Charles Stross wrote an interesting blog post about the apparent desire of super rich people to kill the poor, it seems that the people in power want to make all the conspiracy theories come true [1]. Wouter wrote an insightful blog post about the need for free firmware [2]. Matthew Garrett wrote an interesting blog post about the potential security issues raised by non-free firmware and firmware updates [3]. Which goes well with Wouter s post. Interesting article about fake job adverts with a code sample for the applicant to show their skils which depends on hostile libraries that install a RAT [4]. Do we need Qubes for software development nowadays? Bruce Schneier wrote an insightful and informative article about the two-tiered Internet access scheme in Iran and how it is bad for society [5]. Caleb Hearth gave an interesting talk Don t Get Distracted about the often ignored unethical uses of software [6]. Techdirt has an insightful article from 2025 Fascism For First Time Founders about why it s a bad idea for tech companies to support fascism, this aged very well [7]. Dr. Bret C. Devereaux wrote an informative blog post about why fascists always fail at war, and also authoritarians in general [8]. Bruce Schneier and Nathan Sanders wrote an interesting blog post about the new Japanese political party Team Mirai, we need this sort of party in every country to save democracy [9]. Sam Varghese wrote an insightful article about the current situation in Israel and Iran and the poor performance of Australian journalists in covering the issues [10]. Louis Rossman made a video about the Norwegian Consumer Council s advertising campaign about Enshittification, he includes an excellent advert that the Norwegians produced [11]. Marga Manterola gave a really good talk at Fosdem 2026 Free as in Burned Out: Who Really Pays for Open Source? [12].

• [1] https://tinyurl.com/2xqrrxkf
• [2] https://tinyurl.com/yvahow2x
• [3] https://tinyurl.com/27m7qusr
• [4] https://tinyurl.com/2adpd7gf
• [5] https://tinyurl.com/2bn627x2
• [6] https://calebhearth.com/dont-get-distracted
• [7] https://tinyurl.com/2b7m8pwa
• [8] https://tinyurl.com/2c9m6v4v
• [9] https://tinyurl.com/2ybcjpa5
• [10] https://sams-blog.com/?p=5730
• [11] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ii-D9LaitUw
• [12] https://tinyurl.com/26j5a8gj

Because I am bad at giving up on things, I ve been running my own email server for over 20 years. Some of that time it s been a PC at the end of a DSL line, some of that time it s been a Mac Mini in a data centre, and some of that time it s been a hosted VM. Last year I decided to bring it in house, and since then I ve been gradually consolidating as much of the rest of my online presence as possible on it. I mentioned this on Mastodon and a couple of people asked for more details, so here we are. First: my ISP doesn t guarantee a static IPv4 unless I m on a business plan and that seems like it d cost a bunch more, so I m doing what I described here: running a Wireguard link between a box that sits in a cupboard in my living room and the smallest OVH instance I can, with an additional IP address allocated to the VM and NATted over the VPN link. The practical outcome of this is that my home IP address is irrelevant and can change as much as it wants - my DNS points at the OVH IP, and traffic to that all ends up hitting my server. The server itself is pretty uninteresting. It s a refurbished HP EliteDesk which idles at 10W or so, along 2TB of NVMe and 32GB of RAM that I found under a pile of laptops in my office. We re not talking rackmount Xeon levels of performance, but it s entirely adequate for everything I m doing here. So. Let s talk about the services I m hosting.

Web This one s trivial. I m not really hosting much of a website right now, but what there is is served via Apache with a Let s Encrypt certificate. Nothing interesting at all here, other than the proxying that s going to be relevant later.

Email Inbound email is easy enough. I m running Postfix with a pretty stock configuration, and my MX records point at me. The same Let s Encrypt certificate is there for TLS delivery. I m using Dovecot as an IMAP server (again with the same cert). You can find plenty of guides on setting this up. Outbound email? That s harder. I m on a residential IP address, so if I send email directly nobody s going to deliver it. Going via my OVH address isn t going to be a lot better. I have a Google Workspace, so in the end I just made use of Google s SMTP relay service. There s various commerical alternatives available, I just chose this one because it didn t cost me anything more than I m already paying.

Blog My blog is largely static content generated by Hugo. Comments are Remark42 running in a Docker container. If you don t want to handle even that level of dynamic content you can use a third party comment provider like Disqus.

Mastodon I m deploying Mastodon pretty much along the lines of the upstream compose file. Apache is proxying /api/v1/streaming to the websocket provided by the streaming container and / to the actual Mastodon service. The only thing I tripped over for a while was the need to set the X-Forwarded-Proto header since otherwise you get stuck in a redirect loop of Mastodon receiving a request over http (because TLS termination is being done by the Apache proxy) and redirecting to https, except that s where we just came from. Mastodon is easily the heaviest part of all of this, using around 5GB of RAM and 60GB of disk for an instance with 3 users. This is more a point of principle than an especially good idea.

Bluesky I m arguably cheating here. Bluesky s federation model is quite different to Mastodon - while running a Mastodon service implies running the webview and other infrastructure associated with it, Bluesky has split that into multiple parts. User data is stored on Personal Data Servers, then aggregated from those by Relays, and then displayed on Appviews. Third parties can run any of these, but a user s actual posts are stored on a PDS. There are various reasons to run the others, for instance to implement alternative moderation policies, but if all you want is to ensure that you have control over your data, running a PDS is sufficient. I followed these instructions, other than using Apache as the frontend proxy rather than nginx, and it s all been working fine since then. In terms of ensuring that my data remains under my control, it s sufficient.

Backups I m using borgmatic, backing up to a local Synology NAS and also to my parents home (where I have another HP EliteDesk set up with an equivalent OVH IPv4 fronting setup). At some point I ll check that I m actually able to restore them.

Conclusion Most of what I post is now stored on a system that s happily living under a TV, but is available to the rest of the world just as visibly as if I used a hosted provider. Is this necessary? No. Does it improve my life? In no practical way. Does it generate additional complexity? Absolutely. Should you do it? Oh good heavens no. But you can, and once it s working it largely just keeps working, and there s a certain sense of comfort in knowing that my online presence is carefully contained in a small box making a gentle whirring noise.

When you re looking at source code it can be helpful to have some evidence indicating who wrote it. Author tags give a surface level indication, but it turns out you can just lie and if someone isn t paying attention when merging stuff there s certainly a risk that a commit could be merged with an author field that doesn t represent reality. Account compromise can make this even worse - a PR being opened by a compromised user is going to be hard to distinguish from the authentic user. In a world where supply chain security is an increasing concern, it s easy to understand why people would want more evidence that code was actually written by the person it s attributed to. git has support for cryptographically signing commits and tags. Because git is about choice even if Linux isn t, you can do this signing with OpenPGP keys, X.509 certificates, or SSH keys. You re probably going to be unsurprised about my feelings around OpenPGP and the web of trust, and X.509 certificates are an absolute nightmare. That leaves SSH keys, but bare cryptographic keys aren t terribly helpful in isolation - you need some way to make a determination about which keys you trust. If you re using someting like GitHub you can extract that information from the set of keys associated with a user account¹, but that means that a compromised GitHub account is now also a way to alter the set of trusted keys and also when was the last time you audited your keys and how certain are you that every trusted key there is still 100% under your control? Surely there s a better way.

SSH Certificates And, thankfully, there is. OpenSSH supports certificates, an SSH public key that s been signed by some trusted party and so now you can assert that it s trustworthy in some form. SSH Certificates also contain metadata in the form of Principals, a list of identities that the trusted party included in the certificate. These might simply be usernames, but they might also provide information about group membership. There s also, unsurprisingly, native support in SSH for forwarding them (using the agent forwarding protocol), so you can keep your keys on your local system, ssh into your actual dev system, and have access to them without any additional complexity. And, wonderfully, you can use them in git! Let s find out how.

Local config There s two main parameters you need to set. First,

1	git config set gpg.format ssh

because unfortunately for historical reasons all the git signing config is under the gpg namespace even if you re not using OpenPGP. Yes, this makes me sad. But you re also going to need something else. Either user.signingkey needs to be set to the path of your certificate, or you need to set gpg.ssh.defaultKeyCommand to a command that will talk to an SSH agent and find the certificate for you (this can be helpful if it s stored on a smartcard or something rather than on disk). Thankfully for you, I ve written one. It will talk to an SSH agent (either whatever s pointed at by the SSH_AUTH_SOCK environment variable or with the -agent argument), find a certificate signed with the key provided with the -ca argument, and then pass that back to git. Now you can simply pass -S to git commit and various other commands, and you ll have a signature.

Validating signatures This is a bit more annoying. Using native git tooling ends up calling out to ssh-keygen², which validates signatures against a file in a format that looks somewhat like authorized-keys. This lets you add something like:

1	* cert-authority ssh-rsa AAAA

which will match all principals (the wildcard) and succeed if the signature is made with a certificate that s signed by the key following cert-authority. I recommend you don t read the code that does this in git because I made that mistake myself, but it does work. Unfortunately it doesn t provide a lot of granularity around things like Does the certificate need to be valid at this specific time and Should the user only be able to modify specific files and that kind of thing, but also if you re using GitHub or GitLab you wouldn t need to do this at all because they ll just do this magically and put a verified tag against anything with a valid signature, right? Haha. No. Unfortunately while both GitHub and GitLab support using SSH certificates for authentication (so a user can t push to a repo unless they have a certificate signed by the configured CA), there s currently no way to say Trust all commits with an SSH certificate signed by this CA . I am unclear on why. So, I wrote my own. It takes a range of commits, and verifies that each one is signed with either a certificate signed by the key in CA_PUB_KEY or (optionally) an OpenPGP key provided in ALLOWED_PGP_KEYS. Why OpenPGP? Because even if you sign all of your own commits with an SSH certificate, anyone using the API or web interface will end up with their commits signed by an OpenPGP key, and if you want to have those commits validate you ll need to handle that. In any case, this should be easy enough to integrate into whatever CI pipeline you have. This is currently very much a proof of concept and I wouldn t recommend deploying it anywhere, but I am interested in merging support for additional policy around things like expiry dates or group membership.

Doing it in hardware Of course, certificates don t buy you any additional security if an attacker is able to steal your private key material - they can steal the certificate at the same time. This can be avoided on almost all modern hardware by storing the private key in a separate cryptographic coprocessor - a Trusted Platform Module on PCs, or the Secure Enclave on Macs. If you re on a Mac then Secretive has been around for some time, but things are a little harder on Windows and Linux - there s various things you can do with PKCS#11 but you ll hate yourself even more than you ll hate me for suggesting it in the first place, and there s ssh-tpm-agent except it s Linux only and quite tied to Linux. So, obviously, I wrote my own. This makes use of the go-attestation library my team at Google wrote, and is able to generate TPM-backed keys and export them over the SSH agent protocol. It s also able to proxy requests back to an existing agent, so you can just have it take care of your TPM-backed keys and continue using your existing agent for everything else. In theory it should also work on Windows³ but this is all in preparation for a talk I only found out I was giving about two weeks beforehand, so I haven t actually had time to test anything other than that it builds. And, delightfully, because the agent protocol doesn t care about where the keys are actually stored, this still works just fine with forwarding - you can ssh into a remote system and sign something using a private key that s stored in your local TPM or Secure Enclave. Remote use can be as transparent as local use.

Wait, attestation? Ah yes you may be wondering why I m using go-attestation and why the term attestation is in my agent s name. It s because when I m generating the key I m also generating all the artifacts required to prove that the key was generated on a particular TPM. I haven t actually implemented the other end of that yet, but if implemented this would allow you to verify that a key was generated in hardware before you issue it with an SSH certificate - and in an age of agentic bots accidentally exfiltrating whatever they find on disk, that gives you a lot more confidence that a commit was signed on hardware you own.

Conclusion Using SSH certificates for git commit signing is great - the tooling is a bit rough but otherwise they re basically better than every other alternative, and also if you already have infrastructure for issuing SSH certificates then you can just reuse it⁴ and everyone wins.

---

1. Did you know you can just download people s SSH pubkeys from github from https://github.com/<username>.keys? Now you do
2. Yes it is somewhat confusing that the keygen command does things other than generate keys
3. This is more difficult than it sounds
4. And if you don t, by implementing this you now have infrastructure for issuing SSH certificates and can use that for SSH authentication as well.

A lot of hardware runs non-free software. Sometimes that non-free software is in ROM. Sometimes it s in flash. Sometimes it s not stored on the device at all, it s pushed into it at runtime by another piece of hardware or by the operating system. We typically refer to this software as firmware to differentiate it from the software run on the CPU after the OS has started¹, but a lot of it (and, these days, probably most of it) is software written in C or some other systems programming language and targeting Arm or RISC-V or maybe MIPS and even sometimes x86². There s no real distinction between it and any other bit of software you run, except it s generally not run within the context of the OS³. Anyway. It s code. I m going to simplify things here and stop using the words software or firmware and just say code instead, because that way we don t need to worry about semantics. A fundamental problem for free software enthusiasts is that almost all of the code we re talking about here is non-free. In some cases, it s cryptographically signed in a way that makes it difficult or impossible to replace it with free code. In some cases it s even encrypted, such that even examining the code is impossible. But because it s code, sometimes the vendor responsible for it will provide updates, and now you get to choose whether or not to apply those updates. I m now going to present some things to consider. These are not in any particular order and are not intended to form any sort of argument in themselves, but are representative of the opinions you will get from various people and I would like you to read these, think about them, and come to your own set of opinions before I tell you what my opinion is. THINGS TO CONSIDER

• Does this blob do what it claims to do? Does it suddenly introduce functionality you don t want? Does it introduce security flaws? Does it introduce deliberate backdoors? Does it make your life better or worse?
• You re almost certainly being provided with a blob of compiled code, with no source code available. You can t just diff the source files, satisfy yourself that they re fine, and then install them. To be fair, even though you (as someone reading this) are probably more capable of doing that than the average human, you re likely not doing that even if you are capable because you re also likely installing kernel upgrades that contain vast quantities of code beyond your ability to understand⁴. We don t rely on our personal ability, we rely on the ability of those around us to do that validation, and we rely on an existing (possibly transitive) trust relationship with those involved. You don t know the people who created this blob, you likely don t know people who do know the people who created this blob, these people probably don t have an online presence that gives you more insight. Why should you trust them?
• If it s in ROM and it turns out to be hostile then nobody can fix it ever
• The people creating these blobs largely work for the same company that built the hardware in the first place. When they built that hardware they could have backdoored it in any number of ways. And if the hardware has a built-in copy of the code it runs, why do you trust that that copy isn t backdoored? Maybe it isn t and updates would introduce a backdoor, but in that case if you buy new hardware that runs new code aren t you putting yourself at the same risk?
• Designing hardware where you re able to provide updated code and nobody else can is just a dick move⁵. We shouldn t encourage vendors who do that.
• Humans are bad at writing code, and code running on ancilliary hardware is no exception. It contains bugs. These bugs are sometimes very bad. This paper describes a set of vulnerabilities identified in code running on SSDs that made it possible to bypass encryption secrets. The SSD vendors released updates that fixed these issues. If the code couldn t be replaced then anyone relying on those security features would need to replace the hardware.
• Even if blobs are signed and can t easily be replaced, the ones that aren t encrypted can still be examined. The SSD vulnerabilities above were identifiable because researchers were able to reverse engineer the updates. It can be more annoying to audit binary code than source code, but it s still possible.
• Vulnerabilities in code running on other hardware can still compromise the OS. If someone can compromise the code running on your wifi card then if you don t have a strong IOMMU setup they re going to be able to overwrite your running OS.
• Replacing one non-free blob with another non-free blob increases the total number of non-free blobs involved in the whole system, but doesn t increase the number that are actually executing at any point in time.

Ok we re done with the things to consider. Please spend a few seconds thinking about what the tradeoffs are here and what your feelings are. Proceed when ready. I trust my CPU vendor. I don t trust my CPU vendor because I want to, I trust my CPU vendor because I have no choice. I don t think it s likely that my CPU vendor has designed a CPU that identifies when I m generating cryptographic keys and biases the RNG output so my keys are significantly weaker than they look, but it s not literally impossible. I generate keys on it anyway, because what choice do I have? At some point I will buy a new laptop because Electron will no longer fit in 32GB of RAM and I will have to make the same affirmation of trust, because the alternative is that I just don t have a computer. And in any case, I will be communicating with other people who generated their keys on CPUs I have no control over, and I will also be relying on them to be trustworthy. If I refuse to trust my CPU then I don t get to computer, and if I don t get to computer then I will be sad. I suspect I m not alone here. Why would I install a code update on my CPU when my CPU s job is to run my code in the first place? Because it turns out that CPUs are complicated and messy and they have their own bugs, and those bugs may be functional (for example, some performance counter functionality was broken on Sandybridge at release, and was then fixed with a microcode blob update) and if you update it your hardware works better. Or it might be that you re running a CPU with speculative execution bugs and there s a microcode update that provides a mitigation for that even if your CPU is slower when you enable it, but at least now you can run virtual machines without code in those virtual machines being able to reach outside the hypervisor boundary and extract secrets from other contexts. When it s put that way, why would I not install the update? And the straightforward answer is that theoretically it could include new code that doesn t act in my interests, either deliberately or not. And, yes, this is theoretically possible. Of course, if you don t trust your CPU vendor, why are you buying CPUs from them, but well maybe they ve been corrupted (in which case don t buy any new CPUs from them either) or maybe they ve just introduced a new vulnerability by accident, and also you re in a position to determine whether the alleged security improvements matter to you at all. Do you care about speculative execution attacks if all software running on your system is trustworthy? Probably not! Do you need to update a blob that fixes something you don t care about and which might introduce some sort of vulnerability? Seems like no! But there s a difference between a recommendation for a fully informed device owner who has a full understanding of threats, and a recommendation for an average user who just wants their computer to work and to not be ransomwared. A code update on a wifi card may introduce a backdoor, or it may fix the ability for someone to compromise your machine with a hostile access point. Most people are just not going to be in a position to figure out which is more likely, and there s no single answer that s correct for everyone. What we do know is that where vulnerabilities in this sort of code have been discovered, updates have tended to fix them - but nobody has flagged such an update as a real-world vector for system compromise. My personal opinion? You should make your own mind up, but also you shouldn t impose that choice on others, because your threat model is not necessarily their threat model. Code updates are a reasonable default, but they shouldn t be unilaterally imposed, and nor should they be blocked outright. And the best way to shift the balance of power away from vendors who insist on distributing non-free blobs is to demonstrate the benefits gained from them being free - a vendor who ships free code on their system enables their customers to improve their code and enable new functionality and make their hardware more attractive. It s impossible to say with absolute certainty that your security will be improved by installing code blobs. It s also impossible to say with absolute certainty that it won t. So far evidence tends to support the idea that most updates that claim to fix security issues do, and there s not a lot of evidence to support the idea that updates add new backdoors. Overall I d say that providing the updates is likely the right default for most users - and that that should never be strongly enforced, because people should be allowed to define their own security model, and whatever set of threats I m worried about, someone else may have a good reason to focus on different ones.

When the Free Software movement started in the 1980s, most of the world had just made a transition from free university-written software to non-free, proprietary, company-written software. Because of that, the initial ethical standpoint of the Free Software foundation was that it's fine to run a non-free operating system, as long as all the software you run on that operating system is free. Initially this was just the editor. But as time went on, and the FSF managed to write more and more parts of the software stack, their ethical stance moved with the times. This was a, very reasonable, pragmatic stance: if you don't accept using a non-free operating system and there isn't a free operating system yet, then obviously you can't write that free operating system, and the world won't move towards a point where free operating systems exist. In the early 1990s, when Linus initiated the Linux kernel, the situation reached the point where the original dream of a fully free software stack was complete. Or so it would appear. Because, in fact, this was not the case. Computers are physical objects, composed of bits of technology that we refer to as "hardware", but in order for these bits of technology to communicate with other bits of technology in the same computer system, they need to interface with each other, usually using some form of bus protocol. These bus protocols can get very complicated, which means that a bit of software is required in order to make all the bits communicate with each other properly. Generally, this software is referred to as "firmware", but don't let that name deceive you; it's really just a bit of low-level software that is very specific to one piece of hardware. Sometimes it's written in an imperative high-level language; sometimes it's just a set of very simple initialization vectors. But whatever the case might be, it's always a bit of software. And although we largely had a free system, this bit of low-level software was not yet free. Initially, storage was expensive, so computers couldn't store as much data as today, and so most of this software was stored in ROM chips on the exact bits of hardware they were meant for. Due to this fact, it was easy to deceive yourself that the firmware wasn't there, because you never directly interacted with it. We knew it was there; in fact, for some larger pieces of this type of software it was possible, even in those days, to install updates. But that was rarely if ever done at the time, and it was easily forgotten. And so, when the free software movement slapped itself on the back and declared victory when a fully free operating system was available, and decided that the work of creating a free software environment was finished, that only keeping it recent was further required, and that we must reject any further non-free encroachments on our fully free software stack, the free software movement was deceiving itself. Because a computing environment can never be fully free if the low-level pieces of software that form the foundations of that computing environment are not free. It would have been one thing if the Free Software Foundation declared it ethical to use non-free low-level software on a computing environment if free alternatives were not available. But unfortunately, they did not. In fact, something very strange happened. In order for some free software hacker to be able to write a free replacement for some piece of non-free software, they obviously need to be able to actually install that theoretical free replacement. This isn't just a random thought; in fact it has happened. Now, it's possible to install software on a piece of rewritable storage such as flash memory inside the hardware and boot the hardware from that, but if there is a bug in your software -- not at all unlikely if you're trying to write software for a piece of hardware that you don't have documentation for -- then it's not unfathomable that the replacement piece of software will not work, thereby reducing your expensive piece of technology to something about as useful as a paperweight. Here's the good part. In the late 1990s and early 2000s, the bits of technology that made up computers became so complicated, and the storage and memory available to computers so much larger and cheaper, that it became economically more feasible to create a small, tiny, piece of software stored in a ROM chip on the hardware, with just enough knowledge of the bus protocol to download the rest from the main computer. This is awesome for free software. If you now write a replacement for the non-free software that comes with the hardware, and you make a mistake, no wobbles! You just remove power from the system, let the DRAM chips on the hardware component fully drain, return power, and try again. You might still end up with a brick of useless silicon if some of the things you sent to your technology make it do things that it was not designed to do and therefore you burn through some critical bits of metal or plastic, but the chance of this happening is significantly lower than the chance of you writing something that impedes the boot process of the piece of hardware and you are unable to fix it because the flash is overwritten. There is anecdotal evidence that there are free software hackers out there who do so. So, yay, right? You'd think the Free Software foundation would jump at the possibility to get more free software? After all, a large part of why we even have a Free Software Foundation in the first place, was because of some piece of hardware that was misbehaving, so you would think that the foundation's founders would understand the need for hardware to be controlled by software that is free. The strange thing, what has always been strange to me, is that this is not what happened. The Free Software Foundation instead decided that non-free software on ROM or flash chips is fine, but non-free software -- the very same non-free software, mind -- that touches the general storage device that you as a user use, is not. Never mind the fact that the non-free software is always there, whether it sits on your storage device or not. Misguidedness aside, if some people decide they would rather not update the non-free software in their hardware and use the hardware with the old and potentially buggy version of the non-free software that it came with, then of course that's their business. Unfortunately, it didn't quite stop there. If it had, I wouldn't have written this blog post. You see, even though the Free Software Foundation was about Software, they decided that they needed to create a hardware certification program. And this hardware certification program ended up embedding the strange concept that if something is stored in ROM it's fine, but if something is stored on a hard drive it's not. Same hardware, same software, but different storage. By that logic, Windows respects your freedom as long as the software is written to ROM. Because this way, the Free Software Foundation could come to a standstill and pretend they were still living in the 90s. An unfortunate result of the "RYF" program is that it means that companies who otherwise would have been inclined to create hardware that was truly free, top to bottom, are now more incentivised by the RYF program to create hardware in which the non-free low-level software can't be replaced. Meanwhile, the rest of the world did not pretend to still be living in the nineties, and free hardware communities now exist. Because of how the FSF has marketed themselves out of the world, these communities call themselves "Open Hardware" communities, rather than "Free Hardware" ones, but the principle is the same: the designs are there, if you have the skill you can modify it, but you don't have to. In the mean time, the open hardware community has evolved to a point where even CPUs are designed in the open, which you can design your own version of. But not all hardware can be implemented as RISC-V, and so if you want a full system that builds RISC-V you may still need components of the system that were originally built for other architectures but that would work with RISC-V, such as a network card or a GPU. And because the FSF has done everything in their power to disincentivise people who would otherwise be well situated to build free versions of the low-level software required to support your hardware, you may now be in the weird position where we seem to have somehow skipped a step.

My own suspicion is that the universe is not only queerer than we suppose, but queerer than we can suppose.

-- J.B.S. Haldane (comments for this post will not pass moderation. Use your own blog!)

Wikipedia says An IBM PC compatible is any personal computer that is hardware- and software-compatible with the IBM Personal Computer (IBM PC) and its subsequent models . But what does this actually mean? The obvious literal interpretation is for a device to be PC compatible, all software originally written for the IBM 5150 must run on it. Is this a reasonable definition? Is it one that any modern hardware can meet? Before we dig into that, let s go back to the early days of the x86 industry. IBM had launched the PC built almost entirely around off-the-shelf Intel components, and shipped full schematics in the IBM PC Technical Reference Manual. Anyone could buy the same parts from Intel and build a compatible board. They d still need an operating system, but Microsoft was happy to sell MS-DOS to anyone who d turn up with money. The only thing stopping people from cloning the entire board was the BIOS, the component that sat between the raw hardware and much of the software running on it. The concept of a BIOS originated in CP/M, an operating system originally written in the 70s for systems based on the Intel 8080. At that point in time there was no meaningful standardisation - systems might use the same CPU but otherwise have entirely different hardware, and any software that made assumptions about the underlying hardware wouldn t run elsewhere. CP/M s BIOS was effectively an abstraction layer, a set of code that could be modified to suit the specific underlying hardware without needing to modify the rest of the OS. As long as applications only called BIOS functions, they didn t need to care about the underlying hardware and would run on all systems that had a working CP/M port. By 1979, boards based on the 8086, Intel s successor to the 8080, were hitting the market. The 8086 wasn t machine code compatible with the 8080, but 8080 assembly code could be assembled to 8086 instructions to simplify porting old code. Despite this, the 8086 version of CP/M was taking some time to appear, and a company called Seattle Computer Products started producing a new OS closely modelled on CP/M and using the same BIOS abstraction layer concept. When IBM started looking for an OS for their upcoming 8088 (an 8086 with an 8-bit data bus rather than a 16-bit one) based PC, a complicated chain of events resulted in Microsoft paying a one-off fee to Seattle Computer Products, porting their OS to IBM s hardware, and the rest is history. But one key part of this was that despite what was now MS-DOS existing only to support IBM s hardware, the BIOS abstraction remained, and the BIOS was owned by the hardware vendor - in this case, IBM. One key difference, though, was that while CP/M systems typically included the BIOS on boot media, IBM integrated it into ROM. This meant that MS-DOS floppies didn t include all the code needed to run on a PC - you needed IBM s BIOS. To begin with this wasn t obviously a problem in the US market since, in a way that seems extremely odd from where we are now in history, it wasn t clear that machine code was actually copyrightable. In 1982 Williams v. Artic determined that it could be even if fixed in ROM - this ended up having broader industry impact in Apple v. Franklin and it became clear that clone machines making use of the original vendor s ROM code wasn t going to fly. Anyone wanting to make hardware compatible with the PC was going to have to find another way. And here s where things diverge somewhat. Compaq famously performed clean-room reverse engineering of the IBM BIOS to produce a functionally equivalent implementation without violating copyright. Other vendors, well, were less fastidious - they came up with BIOS implementations that either implemented a subset of IBM s functionality, or didn t implement all the same behavioural quirks, and compatibility was restricted. In this era several vendors shipped customised versions of MS-DOS that supported different hardware (which you d think wouldn t be necessary given that s what the BIOS was for, but still), and the set of PC software that would run on their hardware varied wildly. This was the era where vendors even shipped systems based on the Intel 80186, an improved 8086 that was both faster than the 8086 at the same clock speed and was also available at higher clock speeds. Clone vendors saw an opportunity to ship hardware that outperformed the PC, and some of them went for it. You d think that IBM would have immediately jumped on this as well, but no - the 80186 integrated many components that were separate chips on 8086 (and 8088) based platforms, but crucially didn t maintain compatibility. As long as everything went via the BIOS this shouldn t have mattered, but there were many cases where going via the BIOS introduced performance overhead or simply didn t offer the functionality that people wanted, and since this was the era of single-user operating systems with no memory protection, there was nothing stopping developers from just hitting the hardware directly to get what they wanted. Changing the underlying hardware would break them. And that s what happened. IBM was the biggest player, so people targeted IBM s platform. When BIOS interfaces weren t sufficient they hit the hardware directly - and even if they weren t doing that, they d end up depending on behavioural quirks of IBM s BIOS implementation. The market for DOS-compatible but not PC-compatible mostly vanished, although there were notable exceptions - in Japan the PC-98 platform achieved significant success, largely as a result of the Japanese market being pretty distinct from the rest of the world at that point in time, but also because it actually handled Japanese at a point where the PC platform was basically restricted to ASCII or minor variants thereof. So, things remained fairly stable for some time. Underlying hardware changed - the 80286 introduced the ability to access more than a megabyte of address space and would promptly have broken a bunch of things except IBM came up with an utterly terrifying hack that bit me back in 2009, and which ended up sufficiently codified into Intel design that it was one mechanism for breaking the original XBox security. The first 286 PC even introduced a new keyboard controller that supported better keyboards but which remained backwards compatible with the original PC to avoid breaking software. Even when IBM launched the PS/2, the first significant rearchitecture of the PC platform with a brand new expansion bus and associated patents to prevent people cloning it without paying off IBM, they made sure that all the hardware was backwards compatible. For decades, PC compatibility meant not only supporting the officially supported interfaces, it meant supporting the underlying hardware. This is what made it possible to ship install media that was expected to work on any PC, even if you d need some additional media for hardware-specific drivers. It s something that still distinguishes the PC market from the ARM desktop market. But it s not as true as it used to be, and it s interesting to think about whether it ever was as true as people thought. Let s take an extreme case. If I buy a modern laptop, can I run 1981-era DOS on it? The answer is clearly no. First, modern systems largely don t implement the legacy BIOS. The entire abstraction layer that DOS relies on isn t there, having been replaced with UEFI. When UEFI first appeared it generally shipped with a Compatibility Services Module, a layer that would translate BIOS interrupts into UEFI calls, allowing vendors to ship hardware with more modern firmware and drivers without having to duplicate them to support older operating systems¹. Is this system PC compatible? By the strictest of definitions, no. Ok. But the hardware is broadly the same, right? There s projects like CSMWrap that allow a CSM to be implemented on top of stock UEFI, so everything that hits BIOS should work just fine. And well yes, assuming they implement the BIOS interfaces fully, anything using the BIOS interfaces will be happy. But what about stuff that doesn t? Old software is going to expect that my Sound Blaster is going to be on a limited set of IRQs and is going to assume that it s going to be able to install its own interrupt handler and ACK those on the interrupt controller itself and that s really not going to work when you have a PCI card that s been mapped onto some APIC vector, and also if your keyboard is attached via USB or SPI then reading it via the CSM will work (because it s calling into UEFI to get the actual data) but trying to read the keyboard controller directly won t², so you re still actually relying on the firmware to do the right thing but it s not, because the average person who wants to run DOS on a modern computer owns three fursuits and some knee length socks and while you are important and vital and I love you all you re not enough to actually convince a transglobal megacorp to flip the bit in the chipset that makes all this old stuff work. But imagine you are, or imagine you re the sort of person who (like me) thinks writing their own firmware for their weird Chinese Thinkpad knockoff motherboard is a good and sensible use of their time - can you make this work fully? Haha no of course not. Yes, you can probably make sure that the PCI Sound Blaster that s plugged into a Thunderbolt dock has interrupt routing to something that is absolutely no longer an 8259 but is pretending to be so you can just handle IRQ 5 yourself, and you can probably still even write some SMM code that will make your keyboard work, but what about the corner cases? What if you re trying to run something built with IBM Pascal 1.0? There s a risk that it ll assume that trying to access an address just over 1MB will give it the data stored just above 0, and now it ll break. It d work fine on an actual PC, and it won t work here, so are we PC compatible? That s a very interesting abstract question and I m going to entirely ignore it. Let s talk about PC graphics³. The original PC shipped with two different optional graphics cards - the Monochrome Display Adapter and the Color Graphics Adapter. If you wanted to run games you were doing it on CGA, because MDA had no mechanism to address individual pixels so you could only render full characters. So, even on the original PC, there was software that would run on some hardware but not on other hardware. Things got worse from there. CGA was, to put it mildly, shit. Even IBM knew this - in 1984 they launched the PCjr, intended to make the PC platform more attractive to home users. As well as maybe the worst keyboard ever to be associated with the IBM brand, IBM added some new video modes that allowed displaying more than 4 colours on screen at once⁴, and software that depended on that wouldn t display correctly on an original PC. Of course, because the PCjr was a complete commercial failure, it wouldn t display correctly on any future PCs either. This is going to become a theme. There s never been a properly specified PC graphics platform. BIOS support for advanced graphics modes⁵ ended up specified by VESA rather than IBM, and even then getting good performance involved hitting hardware directly. It wasn t until Microsoft specced DirectX that anything was broadly usable even if you limited yourself to Microsoft platforms, and this was an OS-level API rather than a hardware one. If you stick to BIOS interfaces then CGA-era code will work fine on graphics hardware produced up until the 20-teens, but if you were trying to hit CGA hardware registers directly then you re going to have a bad time. This isn t even a new thing - even if we restrict ourselves to the authentic IBM PC range (and ignore the PCjr), by the time we get to the Enhanced Graphics Adapter we re not entirely CGA compatible. Is an IBM PC/AT with EGA PC compatible? You d likely say yes , but there s software written for the original PC that won t work there. And, well, let s go even more basic. The original PC had a well defined CPU frequency and a well defined CPU that would take a well defined number of cycles to execute any given instruction. People could write software that depended on that. When CPUs got faster, some software broke. This resulted in systems with a Turbo Button - a button that would drop the clock rate to something approximating the original PC so stuff would stop breaking. It s fine, we d later end up with Windows crashing on fast machines because hardware details will absolutely bleed through. So, what s a PC compatible? No modern PC will run the DOS that the original PC ran. If you try hard enough you can get it into a state where it ll run most old software, as long as it doesn t have assumptions about memory segmentation or your CPU or want to talk to your GPU directly. And even then it ll potentially be unusable or crash because time is hard. The truth is that there s no way we can technically describe a PC Compatible now - or, honestly, ever. If you sent a modern PC back to 1981 the media would be amazed and also point out that it didn t run Flight Simulator. PC Compatible is a socially defined construct, just like Woman . We can get hung up on the details or we can just chill.

I recently won a lawsuit against Roy and Rianne Schestowitz, the authors and publishers of the Techrights and Tuxmachines websites. The short version of events is that they were subject to an online harassment campaign, which they incorrectly blamed me for. They responded with a large number of defamatory online posts about me, which the judge described as unsubstantiated character assassination and consequently awarded me significant damages. That's not what this post is about, as such. It's about the sole meaningful claim made that tied me to the abuse.

In the defendants' defence and counterclaim[1], 15.27 asserts in part The facts linking the Claimant to the sock puppet accounts include, on the IRC network: simultaneous dropped connections to the mjg59_ and elusive_woman accounts. This is so unlikely to be coincidental that the natural inference is that the same person posted under both names. "elusive_woman" here is an account linked to the harassment, and "mjg59_" is me. This is actually a surprisingly interesting claim to make, and it's worth going into in some more detail.

The event in question occurred on the 28th of April, 2023. You can see a line reading *elusive_woman has quit (Ping timeout: 2m30s), followed by one reading *mjg59_ has quit (Ping timeout: 2m30s). The timestamp listed for the first is 09:52, and for the second 09:53. Is that actually simultaneous? We can actually gain some more information - if you hover over the timestamp links on the right hand side you can see that the link is actually accurate to the second even if that's not displayed. The first event took place at 09:52:52, and the second at 09:53:03. That's 11 seconds apart, which is clearly not simultaneous, but maybe it's close enough. Figuring out more requires knowing what a "ping timeout" actually means here.

The IRC server in question is running Ergo (link to source code), and the relevant function is handleIdleTimeout(). The logic here is fairly simple - track the time since activity was last seen from the client. If that time is longer than DefaultIdleTimeout (which defaults to 90 seconds) and a ping hasn't been sent yet, send a ping to the client. If a ping has been sent and the timeout is greater than DefaultTotalTimeout (which defaults to 150 seconds), disconnect the client with a "Ping timeout" message. There's no special logic for handling the ping reply - a pong simply counts as any other client activity and resets the "last activity" value and timeout.

What does this mean? Well, for a start, two clients running on the same system will only have simultaneous ping timeouts if their last activity was simultaneous. Let's imagine a machine with two clients, A and B. A sends a message at 02:22:59. B sends a message 2 seconds later, at 02:23:01. The idle timeout for A will fire at 02:24:29, and for B at 02:24:31. A ping is sent for A at 02:24:29 and is responded to immediately - the idle timeout for A is now reset to 02:25:59, 90 seconds later. The machine hosting A and B has its network cable pulled out at 02:24:30. The ping to B is sent at 02:24:31, but receives no reply. A minute later, at 02:25:31, B quits with a "Ping timeout" message. A ping is sent to A at 02:25:59, but receives no reply. A minute later, at 02:26:59, A quits with a "Ping timeout" message. Despite both clients having their network interrupted simultaneously, the ping timeouts occur 88 seconds apart.

So, two clients disconnecting with ping timeouts 11 seconds apart is not incompatible with the network connection being interrupted simultaneously - depending on activity, simultaneous network interruption may result in disconnections up to 90 seconds apart. But another way of looking at this is that network interruptions may occur up to 90 seconds apart and generate simultaneous disconnections[2]. Without additional information it's impossible to determine which is the case.

This already casts doubt over the assertion that the disconnection was simultaneous, but if this is unusual enough it's still potentially significant. Unfortunately for the Schestowitzes, even looking just at the elusive_woman account, there were several cases where elusive_woman and another user had a ping timeout within 90 seconds of each other - including one case where elusive_woman and schestowitz[TR] disconnect 40 seconds apart. By the Schestowitzes argument, it's also a natural inference that elusive_woman and schestowitz[TR] (one of Roy Schestowitz's accounts) are the same person.

We didn't actually need to make this argument, though. In England it's necessary to file a witness statement describing the evidence that you're going to present in advance of the actual court hearing. Despite being warned of the consequences on multiple occasions the Schestowitzes never provided any witness statements, and as a result weren't allowed to provide any evidence in court, which made for a fairly foregone conclusion.

[1] As well as defending themselves against my claim, the Schestowitzes made a counterclaim on the basis that I had engaged in a campaign of harassment against them. This counterclaim failed.

[2] Client A and client B both send messages at 02:22:59. A falls off the network at 02:23:00, has a ping sent at 02:24:29, and has a ping timeout at 02:25:29. B falls off the network at 02:24:28, has a ping sent at 02:24:29, and has a ping timeout at 02:25:29. Simultaneous disconnects despite over a minute of difference in the network interruption.

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AWS had an outage today and Signal was unavailable for some users for a while. This has confused some people, including Elon Musk, who are concerned that having a dependency on AWS means that Signal could somehow be compromised by anyone with sufficient influence over AWS (it can't). Which means we're back to the richest man in the world recommending his own "X Chat", saying The messages are fully encrypted with no advertising hooks or strange AWS dependencies such that I can t read your messages even if someone put a gun to my head.

Elon is either uninformed about his own product, lying, or both.

As I wrote back in June, X Chat genuinely end-to-end encrypted, but ownership of the keys is complicated. The encryption key is stored using the Juicebox protocol, sharded between multiple backends. Two of these are asserted to be HSM backed - a discussion of the commissioning ceremony was recently posted here. I have not watched the almost 7 hours of video to verify that this was performed correctly, and I also haven't been able to verify that the public keys included in the post were the keys generated during the ceremony, although that may be down to me just not finding the appropriate point in the video (sorry, Twitter's video hosting doesn't appear to have any skip feature and would frequently just sit spinning if I tried to seek to far and I should probably just download them and figure it out but I'm not doing that now). With enough effort it would probably also have been possible to fake the entire thing - I have no reason to believe that this has happened, but it's not externally verifiable.

But let's assume these published public keys are legitimately the ones used in the HSM Juicebox realms[1] and that everything was done correctly. Does that prevent Elon from obtaining your key and decrypting your messages? No.

On startup, the X Chat client makes an API call called GetPublicKeysResult, and the public keys of the realms are returned. Right now when I make that call I get the public keys listed above, so there's at least some indication that I'm going to be communicating with actual HSMs. But what if that API call returned different keys? Could Elon stick a proxy in front of the HSMs and grab a cleartext portion of the key shards? Yes, he absolutely could, and then he'd be able to decrypt your messages.

(I will accept that there is a plausible argument that Elon is telling the truth in that even if you held a gun to his head he's not smart enough to be able to do this himself, but that'd be true even if there were no security whatsoever, so it still says nothing about the security of his product)

The solution to this is remote attestation - a process where the device you're speaking to proves its identity to you. In theory the endpoint could attest that it's an HSM running this specific code, and we could look at the Juicebox repo and verify that it's that code and hasn't been tampered with, and then we'd know that our communication channel was secure. Elon hasn't done that, despite it being table stakes for this sort of thing (Signal uses remote attestation to verify the enclave code used for private contact discovery, for instance, which ensures that the client will refuse to hand over any data until it's verified the identity and state of the enclave). There's no excuse whatsoever to build a new end-to-end encrypted messenger which relies on a network service for security without providing a trustworthy mechanism to verify you're speaking to the real service.

We know how to do this properly. We have done for years. Launching without it is unforgivable.

[1] There are three Juicebox realms overall, one of which doesn't appear to use HSMs, but you need at least two in order to obtain the key so at least part of the key will always be held in HSMs

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I had to rent a house for a couple of months recently, which is long enough in California that it pushes you into proper tenant protection law. As landlords tend to do, they failed to return my security deposit within the 21 days required by law, having already failed to provide the required notification that I was entitled to an inspection before moving out. Cue some tedious argumentation with the letting agency, and eventually me threatening to take them to small claims court.

This post is not about that.

Now, under Californian law, the onus is on the landlord to hold and return the security deposit - the agency has no role in this. The only reason I was talking to them is that my lease didn't mention the name or address of the landlord (another legal violation, but the outcome is just that you get to serve the landlord via the agency). So it was a bit surprising when I received an email from the owner of the agency informing me that they did not hold the deposit and so were not liable - I already knew this.

The odd bit about this, though, is that they sent me another copy of the contract, asserting that it made it clear that the landlord held the deposit. I read it, and instead found a clause reading SECURITY: The security deposit will secure the performance of Tenant s obligations. IER may, but will not be obligated to, apply all portions of said deposit on account of Tenant s obligations. Any balance remaining upon termination will be returned to Tenant. Tenant will not have the right to apply the security deposit in payment of the last month s rent. Security deposit held at IER Trust Account., where IER is International Executive Rentals, the agency in question. Why send me a contract that says you hold the money while you're telling me you don't? And then I read further down and found this:

Ok, fair enough, there's an addendum that says the landlord has it (I've removed the landlord's name, it's present in the original).

Except. I had no recollection of that addendum. I went back to the copy of the contract I had and discovered:

Huh! But obviously I could just have edited that to remove it (there's no obvious reason for me to, but whatever), and then it'd be my word against theirs. However, I'd been sent the document via RightSignature, an online document signing platform, and they'd added a certification page that looked like this:

Interestingly, the certificate page was identical in both documents, including the checksums, despite the content being different. So, how do I show which one is legitimate? You'd think given this certificate page this would be trivial, but RightSignature provides no documented mechanism whatsoever for anyone to verify any of the fields in the certificate, which is annoying but let's see what we can do anyway.

First up, let's look at the PDF metadata. pdftk has a dump_data command that dumps the metadata in the document, including the creation date and the modification date. My file had both set to identical timestamps in June, both listed in UTC, corresponding to the time I'd signed the document. The file containing the addendum? The same creation time, but a modification time of this Monday, shortly before it was sent to me. This time, the modification timestamp was in Pacific Daylight Time, the timezone currently observed in California. In addition, the data included two ID fields, ID0 and ID1. In my document both were identical, in the one with the addendum ID0 matched mine but ID1 was different.

These ID tags are intended to be some form of representation (such as a hash) of the document. ID0 is set when the document is created and should not be modified afterwards - ID1 initially identical to ID0, but changes when the document is modified. This is intended to allow tooling to identify whether two documents are modified versions of the same document. The identical ID0 indicated that the document with the addendum was originally identical to mine, and the different ID1 that it had been modified.

Well, ok, that seems like a pretty strong demonstration. I had the "I have a very particular set of skills" conversation with the agency and pointed these facts out, that they were an extremely strong indication that my copy was authentic and their one wasn't, and they responded that the document was "re-sealed" every time it was downloaded from RightSignature and that would explain the modifications. This doesn't seem plausible, but it's an argument. Let's go further.

My next move was pdfalyzer, which allows you to pull a PDF apart into its component pieces. This revealed that the documents were identical, other than page 3, the one with the addendum. This page included tags entitled "touchUp_TextEdit", evidence that the page had been modified using Acrobat. But in itself, that doesn't prove anything - obviously it had been edited at some point to insert the landlord's name, it doesn't prove whether it happened before or after the signing.

But in the process of editing, Acrobat appeared to have renamed all the font references on that page into a different format. Every other page had a consistent naming scheme for the fonts, and they matched the scheme in the page 3 I had. Again, that doesn't tell us whether the renaming happened before or after the signing. Or does it?

You see, when I completed my signing, RightSignature inserted my name into the document, and did so using a font that wasn't otherwise present in the document (Courier, in this case). That font was named identically throughout the document, except on page 3, where it was named in the same manner as every other font that Acrobat had renamed. Given the font wasn't present in the document until after I'd signed it, this is proof that the page was edited after signing.

But eh this is all very convoluted. Surely there's an easier way? Thankfully yes, although I hate it. RightSignature had sent me a link to view my signed copy of the document. When I went there it presented it to me as the original PDF with my signature overlaid on top. Hitting F12 gave me the network tab, and I could see a reference to a base.pdf. Downloading that gave me the original PDF, pre-signature. Running sha256sum on it gave me an identical hash to the "Original checksum" field. Needless to say, it did not contain the addendum.

Why do this? The only explanation I can come up with (and I am obviously guessing here, I may be incorrect!) is that International Executive Rentals realised that they'd sent me a contract which could mean that they were liable for the return of my deposit, even though they'd already given it to my landlord, and after realising this added the addendum, sent it to me, and assumed that I just wouldn't notice (or that, if I did, I wouldn't be able to prove anything). In the process they went from an extremely unlikely possibility of having civil liability for a few thousand dollars (even if they were holding the deposit it's still the landlord's legal duty to return it, as far as I can tell) to doing something that looks extremely like forgery.

There's a hilarious followup. After this happened, the agency offered to do a screenshare with me showing them logging into RightSignature and showing the signed file with the addendum, and then proceeded to do so. One minor problem - the "Send for signature" button was still there, just below a field saying "Uploaded: 09/22/25". I asked them to search for my name, and it popped up two hits - one marked draft, one marked completed. The one marked completed? Didn't contain the addendum.

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Matthew blogged about his Amiga CDTV project, a truly unique Amiga hack which also manages to be a novel Doom project (no mean feat: it's a crowded space) This re-awakened my dormant wish to muck around with my childhood Amiga some more. When I last wrote about it (four years ago ) I'd upgraded the disk drive emulator with an OLED display and rotary encoder. I'd forgotten to mention I'd also sourced a modern trapdoor RAM expansion which adds 2MiB of RAM. The Amiga can only see 1.5MiB¹ of it at the moment, I need perform a mainboard modification to access the final 512kiB², which means some soldering. What I had planned to do back then: replace the switch in the left button of the original mouse, which was misbehaving; perform the aformentioned mainboard mod; upgrade the floppy emulator wiring to a ribbon cable with plug-and-socket, for easier removal; fit an RTC chip to the RAM expansion board to get clock support in the OS. However much of that might be might be moot, because of two other mods I am considering, PiStorm I've re-considered the PiStorm accelerator mentioned in Matt's blog. Four years ago, I'd passed over it, because it required you to run Linux on a Raspberry Pi, and then an m68k emulator as a user-space process under Linux. I didn't want to administer another Linux system, and I'm generally uncomfortable about using a regular Linux distribution on SD storage over the long term. However in the intervening years Emu68, a bare-metal m68k emulator has risen to prominence. You boot the Pi straight into Emu68 without Linux in the middle. For some reason that's a lot more compelling to me. The PiStorm enormously expands the RAM visible to the Amiga. There would be no point in doing the mainboard mod to add 512k (and I don't know how that would interact with the PiStorm). It also can provide virtual hard disk devices to the Amiga (backed by files on the SD card), meaning the floppy emulator would be superfluous. Denise Mainboard I've just learned about a truly incredible project: the Denise Mini-ITX Amiga mainboard. It fitss into a Mini-ITX case (I have a suitable one spare already). Some assembly required. You move the chips from the original Amiga over to the Denise mainboard. It's compatible with the PiStorm (or vice-versa). It supports PC-style PS/2 keyboards (I have a Model M in the loft, thanks again Simon) and has a bunch of other modern conveniences: onboard RTC; mini-ITX power (I'll need something like a picoPSU too) It wouldn't support my trapdoor RAM card but it takes a 72-pin DIMM which can supply 2MiB of Chip RAM, and the PiStorm can do the rest (they're compatible³). No stock at the moment but if I could get my hands on this, I could build something that could permanently live on my desk.

There's a lovely device called a pistorm, an adapter board that glues a Raspberry Pi GPIO bus to a Motorola 68000 bus. The intended use case is that you plug it into a 68000 device and then run an emulator that reads instructions from hardware (ROM or RAM) and emulates them. You're still limited by the ~7MHz bus that the hardware is running at, but you can run the instructions as fast as you want.

These days you're supposed to run a custom built OS on the Pi that just does 68000 emulation, but initially it ran Linux on the Pi and a userland 68000 emulator process. And, well, that got me thinking. The emulator takes 68000 instructions, emulates them, and then talks to the hardware to implement the effects of those instructions. What if we, well, just don't? What if we just run all of our code in Linux on an ARM core and then talk to the Amiga hardware?

We're going to ignore x86 here, because it's weird - but most hardware that wants software to be able to communicate with it maps itself into the same address space that RAM is in. You can write to a byte of RAM, or you can write to a piece of hardware that's effectively pretending to be RAM[1]. The Amiga wasn't unusual in this respect in the 80s, and to talk to the graphics hardware you speak to a special address range that gets sent to that hardware instead of to RAM. The CPU knows nothing about this. It just indicates it wants to write to an address, and then sends the data.

So, if we are the CPU, we can just indicate that we want to write to an address, and provide the data. And those addresses can correspond to the hardware. So, we can write to the RAM that belongs to the Amiga, and we can write to the hardware that isn't RAM but pretends to be. And that means we can run whatever we want on the Pi and then access Amiga hardware.

And, obviously, the thing we want to run is Doom, because that's what everyone runs in fucked up hardware situations.

Doom was Amiga kryptonite. Its entire graphical model was based on memory directly representing the contents of your display, and being able to modify that by just moving pixels around. This worked because at the time VGA displays supported having a memory layout where each pixel on your screen was represented by a byte in memory containing an 8 bit value that corresponded to a lookup table containing the RGB value for that pixel.

The Amiga was, well, not good at this. Back in the 80s, when the Amiga hardware was developed, memory was expensive. Dedicating that much RAM to the video hardware was unthinkable - the Amiga 1000 initially shipped with only 256K of RAM, and you could fill all of that with a sufficiently colourful picture. So instead of having the idea of each pixel being associated with a specific area of memory, the Amiga used bitmaps. A bitmap is an area of memory that represents the screen, but only represents one bit of the colour depth. If you have a black and white display, you only need one bitmap. If you want to display four colours, you need two. More colours, more bitmaps. And each bitmap is stored in an independent area of RAM. You never use more memory than you need to display the number of colours you want to.

But that means that each bitplane contains packed information - every byte of data in a bitplane contains the bit value for 8 different pixels, because each bitplane contains one bit of information per pixel. To update one pixel on screen, you need to read from every bitmap, update one bit, and write it back, and that's a lot of additional memory accesses. Doom, but on the Amiga, was slow not just because the CPU was slow, but because there was a lot of manipulation of data to turn it into the format the Amiga wanted and then push that over a fairly slow memory bus to have it displayed.

The CDTV was an aesthetically pleasing piece of hardware that absolutely sucked. It was an Amiga 500 in a hi-fi box with a caddy-loading CD drive, and it ran software that was just awful. There's no path to remediation here. No compelling apps were ever released. It's a terrible device. I love it. I bought one in 1996 because a local computer store had one and I pointed out that the company selling it had gone bankrupt some years earlier and literally nobody in my farming town was ever going to have any interest in buying a CD player that made a whirring noise when you turned it on because it had a fan and eventually they just sold it to me for not much money, and ever since then I wanted to have a CD player that ran Linux and well spoiler 30 years later I'm nearly there. That CDTV is going to be our test subject. We're going to try to get Doom running on it without executing any 68000 instructions.

We're facing two main problems here. The first is that all Amigas have a firmware ROM called Kickstart that runs at powerup. No matter how little you care about using any OS functionality, you can't start running your code until Kickstart has run. This means even documentation describing bare metal Amiga programming assumes that the hardware is already in the state that Kickstart left it in. This will become important later. The second is that we're going to need to actually write the code to use the Amiga hardware.

First, let's talk about Amiga graphics. We've already covered bitmaps, but for anyone used to modern hardware that's not the weirdest thing about what we're dealing with here. The CDTV's chipset supports a maximum of 64 colours in a mode called "Extra Half-Brite", or EHB, where you have 32 colours arbitrarily chosen from a palette and then 32 more colours that are identical but with half the intensity. For 64 colours we need 6 bitplanes, each of which can be located arbitrarily in the region of RAM accessible to the chipset ("chip RAM", distinguished from "fast ram" that's only accessible to the CPU). We tell the chipset where our bitplanes are and it displays them. Or, well, it does for a frame - after that the registers that pointed at our bitplanes no longer do, because when the hardware was DMAing through the bitplanes to display them it was incrementing those registers to point at the next address to DMA from. Which means that every frame we need to set those registers back.

Making sure you have code that's called every frame just to make your graphics work sounds intensely irritating, so Commodore gave us a way to avoid doing that. The chipset includes a coprocessor called "copper". Copper doesn't have a large set of features - in fact, it only has three. The first is that it can program chipset registers. The second is that it can wait for a specific point in screen scanout. The third (which we don't care about here) is that it can optionally skip an instruction if a certain point in screen scanout has already been reached. We can write a program (a "copper list") for the copper that tells it to program the chipset registers with the locations of our bitplanes and then wait until the end of the frame, at which point it will repeat the process. Now our bitplane pointers are always valid at the start of a frame.

Ok! We know how to display stuff. Now we just need to deal with not having 256 colours, and the whole "Doom expects pixels" thing. For the first of these, I stole code from ADoom, the only Amiga doom port I could easily find source for. This looks at the 256 colour palette loaded by Doom and calculates the closest approximation it can within the constraints of EHB. ADoom also includes a bunch of CPU-specific assembly optimisation for converting the "chunky" Doom graphic buffer into the "planar" Amiga bitplanes, none of which I used because (a) it's all for 68000 series CPUs and we're running on ARM, and (b) I have a quad core CPU running at 1.4GHz and I'm going to be pushing all the graphics over a 7.14MHz bus, the graphics mode conversion is not going to be the bottleneck here. Instead I just wrote a series of nested for loops that iterate through each pixel and update each bitplane and called it a day. The set of bitplanes I'm operating on here is allocated on the Linux side so I can read and write to them without being restricted by the speed of the Amiga bus (remember, each byte in each bitplane is going to be updated 8 times per frame, because it holds bits associated with 8 pixels), and then copied over to the Amiga's RAM once the frame is complete.

And, kind of astonishingly, this works! Once I'd figured out where I was going wrong with RGB ordering and which order the bitplanes go in, I had a recognisable copy of Doom running. Unfortunately there were weird graphical glitches - sometimes blocks would be entirely the wrong colour. It took me a while to figure out what was going on and then I felt stupid. Recording the screen and watching in slow motion revealed that the glitches often showed parts of two frames displaying at once. The Amiga hardware is taking responsibility for scanning out the frames, and the code on the Linux side isn't synchronised with it at all. That means I could update the bitplanes while the Amiga was scanning them out, resulting in a mashup of planes from two different Doom frames being used as one Amiga frame. One approach to avoid this would be to tie the Doom event loop to the Amiga, blocking my writes until the end of scanout. The other is to use double-buffering - have two sets of bitplanes, one being displayed and the other being written to. This consumes more RAM but since I'm not using the Amiga RAM for anything else that's not a problem. With this approach I have two copper lists, one for each set of bitplanes, and switch between them on each frame. This improved things a lot but not entirely, and there's still glitches when the palette is being updated (because there's only one set of colour registers), something Doom does rather a lot, so I'm going to need to implement proper synchronisation.

Except. This was only working if I ran a 68K emulator first in order to run Kickstart. If I tried accessing the hardware without doing that, things were in a weird state. I could update the colour registers, but accessing RAM didn't work - I could read stuff out, but anything I wrote vanished. Some more digging cleared that up. When you turn on a CPU it needs to start executing code from somewhere. On modern x86 systems it starts from a hardcoded address of 0xFFFFFFF0, which was traditionally a long way any RAM. The 68000 family instead reads its start address from address 0x00000004, which overlaps with where the Amiga chip RAM is. We can't write anything to RAM until we're executing code, and we can't execute code until we tell the CPU where the code is, which seems like a problem. This is solved on the Amiga by powering up in a state where the Kickstart ROM is "overlayed" onto address 0. The CPU reads the start address from the ROM, which causes it to jump into the ROM and start executing code there. Early on, the code tells the hardware to stop overlaying the ROM onto the low addresses, and now the RAM is available. This is poorly documented because it's not something you need to care if you execute Kickstart which every actual Amiga does and I'm only in this position because I've made poor life choices, but ok that explained things. To turn off the overlay you write to a register in one of the Complex Interface Adaptor (CIA) chips, and things start working like you'd expect.

Except, they don't. Writing to that register did nothing for me. I assumed that there was some other register I needed to write to first, and went to the extent of tracing every register access that occurred when running the emulator and replaying those in my code. Nope, still broken. What I finally discovered is that you need to pulse the reset line on the board before some of the hardware starts working - powering it up doesn't put you in a well defined state, but resetting it does.

So, I now have a slightly graphically glitchy copy of Doom running without any sound, displaying on an Amiga whose brain has been replaced with a parasitic Linux. Further updates will likely make things even worse. Code is, of course, available.

[1] This is why we had trouble with late era 32 bit systems and 4GB of RAM - a bunch of your hardware wanted to be in the same address space and so you couldn't put RAM there so you ended up with less than 4GB of RAM

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LWN wrote an article which opens with the assertion "Linux users who have Secure Boot enabled on their systems knowingly or unknowingly rely on a key from Microsoft that is set to expire in September". This is, depending on interpretation, either misleading or just plain wrong, but also there's not a good source of truth here, so.

First, how does secure boot signing work? Every system that supports UEFI secure boot ships with a set of trusted certificates in a database called "db". Any binary signed with a chain of certificates that chains to a root in db is trusted, unless either the binary (via hash) or an intermediate certificate is added to "dbx", a separate database of things whose trust has been revoked[1]. But, in general, the firmware doesn't care about the intermediate or the number of intermediates or whatever - as long as there's a valid chain back to a certificate that's in db, it's going to be happy.

That's the conceptual version. What about the real world one? Most x86 systems that implement UEFI secure boot have at least two root certificates in db - one called "Microsoft Windows Production PCA 2011", and one called "Microsoft Corporation UEFI CA 2011". The former is the root of a chain used to sign the Windows bootloader, and the latter is the root used to sign, well, everything else.

What is "everything else"? For people in the Linux ecosystem, the most obvious thing is the Shim bootloader that's used to bridge between the Microsoft root of trust and a given Linux distribution's root of trust[2]. But that's not the only third party code executed in the UEFI environment. Graphics cards, network cards, RAID and iSCSI cards and so on all tend to have their own unique initialisation process, and need board-specific drivers. Even if you added support for everything on the market to your system firmware, a system built last year wouldn't know how to drive a graphics card released this year. Cards need to provide their own drivers, and these drivers are stored in flash on the card so they can be updated. But since UEFI doesn't have any sandboxing environment, those drivers could do pretty much anything they wanted to. Someone could compromise the UEFI secure boot chain by just plugging in a card with a malicious driver on it, and have that hotpatch the bootloader and introduce a backdoor into your kernel.

This is avoided by enforcing secure boot for these drivers as well. Every plug-in card that carries its own driver has it signed by Microsoft, and up until now that's been a certificate chain going back to the same "Microsoft Corporation UEFI CA 2011" certificate used in signing Shim. This is important for reasons we'll get to.

The "Microsoft Windows Production PCA 2011" certificate expires in October 2026, and the "Microsoft Corporation UEFI CA 2011" one in June 2026. These dates are not that far in the future! Most of you have probably at some point tried to visit a website and got an error message telling you that the site's certificate had expired and that it's no longer trusted, and so it's natural to assume that the outcome of time's arrow marching past those expiry dates would be that systems will stop booting. Thankfully, that's not what's going to happen.

First up: if you grab a copy of the Shim currently shipped in Fedora and extract the certificates from it, you'll learn it's not directly signed with the "Microsoft Corporation UEFI CA 2011" certificate. Instead, it's signed with a "Microsoft Windows UEFI Driver Publisher" certificate that chains to the "Microsoft Corporation UEFI CA 2011" certificate. That's not unusual, intermediates are commonly used and rotated. But if we look more closely at that certificate, we learn that it was issued in 2023 and expired in 2024. Older versions of Shim were signed with older intermediates. A very large number of Linux systems are already booting certificates that have expired, and yet things keep working. Why?

Let's talk about time. In the ways we care about in this discussion, time is a social construct rather than a meaningful reality. There's no way for a computer to observe the state of the universe and know what time it is - it needs to be told. It has no idea whether that time is accurate or an elaborate fiction, and so it can't with any degree of certainty declare that a certificate is valid from an external frame of reference. The failure modes of getting this wrong are also extremely bad! If a system has a GPU that relies on an option ROM, and if you stop trusting the option ROM because either its certificate has genuinely expired or because your clock is wrong, you can't display any graphical output[3] and the user can't fix the clock and, well, crap.

The upshot is that nobody actually enforces these expiry dates - here's the reference code that disables it. In a year's time we'll have gone past the expiration date for "Microsoft Windows UEFI Driver Publisher" and everything will still be working, and a few months later "Microsoft Windows Production PCA 2011" will also expire and systems will keep booting Windows despite being signed with a now-expired certificate. This isn't a Y2K scenario where everything keeps working because people have done a huge amount of work - it's a situation where everything keeps working even if nobody does any work.

So, uh, what's the story here? Why is there any engineering effort going on at all? What's all this talk of new certificates? Why are there sensationalist pieces about how Linux is going to stop working on old computers or new computers or maybe all computers?

Microsoft will shortly start signing things with a new certificate that chains to a new root, and most systems don't trust that new root. System vendors are supplying updates[4] to their systems to add the new root to the set of trusted keys, and Microsoft has supplied a fallback that can be applied to all systems even without vendor support[5]. If something is signed purely with the new certificate then it won't boot on something that only trusts the old certificate (which shouldn't be a realistic scenario due to the above), but if something is signed purely with the old certificate then it won't boot on something that only trusts the new certificate.

How meaningful a risk is this? We don't have an explicit statement from Microsoft as yet as to what's going to happen here, but we expect that there'll be at least a period of time where Microsoft signs binaries with both the old and the new certificate, and in that case those objects should work just fine on both old and new computers. The problem arises if Microsoft stops signing things with the old certificate, at which point new releases will stop booting on systems that don't trust the new key (which, again, shouldn't happen). But even if that does turn out to be a problem, nothing is going to force Linux distributions to stop using existing Shims signed with the old certificate, and having a Shim signed with an old certificate does nothing to stop distributions signing new versions of grub and kernels. In an ideal world we have no reason to ever update Shim[6] and so we just keep on shipping one signed with two certs.

If there's a point in the future where Microsoft only signs with the new key, and if we were to somehow end up in a world where systems only trust the old key and not the new key[7], then those systems wouldn't boot with new graphics cards, wouldn't be able to run new versions of Windows, wouldn't be able to run any Linux distros that ship with a Shim signed only with the new certificate. That would be bad, but we have a mechanism to avoid it. On the other hand, systems that only trust the new certificate and not the old one would refuse to boot older Linux, wouldn't support old graphics cards, and also wouldn't boot old versions of Windows. Nobody wants that, and for the foreseeable future we're going to see new systems continue trusting the old certificate and old systems have updates that add the new certificate, and everything will just continue working exactly as it does now.

Conclusion: Outside some corner cases, the worst case is you might need to boot an old Linux to update your trusted keys to be able to install a new Linux, and no computer currently running Linux will break in any way whatsoever.

[1] (there's also a separate revocation mechanism called SBAT which I wrote about here, but it's not relevant in this scenario)

[2] Microsoft won't sign GPLed code for reasons I think are unreasonable, so having them sign grub was a non-starter, but also the point of Shim was to allow distributions to have something that doesn't change often and be able to sign their own bootloaders and kernels and so on without having to have Microsoft involved, which means grub and the kernel can be updated without having to ask Microsoft to sign anything and updates can be pushed without any additional delays

[3] It's been a long time since graphics cards booted directly into a state that provided any well-defined programming interface. Even back in 90s, cards didn't present VGA-compatible registers until card-specific code had been executed (hence DEC Alphas having an x86 emulator in their firmware to run the driver on the card). No driver? No video output.

[4] There's a UEFI-defined mechanism for updating the keys that doesn't require a full firmware update, and it'll work on all devices that use the same keys rather than being per-device

[5] Using the generic update without a vendor-specific update means it wouldn't be possible to issue further updates for the next key rollover, or any additional revocation updates, but I'm hoping to be retired by then and I hope all these computers will also be retired by then

[6] I said this in 2012 and it turned out to be wrong then so it's probably wrong now sorry, but at least SBAT means we can revoke vulnerable grubs without having to revoke Shim

[7] Which shouldn't happen! There's an update to add the new key that should work on all PCs, but there's always the chance of firmware bugs

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Single signon is a pretty vital part of modern enterprise security. You have users who need access to a bewildering array of services, and you want to be able to avoid the fallout of one of those services being compromised and your users having to change their passwords everywhere (because they're clearly going to be using the same password everywhere), or you want to be able to enforce some reasonable MFA policy without needing to configure it in 300 different places, or you want to be able to disable all user access in one place when someone leaves the company, or, well, all of the above. There's any number of providers for this, ranging from it being integrated with a more general app service platform (eg, Microsoft or Google) or a third party vendor (Okta, Ping, any number of bizarre companies). And, in general, they'll offer a straightforward mechanism to either issue OIDC tokens or manage SAML login flows, requiring users present whatever set of authentication mechanisms you've configured.

This is largely optimised for web authentication, which doesn't seem like a huge deal - if I'm logging into Workday then being bounced to another site for auth seems entirely reasonable. The problem is when you're trying to gate access to a non-web app, at which point consistency in login flow is usually achieved by spawning a browser and somehow managing submitting the result back to the remote server. And this makes some degree of sense - browsers are where webauthn token support tends to live, and it also ensures the user always has the same experience.

But it works poorly for CLI-based setups. There's basically two options - you can use the device code authorisation flow, where you perform authentication on what is nominally a separate machine to the one requesting it (but in this case is actually the same) and as a result end up with a straightforward mechanism to have your users socially engineered into giving Johnny Badman a valid auth token despite webauthn nominally being unphisable (as described years ago), or you reduce that risk somewhat by spawning a local server and POSTing the token back to it - which works locally but doesn't work well if you're dealing with trying to auth on a remote device. The user experience for both scenarios sucks, and it reduces a bunch of the worthwhile security properties that modern MFA supposedly gives us.

There's a third approach, which is in some ways the obviously good approach and in other ways is obviously a screaming nightmare. All the browser is doing is sending a bunch of requests to a remote service and handling the response locally. Why don't we just do the same? Okta, for instance, has an API for auth. We just need to submit the username and password to that and see what answer comes back. This is great until you enable any kind of MFA, at which point the additional authz step is something that's only supported via the browser. And basically everyone else is the same.

Of course, when we say "That's only supported via the browser", the browser is still just running some code of some form and we can figure out what it's doing and do the same. Which is how you end up scraping constants out of Javascript embedded in the API response in order to submit that data back in the appropriate way. This is all possible but it's incredibly annoying and fragile - the contract with the identity provider is that a browser is pointed at a URL, not that any of the internal implementation remains consistent.

I've done this. I've implemented code to scrape an identity provider's auth responses to extract the webauthn challenges and feed those to a local security token without using a browser. I've also written support for forwarding those challenges over the SSH agent protocol to make this work with remote systems that aren't running a GUI. This week I'm working on doing the same again, because every identity provider does all of this differently.

There's no fundamental reason all of this needs to be custom. It could be a straightforward "POST username and password, receive list of UUIDs describing MFA mechanisms, define how those MFA mechanisms work". That even gives space for custom auth factors (I'm looking at you, Okta Fastpass). But instead I'm left scraping JSON blobs out of Javascript and hoping nobody renames a field, even though I only care about extremely standard MFA mechanisms that shouldn't differ across different identity providers.

Someone, please, write a spec for this. Please don't make it be me.

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23 years ago I was in a bad place. I'd quit my first attempt at a PhD for various reasons that were, with hindsight, bad, and I was suddenly entirely aimless. I lucked into picking up a sysadmin role back at TCM where I'd spent a summer a year before, but that's not really what I wanted in my life. And then Hanna mentioned that her PhD supervisor was looking for someone familiar with Linux to work on making Dasher, one of the group's research projects, more usable on Linux. I jumped.

The timing was fortuitous. Sun were pumping money and developer effort into accessibility support, and the Inference Group had just received a grant from the Gatsy Foundation that involved working with the ACE Centre to provide additional accessibility support. And I was suddenly hacking on code that was largely ignored by most developers, supporting use cases that were irrelevant to most developers. Being in a relatively green field space sounds refreshing, until you realise that you're catering to actual humans who are potentially going to rely on your software to be able to communicate. That's somewhat focusing.

This was, uh, something of an on the job learning experience. I had to catch up with a lot of new technologies very quickly, but that wasn't the hard bit - what was difficult was realising I had to cater to people who were dealing with use cases that I had no experience of whatsoever. Dasher was extended to allow text entry into applications without needing to cut and paste. We added support for introspection of the current applications UI so menus could be exposed via the Dasher interface, allowing people to fly through menu hierarchies and pop open file dialogs. Text-to-speech was incorporated so people could rapidly enter sentences and have them spoke out loud.

But what sticks with me isn't the tech, or even the opportunities it gave me to meet other people working on the Linux desktop and forge friendships that still exist. It was the cases where I had the opportunity to work with people who could use Dasher as a tool to increase their ability to communicate with the outside world, whose lives were transformed for the better because of what we'd produced. Watching someone use your code and realising that you could write a three line patch that had a significant impact on the speed they could talk to other people is an incomparable experience. It's been decades and in many ways that was the most impact I've ever had as a developer.

I left after a year to work on fruitflies and get my PhD, and my career since then hasn't involved a lot of accessibility work. But it's stuck with me - every improvement in that space is something that has a direct impact on the quality of life of more people than you expect, but is also something that goes almost unrecognised. The people working on accessibility are heroes. They're making all the technology everyone else produces available to people who would otherwise be blocked from it. They deserve recognition, and they deserve a lot more support than they have.

But when we deal with technology, we deal with transitions. A lot of the Linux accessibility support depended on X11 behaviour that is now widely regarded as a set of misfeatures. It's not actually good to be able to inject arbitrary input into an arbitrary window, and it's not good to be able to arbitrarily scrape out its contents. X11 never had a model to permit this for accessibility tooling while blocking it for other code. Wayland does, but suffers from the surrounding infrastructure not being well developed yet. We're seeing that happen now, though - Gnome has been performing a great deal of work in this respect, and KDE is picking that up as well. There isn't a full correspondence between X11-based Linux accessibility support and Wayland, but for many users the Wayland accessibility infrastructure is already better than with X11.

That's going to continue improving, and it'll improve faster with broader support. We've somehow ended up with the bizarre politicisation of Wayland as being some sort of woke thing while X11 represents the Roman Empire or some such bullshit, but the reality is that there is no story for improving accessibility support under X11 and sticking to X11 is going to end up reducing the accessibility of a platform.

When you read anything about Linux accessibility, ask yourself whether you're reading something written by either a user of the accessibility features, or a developer of them. If they're neither, ask yourself why they actually care and what they're doing to make the future better.

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I'm lucky enough to have a weird niche ISP available to me, so I'm paying $35 a month for around 600MBit symmetric data. Unfortunately they don't offer static IP addresses to residential customers, and nor do they allow multiple IP addresses per connection, and I'm the sort of person who'd like to run a bunch of stuff myself, so I've been looking for ways to manage this.

What I've ended up doing is renting a cheap VPS from a vendor that lets me add multiple IP addresses for minimal extra cost. The precise nature of the VPS isn't relevant - you just want a machine (it doesn't need much CPU, RAM, or storage) that has multiple world routeable IPv4 addresses associated with it and has no port blocks on incoming traffic. Ideally it's geographically local and peers with your ISP in order to reduce additional latency, but that's a nice to have rather than a requirement.

By setting that up you now have multiple real-world IP addresses that people can get to. How do we get them to the machine in your house you want to be accessible? First we need a connection between that machine and your VPS, and the easiest approach here is Wireguard. We only need a point-to-point link, nothing routable, and none of the IP addresses involved need to have anything to do with any of the rest of your network. So, on your local machine you want something like:

[Interface]
PrivateKey = privkeyhere
ListenPort = 51820
Address = localaddr/32

[Peer]
Endpoint = VPS:51820
PublicKey = pubkeyhere
AllowedIPs = VPS/0

And on your VPS, something like:

[Interface]
Address = vpswgaddr/32
SaveConfig = true
ListenPort = 51820
PrivateKey = privkeyhere

[Peer]
PublicKey = pubkeyhere
AllowedIPs = localaddr/32

The addresses here are (other than the VPS address) arbitrary - but they do need to be consistent, otherwise Wireguard is going to be unhappy and your packets will not have a fun time. Bring that interface up with wg-quick and make sure the devices can ping each other. Hurrah! That's the easy bit.

Now you want packets from the outside world to get to your internal machine. Let's say the external IP address you're going to use for that machine is 321.985.520.309 and the wireguard address of your local system is 867.420.696.005. On the VPS, you're going to want to do:

iptables -t nat -A PREROUTING -p tcp -d 321.985.520.309 -j DNAT --to-destination 867.420.696.005

Now, all incoming packets for 321.985.520.309 will be rewritten to head towards 867.420.696.005 instead (make sure you've set net.ipv4.ip_forward to 1 via sysctl!). Victory! Or is it? Well, no.

What we're doing here is rewriting the destination address of the packets so instead of heading to an address associated with the VPS, they're now going to head to your internal system over the Wireguard link. Which is then going to ignore them, because the AllowedIPs statement in the config only allows packets coming from your VPS, and these packets still have their original source IP. We could rewrite the source IP to match the VPS IP, but then you'd have no idea where any of these packets were coming from, and that sucks. Let's do something better. On the local machine, in the peer, let's update AllowedIps to 0.0.0.0/0 to permit packets form any source to appear over our Wireguard link. But if we bring the interface up now, it'll try to route all traffic over the Wireguard link, which isn't what we want. So we'll add table = off to the interface stanza of the config to disable that, and now we can bring the interface up without breaking everything but still allowing packets to reach us. However, we do still need to tell the kernel how to reach the remote VPN endpoint, which we can do with ip route add vpswgaddr dev wg0. Add this to the interface stanza as:

PostUp = ip route add vpswgaddr dev wg0
PreDown = ip route del vpswgaddr dev wg0

That's half the battle. The problem is that they're going to show up there with the source address still set to the original source IP, and your internal system is (because Linux) going to notice it has the ability to just send replies to the outside world via your ISP rather than via Wireguard and nothing is going to work. Thanks, Linux. Thinux.

But there's a way to solve this - policy routing. Linux allows you to have multiple separate routing tables, and define policy that controls which routing table will be used for a given packet. First, let's define a new table reference. On the local machine, edit /etc/iproute2/rt_tables and add a new entry that's something like:

1 wireguard

where "1" is just a standin for a number not otherwise used there. Now edit your wireguard config and replace table=off with table=wireguard - Wireguard will now update the wireguard routing table rather than the global one. Now all we need to do is to tell the kernel to push packets into the appropriate routing table - we can do that with ip rule add from localaddr lookup wireguard, which tells the kernel to take any packet coming from our Wireguard address and push it via the Wireguard routing table. Add that to your Wireguard interface config as:

PostUp = ip rule add from localaddr lookup wireguard
PreDown = ip rule del from localaddr lookup wireguard
and now your local system is effectively on the internet.

You can do this for multiple systems - just configure additional Wireguard interfaces on the VPS and make sure they're all listening on different ports. If your local IP changes then your local machines will end up reconnecting to the VPS, but to the outside world their accessible IP address will remain the same. It's like having a real IP without the pain of convincing your ISP to give it to you.

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As I wrote in my last post, Twitter's new encrypted DM infrastructure is pretty awful. But the amount of work required to make it somewhat better isn't large.

When Juicebox is used with HSMs, it supports encrypting the communication between the client and the backend. This is handled by generating a unique keypair for each HSM. The public key is provided to the client, while the private key remains within the HSM. Even if you can see the traffic sent to the HSM, it's encrypted using the Noise protocol and so the user's encrypted secret data can't be retrieved.

But this is only useful if you know that the public key corresponds to a private key in the HSM! Right now there's no way to know this, but there's worse - the client doesn't have the public key built into it, it's supplied as a response to an API request made to Twitter's servers. Even if the current keys are associated with the HSMs, Twitter could swap them out with ones that aren't, terminate the encrypted connection at their endpoint, and then fake your query to the HSM and get the encrypted data that way. Worse, this could be done for specific targeted users, without any indication to the user that this has happened, making it almost impossible to detect in general.

This is at least partially fixable. Twitter could prove to a third party that their Juicebox keys were generated in an HSM, and the key material could be moved into clients. This makes attacking individual users more difficult (the backdoor code would need to be shipped in the public client), but can't easily help with the website version[1] even if a framework exists to analyse the clients and verify that the correct public keys are in use.

It's still worse than Signal. Use Signal.

[1] Since they could still just serve backdoored Javascript to specific users. This is, unfortunately, kind of an inherent problem when it comes to web-based clients - we don't have good frameworks to detect whether the site itself is malicious.

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(Edit: Twitter could improve this significantly with very few changes - I wrote about that here. It's unclear why they'd launch without doing that, since it entirely defeats the point of using HSMs)

When Twitter[1] launched encrypted DMs a couple
of years ago, it was the worst kind of end-to-end
encrypted - technically e2ee, but in a way that made it relatively easy for Twitter to inject new encryption keys and get everyone's messages anyway. It was also lacking a whole bunch of features such as "sending pictures", so the entire thing was largely a waste of time. But a couple of days ago, Elon announced the arrival of "XChat", a new encrypted message platform built on Rust with (Bitcoin style) encryption, whole new architecture. Maybe this time they've got it right?

tl;dr - no. Use Signal. Twitter can probably obtain your private keys, and admit that they can MITM you and have full access to your metadata.

The new approach is pretty similar to the old one in that it's based on pretty straightforward and well tested cryptographic primitives, but merely using good cryptography doesn't mean you end up with a good solution. This time they've pivoted away from using the underlying cryptographic primitives directly and into higher level abstractions, which is probably a good thing. They're using Libsodium's boxes for message encryption, which is, well, fine? It doesn't offer forward secrecy (if someone's private key is leaked then all existing messages can be decrypted) so it's a long way from the state of the art for a messaging client (Signal's had forward secrecy for over a decade!), but it's not inherently broken or anything. It is, however, written in C, not Rust[2].

That's about the extent of the good news. Twitter's old implementation involved clients generating keypairs and pushing the public key to Twitter. Each client (a physical device or a browser instance) had its own private key, and messages were simply encrypted to every public key associated with an account. This meant that new devices couldn't decrypt old messages, and also meant there was a maximum number of supported devices and terrible scaling issues and it was pretty bad. The new approach generates a keypair and then stores the private key using the Juicebox protocol. Other devices can then retrieve the private key.

Doesn't this mean Twitter has the private key? Well, no. There's a PIN involved, and the PIN is used to generate an encryption key. The stored copy of the private key is encrypted with that key, so if you don't know the PIN you can't decrypt the key. So we brute force the PIN, right? Juicebox actually protects against that - before the backend will hand over the encrypted key, you have to prove knowledge of the PIN to it (this is done in a clever way that doesn't directly reveal the PIN to the backend). If you ask for the key too many times while providing the wrong PIN, access is locked down.

But this is true only if the Juicebox backend is trustworthy. If the backend is controlled by someone untrustworthy[3] then they're going to be able to obtain the encrypted key material (even if it's in an HSM, they can simply watch what comes out of the HSM when the user authenticates if there's no validation of the HSM's keys). And now all they need is the PIN. Turning the PIN into an encryption key is done using the Argon2id key derivation function, using 32 iterations and a memory cost of 16MB (the Juicebox white paper says 16KB, but (a) that's laughably small and (b) the code says 16 * 1024 in an argument that takes kilobytes), which makes it computationally and moderately memory expensive to generate the encryption key used to decrypt the private key. How expensive? Well, on my (not very fast) laptop, that takes less than 0.2 seconds. How many attempts to I need to crack the PIN? Twitter's chosen to fix that to 4 digits, so a maximum of 10,000. You aren't going to need many machines running in parallel to bring this down to a very small amount of time, at which point private keys can, to a first approximation, be extracted at will.

Juicebox attempts to defend against this by supporting sharding your key over multiple backends, and only requiring a subset of those to recover the original. I can't find any evidence that Twitter's does seem to be making use of this,Twitter uses three backends and requires data from at least two, but all the backends used are under x.com so are presumably under Twitter's direct control. Trusting the keystore without needing to trust whoever's hosting it requires a trustworthy communications mechanism between the client and the keystore. If the device you're talking to can prove that it's an HSM that implements the attempt limiting protocol and has no other mechanism to export the data, this can be made to work. Signal makes use of something along these lines using Intel SGX for contact list and settings storage and recovery, and Google and Apple also have documentation about how they handle this in ways that make it difficult for them to obtain backed up key material. Twitter has no documentation of this, and as far as I can tell does nothing to prove that the backend is in any way trustworthy. (Edit to add: The Juicebox API does support authenticated communication between the client and the HSM, but that relies on you having some way to prove that the public key you're presented with corresponds to a private key that only exists in the HSM. Twitter gives you the public key whenever you communicate with them, so even if they've implemented this properly you can't prove they haven't made up a new key and MITMed you the next time you retrieve your key)

On the plus side, Juicebox is written in Rust, so Elon's not 100% wrong. Just mostly wrong.

But ok, at least you've got viable end-to-end encryption even if someone can put in some (not all that much, really) effort to obtain your private key and render it all pointless? Actually no, since you're still relying on the Twitter server to give you the public key of the other party and there's no out of band mechanism to do that or verify the authenticity of that public key at present. Twitter can simply give you a public key where they control the private key, decrypt the message, and then reencrypt it with the intended recipient's key and pass it on. The support page makes it clear that this is a known shortcoming and that it'll be fixed at some point, but they said that about the original encrypted DM support and it never was, so that's probably dependent on whether Elon gets distracted by something else again. And the server knows who and when you're messaging even if they haven't bothered to break your private key, so there's a lot of metadata leakage.

Signal doesn't have these shortcomings. Use Signal.

[1] I'll respect their name change once Elon respects his daughter

[2] There are implementations written in Rust, but Twitter's using the C one with these JNI bindings

[3] Or someone nominally trustworthy but who's been compelled to act against your interests - even if Elon were absolutely committed to protecting all his users, his overarching goals for Twitter require him to have legal presence in multiple jurisdictions that are not necessarily above placing employees in physical danger if there's a perception that they could obtain someone's encryption keys

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Almost two years ago, Twitter launched encrypted direct messages. I wrote about their technical implementation at the time, and to the best of my knowledge nothing has changed. The short story is that the actual encryption primitives used are entirely normal and fine - messages are encrypted using AES, and the AES keys are exchanged via NIST P-256 elliptic curve asymmetric keys. The asymmetric keys are each associated with a specific device or browser owned by a user, so when you send a message to someone you encrypt the AES key with all of their asymmetric keys and then each device or browser can decrypt the message again. As long as the keys are managed appropriately, this is infeasible to break.

But how do you know what a user's keys are? I also wrote about this last year - key distribution is a hard problem. In the Twitter DM case, you ask Twitter's server, and if Twitter wants to intercept your messages they replace your key. The documentation for the feature basically admits this - if people with guns showed up there, they could very much compromise the protection in such a way that all future messages you sent were readable. It's also impossible to prove that they're not already doing this without every user verifying that the public keys Twitter hands out to other users correspond to the private keys they hold, something that Twitter provides no mechanism to do.

This isn't the only weakness in the implementation. Twitter may not be able read the messages, but every encrypted DM is sent through exactly the same infrastructure as the unencrypted ones, so Twitter can see the time a message was sent, who it was sent to, and roughly how big it was. And because pictures and other attachments in Twitter DMs aren't sent in-line but are instead replaced with links, the implementation would encrypt the links but not the attachments - this is "solved" by simply blocking attachments in encrypted DMs. There's no forward secrecy - if a key is compromised it allows access to not only all new messages created with that key, but also all previous messages. If you log out of Twitter the keys are still stored by the browser, so if you can potentially be extracted and used to decrypt your communications. And there's no group chat support at all, which is more a functional restriction than a conceptual one.

To be fair, these are hard problems to solve! Signal solves all of them, but Signal is the product of a large number of highly skilled experts in cryptography, and even so it's taken years to achieve all of this. When Elon announced the launch of encrypted DMs he indicated that new features would be developed quickly - he's since publicly mentioned the feature a grand total of once, in which he mentioned further feature development that just didn't happen. None of the limitations mentioned in the documentation have been addressed in the 22 months since the feature was launched.

Why? Well, it turns out that the feature was developed by a total of two engineers, neither of whom is still employed at Twitter. The tech lead for the feature was Christopher Stanley, who was actually a SpaceX employee at the time. Since then he's ended up at DOGE, where he apparently set off alarms when attempting to install Starlink, and who today is apparently being appointed to the board of Fannie Mae, a government-backed mortgage company.

Anyway. Use Signal.

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As part of their "Defective by Design" anti-DRM campaign, the FSF recently made the following claim:
Today, most of the major streaming media platforms utilize the TPM to decrypt media streams, forcefully placing the decryption out of the user's control (from here).
This is part of an overall argument that Microsoft's insistence that only hardware with a TPM can run Windows 11 is with the goal of aiding streaming companies in their attempt to ensure media can only be played in tightly constrained environments.

I'm going to be honest here and say that I don't know what Microsoft's actual motivation for requiring a TPM in Windows 11 is. I've been talking about TPM stuff for a long time. My job involves writing a lot of TPM code. I think having a TPM enables a number of worthwhile security features. Given the choice, I'd certainly pick a computer with a TPM. But in terms of whether it's of sufficient value to lock out Windows 11 on hardware with no TPM that would otherwise be able to run it? I'm not sure that's a worthwhile tradeoff.

What I can say is that the FSF's claim is just 100% wrong, and since this seems to be the sole basis of their overall claim about Microsoft's strategy here, the argument is pretty significantly undermined. I'm not aware of any streaming media platforms making use of TPMs in any way whatsoever. There is hardware DRM that the media companies use to restrict users, but it's not in the TPM - it's in the GPU.

Let's back up for a moment. There's multiple different DRM implementations, but the big three are Widevine (owned by Google, used on Android, Chromebooks, and some other embedded devices), Fairplay (Apple implementation, used for Mac and iOS), and Playready (Microsoft's implementation, used in Windows and some other hardware streaming devices and TVs). These generally implement several levels of functionality, depending on the capabilities of the device they're running on - this will range from all the DRM functionality being implemented in software up to the hardware path that will be discussed shortly. Streaming providers can choose what level of functionality and quality to provide based on the level implemented on the client device, and it's common for 4K and HDR content to be tied to hardware DRM. In any scenario, they stream encrypted content to the client and the DRM stack decrypts it before the compressed data can be decoded and played.

The "problem" with software DRM implementations is that the decrypted material is going to exist somewhere the OS can get at it at some point, making it possible for users to simply grab the decrypted stream, somewhat defeating the entire point. Vendors try to make this difficult by obfuscating their code as much as possible (and in some cases putting some of it in-kernel), but pretty much all software DRM is at least somewhat broken and copies of any new streaming media end up being available via Bittorrent pretty quickly after release. This is why higher quality media tends to be restricted to clients that implement hardware-based DRM.

The implementation of hardware-based DRM varies. On devices in the ARM world this is usually handled by performing the cryptography in a Trusted Execution Environment, or TEE. A TEE is an area where code can be executed without the OS having any insight into it at all, with ARM's TrustZone being an example of this. By putting the DRM code in TrustZone, the cryptography can be performed in RAM that the OS has no access to, making the scraping described earlier impossible. x86 has no well-specified TEE (Intel's SGX is an example, but is no longer implemented in consumer parts), so instead this tends to be handed off to the GPU. The exact details of this implementation are somewhat opaque - of the previously mentioned DRM implementations, only Playready does hardware DRM on x86, and I haven't found any public documentation of what drivers need to expose for this to work.

In any case, as part of the DRM handshake between the client and the streaming platform, encryption keys are negotiated with the key material being stored in the GPU or the TEE, inaccessible from the OS. Once decrypted, the material is decoded (again either on the GPU or in the TEE - even in implementations that use the TEE for the cryptography, the actual media decoding may happen on the GPU) and displayed. One key point is that the decoded video material is still stored in RAM that the OS has no access to, and the GPU composites it onto the outbound video stream (which is why if you take a screenshot of a browser playing a stream using hardware-based DRM you'll just see a black window - as far as the OS can see, there is only a black window there).

Now, TPMs are sometimes referred to as a TEE, and in a way they are. However, they're fixed function - you can't run arbitrary code on the TPM, you only have whatever functionality it provides. But TPMs do have the ability to decrypt data using keys that are tied to the TPM, so isn't this sufficient? Well, no. First, the TPM can't communicate with the GPU. The OS could push encrypted material to it, and it would get plaintext material back. But the entire point of this exercise was to avoid the decrypted version of the stream from ever being visible to the OS, so this would be pointless. And rather more fundamentally, TPMs are slow. I don't think there's a TPM on the market that could decrypt a 1080p stream in realtime, let alone a 4K one.

The FSF's focus on TPMs here is not only technically wrong, it's indicative of a failure to understand what's actually happening in the industry. While the FSF has been focusing on TPMs, GPU vendors have quietly deployed all of this technology without the FSF complaining at all. Microsoft has enthusiastically participated in making hardware DRM on Windows possible, and user freedoms have suffered as a result, but Playready hardware-based DRM works just fine on hardware that doesn't have a TPM and will continue to do so.

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The distinction between hardware and software has historically been relatively easy to understand - hardware is the physical object that software runs on. This is made more complicated by the existence of programmable logic like FPGAs, but by and large things tend to fall into fairly neat categories if we're drawing that distinction.

Conversations usually become more complicated when we introduce firmware, but should they? According to Wikipedia, Firmware is software that provides low-level control of computing device hardware, and basically anything that's generally described as firmware certainly fits into the "software" side of the above hardware/software binary. From a software freedom perspective, this seems like something where the obvious answer to "Should this be free" is "yes", but it's worth thinking about why the answer is yes - the goal of free software isn't freedom for freedom's sake, but because the freedoms embodied in the Free Software Definition (and by proxy the DFSG) are grounded in real world practicalities.

How do these line up for firmware? Firmware can fit into two main classes - it can be something that's responsible for initialisation of the hardware (such as, historically, BIOS, which is involved in initialisation and boot and then largely irrelevant for runtime[1]) or it can be something that makes the hardware work at runtime (wifi card firmware being an obvious example). The role of free software in the latter case feels fairly intuitive, since the interface and functionality the hardware offers to the operating system is frequently largely defined by the firmware running on it. Your wifi chipset is, these days, largely a software defined radio, and what you can do with it is determined by what the firmware it's running allows you to do. Sometimes those restrictions may be required by law, but other times they're simply because the people writing the firmware aren't interested in supporting a feature - they may see no reason to allow raw radio packets to be provided to the OS, for instance. We also shouldn't ignore the fact that sufficiently complicated firmware exposed to untrusted input (as is the case in most wifi scenarios) may contain exploitable vulnerabilities allowing attackers to gain arbitrary code execution on the wifi chipset - and potentially use that as a way to gain control of the host OS (see this writeup for an example). Vendors being in a unique position to update that firmware means users may never receive security updates, leaving them with a choice between discarding hardware that otherwise works perfectly or leaving themselves vulnerable to known security issues.

But even the cases where firmware does nothing other than initialise the hardware cause problems. A lot of hardware has functionality controlled by registers that can be locked during the boot process. Vendor firmware may choose to disable (or, rather, never to enable) functionality that may be beneficial to a user, and then lock out the ability to reconfigure the hardware later. Without any ability to modify that firmware, the user lacks the freedom to choose what functionality their hardware makes available to them. Again, the ability to inspect this firmware and modify it has a distinct benefit to the user.

So, from a practical perspective, I think there's a strong argument that users would benefit from most (if not all) firmware being free software, and I don't think that's an especially controversial argument. So I think this is less of a philosophical discussion, and more of a strategic one - is spending time focused on ensuring firmware is free worthwhile, and if so what's an appropriate way of achieving this?

I think there's two consistent ways to view this. One is to view free firmware as desirable but not necessary. This approach basically argues that code that's running on hardware that isn't the main CPU would benefit from being free, in the same way that code running on a remote network service would benefit from being free, but that this is much less important than ensuring that all the code running in the context of the OS on the primary CPU is free. The maximalist position is not to compromise at all - all software on a system, whether it's running at boot or during runtime, and whether it's running on the primary CPU or any other component on the board, should be free.

Personally, I lean towards the former and think there's a reasonably coherent argument here. I think users would benefit from the ability to modify the code running on hardware that their OS talks to, in the same way that I think users would benefit from the ability to modify the code running on hardware the other side of a network link that their browser talks to. I also think that there's enough that remains to be done in terms of what's running on the host CPU that it's not worth having that fight yet. But I think the latter is absolutely intellectually consistent, and while I don't agree with it from a pragmatic perspective I think things would undeniably be better if we lived in that world.

This feels like a thing you'd expect the Free Software Foundation to have opinions on, and it does! There are two primarily relevant things - the Respects your Freedoms campaign focused on ensuring that certified hardware meets certain requirements (including around firmware), and the Free System Distribution Guidelines, which define a baseline for an OS to be considered free by the FSF (including requirements around firmware).

RYF requires that all software on a piece of hardware be free other than under one specific set of circumstances. If software runs on (a) a secondary processor and (b) within which software installation is not intended after the user obtains the product, then the software does not need to be free. (b) effectively means that the firmware has to be in ROM, since any runtime interface that allows the firmware to be loaded or updated is intended to allow software installation after the user obtains the product.

The Free System Distribution Guidelines require that all non-free firmware be removed from the OS before it can be considered free. The recommended mechanism to achieve this is via linux-libre, a project that produces tooling to remove anything that looks plausibly like a non-free firmware blob from the Linux source code, along with any incitement to the user to load firmware - including even removing suggestions to update CPU microcode in order to mitigate CPU vulnerabilities.

For hardware that requires non-free firmware to be loaded at runtime in order to work, linux-libre doesn't do anything to work around this - the hardware will simply not work. In this respect, linux-libre reduces the amount of non-free firmware running on a system in the same way that removing the hardware would. This presumably encourages users to purchase RYF compliant hardware.

But does that actually improve things? RYF doesn't require that a piece of hardware have no non-free firmware, it simply requires that any non-free firmware be hidden from the user. CPU microcode is an instructive example here. At the time of writing, every laptop listed here has an Intel CPU. Every Intel CPU has microcode in ROM, typically an early revision that is known to have many bugs. The expectation is that this microcode is updated in the field by either the firmware or the OS at boot time - the updated version is loaded into RAM on the CPU, and vanishes if power is cut. The combination of RYF and linux-libre doesn't reduce the amount of non-free code running inside the CPU, it just means that the user (a) is more likely to hit since-fixed bugs (including security ones!), and (b) has less guidance on how to avoid them.

As long as RYF permits hardware that makes use of non-free firmware I think it hurts more than it helps. In many cases users aren't guided away from non-free firmware - instead it's hidden away from them, leaving them less aware that their freedom is constrained. Linux-libre goes further, refusing to even inform the user that the non-free firmware that their hardware depends on can be upgraded to improve their security.

Out of sight shouldn't mean out of mind. If non-free firmware is a threat to user freedom then allowing it to exist in ROM doesn't do anything to solve that problem. And if it isn't a threat to user freedom, then what's the point of requiring linux-libre for a Linux distribution to be considered free by the FSF? We seem to have ended up in the worst case scenario, where nothing is being done to actually replace any of the non-free firmware running on people's systems and where users may even end up with a reduced awareness that the non-free firmware even exists.

[1] Yes yes SMM

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