The Hacking of Things: International Law’s Modern Challenge In December, in a fully-booked luxury hotel in the Austrian Alps, guests went to their doors and couldn’t open them. Something was wrong. In the middle of winter, beside the cold Turracher lake the computers went dark.
It was the first weekend of ski season, and the entire door-key system of Romantik Seehotel Jägerwirt ( a 111-year-old hotel) had been taken down. Hackers demanded that the hotel hand over €1,500 (around $1,600, payable in bitcoin) to restore their systems. Because management felt as though they had no choice, they did so. Then – systems back up, doors unlocked – they went public, to warn others of the dangers of this kind of cybercrime: a modern twist on criminal blackmail.
“Ransomware” is in itself not a new concept: in a typical scenario, an entity’s data is encrypted and made unavailable until a payment is made. For instance, in California in February 2016, a hospital was forced to pay $17,000 in bitcoin to free its computers of a hacker’s virus. And yet, the Seehotel Jägerwirt attack is seemingly the first report of ransomware involving a physical device of this scale: the “Ransomware of Things,” or “jackware.” This kind of ransomware has the potential to control connected, intelligent objects in the real world. The risks are all too obvious: AT&T has highlighted the concept of a smart car being hacked with its ignition or brakes remotely controlled; in 2015, a hacker claimed to have taken over a plane’s engine controls; in Finland last year, a DDoS attack halted heating in two buildings in the middle of winter.
On March 24, 1954, Hungary and the U.K. held a bilateral talk to resume the countries’ economic relations that had ended after a trade embargo since December 1950. The British government imposed the embargo after the Hungarian government refused to release a British businessman, Edgar Sanders, who was sentenced to thirteen years for espionage. Given Sanders’ involvement with the British intelligence agency and similar cases emerging in Hungary, the Sanders trial drew substantial attention from the British media. The British government faced pressure to negotiate the release of Sanders. The breakdown of the release negotiation eventually led to a trade embargo. Another factor that triggered the strained bilateral economic relations was Hungary’s nationalization of industrial enterprises in the late 1940s. The nationalization resulted in confiscation of British-owned plants operating in Hungary.
Russia’s legal justifications for the 2014 intervention in Ukraine
The legal justifications for Russia’s intervention are based on the letter of the Head of State of Ukraine at the time, Viktor Yanukovych. Yanukovych requested Putin and Russia’s Federation Council “to use the armed forces of the Russian Federation to establish legitimacy, peace, law and order and stability in defense of the people of Ukraine.” The letter, which was revealed by Russia’s UN Security Council representative, Vitaly Churckin, also speaks of an impending humanitarian disaster. It states that “the events in [Ukraine] . . . have placed Ukraine on the brink of civil war” and that the “people are being persecuted on the basis of their language and political beliefs.”
From the Russian perspective, the legal justifications for Russia’s military intervention are clear – Russia was invited by Ukraine’s legitimate and incumbent head of state to restore order and protect Russian-speaking minorities in Ukraine. Put simply, it’s a case of intervention by invitation.
Questions regarding Yanukovych’s requesting letter have thus been framed in terms of Yanukovych’s legitimacy and status as the Head of State of Ukraine at the time of the request. In essence, the question is whether Yanukovych was a legitimate and incumbent head of state when he sent the letter requesting Russia’s assistance. If yes, his request justifies Russia’s intervention. If no, then Russia’s intervention is illegal under international law.
As a result, lawyers on both sides of the argument have focused on the question of Yanukovych’s legitimacy and status at the time that the letter was being written. According to Putin, Yanukovych was a democratically elected president at the time of the request, legitimate and incumbent, and therefore Yanukovych’s request is legal.
But recently, a sudden change occurred in the Russian narrative, which was noticed by Russian commentators but has largely been ignored elsewhere. Apparently, there was never any “request” at all.
Recent statements from ex-Presient Viktor Yanukovych and Putin’s Press Secretary Dmitry Peskov
On February 22nd, 2017, Yanukovych gave an interview to the Russian media in which he stated that he “never asked to send troops to Ukraine,” a substantial rift with the established narrative on the legality of the intervention. Furthermore, on March 9th, Yury Lutsenko, Prosecutor General of Ukraine, posted on his Facebook page an official letter he received from Russia’s Prosecutor General’s Office. The letter states that “any statement by Yanukovych requesting the use of the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation on the territory of Ukraine has not been received or considered by the President of the Russian Federation or the Federation Council.”
On March 16th, Putin’s Press Secretary, Dmitry Peskov stated that “no letter was officially submitted to the Russian presidential administration, [and] no such letter was registered in the administration.”
All these statements seem to point towards a change in Russia’s policy towards Ukraine. From an international legal perspective, however, the issue is also deserving of attention, as it gives rise to new questions regarding the legality of the 2014 Russian intervention.
First, if there was no request from Yanukovych – as Mr. Yanukovych’s comments seem to suggest – then Russia’s legal justifications for intervention in Ukraine based on the intervention by invitation exception are more uncertain than ever.
Second, if there really was no letter, what is the nature of the document Vitaly Churkin demonstrated at the UN? The minutes of the UN Security Council meeting clearly confirm that Churkin referred to the document as a “request” and “a letter [that] is signed by President Yanukovych.” Even if Russia’s officials didn’t view Yanukovych’s statement as a request for intervention, it is certain that Churkin tried to represent it as such.
It is important to note that the issue is still in development. On March 17th, 2017, Russia’s Foreign Ministry Spokesperson, Maria Zakharova, authored a post on Facebook stating that although there was a signed statement (not a letter) from Mr. Yanukovych, it was simply not registered in the Presidential Administration or the Federation Council.
Zakharova adds that “the statement was signed by the President of Ukraine, and read out to the UN Security Council as very revealing information about the situation in Ukraine, but no decisions were taken on it in the Presidential Administration or in the Federation Council of Russia.” If, however, no decisions were taken regarding the Yanukovych statement, the legal basis for the sending of troops to Crimea becomes less clear.
March 16, 2017, marked the third year since Crimea voted to join Russia. Russia’s view regarding the legality of the intervention which resulted in the Crimean referendum has been relatively consistent throughout this period. However, novel developments, particularly statements from high-ranking Russian officials, pose new questions regarding the legality of the intervention.
This could, indeed, all be just a big mistake on the part of Russian representatives. Or perhaps, as some Russian commentators have pointed out, it’s a sign of an upcoming change in Russia’s approach towards Ukraine. What is certain however, is that, from an international legal perspective, these recent developments add further doubts to Russia’s narrative regarding the legality of the 2014 intervention in Ukraine.