Never before has a government been revealed to have been spied upon as
comprehensively as the Greek government was in the nine months from June 2004
to 8 March 2005. The earlier date is when the first of more than a dozen mobile
telephones used to listen in on Greek officials' conversations were activated.
The second date is when Vodafone says it removed software from its mainframe
computers that diverted the conversations to the spy phones.
The activation, coming just before the Olympics, and the targets of the
surveillance, senior people in the defence, public order and foreign ministries
as well as the entire committee overseeing security for the Olympics, strongly
suggest that the surveillance stemmed from either an industrial or a governmental
concern with Olympic security.
The surveillance story appeared in Athens daily Ta Nea on February 2, and
on the same day the government held a well-organised press conference to
explain what happened.
The orchestration of the tri-ministerial press event was in sharp contrast
to the government's reaction to its last public order scandal in December and
January.
Following allegations from Pakistani immigrants last year that they had
been abducted and violently interrogated, Public Order Minister George
Voulgarakis started with a flat denial, only to end up telling a parliamentary
committee on January 11 that the government swept 5,432 immigrants off the
streets and questioned them. The government, he said, had acted on a long list
of names suspected of involvement in the July 7 bombings in London, provided by
British intelligence.
MI6 also provided a series of Greek mobile phone numbers, Voulgarakis
revealed, which had been in contact with one of the July 7 bombers. The numbers
could not be traced to individuals because they were cardphones.
These are connections that, contrary to monthly subscriptions, can be
purchased without formality at a kiosk, their units pre-paid, obviating the
need for a name, address and credit card.
Ironically, the 14 or so mobile telephones used to eavesdrop on Greek
officials in 2004-5 were also card-phones, and could similarly not be traced
despite a ten-month preliminary investigation. The anonymous card-phone emerges
as the tool of choice for eavesdroppers, whether they are acting on behalf of a
terrorist organisation (July 7) or a government or other legal entity (a
possibility that cannot be ruled out in the Greek scandal).
This raises serious issues with the freedom the marketplace offers in the
form of subscription-free connections. The ability to own a telephone
connection without a name and address, made possible only in recent years by
mobile telephony, should be re-examined. The fact that mobile phones act as
tracking devices as they emit a constant pulse to their nearest network antenna
when they are on may not be enough to render them traceable to their owners,
the Greek experience has shown.
The second issue that needs to be examined is mobile companies' legal
obligations to security, procedure and confidentiality in an age when
politicians, diplomats, military officers and business people worldwide discuss
matters of great moment, or even national security, on commercial networks. If
their conversations can be tapped by hackers or corrupt engineers, then stronger
safeguards need to be adopted.
For instance, procedures could be developed in dealing with breaches of
security. We may never learn why Vodafone's CEO in Greece, George Koronias,
de-activated the offending spy software more than 48 hours before informing the
government. The fact that he did so deprived authorities of a possible lead.
Koronias could have made a simple telephone call to the public order minister's
office as early as Monday 7 March, when he had confirmation of the breach,
instead of informing the minister on Friday. With hindsight, such breaches of
company security should not be treated as purely corporate issues, but public
order ones as well.
Meanwhile, the key questions surrounding the Greek scandal remain
unanswered: Who placed the software on Ericsson's mainframe, and how did they
come by such expert knowledge of Ericsson's software? Was the software hacked
onto the mainframe from the outside, or installed from the inside? And why was
the software shut down so long before the government was informed about it?
Koronias' assertion that the security of Vodafone's four million clients was
supreme simply does not make sense. Only 100 people were being spied upon, not
four million, and Koronias knew this.
The prosecutorial investigation underway may never
reveal the ultimate question of who placed the spy software inside Vodafone,
but it can lead to legal reforms that will make it difficult to repeat the
mistakes of this case.
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