationally personalized law and its automated enforcement are the future of law. These would be administered by what Anthony Casey and Anthony Niblett call “microdirectives,” which provide individualized instructions for legal compliance in a particular scenario.
Made possible by advances in surveillance, communications technologies, and big-data analytics, microdirectives will be a new and predominant form of law shaped largely by machines. They are “micro” because they are not impersonal general rules or standards, but tailored to one specific circumstance. And they are “directives” because they prescribe action or inaction required by law.
A Digital Millennium Copyright Act takedown notice is a present-day example of a microdirective. The DMCA’s enforcement is almost fully automated, with copyright “bots” constantly scanning the internet for copyright-infringing material, and automatically sending literally hundreds of millions of DMCA takedown notices daily to platforms and users. A DMCA takedown notice is tailored to the recipient’s specific legal circumstances. It also directs action—remove the targeted content or prove that it’s not infringing—based on the law.
It’s easy to see how the AI systems being deployed by retailers to identify shoplifters could be redesigned to employ microdirectives. In addition to alerting business owners, the systems could also send alerts to the identified persons themselves, with tailored legal directions or notices.
A future where AIs interpret, apply, and enforce most laws at societal scale like this will exponentially magnify problems around fairness, transparency, and freedom. Forget about software transparency—well-resourced AI firms, like Breathalyzer companies today, would no doubt ferociously guard their systems for competitive reasons. These systems would likely be so complex that even their designers would not be able to explain how the AIs interpret and apply the law—something we’re already seeing with today’s deep learning neural network systems, which are unable to explain their reasoning.
Even the law itself could become hopelessly vast and opaque. Legal microdirectives sent en masse for countless scenarios, each representing authoritative legal findings formulated by opaque computational processes, could create an expansive and increasingly complex body of law that would grow ad infinitum.
And this brings us to the heart of the issue: If you’re accused by a computer, are you entitled to review that computer’s inner workings and potentially challenge its accuracy in court? What does cross-examination look like when the prosecutor’s witness is a computer? How could you possibly access, analyze, and understand all microdirectives relevant to your case in order to challenge the AI’s legal interpretation? How could courts hope to ensure equal application of the law? Like the man from the country in Franz Kafka’s parable in The Trial, you’d die waiting for access to the law, because the law is limitless and incomprehensible.
This system would present an unprecedented threat to freedom. Ubiquitous AI-powered surveillance in society will be necessary to enable such automated enforcement. On top of that, research—including empirical studies conducted by one of us (Penney)—has shown that personalized legal threats or commands that originate from sources of authority—state or corporate—can have powerful chilling effects on people’s willingness to speak or act freely. Imagine receiving very specific legal instructions from law enforcement about what to say or do in a situation: Would you feel you had a choice to act freely?
This is a vision of AI’s invasive and Byzantine law of the future that chills to the bone. It would be unlike any other law system we’ve seen before in human history, and far more dangerous for our freedoms. Indeed, some legal scholars argue that this future would effectively be the death of law.
Yet it is not a future we must endure. Proposed bans on surveillance technology like facial recognition systems can be expanded to cover those enabling invasive automated legal enforcement. Laws can mandate interpretability and explainability for AI systems to ensure everyone can understand and explain how the systems operate. If a system is too complex, maybe it shouldn’t be deployed in legal contexts. Enforcement by personalized legal processes needs to be highly regulated to ensure oversight, and should be employed only where chilling effects are less likely, like in benign government administration or regulatory contexts where fundamental rights and freedoms are not at risk.
AI will inevitably change the course of law. It already has. But we don’t have to accept its most extreme and maximal instantiations, either today or tomorrow.
This essay was written with Jon Penney, and previously appeared on Slate.com.
Class-Action Lawsuit for Scraping Data without Permission
I have mixed feelings about this class-action lawsuit against OpenAI and Microsoft, claiming that it “scraped 300 billion words from the internet” without either registering as a data broker or obtaining consent. On the one hand, I want this to be a protected fair use of public data. On the other hand, I want us all to be compensated for our uniquely human ability to generate language.
There’s an interesting wrinkle on this. A recent paper showed that using AI generated text to train another AI invariably “causes irreversible defects.” From a summary:
The tails of the original content distribution disappear. Within a few generations, text becomes garbage, as Gaussian distributions converge and may even become delta functions. We call this effect model collapse.
Just as we’ve strewn the oceans with plastic trash and filled the atmosphere with carbon dioxide, so we’re about to fill the Internet with blah. This will make it harder to train newer models by scraping the web, giving an advantage to firms which already did that, or which control access to human interfaces at scale. Indeed, we already see AI startups hammering the Internet Archive for training data.
This is the same idea that Ted Chiang wrote about: that ChatGPT is a “blurry JPEG of all the text on the Web.” But the paper includes the math that proves the claim.
What this means is that text from before last year—text that is known human-generated—will become increasingly valuable.
Fines as a Security System
Tile has an interesting security solution to make its tracking tags harder to use for stalking:
The Anti-Theft Mode feature will make the devices invisible to Scan and Secure, the company’s in-app feature that lets you know if any nearby Tiles are following you. But to activate the new Anti-Theft Mode, the Tile owner will have to verify their real identity with a government-issued ID, submit a biometric scan that helps root out fake IDs, agree to let Tile share their information with law enforcement and agree to be subject to a $1 million penalty if convicted in a court of law of using Tile for criminal activity. So although it technically makes the device easier for stalkers to use Tiles silently, it makes the penalty of doing so high enough to (at least in theory) deter them from trying.
Interesting theory. But it won’t work against attackers who don’t have any money.
Hulls believes the approach is superior to Apple’s solution with AirTag, which emits a sound and notifies iPhone users that one of the trackers is following them.
My complaint about the technical solutions is that they only work for users of the system. Tile security requires an “in-app feature.” Apple’s AirTag “notifies iPhone users.” What we need is a common standard that is implemented on all smartphones, so that people who don’t use the trackers can be alerted if they are being surveilled by one of them.
Kevin Mitnick Hacked California Law in 1983
Early in his career, Kevin Mitnick successfully hacked California law. He told me the story when he heard about my new book, which he partially recounts his 2012 book, Ghost in the Wires.
The setup is that he just discovered that there’s warrant for his arrest by the California Youth Authority, and he’s trying to figure out if there’s any way out of it.
As soon as I was settled, I looked in the Yellow Pages for the nearest law school, and spent the next few days and evenings there poring over the Welfare and Institutions Code, but without much hope.
Still, hey, “Where there’s a will…” I found a provision that said that for a nonviolent crime, the jurisdiction of the Juvenile Court expired either when the defendant turned twenty-one or two years after the commitment date, whichever occurred later. For me, that would mean two years from February 1983, when I had been sentenced to the three years and eight months.
Scratch, scratch. A little arithmetic told me that this would occur in about four months. I thought, What if I just disappear until their jurisdiction ends?
This was the Southwestern Law School in Los Angeles. This was a lot of manual research—no search engines in those days. He researched the relevant statutes, and case law that interpreted those statutes. He made copies of everything to hand to his attorney.
I called my attorney to try out the idea on him. His response sounded testy: “You’re absolutely wrong. It’s a fundamental principle of law that if a defendant disappears when there’s a warrant out for him, the time limit is tolled until he’s found, even if it’s years later.”
And he added, “You have to stop playing lawyer. I’m the lawyer. Let me do my job.”
I pleaded with him to look into it, which annoyed him, but he finally agreed. When I called back two days later, he had talked to my Parole Officer, Melvin Boyer, the compassionate guy who had gotten me transferred out of the dangerous jungle at LA County Jail. Boyer had told him, “Kevin is right. If he disappears until February 1985, there’ll be nothing we can do. At that point the warrant will expire, and he’ll be off the hook.”
So he moved to Northern California and lived under an assumed name for four months.
What’s interesting to me is how he approaches legal code in the same way a hacker approaches computer code: pouring over the details, looking for a bug—a mistake—leading to an exploitable vulnerability. And this was in the days before you could do any research online. He’s spending days in the law school library.
This is exactly the sort of thing I am writing about in A Hacker’s Mind. Legal code isn’t the same as computer code, but it’s a series of rules with inputs and outputs. And just like computer code, legal code has bugs. And some of those bugs are also vulnerabilities. And some of those vulnerabilities can be exploited—just as Mitnick learned.
Mitnick was a hacker. His attorney was not.
On Alec Baldwin’s Shooting
We recently learned that Alec Baldwin is being charged with involuntary manslaughter for his accidental shooting on a movie set. I don’t know the details of the case, nor the intricacies of the law, but I have a question about movie props.
Why was an actual gun used on the set? And why were actual bullets used on the set? Why wasn’t it a fake gun: plastic, or metal without a working barrel? Why does it have to fire blanks? Why can’t everyone just pretend, and let someone add the bang and the muzzle flash in post-production?
Movies are filled with fakery. The light sabers in Star Wars weren’t real; the lighting effects and “wooj-wooj” noises were add afterwards. The phasers in Star Trek weren’t real either. Jar Jar Binks was 100% computer generated. So were a gazillion “props” from the Harry Potter movies. Even regular, non-SF non-magical movies have special effects. They’re easy.
Why are guns different?
EDITED TO ADD (2/14): Hollywood has procedures for handling firearms on movie sets. And this CGI recreation provides details on how this gun handling failed to meet industry standards.
Decarbonizing Cryptocurrencies through Taxation
Maintaining bitcoin and other cryptocurrencies causes about 0.3 percent of global CO2 emissions. That may not sound like a lot, but it’s more than the emissions of Switzerland, Croatia, and Norway combined. As many cryptocurrencies crash and the FTX bankruptcy moves into the litigation stage, regulators are likely to scrutinize the cryptocurrency world more than ever before. This presents a perfect opportunity to curb their environmental damage.
The good news is that cryptocurrencies don’t have to be carbon intensive. In fact, some have near-zero emissions. To encourage polluting currencies to reduce their carbon footprint, we need to force buyers to pay for their environmental harms through taxes.
The difference in emissions among cryptocurrencies comes down to how they create new coins. Bitcoin and other high emitters use a system called “proof of work“: to generate coins, participants, or “miners,” have to solve math problems that demand extraordinary computing power. This allows currencies to maintain their decentralized ledger—the blockchain—but requires enormous amounts of energy.
Greener alternatives exist. Most notably, the “proof of stake” system enables participants to maintain their blockchain by depositing cryptocurrency holdings in a pool. When the second-largest cryptocurrency, Ethereum, switched from proof of work to proof of stake earlier this year, its energy consumption dropped by more than 99.9% overnight.
Bitcoin and other cryptocurrencies probably won’t follow suit unless forced to, because proof of work offers massive profits to miners—and they’re the ones with power in the system. Multiple legislative levers could be used to entice them to change.
The most blunt solution is to ban cryptocurrency mining altogether. China did this in 2018, but it only made the problem worse; mining moved to other countries with even less efficient energy generation, and emissions went up. The only way for a mining ban to meaningfully reduce carbon emissions is to enact it across most of the globe. Achieving that level of international consensus is, to say the least, unlikely.
A second solution is to prohibit the buying and selling of proof-of-work currencies. The European Parliament’s Committee on Economic and Monetary Affairs considered making such a proposal, but voted against it in March. This is understandable; as with a mining ban, it would be both viewed as paternalistic and difficult to implement politically.
Employing a tax instead of an outright ban would largely skirt these issues. As with taxes on gasoline, tobacco, plastics, and alcohol, a cryptocurrency tax could reduce real-world harm by making consumers pay for it.
Most ways of taxing cryptocurrencies would be inefficient, because they’re easy to circumvent and hard to enforce. To avoid these pitfalls, the tax should be levied as a fixed percentage of each proof-of-work-cryptocurrency purchase. Cryptocurrency exchanges should collect the tax, just as merchants collect sales taxes from customers before passing the sum on to governments. To make it harder to evade, the tax should apply regardless of how the proof-of-work currency is being exchanged—whether for a fiat currency or another cryptocurrency. Most important, any state that implements the tax should target all purchases by citizens in its jurisdiction, even if they buy through exchanges with no legal presence in the country.
This sort of tax would be transparent and easy to enforce. Because most people buy cryptocurrencies from one of only a few large exchanges—such as Binance, Coinbase, and Kraken—auditing them should be cheap enough that it pays for itself. If an exchange fails to comply, it should be banned.
Even a small tax on proof-of-work currencies would reduce their damage to the planet. Imagine that you’re new to cryptocurrency and want to become a first-time investor. You’re presented with a range of currencies to choose from: bitcoin, ether, litecoin, monero, and others. You notice that all of them except ether add an environmental tax to your purchase price. Which one do you buy?
Countries don’t need to coordinate across borders for a proof-of-work tax on their own citizens to be effective. But early adopters should still consider ways to encourage others to come on board. This has precedent. The European Union is trying to influence global policy with its carbon border adjustments, which are designed to discourage people from buying carbon-intensive products abroad in order to skirt taxes. Similar rules for a proof-of-work tax could persuade other countries to adopt one.
Of course, some people will try to evade the tax, just as people evade every other tax. For example, people might buy tax-free coins on centralized exchanges and then swap them for polluting coins on decentralized exchanges. To some extent, this is inevitable; no tax is perfect. But the effort and technical know-how needed to evade a proof-of-work tax will be a major deterrent.
Even if only a few countries implement this tax—and even if some people evade it—the desirability of bitcoin will fall globally, and the environmental benefit will be significant. A high enough tax could also cause a self-reinforcing cycle that will drive down these cryptocurrencies’ prices. Because the value of many cryptocurrencies rely largely on speculation, they are dependent on future buyers. When speculators are deterred by the tax, the lack of demand will cause the price of bitcoin to fall, which could prompt more current holders to sell—further lowering prices and accelerating the effect. Declining prices will pressure the bitcoin community to abandon proof of work altogether.
Taxing proof-of-work exchanges might hurt them in the short run, but it would not hinder blockchain innovation. Instead, it would redirect innovation toward greener cryptocurrencies. This is no different than how government incentives for electric vehicles encourage carmakers to improve green alternatives to the internal combustion engine. These incentives don’t restrict innovation in automobiles—they promote it.
Taxing environmentally harmful cryptocurrencies can gain support across the political spectrum, from people with varied interests. It would benefit blockchain innovators and cryptocurrency researchers by shifting focus from environmental harm to beneficial uses of the technology. It has the potential to make our planet significantly greener. It would increase government revenues.
Even bitcoin maximalists have reason to embrace the proposal: it would offer the bitcoin community a chance to prove it can survive and grow sustainably.
This essay was written with Christos Porios, and previously appeared in the Atlantic.
Sidebar photo of Bruce Schneier by Joe MacInnis.