By Steve Weinstein
By Devon Maloney
By Tessa Stuart
By Alison Flowers
By Albert Samaha
By Jesse Jarnow
By Eric Tsetsi
By Raillan Brooks
Let's get our definitions straight. Last week's attacks on dozens of Web sites were not the work of hackers. They were the work of script kiddies, and the difference is everything. Script kiddies download ready-made tools and use them to damage the network. Script kiddies criminally distort the essential ethos of hacking, which is to pass through the network without a trace. Hackers read the unknown, sense the contours of the codes that make all tomorrow's parties and stock market booms.
It's no wonder that last week hackers everywhere cringed when the media confused them with script kiddies. Not less than 10 years ago, the word hackerconjured a dedicated geek, hunched over a glowing terminal, working late into the night to solve an intractable dilemma. Now hacker means something akin to cybercriminal. The semantic shift is regrettable, not only because the distortion inhibits clarity, but because it buries a piece of history we'd be wise to keep fresh: It was hackers who cobbled together the Internet.
Let's define our terms again. Hacking is a quest for knowledge. You can see the essence of the activity in meetings at security firms like Secure Computing, where hackers are a key part of the professional services team. With clients in the Fortune 500 and three-letter government agencies, like the CIA and FBI, the stakes are high, and when the firm faces a perplexing problem, brainstorming sessions go late into the night. Ideas fly from one person to another like pinballs off flippers, as the group mind turns over and examines the puzzle from all sides.
Group mind. There's a concept that flows from the structure of the Internet itself, parallel processor harnessed to parallel processor to achieve a single goal. It's no coincidence that information technology professionals often think in a style similar to the way computers calculate. The network taught them how to reason digitally; it imprinted itself on their minds just as they imprinted their minds on it.
Is it any wonder, then, that hackers are the leaders of the new millennium? Again, a question of terminology. By leader I mean someone who forges ahead and names the dim future. Consider Tim Berners-Lee, who designed the first Web protocols and wrote the first browser code. Berners-Lee was a hacker. Or consider Richard Stallman, the evangelist of Open Source software. Stallman is an extraordinary hacker. I could go on and on. I recently consulted with a major mutual fund, and after the meeting I traded war stories with its head of IT. He fondly recalled the old days of hacking Unix systems. That this former "delinquent" now runs a system executing billion-dollar transactions is not shocking. Most of the bright people in the IT business learned how to hack bywhat else?hacking.
Let's go back to Open Source for a moment. It's now the conventional wisdom that the Linux operating system and GNU Project are miracles of modern computing, which may one day triumph over the clunky software produced by the Microsoft-Apple cartel. Stallman launched the GNU Project by asking hackers to volunteer their services. Of course, they did. Likewise, Linux was founded on the belief that complex systems must be open, evolving, and free in order to reach their full potential. In other words, they must be hackable and they must be hacked. Continuously.
Now comes the FBI and President Clinton with criminal sanctions for these script kiddies. It's right and just to keep the peace, but let's remember that in the Internet's embryonic stage, hacking, far from being criminal, was encouraged. When computers were first networked through telephone lines and slow modems, bulletin boards emerged as crossroads where cybertravelers could leave messages and valuable information about how the phone lines intersected with microprocessors. By these postings, the network formed a symbiotic relationship with its users, and through the give and take of countless exchanges between hackers, the network bootstrapped itself to a higher level of complexity. As Tom Jackiewicz, who helps administer upt.org, an outgrowth of the hackers' favorite, the UPT Bulletin Board, recalls, "In the old days of a decade ago, no kid could afford a Solaris workstation. The only machines available were online. You could learn only by roaming the network."
Today the stakes are higher, security tighter, but the basic modalities of hacking and its relationship to innovation remain. The challenge du jour is the gauntlet thrown down by Microsoft, which claims that Windows NT, the operating system of many businesses, is secure. What a claim! For a baseball fan it would be like hearing the Yankees brag that they could play an entire season without losing a single game. Hackers love to find flaws in Windows NT. For them, the payoff is the power rush of the thunk! when the stone hits Goliath in the forehead.
One of the sharpest stones to leave a hacker's sling is a program called Back Orifice 2000. Developed by a group called Cult of the Dead Cow, the program can be loaded stealthily on a Windows network, giving a remote user control over the network. Why develop such a weapon? In the current environment of ubiquitous distributed computingthat is, networks and nodes everywherethe hackers argue that no operating system protects against stealthy executables like Back Orifice. So the program is a form of shock therapy. It jerks Microsoft into action, stirring an indolent industry into making the Internet more secure. The upgrades that come as a result benefit every Windows user.