Zeitschriftenartikel zum Thema „Browser fingerprint“

AbstractWeb-based browser fingerprint (or device fingerprint) is a tool used to identify and track user activity in web traffic. It is also used to identify computers that are abusing online advertising and also to prevent credit card fraud. A device fingerprint is created by extracting multiple parameter values from a browser API (e.g. operating system type or browser version). The acquired parameter values are then used to create a hash using the hash function. The disadvantage of using this method is too high susceptibility to small, normally occurring changes (e.g. when changing the browser version number or screen resolution). Minor changes in the input values generate a completely different fingerprint hash, making it impossible to find similar ones in the database. On the other hand, omitting these unstable values when creating a hash, significantly limits the ability of the fingerprint to distinguish between devices. This weak point is commonly exploited by fraudsters who knowingly evade this form of protection by deliberately changing the value of device parameters. The paper presents methods that significantly limit this type of activity. New algorithms for coding and comparing fingerprints are presented, in which the values of parameters with low stability and low entropy are especially taken into account. The fingerprint generation methods are based on popular Minhash, the LSH, and autoencoder methods. The effectiveness of coding and comparing each of the presented methods was also examined in comparison with the currently used hash generation method. Authentic data of the devices and browsers of users visiting 186 different websites were collected for the research.

In the age of information technology, it is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain privacy. Sometimes anonymity on the Internet helps to protect everyone’s right. Anonymity on the Internet also helps to protect against possible illegal actions of third parties. There is a number of technologies that you can use to monitor site user activity. These include technologies such as cookies and fingerprints. Today, cookies technology is an important component of most operations on the Internet. This technology is considered to be one of the main tools that Internet resource owners use to track customers. However, this technique is gradually becoming obsolete and often does not give the desired effect. Fingerprint technology is a global identifier. Browser typos make its owner more recognizable not only on frequently visited Internet resources, but also in other electronic sources. Fingerprints capture the holistic picture that a resource receives from a web browser. This allows you to identify the client even if you make changes to your browser settings. This article deals with the problem of anonymity preservation in a network. The authors describe the main technologies for tracking the users’ website activity, the principles of their work, and the protection methods against these technologies. The advantages and disadvantages of the cookies and fingerprint technologies have also been determined.

Purpose Browser fingerprinting is increasingly being used for online tracking of users, and, unlike the use of cookies, is almost impossible for users to control. This has a major negative impact on online privacy. Despite the availability of a range of fingerprinting countermeasures as well as some limited attempts by browser vendors to curb its effectiveness, it remains largely uncontrolled. The paper aims to discuss this issue. Design/methodology/approach This paper provides the first comprehensive and structured discussion of measures to limit or control browser fingerprinting, covering both user-based and browser-based techniques. Findings This study discusses the limitations of counter browser fingerprinting measures and the need for browser vendor support in controlling fingerprinting. Further, a somewhat counterintuitive possible new browser identifier is proposed which could make cookies and fingerprint-based tracking redundant; the need for, and possible effect of, this feature is discussed. Originality/value This study provides the first comprehensive and structured discussion of measures to limit or control browser fingerprinting. Also, it proposes a new browser identifier that could make cookies and fingerprint-based tracking redundant.

Web bots vary in sophistication based on their purpose, ranging from simple automated scripts to advanced web bots that have a browser fingerprint, support the main browser functionalities, and exhibit a humanlike behaviour. Advanced web bots are especially appealing to malicious web bot creators, due to their browserlike fingerprint and humanlike behaviour that reduce their detectability. This work proposes a web bot detection framework that comprises two detection modules: (i) a detection module that utilises web logs, and (ii) a detection module that leverages mouse movements. The framework combines the results of each module in a novel way to capture the different temporal characteristics of the web logs and the mouse movements, as well as the spatial characteristics of the mouse movements. We assess its effectiveness on web bots of two levels of evasiveness: (a) moderate web bots that have a browser fingerprint and (b) advanced web bots that have a browser fingerprint and also exhibit a humanlike behaviour. We show that combining web logs with visitors’ mouse movements is more effective and robust toward detecting advanced web bots that try to evade detection, as opposed to using only one of those approaches.

Abstract Web Browser Fingerprinting is a process in which the users are, with high likelihood, uniquely identified by the extracted features from their devices, generating an identifier key (fingerprint). Although it can be used for malicious purposes, especially regarding privacy invasion, Web Browser Fingerprinting can also be used to enhance security (e.g. as a factor in two-factor authentication). This paper investigates the use of Web Audio API as a Web Browser Fingerprinting method capable of identifying the devices. The idea is to prove or not if audio can provide features capable to identify users and devices. Our initial results show that the proposed method is capable of identifying the device’s class, based on features like device’s type, web browser’s version and rendering engine.

This paper presents an overview of the essence of web space which may contain information required to identify and authenticate users on the Internet in order to prevent attempts at malicious acts. Essences with a common content or the same detection method are structured into groups. The greatest attention is paid to one of these groups of entities: «the browser fingerprint» group. An approach and software have been proposed that allow for automated search of the values of entities belonging to this group and for estimating the time of this search for a specific infrastructure in order to develop adaptive authentication mechanisms. Moreover, an analysis of the average time to calculate the values of attributes has been carried out for the most informative browser fingerprints.

This paper presents a portable passwords manager which has a two-stage biometric-based access procedure. Data security using biometric methods was chosen as a variant of reduced complexity but was very effective in preventing cyber theft. The implementation of biometrics for the purpose of identification in high-security systems has become essential with the evolution of technology and the spike in identity theft. Unlike passwords or IDs, a biometric feature is an identifier that cannot be lost, stolen, or replicated, which provides biometric authentication systems with an increased level of security. During the first accessing step, the 3DPassManager portable device measures the heartbeat and uses fingerprint and iris features to realize a unique biometric-based authentication. While the specific characteristics of fingerprint and iris features are integrated to ensure that the person using the device is the rightful owner, the pulse is utilized to verify if previously acquired static images are not used. During the second accessing step, a password is generated based on fingerprint details, valid only for a small-time interval. The fingerprint is stored in a secret key with a 1024-bit length. Once access is allowed, the passwords are made available through an extension installed on the web browser. The device is the size of a cigarette pack and communicates with the PC by scanning a QR code. It is safe and was previously tested for dictionary and brute force attacks.

One of the important tasks of such theories as theories of pattern recognition and the theory of information security, is the task of identifying terminals of information and telecommunication networks. The relevance of the topic is due to the need to study methods for identifying computer network terminals and build information security systems based on the knowledge gained. The main parameters that allow uniquely identifying subscriber terminals in the network are address-switching information, as well as a number of parameters characterizing the software and hardware of the computer system. Based on the obtained parameters, digital fingerprints of subscriber terminals are generated. The using anonymous networks by users of subscriber terminals and blocking of the methods of generating and collecting digital fingerprint parameters, does not allow to achieve the required degree of identification reliability in some cases. Based on the peculiarities of digital image formation in modern computer systems, many transformation parameters make impact on the output graphic primitive, thereby forming a digital fingerprint of the subscriber terminal, which depends on the placement of samples in a pixel, the algorithms used to calculate the degree of pixels influence, and also the procedures used of smoothing images in the graphics subsystem. In this paper an original model of image formation by means of a subscriber terminal web browser that allows to increase the degree of reliability of identification under conditions of anonymization of users of information and telecommunication networks is propesed. Features of the digital images formation in the graphic subsystems of modern computer systems are substantiated. These features allow identification under a priori uncertainty regarding the modes and parameters of information transfer.

AbstractBrowser fingerprinting as a tracking technique to recognize users based on their browsers’ unique features or behavior has been known for more than a decade. We present the results of a 3-year online study on browser fingerprinting with more than 1,300 users. This is the first study with ground truth on user level, which allows the assessment of trackability based on fingerprints of multiple browsers and devices per user. Based on our longitudinal observations of 88,000 measurements with over 300 considered browser features, we optimized feature sets for mobile and desktop devices. Further, we conducted two user surveys to determine the representativeness of our user sample based on users’ demographics and technical background, and to learn how users perceive browser fingerprinting and how they protect themselves.

Genomes like Glycine max (soybean) that have been highly conserved following increases in ploidy represent a frontier for genome analysis. Many soybean QTL analyzed to date have been composed of gene clusters each with contributing a portion of the trait rather than alleles of single genes. At the Soybean Genome Database (SoyGD) http://soybeangenome.siu.edu the genome browser that integrates and served the publicly available soybean physical map, BAC fingerprint database and genetic map associated genomic data shows a minimum tile of transformation ready BIBAC-like clones in pCLD04541 (pV41; oriV; tra; bom). Sequence resources made available through the DOE genome sequencing project have allowed the minimum tile to be revised and new functional analyses to be made. There are 3,840 MTP clones that appeared to encompass 90% of the genome (see http://soybeangenome.siu.edu/cgi-bin/gbrowse/BES_scaffolds). The BIBAC-like clones (tetR) from E. coli DH10 B were transferred en masse to Agrobacterium tumefaciens by triparental matings with EHA105 (rifR) mediated by pRK2013 (oriP) in DH10B (kanR) in 384 well plates. Although not necessary the extra helper plasmid boosted efficiency 10 fold. Individual A. tumefaciens rifampicin and tetracyclin resistant strains were used for transformation of Arabidopsis thaliana flowers in 384 well arrays. Initially kanamycin selection was used to isolate transgenic plants. Because the BACs were already tetR the recA mutants of A. tumefaciens could not be used (Tn3 insertions). Consequent to this and partial transconjugation events only some inserts are transferred completely while other transformed lines contain a substitution series of deleted inserts anchored on the Ti-left border (LB). These are maintained as kanR mixtures of seed. Phenotypes found for lines transgenic for particular BACs that were repeated include seed composition (protein, oil), development (growth, senescence) and disease resistance (suddean death syndrome (SDS) and soybean cyst nematode (SCN).

Recently there has been a new kind of attacks, browser-based attacks, against anonymous communication systems, such as Tor. This kind of attacks exploits JavaScript in the browser or the HTML meta refresh to generate some predefined signals to correlate users and their visited websites. A novel and efficient defense against such attacks is proposed in this paper. Our main observation is that the attacker must generate enough signals from the client site (the browser) to correlate the user and the website while we can detect the attack at the client site. More specifically, when a user is browsing a specific website and a browser-based attack is in progress, the number of outgoing flows and the total byte counts generated by the browser should be much larger compared with the normal browsing behavior. So we can set up fingerprints (number of outgoing flows and total byte counts) for normal browsing of web pages for a period of time and utilize these fingerprints to detect browser-based attacks. We have also found that some JavaScript codes must be executed many times if the attacker uses JavaScript to communicate. We have modified the Mozilla Firefox JavaScript engine to audit execution times of JavaScript code to defend these attacks, including browser-based attacks.

The use of libraries’modern cloud technologies in information and communication activity is analyzed. It is considered the problems of cloud technologies implementation in libraries documentation and information circulation. of Advantages and disadvantages of cloud service’simplementation are revealed. Authors outlined transition prospects in the future to the cloud network and cloud technologies’use in library activity. Cloud service providers allow us to lease computing power and disk space online. Clouds are physically located in data centers - buildings that house powerful computers that are connected by a single network. Such unified computers also contain the virtual servers that are required for cloud services to work. It has been found that for libraries as social institutions that are unable to acquire and administer their own data warehouses, the use of cloud technologies is a unique opportunity to improve their work. The use of cloud technology in libraries helps to save money on acquiring a fleet of computers and licensed software. Book collections are successfully stored in large amounts on "clouds", which significantly unloads the work of local library networks, an automated library information system and its own server. Cloud services include those that are used to learn how to work with web services and standard documents. In particular, the Microsoft 365 cloud platform provides the opportunity to practice known office applications through a web browser. It includes e-mail and calendars, standard Office applications. Security is achieved through One Drive backup and two-factor authentication with face or fingerprint recognition or PIN to further protect files. Given the complexity of using security tools in cloud repositories, digital literacy plays an important role in effective communication for library users and their employees. It is resoluted that cloud services giveto library staff additional opportunities for organizing management activities. This includes, in particular, multimedia web resource services use (photo services - Picasa, Panoramio; video services – Youtubevideo, geoservices - Google maps; workflow - Slideshare, Google Docs, SkyDrive, etc.), which are free to usefor any user so we can freelystore and use image, audio and video resources. These systems can be used in management practice not only as a source of accumulation of multimedia educational web resources, but also as a system of storing library video, photo and audio archives, as well as improving the processes of information service for readers in libraries.

This paper introduces the present situation of the two-dimensional code and problems in two-dimensional code in the process of development,and discusses the security problem of two-dimensional code decoding information,then proposes a human fingerprint encryption algorithm based on two-dimensional code model.The realization of the model results not only improve the safety of two-dimensional code information,but also develop a broader space for the development of two-dimensional code in the future.In recent years,the intelligent mobile phone of popularization provides a solid foundation for the development of two-dimensional code software function.The application of two-dimensional code has changed the traditional mode of the Internet users by using URL to browse and download.This way combine with the traditional value-added service,and bring convenience for people's life.However, due to usually adopt open mode, people did not centralized management and control of it,therefore the personal information in two dimensional code was decoded easily,and the safety of two-dimensional code information becomes an important aspect of new value-added service application of two-dimensional code.

Abstract With the meteoric rise of the QUIC protocol, the supremacy of TCP as the de facto transport protocol underlying web traffic will soon cease. HTTP/3, the next version of the HTTP protocol, will not support TCP. Current website-fingerprinting literature has ignored the introduction of this new protocol to all modern browsers. In this work, we investigate whether classifiers trained in the TCP setting generalise to QUIC traces, whether QUIC is inherently more difficult to fingerprint than TCP, how feature importance changes between these protocols, and how to jointly classify QUIC and TCP traces. Experiments using four state-of-theart website-fingerprinting classifiers and our combined QUIC-TCP dataset of ~117,000 traces show that while QUIC is not inherently more difficult to fingerprint than TCP, TCP-trained classifiers may fail to detect up to 96% of QUIC visits to monitored URLs. Furthermore, classifiers that take advantage of the common information between QUIC and TCP traces for the same URL may outperform ensembles of protocol-specific classifiers in limited data settings.

В статье предлагается подход к аутентификации пользователя в веб-пространстве с помощью сравнения интегрированных показателей отпечатков браузера. Интегрированный показатель вычисляется дифференцированно в зависимости от класса защищаемой системы, имеющихся факторов аутентификации и аппаратных характеристик вычислительных систем, используемых субъектами доступа. Также в статье рассмотрены группы идентифицирующих пользователя статичных и поведенческих признаков, приведены параметры, рассчитываемые с помощью JavaScript библиотеки Fingerprint.js. Проведенный эксперимент подтвердил успешное применение предложенного подхода для нескольких наборов отпечатков браузера, полученных экспериментально. This article presents an approach to user authentication in the web space by comparing the integrated metrics of browser fingerprints. The integrated indicator is calculated differentially depending on the class of the protected system, the available authentication factors and the hardware characteristics of the computing systems used by the access subjects. The experiment carried out confirmed the successful application of the method for a specific practically obtained set of browser fingerprints.

In the current world scenario where everyone is using the Internet, it is becoming a strenuous task to preserve security. Furthermore the world is becoming progressively digital by the passing of each minute.Alarge portion of the Internet is conducted using the Hyper Text Transfer Protocol (HTTP). But in 2015, it underwent a consequential enhancement and was released as HTTP/2. HTTP/2 includes pipelining, response multiplexing, server push and header compression using HPACKbesides the properties of HTTP/1.1. These properties make it difficult for the eavesdroppers to monitor or fingerprint a website running on HTTP/2. This paper deals with the research on how strong the HTTP/2 protocol keeps the user information hidden and secure. By monitoring a live network traffic, its properties with HTTP/2 is assessed. This study helps understand the different aspects of the protocol and its influence on the network and browsers.

Introduction I am on the phone with a journalist discussing my research into anti-vaccination. As the conversation winds up, they ask a question I have come to expect: "how big do you think this is?" My answer is usually some version of the following: that we have no way of knowing. I and my fellow researchers can only see the information that is public or in the sunlight. How anti-vaccination information spreads through private networks is dark to us. It is private and necessarily so. This means that we cannot track how these conversations spread in the private or parochial spaces of Facebook, nor can we consider how they might extend into other modes of mediated communication. Modern communication is a complex and multiplatform accomplishment. Consider this: I am texting with my friend, I send her a selfie, in the same moment I hear a notification, she has DMed me a relevant Instagram post via that app. I move to Instagram and share another post in response; we continue our text message conversation there. Later in the day, I message her on Facebook Messenger while participating in a mutual WhatsApp group chat. The next day we Skype, and while we talk, we send links back and forth, which in hindsight are as clear as hieroglyphics before the Rosetta stone. I comment on her Twitter post, and we publicly converse back and forth briefly while other people like our posts. None of these instances are discrete conversational events, even though they occur on different platforms. They are iterations on the same themes, and the archival properties of social media and private messaging apps mean that neither of you forgets where you left off. The conversation slides not only between platforms and contexts but in and out of visibility. Digitally mediated conversation hums in the background of daily life (boring meetings, long commutes and bad dates) and expands our understanding of the temporal and sequential limits of conversation. In this article, I will explore digitally-mediated cross-platform conversation as a problem in two parts, and how we can understand it as part of the 'dark social'. Specifically, I want to draw attention to how 'dark' online spaces are part of our everyday communicative practices and are not necessarily synonymous with the illicit, illegal, or deviant. I argue that the private conversations we have online are also part of the dark social web, insofar as they are hidden from the public eye. When I think of dark social spaces, I think of what lies beneath the surface of murky waters, what hides behind in backstage areas, and the moments between platforms. In contrast, 'light' (or public) social spaces are often perceived as siloed. The boundaries between these platforms are artificially clean and do not appear to leak into other spaces. This article explores the dark and shadowed spaces of online conversation and considers how we might approach them as researchers. Conversations occur in the backchannels of social media platforms, in private messaging functions that are necessarily invisible to the researcher's gaze. These spaces are distinct from the social media activity analysed by Marwick and boyd. Their research examining teens' privacy strategies on social media highlights how social media posts that multiple audiences may view often hold encoded meanings. Social media posts are a distinct and separate category of activity from meditated conversations that occur one to one, or in smaller group chat settings. Second is the disjunction between social media platforms. Users spread their activity across any number of social media platforms, according to social and personal logics. However, these movements are difficult to capture; it is difficult to see in the dark. Platforms are not hermeneutically sealed off from each other, or the broader web. I argue that understanding how conversation moves between platforms and in the backstage spaces of platforms are two parts of the same dark social puzzle. Conversation Online Digital media have changed how we maintain our social connections across time and space. Social media environments offer new possibilities for communication and engagement as well as new avenues for control. Calls and texts can be ignored, and our phones are often used as shields. Busying ourselves with them can help us avoid unwanted face-to-face conversations. There are a number of critiques regarding the pressure of always-on contact, and a growing body of research that examines how users negotiate these demands. By examining group messaging, Mannell highlights how the boundaries of these chats are porous and flexible and mark a distinct communicative break from previous forms of mobile messaging, which were largely didactic. The advent of group chats has also led to an increasing complication of conversation boundaries. One group chat may have several strands of conversation sporadically re-engaged with over time. Manell's examination of group chats empirically illustrates the complexity of digitally-mediated conversations as they move across private, parochial, and public spaces in a way that is not necessarily temporally linear. Further research highlights the networked nature of digitally mediated interpersonal communication and how conversations sprawl across multiple platforms (Burchell). Couldry (16, 17) describes this complex web as the media manifold. This concept encompasses the networked platforms that comprise it and refers to its embeddedness in daily life. As we no longer “log on” to the internet to send and receive email, the manifold is both everywhere and nowhere; so too are our conversations. Gershon has described the ways we navigate the communicative affordances of these platforms as “media ideologies" which are the "beliefs, attitudes, and strategies about the media they [individuals] use" (391). Media ideologies also contain implicit assumptions about which platforms are best for delivering which kinds of messages. Similarly, Burchell argues that the relational ordering of available media technologies is "highly idiosyncratic" (418). Burchell contends that this idiosyncratic ordering is interdependent and relational, and that norms about what to do when are both assumed by individuals and learnt in their engagement with others (418). The influence of others allows us to adjust our practices, or as Burchell argues, "to attune and regulate one's own conduct … and facilitate engagement despite the diverse media practices of others" (418). In this model, individuals are constantly learning and renegotiating norms of conversation on a case by case, platform by platform basis. However, I argue that it is more illuminating to consider how we have collectively developed an implicit and unconscious set of norms and signals that govern our (collective) conduct, as digitally mediated conversation has become embedded in our daily lives. This is not to say that everyone has the same conversational skill level, but rather that we have developed a common toolbox for understanding the ebb and flow of digitally mediated conversations across platforms. However, these norms are implicit, and we only have a partial understanding of how they are socially achieved in digitally-mediated conversation. What Lies Beneath Most of what we do online is assumed not to be publicly visible. While companies like Facebook trace us across the web and peer into every nook and cranny of our private use patterns, researchers have remained focussed on what lies above in the light, not below, in the dark. This has meant an overwhelming focus on single platform studies that rely on the massification of data as a default measure for analysing sentiment and behaviour online. Sociologically, we know that what occurs in dark social spaces, or backstage, is just as important to social life as what happens in front of an audience (Goffman). Goffman's research uses the metaphor of the theatre to analyse how social life is accomplished as a performance. He highlights that (darkened) backstage spaces are those where we can relax, drop our front, and reveal parts of our (social) self that may be unpalatable to a broader audience. Simply, the public data accessible to researchers on social media are “trace data”, or “trace conversation”, from the places where conversations briefly leave (public) footprints and can be tracked and traced before vanishing again. Alternatively, we can visualise internet researchers as swabbing door handles for trace evidence, attempting to assemble a narrative out of a left-behind thread or a stray fingerprint. These public utterances, often scraped through API access, are only small parts of the richness of online conversation. Conversations weave across multiple platforms, yet single platforms are focussed on, bracketing off their leaky edges in favour of certainty. We know the social rules of platforms, but less about the rules between platforms, and in their darker spaces. Conversations briefly emerge into the light, only to disappear again. Without understanding how conversation is achieved and how it expands and contracts and weaves in and out of the present, we are only ever guessing about the social dynamics of mediated conversation as they shift between light, dark, and shadow spaces. Small things can cast large shadows; something that looms large may be deceptively small. Online they could be sociality distorted by disinformation campaigns or swarms of social bots. Capturing the Unseen: An Ethnomethodological Approach Not all data are measurable, computable, and controllable. There is uncertainty beyond what computational logics can achieve. Nooks and crannies of sociality exist beyond the purview of computable data. This suggests that we can apply pre-digital social research methods to capture these “below the surface” conversations and understand their logics. Sociologists have long understood that conversation is a social accomplishment. In the 1960s, sociologist Harvey Sacks developed conversation analysis as an ethnomethodological technique that seeks to understand how social life is accomplished in day-to-day conversation and micro-interactions. Conversation analysis is a detailed and systematic account of how naturally-occurring talk is socially ordered, and has been applied across a number of social contexts, including news interviews, judicial settings, suicide prevention hotlines, therapy sessions, as well as regular phone conversations (Kitzinger and Frith). Conversation analysis focusses on fine-grained detail, all of the little patterns of speech that make up a conversation; for example, the pauses, interruptions, self-corrections, false starts, and over-speaking. Often these too are hidden features of conversation, understood implicitly, but hovering on the edges of our social knowledge. One of the most interesting uses of conversational analysis is to understand refusal, that is, how we say 'no' as a social action. This body of research turns common-sense social knowledge – that saying no is socially difficult – into a systemic schema of social action. For instance, acceptance is easy to achieve; saying yes typically happens quickly and without hesitation. Acceptances are not qualified; a straightforward 'yes' is sufficient (Kitzinger and Frith). However, refusals are much more socially complex. Refusal is usually accomplished by apologies, compliments, and other palliative strategies that seek to cushion the blow of refusals. They are delayed and indirect conversational routes, indicating their status as a dispreferred social action, necessitating their accompaniment by excuses or explanations (Kitzinger and Frith). Research by Kitzinger and Frith, examining how women refuse sexual advances, illustrates that we all have a stock of common-sense knowledge about how refusals are typically achieved, which persists across various social contexts, including in our intimate relationships. Conversation analysis shows us how conversation is achieved and how we understand each other. To date, conversation analysis techniques have been applied to spoken conversation but not yet extended into text-based mediated conversation. I argue that we could apply insights from conversation analysis to understand the rules that govern digitally mediated conversation, how conversation moves in the spaces between platforms, and the rules that govern its emergence into public visibility. What rules shape the success of mediated communication? How can we understand it as a social achievement? When conversation analysis walks into the dark room it can be like turning on the light. How can we apply conversation analysis, usually concerned with the hidden aspects of plainly visible talk, to conversation in dark social spaces, across platforms and in private back channels? There is evidence that the norms of refusal, as highlighted by conversation analysis, are persistent across platforms, including in people's private digitally-mediated conversations. One of the ways in which we can identify these norms in action is by examining technology resistance. Relational communication via mobile device is pervasive (Hall and Baym). The concentration of digitally-mediated communication into smartphones means that conversational norms are constantly renegotiated, alongside expectations of relationship maintenance in voluntary social relationships like friendship (Hall and Baym). Mannell also explains that technology resistance can include lying by text message when explaining non-availability. These small, habitual, and often automatic lies are categorised as “butler lies” and are a polite way of achieving refusal in digitally mediated conversations that are analogous to how refusal is accomplished in face-to-face conversation. Refusals, rejections, and, by extension, unavailability appear to be accompanied by the palliative actions that help us achieve refusal in face-to-face conversation. Mannell identifies strategies such as “feeling ill” to explain non-availability without hurting others' feelings. Insights from conversation analysis suggest that on balance, it is likely that all parties involved in both the furnishing and acceptance of a butler lie understand that these are polite fabrications, much like the refusals in verbal conversation. Because of their invisibility, it is easy to assume that conversations in the dark social are chaotic and disorganised. However, there are tantalising hints that the reverse is true. Instead of arguing that individuals construct conversational norms on a case by case, platform by platform basis, I suggest that we now have a stock of common-sense social knowledge that we also apply to cross-platform mediated communication. In the spaces where gaps in this knowledge exist, Szabla and Blommaert argue that actors use existing norms of interactions and can navigate a range of interaction events even in online environments where we would expect to see a degree of context collapse and interactional disorganisation. Techniques of Detection How do we see in the dark? Some nascent research suggests a way forward that will help us understand the rhythms of cross-platform mediated conversation. Apps have been used to track participants' messaging and calling activities (Birnholtz, Davison, and Li). This research found a number of patterns that signal a user's attention or inattention, including response times and linguistic clues. Similarly, not-for-profit newsroom The Markup built a Facebook inspector called the citizen browser, a "standalone desktop application that was distributed to a panel of more than 1000 paid participants" (Mattu et al.). The application works by being connected to a participant's Facebook account and periodically capturing data from their Facebook feeds. The data is automatically deidentified but is still linked to the demographic information that participants provide about themselves, such as gender, race, location, and age. Applications like these point to how researchers might reliably collect interaction data from Facebook to glimpse into the hidden networks and interactions that drive conversation. User-focussed data collection methods also help us, as researchers, to sever our reliance on API access. API-reliant research is dependent on the largesse of social media companies for continued access and encourages research on the macro at the micro's expense. After all, social media and other digital platforms are partly constituted by the social acts of their users. Without speech acts that constitute mediated conversation, liking, sharing GIFs, and links, as well as the gaps and silences, digital platforms cease to exist. Digital platforms are not just archives of “big data”, but rather they are collections of speech and records of how our common-sense knowledge about how to communicate has stretched and expanded beyond face-to-face contexts. A Problem of Bots Ethnomethodological approaches have been critiqued as focussing too much on the small details of conversation, on nit-picking small details, and thus, as unable to comment on macro social issues of oppression and inequality (Kitzinger and Frith 311). However, understanding digitally-mediated conversation through the lens of talk-as-human-interaction may help us untangle our most pressing social problems across digital platforms. Extensive research examines platforms such as Twitter for “inauthentic” behaviour, primarily identifying which accounts are bots. Bots accounts are programmed Twitter accounts (for example) that automatically tweet information on political or contentious issues, while mimicking genuine engagement. Bots can reply to direct messages too; they converse with us as they are programmed to act as “humanly” as possible. Despite this, there are patterns of behaviour and engagement that distinguish programmed bot accounts, and a number of platforms are dedicated to their detection. However, bots are becoming increasingly sophisticated and better able to mimic “real” human engagement online. But there is as yet no systematic framework regarding what “real” digitally mediated conversation looks like. An ethnomethodological approach to understanding this would better equip platforms to understand inauthentic activity. As Yang and colleagues succinctly state, "a supervised machine learning tool is only as good as the data used for its training … even the most advanced [bot detection] algorithms will fail with outdated training datasets" (8). On the flipside, organisations are using chat bots to deliver cognitive behavioural therapy and assist people in moments of psychological distress. But the bots do not feel human; they reply instantly to any message sent. Some require responses in the form of emojis. The basis of therapy is talk. Understanding more accurately how naturally-occurring talk functions in online spaces could create more sensitive and genuinely therapeutic tools. Conclusion It is easy to forget that social media have largely mainstreamed over the last decade; in this decade, crucial social norms about how we converse online have developed. These norms allow us to navigate our conversations, with intimate friends and strangers alike across platforms, both in and out of public view, in ways that are often temporally non-sequential. Dark social spaces are a matter of intense marketing interest. Advertising firm Disruptive Advertising identified the very spaces that are the focus of this article as “dark social”: messaging apps, direct messaging, and native mobile apps facilitate user activity that is "not as easily controlled nor tracked". Dark social traffic continues to grow, yet our understanding of why, how, and for whom trails behind. To make sense of our social world, which is increasingly indistinguishable from online activity, we need to examine the spaces between and behind platforms, and how they co-mingle. Where are the spaces where the affordances of multiple platforms and technologies scrape against each other in uncomfortable ways? How do users achieve intelligible conversation not just because of affordances, but despite them? Focussing on micro-sociological encounters and conversations may also help us understand what could build a healthy online ecosystem. How are consensus and agreement achieved online? What are the persistent speech acts (or text acts) that signal when consensus is achieved? To begin where I started, to understand the scope and power of anti-vaccination sentiment, we need to understand how it is shared and discussed in dark social spaces, in messaging applications, and other backchannel spaces. Taking an ethnomethodological approach to these conversational interactions could also help us determine how misinformation is refused, accepted, and negotiated in mediated conversation. Focussing on “dark conversation” will help us more richly understand our social world and add much needed insight into some of our pressing social problems. References Burchell, Kenzie. 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Discourse & Society 10.3 (1999): 293–316. Ling, Rich. "Soft Coercion: Reciprocal Expectations of Availability in the Use of Mobile Communication." First Monday, 2016. Mannell, Kate. "A Typology of Mobile Messaging's Disconnective Affordances." Mobile Media & Communication 7.1 (2019): 76–93. ———. "Plural and Porous: Reconceptualising the Boundaries of Mobile Messaging Group Chats." Journal of Computer-Mediated Communication 25.4 (2020): 274–90. Marwick, Alice E., and danah boyd. "Networked Privacy: How Teenagers Negotiate Context in Social Media." New Media & Society 16.7 (2014): 1051–67. Mattu, Surya, Leon Yin, Angie Waller, and Jon Keegan. "How We Built a Facebook Inspector." The Markup 5 Jan. 2021. 9 Mar. 2021 <https://themarkup.org/citizen-browser/2021/01/05/how-we-built-a-facebook-inspector>. Sacks, Harvey. Lectures on Conversation: Volumes I and II. Ed. Gail Jefferson. Blackwell, 1995. Szabla, Malgorzata, and Jan Blommaert. "Does Context Really Collapse in Social Media Interaction?" Applied Linguistics Review 11.2 (2020): 251–79.

Ubiquitous in airports, border checkpoints, and other securitised spaces throughout the world, full-body imaging scanners claim to read bodies in order to identify if they pose security threats. Millimetre-wave body imaging machines—the most common type of body scanner—display to the operating security agent a screen with a generic body outline. If an anomaly is found or if an individual does not align with the machine’s understanding of an “average” body, a small box is highlighted and placed around the “problem” area, prompting further inspection in the form of pat-downs or questioning. In this complex security regime governed by such biometric, body-based technologies, it could be argued that nonalignment with bodily normativity as well as an attendant failure to reveal oneself—to become “transparent” (Hall 295)—marks a body as dangerous. As these algorithmic technologies become more pervasive, so too does the imperative to critically examine their purported neutrality and operative logic of revelation and readability.Biometric technologies are marketed as excavators of truth, with their optic potency claiming to demask masquerading bodies. Failure and bias are, however, an inescapable aspect of such technologies that work with narrow parameters of human morphology. Indeed, surveillance technologies have been taken to task for their inherent racial and gender biases (Browne; Pugliese). Facial recognition has, for example, been critiqued for its inability to read darker skin tones (Buolamwini and Gebru), while body scanners have been shown to target transgender bodies (Keyes; Magnet and Rodgers; Quinan). Critical security studies scholar Shoshana Magnet argues that error is endemic to the technological functioning of biometrics, particularly since they operate according to the faulty notion that bodies are “stable” and unchanging repositories of information that can be reified into code (Magnet 2).Although body scanners are presented as being able to reliably expose concealed weapons, they are riddled with incompetencies that misidentify and over-select certain demographics as suspect. Full-body scanners have, for example, caused considerable difficulties for transgender travellers, breast cancer patients, and people who use prosthetics, such as artificial limbs, colonoscopy bags, binders, or prosthetic genitalia (Clarkson; Quinan; Spalding). While it is not in the scope of this article to detail the workings of body imaging technologies and their inconsistencies, a growing body of scholarship has substantiated the claim that these machines unfairly impact those identifying as transgender and non-binary (see, e.g., Beauchamp; Currah and Mulqueen; Magnet and Rogers; Sjoberg). Moreover, they are constructed according to a logic of binary gender: before each person enters the scanner, transportation security officers must make a quick assessment of their gender/sex by pressing either a blue (corresponding to “male”) or pink (corresponding to “female”) button. In this sense, biometric, computerised security systems control and monitor the boundaries between male and female.The ability to “reveal” oneself is henceforth predicated on having a body free of “abnormalities” and fitting neatly into one of the two sex categorisations that the machine demands. Transgender and gender-nonconforming individuals, particularly those who do not have a binary gender presentation or whose presentation does not correspond to the sex marker in their documentation, also face difficulties if the machine flags anomalies (Quinan and Bresser). Drawing on a Foucauldian analysis of power as productive, Toby Beauchamp similarly illustrates how surveillance technologies not only identify but also create and reshape the figure of the dangerous subject in relation to normative configurations of gender, race, and able-bodiedness. By mobilizing narratives of concealment and disguise, heightened security measures frame gender nonconformity as dangerous (Beauchamp, Going Stealth). Although national and supranational authorities market biometric scanning technologies as scientifically neutral and exact methods of identification and verification and as an infallible solution to security risks, such tools of surveillance are clearly shaped by preconceptions and prejudgements about race, gender, and bodily normativity. Not only are they encoded with “prototypical whiteness” (Browne) but they are also built on “grossly stereotypical” configurations of gender (Clarkson).Amongst this increasingly securitised landscape, creative forms of artistic resistance can offer up a means of subverting discriminatory policing and surveillance practices by posing alternate visualisations that reveal and challenge their supposed objectivity. In his 2018 audio-video artwork installation entitled SANCTUM, UK-based American artist Zach Blas delves into how biometric technologies, like those described above, both reveal and (re)shape ontology by utilising the affectual resonance of sexual submission. Evoking the contradictory notions of oppression and pleasure, Blas describes SANCTUM as “a mystical environment that perverts sex dungeons with the apparatuses and procedures of airport body scans, biometric analysis, and predictive policing” (see full description at https://zachblas.info/works/sanctum/).Depicting generic mannequins that stand in for the digitalised rendering of the human forms that pass through body scanners, the installation transports the scanners out of the airport and into a queer environment that collapses sex, security, and weaponry; an environment that is “at once a prison-house of algorithmic capture, a sex dungeon with no genitals, a weapons factory, and a temple to security.” This artistic reframing gestures towards full-body scanning technology’s germination in the military, prisons, and other disciplinary systems, highlighting how its development and use has originated from punitive—rather than protective—contexts.In what follows, we adopt a methodological approach that applies visual analysis and close reading to scrutinise a selection of scenes from SANCTUM that underscore the sadomasochistic power inherent in surveillance technologies. Analysing visual and aural elements of the artistic intervention allows us to complicate the relationship between transparency and recognition and to problematise the dynamic of mandatory complicity and revelation that body scanners warrant. In contrast to a discourse of visibility that characterises algorithmically driven surveillance technology, Blas suggests opacity as a resistance strategy to biometrics' standardisation of identity. Taking an approach informed by critical security studies and queer theory, we also argue that SANCTUM highlights the violence inherent to the practice of reducing the body to a flat, inert surface that purports to align with some sort of “core” identity, a notion that contradicts feminist and queer approaches to identity and corporeality as fluid and changing. In close reading this artistic installation alongside emerging scholarship on the discriminatory effects of biometric technology, this article aims to highlight the potential of art to queer the supposed objectivity and neutrality of biometric surveillance and to critically challenge normative logics of revelation and readability.Corporeal Fetishism and Body HorrorThroughout both his artistic practice and scholarly work, Blas has been critical of the above narrative of biometrics as objective extractors of information. Rather than looking to dominant forms of representation as a means for recognition and social change, Blas’s work asks that we strive for creative techniques that precisely queer biometric and legal systems in order to make oneself unaccounted for. For him, “transparency, visibility, and representation to the state should be used tactically, they are never the end goal for a transformative politics but are, ultimately, a trap” (Blas and Gaboury 158). While we would simultaneously argue that invisibility is itself a privilege that is unevenly distributed, his creative work attempts to refuse a politics of visibility and to embrace an “informatic opacity” that is attuned to differences in bodies and identities (Blas).In particular, Blas’s artistic interventions titled Facial Weaponization Suite (2011-14) and Face Cages (2013-16) protest against biometric recognition and the inequalities that these technologies propagate by making masks and wearable metal objects that cannot be detected as human faces. This artistic-activist project contests biometric facial recognition and their attendant inequalities by, as detailed on the artist’s website,making ‘collective masks’ in workshops that are modelled from the aggregated facial data of participants, resulting in amorphous masks that cannot be detected as human faces by biometric facial recognition technologies. The masks are used for public interventions and performances.One mask explores blackness and the racist implications that undergird biometric technologies’ inability to detect dark skin. Meanwhile another mask, which he calls the “Fag Face Mask”, points to the heteronormative underpinnings of facial recognition. Created from the aggregated facial data of queer men, this amorphous pink mask implicitly references—and contests—scientific studies that have attempted to link the identification of sexual orientation through rapid facial recognition techniques.Building on this body of creative work that has advocated for opacity as a tool of social and political transformation, SANCTUM resists the revelatory impulses of biometric technology by turning to the use and abuse of full-body imaging. The installation opens with a shot of a large, dark industrial space. At the far end of a red, spotlighted corridor, a black mask flickers on a screen. A shimmering, oscillating sound reverberates—the opening bars of a techno track—that breaks down in rhythm while the mask evaporates into a cloud of smoke. The camera swivels, and a white figure—the generic mannequin of the body scanner screen—is pummelled by invisible forces as if in a wind tunnel. These ghostly silhouettes appear and reappear in different positions, with some being whipped and others stretched and penetrated by a steel anal hook. Rather than conjuring a traditional horror trope of the body’s terrifying, bloody interior, SANCTUM evokes a new kind of feared and fetishized trope that is endemic to the current era of surveillance capitalism: the abstracted body, standardised and datafied, created through the supposedly objective and efficient gaze of AI-driven machinery.Resting on the floor in front of the ominous animated mask are neon fragments arranged in an occultist formation—hands or half a face. By breaking the body down into component parts— “from retina to fingerprints”—biometric technologies “purport to make individual bodies endlessly replicable, segmentable and transmissible in the transnational spaces of global capital” (Magnet 8). The notion that bodies can be seamlessly turned into blueprints extracted from biological and cultural contexts has been described by Donna Haraway as “corporeal fetishism” (Haraway, Modest). In the context of SANCTUM, Blas illustrates the dangers of mistaking a model for a “concrete entity” (Haraway, “Situated” 147). Indeed, the digital cartography of the generic mannequin becomes no longer a mode of representation but instead a technoscientific truth.Several scenes in SANCTUM also illustrate a process whereby substances are extracted from the mannequins and used as tools to enact violence. In one such instance, a silver webbing is generated over a kneeling figure. Upon closer inspection, this geometric structure, which is reminiscent of Blas’s earlier Face Cages project, is a replication of the triangulated patterns produced by facial recognition software in its mapping of distance between eyes, nose, and mouth. In the next scene, this “map” breaks apart into singular shapes that float and transform into a metallic whip, before eventually reconstituting themselves as a penetrative douche hose that causes the mannequin to spasm and vomit a pixelated liquid. Its secretions levitate and become the webbing, and then the sequence begins anew.In another scene, a mannequin is held upside-down and force-fed a bubbling liquid that is being pumped through tubes from its arms, legs, and stomach. These depictions visualise Magnet’s argument that biometric renderings of bodies are understood not to be “tropic” or “historically specific” but are instead presented as “plumbing individual depths in order to extract core identity” (5). In this sense, this visual representation calls to mind biometrics’ reification of body and identity, obfuscating what Haraway would describe as the “situatedness of knowledge”. Blas’s work, however, forces a critique of these very systems, as the materials extracted from the bodies of the mannequins in SANCTUM allude to how biometric cartographies drawn from travellers are utilised to justify detainment. These security technologies employ what Magnet has referred to as “surveillant scopophilia,” that is, new ways and forms of looking at the human body “disassembled into component parts while simultaneously working to assuage individual anxieties about safety and security through the promise of surveillance” (17). The transparent body—the body that can submit and reveal itself—is ironically represented by the distinctly genderless translucent mannequins. Although the generic mannequins are seemingly blank slates, the installation simultaneously forces a conversation about the ways in which biometrics draw upon and perpetuate assumptions about gender, race, and sexuality.Biometric SubjugationOn her 2016 critically acclaimed album HOPELESSNESS, openly transgender singer, composer, and visual artist Anohni performs a deviant subjectivity that highlights the above dynamics that mark the contemporary surveillance discourse. To an imagined “daddy” technocrat, she sings:Watch me… I know you love me'Cause you're always watching me'Case I'm involved in evil'Case I'm involved in terrorism'Case I'm involved in child molestersEvoking a queer sexual frisson, Anohni describes how, as a trans woman, she is hyper-visible to state institutions. She narrates a voyeuristic relation where trans bodies are policed as threats to public safety rather than protected from systemic discrimination. Through the seemingly benevolent “daddy” character and the play on ‘cause (i.e., because) and ‘case (i.e., in case), she highlights how gender-nonconforming individuals are predictively surveilled and assumed to already be guilty. Reflecting on daddy-boy sexual paradigms, Jack Halberstam reads the “sideways” relations of queer practices as an enactment of “rupture as substitution” to create a new project that “holds on to vestiges of the old but distorts” (226). Upending power and control, queer art has the capacity to both reveal and undermine hegemonic structures while simultaneously allowing for the distortion of the old to create something new.Employing the sublimatory relations of bondage, discipline, sadism, and masochism (BDSM), Blas’s queer installation similarly creates a sideways representation that re-orientates the logic of the biometric scanners, thereby unveiling the always already sexualised relations of scrutiny and interrogation as well as the submissive complicity they demand. Replacing the airport environment with a dark and foreboding mise-en-scène allows Blas to focus on capture rather than mobility, highlighting the ways in which border checkpoints (including those instantiated by the airport) encourage free travel for some while foreclosing movement for others. Building on Sara Ahmed’s “phenomenology of being stopped”, Magnet considers what happens when we turn our gaze to those “who fail to pass the checkpoint” (107). In SANCTUM, the same actions are played out again and again on spectral beings who are trapped in various states: they shudder in cages, are chained to the floor, or are projected against the parameters of mounted screens. One ghostly figure, for instance, lies pinned down by metallic grappling hooks, arms raised above the head in a recognisable stance of surrender, conjuring up the now-familiar image of a traveller standing in the cylindrical scanner machine, waiting to be screened. In portraying this extended moment of immobility, Blas lays bare the deep contradictions in the rhetoric of “freedom of movement” that underlies such spaces.On a global level, media reporting, scientific studies, and policy documents proclaim that biometrics are essential to ensuring personal safety and national security. Within the public imagination, these technologies become seductive because of their marked ability to identify terrorist attackers—to reveal threatening bodies—thereby appealing to the anxious citizen’s fear of the disguised suicide bomber. Yet for marginalised identities prefigured as criminal or deceptive—including transgender and black and brown bodies—the inability to perform such acts of revelation via submission to screening can result in humiliation and further discrimination, public shaming, and even tortuous inquiry – acts that are played out in SANCTUM.Masked GenitalsFeminist surveillance studies scholar Rachel Hall has referred to the impetus for revelation in the post-9/11 era as a desire for a universal “aesthetics of transparency” in which the world and the body is turned inside-out so that there are no longer “secrets or interiors … in which terrorists or terrorist threats might find refuge” (127). Hall takes up the case study of Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab (infamously known as “the Underwear Bomber”) who attempted to detonate plastic explosives hidden in his underwear while onboard a flight from Amsterdam to Detroit on 25 December 2009. Hall argues that this event signified a coalescence of fears surrounding bodies of colour, genitalia, and terrorism. News reports following the incident stated that Abdulmutallab tucked his penis to make room for the explosive, thereby “queer[ing] the aspiring terrorist by indirectly referencing his willingness … to make room for a substitute phallus” (Hall 289). Overtly manifested in the Underwear Bomber incident is also a desire to voyeuristically expose a hidden, threatening interiority, which is inherently implicated with anxieties surrounding gender deviance. Beauchamp elaborates on how gender deviance and transgression have coalesced with terrorism, which was exemplified in the wake of the 9/11 attacks when the United States Department of Homeland Security issued a memo that male terrorists “may dress as females in order to discourage scrutiny” (“Artful” 359). Although this advisory did not explicitly reference transgender populations, it linked “deviant” gender presentation—to which we could also add Abdulmutallab’s tucking of his penis—with threats to national security (Beauchamp, Going Stealth). This also calls to mind a broader discussion of the ways in which genitalia feature in the screening process. Prior to the introduction of millimetre-wave body scanning technology, the most common form of scanner used was the backscatter imaging machine, which displayed “naked” body images of each passenger to the security agent. Due to privacy concerns, these machines were replaced by the scanners currently in place which use a generic outline of a passenger (exemplified in SANCTUM) to detect possible threats.It is here worth returning to Blas’s installation, as it also implicitly critiques the security protocols that attempt to reveal genitalia as both threatening and as evidence of an inner truth about a body. At one moment in the installation a bayonet-like object pierces the blank crotch of the mannequin, shattering it into holographic fragments. The apparent genderlessness of the mannequins is contrasted with these graphic sexual acts. The penetrating metallic instrument that breaks into the loin of the mannequin, combined with the camera shot that slowly zooms in on this action, draws attention to a surveillant fascination with genitalia and revelation. As Nicholas L. Clarkson documents in his analysis of airport security protocols governing prostheses, including limbs and packies (silicone penis prostheses), genitals are a central component of the screening process. While it is stipulated that physical searches should not require travellers to remove items of clothing, such as underwear, or to expose their genitals to staff for inspection, prosthetics are routinely screened and examined. This practice can create tensions for trans or disabled passengers with prosthetics in so-called “sensitive” areas, particularly as guidelines for security measures are often implemented by airport staff who are not properly trained in transgender-sensitive protocols.ConclusionAccording to media technologies scholar Jeremy Packer, “rather than being treated as one to be protected from an exterior force and one’s self, the citizen is now treated as an always potential threat, a becoming bomb” (382). Although this technological policing impacts all who are subjected to security regimes (which is to say, everyone), this amalgamation of body and bomb has exacerbated the ways in which bodies socially coded as threatening or deceptive are targeted by security and surveillance regimes. Nonetheless, others have argued that the use of invasive forms of surveillance can be justified by the state as an exchange: that citizens should willingly give up their right to privacy in exchange for safety (Monahan 1). Rather than subscribing to this paradigm, Blas’ SANCTUM critiques the violence of mandatory complicity in this “trade-off” narrative. Because their operationalisation rests on normative notions of embodiment that are governed by preconceptions around gender, race, sexuality and ability, surveillance systems demand that bodies become transparent. This disproportionally affects those whose bodies do not match norms, with trans and queer bodies often becoming unreadable (Kafer and Grinberg). The shadowy realm of SANCTUM illustrates this tension between biometric revelation and resistance, but also suggests that opacity may be a tool of transformation in the face of such discriminatory violations that are built into surveillance.ReferencesAhmed, Sara. “A Phenomenology of Whiteness.” Feminist Theory 8.2 (2007): 149–68.Beauchamp, Toby. “Artful Concealment and Strategic Visibility: Transgender Bodies and U.S. State Surveillance after 9/11.” Surveillance & Society 6.4 (2009): 356–66.———. Going Stealth: Transgender Politics and U.S. Surveillance Practices. 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