Snowden:  The All-Seeing "i": Apple Just Declared War on Your Privacy.
https://edwardsnowden.substack.com/p/all-seeing-i?r=q0ig0

Edward Snowden

By now you've probably heard that Apple plans to push a new and uniquely 
intrusive surveillance system out to many of the more than one billion iPhones 
it has sold, which all run the behemoth's proprietary, take-it-or-leave-it 
software. This new offensive is tentatively slated to begin with the launch of 
iOS 15⁠—almost certainly in mid-September⁠—with the devices of its US user-base 
designated as the initial targets. We’re told that other countries will be 
spared, but not for long.

You might have noticed that I haven’t mentioned which problem it is that Apple 
is purporting to solve. Why? Because it doesn’t matter.

Having read thousands upon thousands of remarks on this growing scandal, it has 
become clear to me that many understand it doesn't matter, but few if any have 
been willing to actually say it. Speaking candidly, if that’s still allowed, 
that’s the way it always goes when someone of institutional significance 
launches a campaign to defend an indefensible intrusion into our private 
spaces. They make a mad dash to the supposed high ground, from which they speak 
in low, solemn tones about their moral mission before fervently invoking the 
dread spectre of the Four Horsemen of the Infopocalypse, warning that only a 
dubious amulet—or suspicious software update—can save us from the most 
threatening members of our species.

Suddenly, everybody with a principled objection is forced to preface their 
concern with apologetic throat-clearing and the establishment of bonafides: I 
lost a friend when the towers came down, however... As a parent, I understand 
this is a real problem, but...

As a parent, I’m here to tell you that sometimes it doesn’t matter why the man 
in the handsome suit is doing something. What matters are the consequences.

Apple’s new system, regardless of how anyone tries to justify it, will 
permanently redefine what belongs to you, and what belongs to them.

How?

The task Apple intends its new surveillance system to perform—preventing their 
cloud systems from being used to store digital contraband, in this case 
unlawful images uploaded by their customers—is traditionally performed by 
searching their systems. While it’s still problematic for anybody to search 
through a billion people’s private files, the fact that they can only see the 
files you gave them is a crucial limitation.

Now, however, that’s all set to change. Under the new design, your phone will 
now perform these searches on Apple’s behalf before your photos have even 
reached their iCloud servers, and—yada, yada, yada—if enough "forbidden 
content" is discovered, law-enforcement will be notified.

I intentionally wave away the technical and procedural details of Apple’s 
system here, some of which are quite clever, because they, like our man in the 
handsome suit, merely distract from the most pressing fact—the fact that, in 
just a few weeks, Apple plans to erase the boundary dividing which devices work 
for you, and which devices work for them.

Why is this so important? Once the precedent has been set that it is fit and 
proper for even a "pro-privacy" company like Apple to make products that betray 
their users and owners, Apple itself will lose all control over how that 
precedent is applied. ​​​​​​As soon as the public first came to learn of the 
“spyPhone” plan, experts began investigating its technical weaknesses, and the 
many ways it could be abused, primarily within the parameters of Apple’s 
design. Although these valiant vulnerability-research efforts have produced 
compelling evidence that the system is seriously flawed, they also seriously 
miss the point: Apple gets to decide whether or not their phones will monitor 
their owners’ infractions for the government, but it's the government that gets 
to decide on what constitutes an infraction... and how to handle it.

For its part, Apple says their system, in its initial, v1.0 design, has a 
narrow focus: it only scrutinizes photos intended to be uploaded to iCloud 
(although for 85% of its customers, that means EVERY photo), and it does not 
scrutinize them beyond a simple comparison against a database of specific 
examples of previously-identified child sexual abuse material (CSAM).

If you’re an enterprising pedophile with a basement full of CSAM-tainted 
iPhones, Apple welcomes you to entirely exempt yourself from these scans by 
simply flipping the “Disable iCloud Photos” switch, a bypass which reveals that 
this system was never designed to protect children, as they would have you 
believe, but rather to protect their brand. As long as you keep that material 
off their servers, and so keep Apple out of the headlines, Apple doesn’t care.

So what happens when, in a few years at the latest, a politician points that 
out, and—in order to protect the children—bills are passed in the legislature 
to prohibit this "Disable" bypass, effectively compelling Apple to scan photos 
that aren’t backed up to iCloud? What happens when a party in India demands 
they start scanning for memes associated with a separatist movement? What 
happens when the UK demands they scan for a library of terrorist imagery? How 
long do we have left before the iPhone in your pocket begins quietly filing 
reports about encountering “extremist” political material, or about your 
presence at a "civil disturbance"? Or simply about your iPhone's possession of 
a video clip that contains, or maybe-or-maybe-not contains, a blurry image of a 
passer-by who resembles, according to an algorithm, "a person of interest"?

If Apple demonstrates the capability and willingness to continuously, remotely 
search every phone for evidence of one particular type of crime, these are 
questions for which they will have no answer. And yet an answer will come—and 
it will come from the worst lawmakers of the worst governments.

This is not a slippery slope. It’s a cliff.

One particular frustration for me is that I know some people at Apple, and I 
even like some people at Apple—bright, principled people who should know 
better. Actually, who do know better. Every security expert in the world is 
screaming themselves hoarse now, imploring Apple to stop, even those experts 
who in more normal circumstances reliably argue in favor of censorship. Even 
some survivors of child exploitation are against it. And yet, as the OG 
designer Galileo once said, it moves.

Faced with a blistering torrent of global condemnation, Apple has responded not 
by addressing any concerns or making any changes, or, more sensibly, by just 
scrapping the plan altogether, but by deploying their man-in-the-handsome-suit 
software chief, who resembles the well-moisturized villain from a movie about 
Wall Street, to give quotes to, yes, the Wall Street Journal about how sorry 
the company is for the "confusion" it has caused, but how the public shouldn't 
worry: Apple “feel[s] very good about what they’re doing.”

I would say I’m being unfair to him, but I’m not the one who dismissed 
universal public opposition to a new and intensely personal form of mass 
surveillance as “confusion.”

Neither the message nor the messenger was a mistake. Apple dispatched its 
SVP-for-Software Ken doll to speak with the Journal not to protect the 
company's users, but to reassure the company's investors. His role was to 
create the false impression that this is not something that you, or anyone, 
should be upset about. And, collaterally, his role was to ensure this new 
"policy" would be associated with the face of an Apple executive other than CEO 
Tim Cook, just in case the roll-out, or the fall-out, results in a corporate 
beheading.

Why? Why is Apple risking so much for a CSAM-detection system that has been 
denounced as “dangerous” and "easily repurposed for surveillance and 
censorship" by the very computer scientists who've already put it to the test? 
What could be worth the decisive shattering of the foundational Apple idea that 
an iPhone belongs to the person who carries it, rather than to the company that 
made it?

Apple: "Designed in California, Assembled in China, Purchased by You, Owned by 
Us."

The one answer these questions that the optimists keep coming back to is the 
likelihood that Apple is doing this as a prelude to finally switching over to 
“end-to-end” encryption for everything its customers store on iCloud—something 
Apple had previously intended to do before backtracking, in a dismaying display 
of cowardice, after the FBI secretly complained.

For the unfamiliar, what I’m describing here as end-to-end encryption is a 
somewhat complex concept, but briefly, it means that only the two endpoints 
sharing a file—say, two phones on opposite sides of the internet—are able to 
decrypt it. Even if the file were being stored and served from an iCloud server 
in Cupertino, as far as Apple (or any other middleman-in-a-handsome-suit) is 
concerned, that file is just an indecipherable blob of random garbage: the file 
only becomes a text message, a video, a photo, or whatever it is, when it is 
paired with a key that’s possessed only by you and by those with whom you 
choose to share it.

This is the goal of end-to-end encryption: drawing a new and ineradicable line 
in the digital sand dividing your data and their data. It allows you to trust a 
service provider to store your data without granting them any ability to 
understand it. This would mean that even Apple itself could no longer be 
expected to rummage through your iCloud account with its grabby little raccoon 
hands—and therefore could not be expected to hand it over to any government 
that can stamp a sheet of paper, which is precisely why the FBI (again: 
secretly) complained.

For Apple to realize this original vision would have represented a huge 
improvement in the privacy of our devices, effectively delivering the final 
word in a thirty year-long debate over establishing a new industry 
standard—and, by extension, the new global expectation that parties seeking 
access to data from a device must obtain it from that device, rather than 
turning the internet and its ecosystem into a spy machine.

Unfortunately, I am here to report that once again, the optimists are wrong: 
Apple’s proposal to make their phones inform on and betray their owners marks 
the dawn of a dark future, one to be written in the blood of the political 
opposition of a hundred countries that will exploit this system to the hilt. 
See, the day after this system goes live, it will no longer matter whether or 
not Apple ever enables end-to-end encryption, because our iPhones will be 
reporting their contents before our keys are even used.

I can’t think of any other company that has so proudly, and so publicly, 
distributed spyware to its own devices—and I can’t think of threat more 
dangerous to a product’s security than the maker itself. There is no 
fundamental technological limit to how far the precedent Apple is establishing 
can be pushed, meaning the only restraint is Apple’s all-too-flexible company 
policy, something governments understand all too well.

I would say there should be a law, but I fear it would only make things worse.

We are bearing witness to the construction of an all-seeing-i—an Eye of 
Improvidence—under whose aegis every iPhone will search itself for whatever 
Apple wants, or for whatever Apple is directed to want. They are inventing a 
world in which every product you purchase owes its highest loyalty to someone 
other than its owner.

To put it bluntly, this is not an innovation but a tragedy, a 
disaster-in-the-making.

Or maybe I'm confused—or maybe I just think different.

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