We leave data everywhere we go. It's not just our bank accounts and stock portfolios, or our itemized bills, listing every credit card purchase and telephone call we make. It's automatic road-toll collection systems, supermarket affinity cards, ATMs and so on.

It's also our lives. Our love letters and friendly chat. Our personal e-mails and SMS messages. Our business plans, strategies and offhand conversations. Our political leanings and positions. And this is just the data we interact with. We all have shadow selves living in the data banks of hundreds of corporations' information brokers -- information about us that is both surprisingly personal and uncannily complete -- except for the errors that you can neither see nor correct.

What happens to our data happens to ourselves.

This shadow self doesn't just sit there: It's constantly touched. It's examined and judged. When we apply for a bank loan, it's our data that determines whether or not we get it. When we try to board an airplane, it's our data that determines how thoroughly we get searched -- or whether we get to board at all. If the government wants to investigate us, they're more likely to go through our data than they are to search our homes; for a lot of that data, they don't even need a warrant.

Who controls our data controls our lives.

It's true. Whoever controls our data can decide whether we can get a bank loan, on an airplane or into a country. Or what sort of discount we get from a merchant, or even how we're treated by customer support. A potential employer can, illegally in the U.S., examine our medical data and decide whether or not to offer us a job. The police can mine our data and decide whether or not we're a terrorist risk. If a criminal can get hold of enough of our data, he can open credit cards in our names, siphon money out of our investment accounts, even sell our property. Identity theft is the ultimate proof that control of our data means control of our life.

We need to take back our data.

Our data is a part of us. It's intimate and personal, and we have basic rights to it. It should be protected from unwanted touch.

We need a comprehensive data privacy law. This law should protect all information about us, and not be limited merely to financial or health information. It should limit others' ability to buy and sell our information without our knowledge and consent. It should allow us to see information about us held by others, and correct any inaccuracies we find. It should prevent the government from going after our information without judicial oversight. It should enforce data deletion, and limit data collection, where necessary. And we need more than token penalties for deliberate violations.

This is a tall order, and it will take years for us to get there. It's easy to do nothing and let the market take over. But as we see with things like grocery store club cards and click-through privacy policies on websites, most people either don't realize the extent their privacy is being violated or don't have any real choice. And businesses, of course, are more than happy to collect, buy, and sell our most intimate information. But the long-term effects of this on society are toxic; we give up control of ourselves.

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Bruce Schneier is Chief Security Technology Officer of BT, and author of Beyond Fear: Thinking Sensibly About Security in an Uncertain World.

• First, watch Dave Aitel beats the dead horse of academic security "research." Quote: "people who write papers in LaTeX two-column format end up saying the sky has a high negative trajectory." (other examples)
• I work for a vendor, but I am not "vendor scum." What is the difference? If you write a paper about a fake trend or about a non-existent phenomenon (that your marketing department created) with the sole intention of selling your product while masquerading your piece as "objective content", you will probably be called "vendor scum." Example: do you know why insiders are dangerous? Because of telnet and modems (no shit!) :-)
• Rich Mogul drop-kicks GRC. Then kicks it in the balls. Then steps on it. Fun read, for sure.
• Did somebody just utter "ROI"? Yeah - and that means katana blades sharpened, flamethrowers charged, pet trolls enraged :-) Yes, the beast is back - with a vengeance. Bruce Schneier hits it with +5 Flaming Blade, it doesn't die, it bites back ... again. If you love/hate ROI, read these. And Mike R comment here. Can we just replace the "R"-word with "economic measure of security" or "security efficiency?"
• Does anybody with at most half a brain believes that "almost one out of every three individuals who were informed of a data security compromise involving their personal data have ceased doing business with the company that experienced the incident" (source here and more commentary here)? Well, same people who believe FBI/CSI surveys, I guess :-) UFO? Spoon bending? Santa Claus anyone?
• NEWSFLASH!!!! Employees needs to be monitored!!! Wow!!! Reeeeally? Well, it is news to some people. Mike R makes good fun of them here.
• Harebrained paper about PCI and using cards (credit and debit), which serves as a perfect illustration of how some people perceive risk. Repeat after me: you are not liable for mis-use of your credit card, your bank is. Debit card? Very different story!
• So, risk, yes. A really good piece about risk is here. Then again, it is RiskAnalys.is? :-) More on risks of compliance stuff (also good) is here.
• Richard clearly, succinctly, brilliantly explains the "security chasm" here by commenting on Greg's article (featured in my previous FRoS): "The first camp spends more time talking about "enabling business" and "elevating the infosec conversation" while the second camp deals with the mess caused by the first world's ignorance of security problems."
• Security reading? Nah, fun security listening (that is, unless you are sick of hearing about RSA 2008 again), where we discuss - yes, you guessed right! - past RSA 2008 show.

Enjoy!

I started Crypto-Gram because I had a lot to say about security, and book-length commentaries were too slow and too infrequent. Sure, I was writing the occasional column in the occasional magazine, but those were also too slow and infrequent. Crypto-Gram was supposed to be my personal voice on security, sent directly to those who wanted to read it.

I originally thought about charging for Crypto-Gram. I knew of several newsletters that funded themselves through subscription fees, and figured that a couple of hundred subscribers at $150 or so would sustain itself very nicely. I don't remember why I decided not to -- did someone convince me, or did I figure it out myself -- but it was easily the smartest decision I made about this newsletter. If I'd charged money for the thing, no one would have read it. Since I didn't, lots of people subscribed.

There were 457 subscribers by the end of the first day. After that, circulation climbed slowly and steadily. Here are the totals for May of each year:

Those numbers hide a lot of readers, like the tens of thousands that read Crypto-Gram via the Web. I also know of people that forward my newsletter to hundreds of others. There are many foreign translations that have their own subscription list. These days I estimate that I have about 25,000 newsletter readers not included in those numbers.

I have no idea where the initial batch of subscribers came from. Nor do I remember how people subscribed before the webpage form was done. I do remember my first big burst of subscribers, though. It was following my special issue after 9/11. I wrote something short for the September issue, but I found that I couldn't stop writing. Two weeks later, I published a special issue on the terrorist attacks. Readers forwarded that issue again and again, and I ended up with many new subscribers as a result.

Reader comments began earlier, in December 1998. I found I was getting some really intelligent comments from my readers -- especially those that disagreed with me -- and I wanted to publish some of them. Some of the disagreements were nasty. In October 1998, I started a column called "The Doghouse," where I made fun of snake-oil security products. Some of the companies didn't like being so characterized, and sent me threatening legal letters.

Turns out that publishing those sorts of threats as letters to Crypto-Gram was the best defense, even though my lawyers always discouraged it. None of these incidents ever went past the threatening stage, even though court papers were occasionally filed.

Over the years, Crypto-Gram's focus has changed. Initially, it was all cryptography. Then, more computer and network security. Then -- especially after 9/11 -- more general security: terrorism, airplanes, ID cards, voting machines, and so on. And now, more economics and psychology of security. My career has been a progression from the specific to the general, and Crypto-Gram has generalized to reflect that.

The next big change to Crypto-Gram came in October 2004. I had been reading about blogging, and wondered for several months if switching Crypto-Gram over to blog format was a good idea or not. Again, it was about speed and frequency. I found that others were commenting on security stories faster, and that by the time Crypto-Gram would come out, people had already linked to other stories. A blog would allow me to get my commentary out even faster, and to be part of the initial discussions.

I went back and forth. Several people advised me to change, that blogging was the format of the future. I was skeptical, preferring to push my newsletter into my readers' mailboxes every month. I sent a survey to 400 of my subscribers -- 200 random subscribers and 200 people who had subscribed within the past month -- asking. My eventual solution was the second smartest thing I did with this newsletter: to do both.

The Schneier on Security blog started out as Crypto-Gram entries, delivered daily. And the early blog entries looked a lot like Crypto-Gram articles, with links at the end. Over the following months I learned more about the blogging style, and the entries started looking more like blog entries. Now the blog is primary, and on the 15th of every month I take the previous month's blog entries and reconfigure them into Crypto-Gram format. Even today, most readers prefer to receive Crypto-Gram in their e-mail box every month -- even if they also read the blog online.

These days, I like both. I like the immediacy of the blog, and I like the e-mail format of Crypto-Gram. And even after ten years, I still like the writing.

People often ask me where I find the time to do all of that writing. It's an odd question for me, because it's what I enjoy doing. I find time at home, on airplanes, in hotel rooms, everywhere. Writing isn't a chore -- okay, maybe sometimes it is -- it's something that relaxes me. I enjoy putting my ideas down in a coherent narrative flow. And there's nothing that pleases me more than the fact that people read it.

The best fan mail I get from a reader says something like: "You changed the way I think." That's what I want to do. I want to change the way you think about security. I want to change the way you think about threats, and risk, and trade-offs, about security products and services, about security rhetoric in politics. It matters less if you agree with me or disagree, only that you're thinking differently.

Thank you. Thank you on this 10th anniversary issue. Thank you, long-time readers. Thank you, new readers. Thank you for continuing to read what I have to write. This is still a lot of fun -- and interesting and thought provoking -- for me. I hope it continues to be interesting, thought provoking, and fun for you.

One of the arguments I’ve heard folks use to dismiss the notion of a risk-based approach to security is that it’s been tried and failed.  The argument goes on to claim that it isn’t possible to get appropriate funding for security because management just doesn’t “get it”.  And, while I agree that many (most?) past attempts at risk-based security have struggled, I’d submit that it was because the methods used didn’t address risk effectively.  They often focused solely on worst-case outcomes (which is the Chicken Little problem), didn’t apply any rigor in determining risk, simply focused on vulnerability (but called it “risk”), or treated the problem as a possibility issue versus a probability issue. 

Of course, the argument about funding begs the question of what constitutes “appropriate funding”.  It’s naive (or arrogant) to believe that I — as an information security professional — am in a position to understand the incredible mix of business issues that determine the right risk-balance for an organization.  Running a business requires weighing the various risk-domains management faces (investment, insurance, product, market, security, etc.) as well as complex value propositions in light of the organization’s objectives and limited resources.  And, while it’s imperative that information security professionals seek to understand the business side of the equation, we are never going to have the same breadth and depth of vision into the organization’s unique mix of business issues that executive management has.  Combine that with the fact that it isn’t our risk tolerance that matters, and it should be crystal clear that complaints of being “underfunded” have to be cast in the light of “Compared to what?”.  Compared to what we think it ought to be?  Compared to some industry baseline of questionable applicability to our organization?

Of course, I struggled to get management support for years.  I tried leveraging fear, uncertainty, and doubt.  I also tried the old “You have to do it because it’s best practice” card.  And although both of these can work for awhile, at the end of the day, management’s perspective will likely be that you’re paranoid and you lack perspective about the nature of running a business.  I’ve come to the conclusion that if I believe I’m underfunded, then it’s likely:

• I haven’t done a good job of communicating risk to the business, 
• I don’t sufficiently understand the risk tolerance of the organization’s leadership, and/or
• I don’t understand the mix of competing risk issues, resource limitations, or business objectives.  

It’s my responsibility to see that I’m not underfunded by providing high quality (unbiased) risk information to management.  If I do that, then I can expect to receive an appropriate level of funding given the other business considerations management faces and their risk tolerance.  The funding may be less than I’d like given my risk tolerance, but that’s a personal problem. 

Frankly, since taking a risk-based approach to my job, I’ve had very little difficulty getting management support for the stuff that matters most.