The Times: Tech column - Virus hype/Intelligent TV/eBay wife auctions
By David Rowan
They were "script kiddies", four Israeli schoolchildren aged 15 to 16 who wanted to trump a rival gang and earn kudos for their coding skills. So they allegedly wrote a virus called Goner, disguised it within an e-mail attachment, and released it on an unsuspecting world.
"Hi," read the friendly message that last week arrived here, and in a few hundred thousand other Outlook in-boxes. "When I saw this screen saver, I immediately thought about you. I am in a harry (sic), I promise you will love it!"
Those who opened the attached file would have found their anti-virus software disabled and their PC potentially used to attack faraway networks. Within a few days, the anti-virus company MessageLabs had counted 133,000 cases of "one of the most incredibly fast-moving and potentially dangerous e-mail viruses we've seen". The experts warned this could be the big one that ended civilisation.
Well, maybe, although the real threat appears to come from virus panic itself. As corporate networks slowed under the weight of "virus warning" e-mails, and computer-security companies clamoured to sell ever more profitable "solutions", Rob Rosenberger, a 39-year-old computer consultant and scourge of the antivirus industry, was giving his verdict on Goner: just another over-hyped means for anti-virus businesses to create "mass hysteria". "This was one more easy-to-detect virus written by a pimply bunch of mediocre 16-year-olds," says Rosenberger. "The panic was another opportunity for antivirus firms to earn valuable free media exposure."
Within computer-security businesses such as McAfee, Sophos and Symantec, Rosenberger is seen as a troublemaker. From his office in Iowa, he crusades - through his Vmyths.com website - against what he calls an "addiction" to anti-virus updates. "The anti-virus companies realised long ago that they were sitting on a massive cash cow," he says. "They can't lose: each time their products fail and let through new viruses, people love them more."
New virus alerts circulate almost daily, so commercially available scanning software is a highly profitable business. Richard Clarke, the US cybersecurity czar, talks of malicious Internet attacks as "the functional equivalent of 767s crashing into buildings". No wonder McAfee's subscription website has attracted well over a million customers.
"The problem with most anti-virus software is that it won't stop a virus it doesn't already know," says Rosenberger. "That's just amazing. No one seems to be telling the industry that viruses are getting through because their products are faulty." He wants protection software, as well as scanning for known viruses, to profile all incoming files and block those with virus-like characteristics.
Fortunately for the industry, as the four Israelis were last week facing court charges, another "dangerous" worm, Gokar, was spreading around the world from Asia. So can we presume that this panic, too, will be short-lived? Rosenberger is sceptical. He insists that a well-constructed corporate network will cope without anti-virus software: "But the average Joe isn't in a position to protect himself, so I do urge people to get addicted to this software, though it hurts to say that."
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We predict the next wave of "Microsoft conspiracy" activism: it will centre on Big Brother software that understands your viewing preferences. Last week, Microsoft signed a deal with Predictive Networks, whose profiling software builds a personal picture of you and targets ads that it thinks fit your "digital silhouette". With new set-top boxes, this will be valuable to marketers, but privacy activists are fuming. If Web "cookies" were too intrusive for European legislators, they'll have fun with intelligent TV.
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You may have seen the hottest item on eBay's auction list: "Buy an entrepreneur wife." Heck, you may even have bid. One such advertisement reads: Kay Hammond, "a 24-year-old, blonde-haired, blue-eyed Internet entrepreneur" from Birmingham, claims to have achieved all her ambitions except marriage.
Now, this sounds like a clever PR stunt to promote her IT company (which, naturally, we won't name), but we will be watching to ensure that Ms Hammond honours her obligation. For eBay is very clear that its auctions constitute "legally binding contracts".
(The Times, December 17 2001)
They were "script kiddies", four Israeli schoolchildren aged 15 to 16 who wanted to trump a rival gang and earn kudos for their coding skills. So they allegedly wrote a virus called Goner, disguised it within an e-mail attachment, and released it on an unsuspecting world.
"Hi," read the friendly message that last week arrived here, and in a few hundred thousand other Outlook in-boxes. "When I saw this screen saver, I immediately thought about you. I am in a harry (sic), I promise you will love it!"
Those who opened the attached file would have found their anti-virus software disabled and their PC potentially used to attack faraway networks. Within a few days, the anti-virus company MessageLabs had counted 133,000 cases of "one of the most incredibly fast-moving and potentially dangerous e-mail viruses we've seen". The experts warned this could be the big one that ended civilisation.
Well, maybe, although the real threat appears to come from virus panic itself. As corporate networks slowed under the weight of "virus warning" e-mails, and computer-security companies clamoured to sell ever more profitable "solutions", Rob Rosenberger, a 39-year-old computer consultant and scourge of the antivirus industry, was giving his verdict on Goner: just another over-hyped means for anti-virus businesses to create "mass hysteria". "This was one more easy-to-detect virus written by a pimply bunch of mediocre 16-year-olds," says Rosenberger. "The panic was another opportunity for antivirus firms to earn valuable free media exposure."
Within computer-security businesses such as McAfee, Sophos and Symantec, Rosenberger is seen as a troublemaker. From his office in Iowa, he crusades - through his Vmyths.com website - against what he calls an "addiction" to anti-virus updates. "The anti-virus companies realised long ago that they were sitting on a massive cash cow," he says. "They can't lose: each time their products fail and let through new viruses, people love them more."
New virus alerts circulate almost daily, so commercially available scanning software is a highly profitable business. Richard Clarke, the US cybersecurity czar, talks of malicious Internet attacks as "the functional equivalent of 767s crashing into buildings". No wonder McAfee's subscription website has attracted well over a million customers.
"The problem with most anti-virus software is that it won't stop a virus it doesn't already know," says Rosenberger. "That's just amazing. No one seems to be telling the industry that viruses are getting through because their products are faulty." He wants protection software, as well as scanning for known viruses, to profile all incoming files and block those with virus-like characteristics.
Fortunately for the industry, as the four Israelis were last week facing court charges, another "dangerous" worm, Gokar, was spreading around the world from Asia. So can we presume that this panic, too, will be short-lived? Rosenberger is sceptical. He insists that a well-constructed corporate network will cope without anti-virus software: "But the average Joe isn't in a position to protect himself, so I do urge people to get addicted to this software, though it hurts to say that."
++++
We predict the next wave of "Microsoft conspiracy" activism: it will centre on Big Brother software that understands your viewing preferences. Last week, Microsoft signed a deal with Predictive Networks, whose profiling software builds a personal picture of you and targets ads that it thinks fit your "digital silhouette". With new set-top boxes, this will be valuable to marketers, but privacy activists are fuming. If Web "cookies" were too intrusive for European legislators, they'll have fun with intelligent TV.
++++
You may have seen the hottest item on eBay's auction list: "Buy an entrepreneur wife." Heck, you may even have bid. One such advertisement reads: Kay Hammond, "a 24-year-old, blonde-haired, blue-eyed Internet entrepreneur" from Birmingham, claims to have achieved all her ambitions except marriage.
Now, this sounds like a clever PR stunt to promote her IT company (which, naturally, we won't name), but we will be watching to ensure that Ms Hammond honours her obligation. For eBay is very clear that its auctions constitute "legally binding contracts".
(The Times, December 17 2001)
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