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Meanwhile: Chasing down flaws in electronic voting
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Adam Cohen NYT
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
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KINGMAN, Arizona
The elections director of Mohave County, Arizona, was so proud of his
new electronic voting system that Bev Harris barely had the heart to
point out its vulnerabilities. But she did, and before long she was
ticking off the ways that she said an outsider could hijack his central
tabulator - the computer that stores all of the county's votes - and
steal an election.
By the time she had shown him a "backdoor"
way to gain access to his software without a password, the elections
director was visibly concerned. Before she left, he asked her to send
him a list of things he could do to safeguard this year's election.
Harris's
visit to Mohave County was part of a monthlong trip in which she and
her deputy, Andy Stephenson, traveled to 10 states, investigating flaws
in electronic voting and giving on-the-fly computer security tutorials.
The
trip started out in Ohio, where they knocked on the doors of employees
of Diebold, one of the largest and most criticized voting machine
companies. It ended in late July in Las Vegas at Defcon, a hackers'
convention, where the consensus was that cracking a voting machine
might not be so hard.
Harris, the director of Black Box Voting
(the Web address is www.blackboxvoting.org), has made herself public
enemy No. 1 for voting machine manufacturers, and some elections
officials, with her hard-edged attacks on electronic voting and her
investigative style. (She acknowledges that at one point in Ohio, she
and Stephenson hid in the bushes with a microphone, eavesdropping on
Diebold workers.)
But there is no denying that Harris, a
one-time literary publicist from the Seattle area, is responsible for
digging up some of the most disturbing information yet to surface about
the accuracy and integrity of electronic voting in the United States.
"I
wouldn't want to play her role," says Aviel Rubin, a Johns Hopkins
computer science professor and a leading critic of electronic voting.
"But we're all better off that she's out there."
When they're in
road-trip mode, Harris and Stephenson are a high-tech public-interest
group on wheels. The phone rings frequently with leads to be
investigated. As they drove through San Bernardino, California, Harris
took a call from an official in Indiana who claimed a voting-machine
salesman picked up a top elections official in a limousine and took her
on a shopping spree.
In the San Bernardino County elections
office, Harris asked the registrar of voters to explain why, in the
presidential primary in March, the vote totals went down in the days
after the election. He explained that the county's electronic voting
system had faulty software that accidentally held onto some test votes
and added them to the real votes that were cast. He insists that the
story showed that the system worked well, since the extra votes were
eventually found. Harris is skeptical.
Even many of Harris's
detractors concede that her past investigations have shaken up the
electronic voting field. While surfing the Internet last year, she came
across secret source code - programming instructions - for Diebold
voting machines and made it publicly available. Rubin relied on the
code she found in a report last July in which he identified what he
called "stunning, stunning flaws" in Diebold software.
More
recently, Harris caused waves in King County, Washington, her home
county, when she revealed that one of the main designers of its
elections management computer system was a convicted felon, who had
embezzled $465,361 from a Seattle law firm.
Harris worries a lot
about the U.S. election this year. One of the key vulnerabilities, she
says, is the central tabulator, which could control a million or more
votes in some counties. There will be thousands of election workers -
including temporaries who may not even have had their backgrounds
checked - with access to these computers, who she believes could change
vote totals rapidly. "It isn't hacking an election," she says. "It's
editing an election."
Harris hopes to expand her small Black Box
Voting organization into a consumer-protection agency for electronic
voting and election procedures. There is clearly a need. When
electronic voting was rolled out, with even less security than is in
place now, groups like the League of Women Voters and the American
Civil Liberties Union did little to warn about the dangers, and large
public-interest organizations and foundations are still doing too
little.
The burden has been carried by a small group of
public-minded citizens. Dr. Rebecca Mercuri of Harvard University,
David Dill of Stanford University and Rubin have done heroic work in
academia to investigate electronic voting. Organizations like the
Miami-Dade Election Reform Coalition, which found a significant flaw in
the audit function in Florida voting machines, and the Computer Ate My
Vote movement are also making a real difference.
For now, Harris
is continuing to work her leads. She has to follow up on an e-mail
message she picked up on the road in Arizona, from an elections judge
in Santa Clara, California, saying there was a problem there. "Usually
when it's an elections judge, it's something good," she says.
Most
disturbing of all, she has heard reports that one of the big machine
manufacturers may be including a modem connection between a county's
tabulating computer and the manufacturer's own headquarters, which
could allow it to change vote totals from afar.
"It's pretty much never-ending," Harris says with a sigh.
Adam Cohen is a member of the New York Times editorial board.
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