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ourselves this; to what extent is this sense of crisis borne out by evidence
and analysis? Or, from a different direction; to what extent is our sense
of crisis the result of a panic reaction to a new context that we neither
understand nor control? To what extent are we victims of future shock?
Are we holding ourselves prisoner in Cold War bunkers of the mind?
There is no doubting either the complexity of our supply chains or the
fact of the existence of manifest vulnerabilities. Computers are artefacts
of profound and increasing supply chain complexity. Supply chains are
atomised, fragmented, volatile, unpredictable and unknowable. Key
components are, and will continue to be, designed and manufactured
across the globe. And so in areas where those with hostile intentions
towards liberal democracy can operate with greater tolerance and
latitude than would be possible in the established heartlands of these
democracies. The location of assembly of the components in to a finished
market-ready device is, in terms of the assurance of the supply chain,
irrelevant. Assurance models predicated on the susceptibility of devices, let
alone systems, to code or component level recursive analysis are, at best,
redundant.
Assertions of the abstract fact of the existence of vulnerability devoid of
context, data, or substantive rational argument, are as useless in generating
meaningful utility as they are attractive to those with something to sell.
Even in the most benign of circumstances, they are an insufficient basis
for action. In times of limited resources, they can easily become the cause
of costly and unproductive failures. When the subject of concern is itself
a societally critical phenomenon, then the raising of defences that will
inevitably reduce the beneficial effects of the thing being protected, should
not be lightly undertaken. To destroy a thing in order to protect a thing
is an unacceptable price to pay when we depend upon that which we
defend for our very existence.

As I write this, the British Prime Minister, David Cameron, has just returned
from leading a delegation of senior business leaders on a trade mission
to China. He returned for the debate in Parliament on his coalition
government's Autumn Statement. Whilst in China, the Prime Minister faced
down criticisms that he was sacrificing a commitment to human rights,
asserting that he was "unapologetic" about his emphasis on the economy.
Britain, he observed, is a "trading nation"
(1)
, and as such, whilst "some in
Europe and elsewhere see the world changing and want to shut China
off behind a bamboo curtain of trade barriers, Britain wants to tear those
trade barriers down"
(2)
. During his trip, the Prime Minister pressed the
Chinese authorities openly for a "proper cyber dialogue" whilst at the
same time choosing to highlight that "we need ... to up our investment
in cyber security and cyber defence" because "there is an enormous
amount
(3)
of work to be done". The "Global Times", a nationalist leaning
tabloid owned by the Communist party, ran an editorial arguing that "the
Cameron administration should acknowledge that the UK is not a big
power in the eyes of the Chinese. It is just an old European country apt for
travels and study"
(4)
.
These stories encapsulate much of the difficult realities of our age. David
Cameron travels to China to bid for business. China needs access to the
economies of Europe and America if it is to continue to grow just as it
holds the old world in aloof contempt. David Cameron returns to the
UK for a debate on a bill that legislates for further austerity in order to
counter the effects of a financial crisis precipitated by a failure of the US
and UK banking systems. The financial crisis itself revealing that a longer