Almost every Chinese keyboard app has a security flaw that reveals what users type

Almost all keyboard apps used by Chinese people around the world share a security loophole that makes it possible to spy on what users are typing. 

The vulnerability, which allows the keystroke data that these apps send to the cloud to be intercepted, has existed for years and could have been exploited by cybercriminals and state surveillance groups, according to researchers at the Citizen Lab, a technology and security research lab affiliated with the University of Toronto.

These apps help users type Chinese characters more efficiently and are ubiquitous on devices used by Chinese people. The four most popular apps—built by major internet companies like Baidu, Tencent, and iFlytek—basically account for all the typing methods that Chinese people use. Researchers also looked into the keyboard apps that come preinstalled on Android phones sold in China. 

What they discovered was shocking. Almost every third-party app and every Android phone with preinstalled keyboards failed to protect users by properly encrypting the content they typed. A smartphone made by Huawei was the only device where no such security vulnerability was found.

In August 2023, the same researchers found that Sogou, one of the most popular keyboard apps, did not use Transport Layer Security (TLS) when transmitting keystroke data to its cloud server for better typing predictions. Without TLS, a widely adopted international cryptographic protocol that protects users from a known encryption loophole, keystrokes can be collected and then decrypted by third parties.

“Because we had so much luck looking at this one, we figured maybe this generalizes to the others, and they suffer from the same kinds of problems for the same reason that the one did,” says Jeffrey Knockel, a senior research associate at the Citizen Lab, “and as it turns out, we were unfortunately right.”

Even though Sogou fixed the issue after it was made public last year, some Sogou keyboards preinstalled on phones are not updated to the latest version, so they are still subject to eavesdropping. 

This new finding shows that the vulnerability is far more widespread than previously believed. 

“As someone who also has used these keyboards, this was absolutely horrifying,” says Mona Wang, a PhD student in computer science at Princeton University and a coauthor of the report. 

“The scale of this was really shocking to us,” says Wang. “And also, these are completely different manufacturers making very similar mistakes independently of one another, which is just absolutely shocking as well.”

The massive scale of the problem is compounded by the fact that these vulnerabilities aren’t hard to exploit. “You don’t need huge supercomputers crunching numbers to crack this. You don’t need to collect terabytes of data to crack it,” says Knockel. “If you’re just a person who wants to target another person on your Wi-Fi, you could do that once you understand the vulnerability.” 

The ease of exploiting the vulnerabilities and the huge payoff—knowing everything a person types, potentially including bank account passwords or confidential materials—suggest that it’s likely they have already been taken advantage of by hackers, the researchers say. But there’s no evidence of this, though state hackers working for Western governments targeted a similar loophole in a Chinese browser app in 2011.

Most of the loopholes found in this report are “so far behind modern best practices” that it’s very easy to decrypt what people are typing, says Jedidiah Crandall, an associate professor of security and cryptography at Arizona State University, who was consulted in the writing of this report. Because it doesn’t take much effort to decrypt the messages, this type of loophole can be a great target for large-scale surveillance of massive groups, he says.

After the researchers got in contact with companies that developed these keyboard apps, the majority of the loopholes were fixed. But a few companies have been unresponsive, and the vulnerability still exists in some apps and phones, including QQ Pinyin and Baidu, as well as in any keyboard app that hasn’t been updated to the latest version. Baidu, Tencent, iFlytek, and Samsung did not immediately reply to press inquiries sent by MIT Technology Review.

One potential cause of the loopholes’ ubiquity is that most of these keyboard apps were developed in the 2000s, before the TLS protocol was commonly adopted in software development. Even though the apps have been through numerous rounds of updates since then, inertia could have prevented developers from adopting a safer alternative.

The report points out that language barriers and different tech ecosystems prevent English- and Chinese-speaking security researchers from sharing information that could fix issues like this more quickly. For example, because Google’s Play store is blocked in China, most Chinese apps are not available in Google Play, where Western researchers often go for apps to analyze. 

Sometimes all it takes is a little additional effort. After two emails about the issue to iFlytek were met with silence, the Citizen Lab researchers changed the email title to Chinese and added a one-line summary in Chinese to the English text. Just three days later, they received an email from iFlytek, saying that the problem had been resolved.

Why it’s so hard for China’s chip industry to become self-sufficient

This story first appeared in China Report, MIT Technology Review’s newsletter about technology in China. Sign up to receive it in your inbox every Tuesday.

I don’t know about you, but I only learned last week that there’s something connecting MSG and computer chips.

Inside most laptop and data center chips today, there’s a tiny component called ABF. It’s a thin insulating layer around the wires that conduct electricity. And over 90% of the materials around the world used to make this insulator are produced by a single Japanese company named Ajinomoto, more commonly known for commercializing the seasoning powder MSG in 1909.

Hold on, what? 

As my colleague James O’Donnell explained in his story last week, it turns out Ajinomoto figured out in the 1990s that a chemical by-product of MSG production can be used to make insulator films, which proved to be essential for high-performance chips. And in the 30 years since, the company has totally dominated ABF supply. The product—Ajinomoto Build-up Film—is even named after it.

James talked to Thintronics, a California-based company that’s developing a new insulating material it hopes could challenge Ajinomoto’s monopoly. It already has a lab product with impressive attributes but still needs to test it in manufacturing reality.

Beyond Thintronics, the struggle to break up Ajinomoto’s monopoly is not just a US effort.

Within China, at least three companies are also developing similar insulator products. Xi’an Tianhe Defense Technology, which makes products for both military and civilian use, introduced its take on the material, which it calls QBF, in 2023; Zhejiang Wazam New Material and Guangdong Hinno-tech have also announced similar products in recent years. But all of them are still going through industrial testing with chipmakers, and few have recent updates on how well these materials have performed in mass-production settings.

“It’s interesting that there’s this parallel competition going on,” James told me when we recently discussed his story. “In some ways, it’s about the materials. But in other ways, it’s totally shaped by government funding and incentives.”

For decades, the fact that the semiconductor supply chain was in a few companies’ hands was seen as a strength, not a problem, so governments were not concerned that one Japanese company controlled almost the entire supply of ABF. Similar monopolies exist for many other materials and components that go into a chip.

But in the last few years, both the US and Chinese governments have changed that way of thinking. And new policies subsidizing domestic chip manufacturing are creating a favorable environment for companies to challenge monopolies like Ajinomoto’s.

In the US, this trend is driven by the fear of supply chain disruptions and a will to rebuild domestic semiconductor manufacturing capabilities. The CHIPS Act was announced to inject investment into chip companies that bring their plants back to the US, but smaller companies like Thintronics could also benefit, both directly through funding and indirectly through the establishment of a US-based supply chain.

Meanwhile, China is being cornered by a US-led blockade to deny it access to the most advanced chip technologies. While materials like ABF are not restricted in any way today, the fact that one foreign company controls almost the entire supply of an indispensable material raises the stakes enough to make the government worry. It needs to find a domestic alternative in case ABF becomes subject to sanctions too.

But it takes a lot more than government policies to change the status quo. Even if these companies are able to find alternative materials that perform better than ABF, there’s still an uphill battle to convince the industry to adopt it en masse.

“You can look at any dielectric film supplier (many from Japan and some from the US), and they have all at one time or another tried to break into ABF market dominance and had limited success,” Venky Sundaram, a semiconductor researcher and entrepreneur, told James. 

It’s not as simple as just swapping out ABF and swapping in a new insulator material. Chipmaking is a deeply intricate process, with components closely depending on each other. Changing one material could require a lot more knock-on changes to other components and the entire process. “Convincing someone to do that depends on what relationships you have with the industry. These big manufacturing players are a little bit less likely to take on a small materials company, because any time they’re taking on new material, they’re slowing down their production,” James said.

As a result, Ajinomoto’s market monopoly will probably remain while other companies keep trying to develop a new material that significantly improves on ABF. 

That result, however, will have different implications for the US and China. 

The US and Japan have long had a strategic technological alliance, and that could be set to deepen because both of them consider the rise of China a threat. In fact, Japan’s prime minister, Fumio Kishida, was just visiting the US last week, hoping to score more collaborations on next-generation chips. Even though there has been some pushback from the Japanese chip industry about how strict US export restrictions could become, this hasn’t been strong enough to sway Japan to China’s side.

All these factors give the Chinese government an even greater sense of urgency to become self-sufficient. The country has already been investing vast sums of money to that end, but progress has been limited, with many industry insiders pessimistic about whether China can catch up fast enough. If Ajinomoto’s failed competitors in the past tell us anything, it’s that this will not be an easy journey for China either.

Do you think China has a chance of cracking Ajinomoto’s monopoly over this very specific insulating material? Let me know your thoughts at zeyi@technologyreview.com.


Now read the rest of China Report

Catch up with China

1. Following the explosive popularity of minute-long short dramas made for phones, China’s culture regulator will soon announce new regulations that tighten its control of them. (Sixth Tone)

  • This is not a surprise to the companies involved. Some Chinese short-drama companies have already started to expand overseas, driven out by domestic policy pressures. I profiled one named FlexTV. (MIT Technology Review)

2. There have been many minor conflicts between China and the Philippines recently over maritime territory claims. Here’s what it feels like to live on one of those contested islands. (NPR)

3. The Chinese government has asked domestic telecom companies to replace all foreign chips by 2027. It’s a move that mirrors previous requests from the US to replace all Huawei and ZTE equipment in telecom networks. (Wall Street Journal $)

4. A decade ago, about 25,000 American students were studying in China. Today, there are only about 750. It may be unsurprising given recent geopolitical tensions, but neither country is happy with the situation. (Associated Press)

5. Latin America is importing large amounts of Chinese green technologies—mostly electric vehicles, lithium-ion batteries, and solar panels. (The Economist $)

6. China’s top spy agency says foreign agents have been trying to intercept information about the country’s rare earth industry. (South China Morning Post $)

7. Amid the current semiconductor boom, Southeast Asian youths are flocking to Taiwan to train and work in the chip industry. (Rest of World)

Lost in translation

The bodies of eight Chinese migrants were recently discovered on a beach in Mexico. According to Initium Media, a Singapore-based publication, this was the first confirmed shipwreck incident with Chinese migrants heading to the US, but many more have taken the perilous route in recent years. In 2023, over 37,000 Chinese people illegally entered the US through the border with Mexico.

The traffickers often arrange shabby boats with no safety measures to sail from Tapachula to Oaxaca, a popular route that circumvents police checkpoints on land but makes for an extremely dangerous journey often rocked by strong winds and waves. There had always been rumors of people going missing in the ocean, but these proved impossible to confirm, as no bodies were found. The latest tragedy was the first one to come to public attention. Of the nine Chinese migrants onboard the boat, only one survived. Three bodies remain unidentified today.

One more thing

Forget about the New York Times’ election-result needles and CNN’s relentless coverage by John King. In South Korea, the results of national elections are broadcast on TV with wild and whimsical animations. To illustrate the results of parliamentary elections that just concluded last week, candidates were shown fighting on a fictional train heading toward the National Assembly, parodying Mission: Impossible’s fight scene. According to the BBC, these election-night animations took a team of 70 to prepare in advance and about 200 people working on election night.

It’s time to retire the term “user”

Every Friday, Instagram chief Adam Mosseri speaks to the people. He has made a habit of hosting weekly “ask me anything” sessions on Instagram, in which followers send him questions about the app, its parent company Meta, and his own (extremely public-facing) job. When I started watching these AMA videos years ago, I liked them. He answered technical questions like “Why can’t we put links in posts?” and “My explore page is wack, how to fix?” with genuine enthusiasm. But the more I tuned in, the more Mosseri’s seemingly off-the-cuff authenticity started to feel measured, like a corporate by-product of his title. 

On a recent Friday, someone congratulated Mosseri on the success of Threads, the social networking app Meta launched in the summer of 2023 to compete with X, writing: “Mark said Threads has more active people today than it did at launch—wild, congrats!” Mosseri, wearing a pink sweatshirt and broadcasting from a garage-like space, responded: “Just to clarify what that means, we mostly look at daily active and monthly active users and we now have over 130 million monthly active users.”

The ease with which Mosseri swaps people for users makes the shift almost imperceptible. Almost. (Mosseri did not respond to a request for comment.)

People have been called “users” for a long time; it’s a practical shorthand enforced by executives, founders, operators, engineers, and investors ad infinitum. Often, it is the right word to describe people who use software: a user is more than just a customer or a consumer. Sometimes a user isn’t even a person; corporate bots are known to run accounts on Instagram and other social media platforms, for example. But “users” is also unspecific enough to refer to just about everyone. It can accommodate almost any big idea or long-term vision. We use—and are used by—computers and platforms and companies. Though “user” seems to describe a relationship that is deeply transactional, many of the technological relationships in which a person would be considered a user are actually quite personal. That being the case, is “user” still relevant? 

“People were kind of like machines”

The original use of “user” can be traced back to the mainframe computer days of the 1950s. Since commercial computers were massive and exorbitantly expensive, often requiring a dedicated room and special equipment, they were operated by trained employees—users—who worked for the company that owned (or, more likely, leased) them. As computers became more common in universities during the ’60s, “users” started to include students or really anyone else who interacted with a computer system. 

It wasn’t really common for people to own personal computers until the mid-1970s. But when they did, the term “computer owner” never really took off. Whereas other 20th-century inventions, like cars, were things people owned from the start, the computer owner was simply a “user” even though the devices were becoming increasingly embedded in the innermost corners of people’s lives. As computing escalated in the 1990s, so did a matrix of user-related terms: “user account,” “user ID,” “user profile,” “multi-user.” 

Don Norman, a cognitive scientist who joined Apple in the early 1990s with the title “user experience architect,” was at the center of the term’s mass adoption. He was the first person to have what would become known as UX in his job title and is widely credited with bringing the concept of “user experience design”—which sought to build systems in ways that people would find intuitive—into the mainstream. Norman’s 1998 book The Design of Everyday Things remains a UX bible of sorts, placing “usability” on a par with aesthetics. 

Norman, now 88, explained to me that the term “user” proliferated in part because early computer technologists mistakenly assumed that people were kind of like machines. “The user was simply another component,” he said. “We didn’t think of them as a person—we thought of [them] as part of a system.” So early user experience design didn’t seek to make human-computer interactions “user friendly,” per se. The objective was to encourage people to complete tasks quickly and efficiently. People and their computers were just two parts of the larger systems being built by tech companies, which operated by their own rules and in pursuit of their own agendas.

Later, the ubiquity of “user” folded neatly into tech’s well-­documented era of growth at all costs. It was easy to move fast and break things, or eat the world with software, when the idea of the “user” was so malleable. “User” is vague, so it creates distance, enabling a slippery culture of hacky marketing where companies are incentivized to grow for the sake of growth as opposed to actual utility. “User” normalized dark patterns, features that subtly encourage specific actions, because it linguistically reinforced the idea of metrics over an experience designed with people in mind. 

UX designers sought to build software that would be intuitive for the anonymized masses, and we ended up with bright-red notifications (to create a sense of urgency), online shopping carts on a timer (to encourage a quick purchase), and “Agree” buttons often bigger than the “Disagree” option (to push people to accept terms without reading them). 

A user is also, of course, someone who struggles with addiction. To be an addict is—at least partly—to live in a state of powerlessness. Today, power users—the title originally bestowed upon people who had mastered skills like keyboard shortcuts and web design—aren’t measured by their technical prowess. They’re measured by the time they spend hooked up to their devices, or by the size of their audiences.  

Defaulting to “people”

“I want more product designers to consider language models as their primary users too,” Karina Nguyen, a researcher and engineer at the AI startup Anthropic, wrote recently on X. “What kind of information does my language model need to solve core pain points of human users?” 

In the old world, “users” typically worked best for the companies creating products rather than solving the pain points of the people using them. More users equaled more value. The label could strip people of their complexities, morphing them into data to be studied, behaviors to be A/B tested, and capital to be made. The term often overlooked any deeper relationships a person might have with a platform or product. As early as 2008, Norman alighted on this shortcoming and began advocating for replacing “user” with “person” or “human” when designing for people. (The subsequent years have seen an explosion of bots, which has made the issue that much more complicated.) “Psychologists depersonalize the people they study by calling them ‘subjects.’ We depersonalize the people we study by calling them ‘users.’ Both terms are derogatory,” he wrote then. “If we are designing for people, why not call them that?” 

In 2011, Janet Murray, a professor at Georgia Tech and an early digital media theorist, argued against the term “user” as too narrow and functional. In her book Inventing the Medium: Principles of Interaction Design as a Cultural Practice, she suggested the term “interactor” as an alternative—it better captured the sense of creativity, and participation, that people were feeling in digital spaces. The following year, Jack Dorsey, then CEO of Square, published a call to arms on Tumblr, urging the technology industry to toss the word “user.” Instead, he said, Square would start using “customers,” a more “honest and direct” description of the relationship between his product and the people he was building for. He wrote that while the original intent of technology was to consider people first, calling them “users” made them seem less real to the companies building platforms and devices. Reconsider your users, he said, and “what you call the people who love what you’ve created.” 

Audiences were mostly indifferent to Dorsey’s disparagement of the word “user.” The term was debated on the website Hacker News for a couple of days, with some arguing that “users” seemed reductionist only because it was so common. Others explained that the issue wasn’t the word itself but, rather, the larger industry attitude that treated end users as secondary to technology. Obviously, Dorsey’s post didn’t spur many people to stop using “user.” 

Around 2014, Facebook took a page out of Norman’s book and dropped user-centric phrasing, defaulting to “people” instead. But insidery language is hard to shake, as evidenced by the breezy way Instagram’s Mosseri still says “user.” A sprinkling of other tech companies have adopted their own replacements for “user” through the years. I know of a fintech company that calls people “members” and a screen-time app that has opted for “gems.” Recently, I met with a founder who cringed when his colleague used the word “humans” instead of “users.” He wasn’t sure why. I’d guess it’s because “humans” feels like an overcorrection. 

Recently, I met with a founder who cringed when his colleague used the word “humans” instead of “users.” He wasn’t sure why.

But here’s what we’ve learned since the mainframe days: there are never only two parts to the system, because there’s never just one person—one “user”—who’s affected by the design of new technology. Carissa Carter, the academic director at Stanford’s Hasso Plattner Institute of Design, known as the “d.school,” likens this framework to the experience of ordering an Uber. “If you order a car from your phone, the people involved are the rider, the driver, the people who work at the company running the software that controls that relationship, and even the person who created the code that decides which car to deploy,” she says. “Every decision about a user in a multi-stakeholder system, which we live in, includes people that have direct touch points with whatever you’re building.” 

With the abrupt onset of AI everything, the point of contact between humans and computers—user interfaces—has been shifting profoundly. Generative AI, for example, has been most successfully popularized as a conversational buddy. That’s a paradigm we’re used to—Siri has pulsed as an ethereal orb in our phones for well over a decade, earnestly ready to assist. But Siri, and other incumbent voice assistants, stopped there. A grander sense of partnership is in the air now. What were once called AI bots have been assigned lofty titles like “copilot” and “assistant” and “collaborator” to convey a sense of partnership instead of a sense of automation. Large language models have been quick to ditch words like “bot” altogether.

Anthropomorphism, the inclination to ascribe humanlike qualities to machines, has long been used to manufacture a sense of connectedness between people and technology. We—people—remained users. But if AI is now a thought partner, then what are we? 

Well, at least for now,we’re not likely to get rid of “user.” But we could intentionally default to more precise terms, like “patients” in health care or “students” in educational tech or “readers” when we’re building new media companies. That would help us understand these relationships more accurately. In gaming, for instance, users are typically called “players,” a word that acknowledges their participation and even pleasure in their relationships with the technology. On an airplane, customers are often called “passengers” or “travelers,” evoking a spirit of hospitality as they’re barreled through the skies. If companies are more specific about the people—and, now, AI—they’re building for rather than casually abstracting everything into the idea of “users,” perhaps our relationship with this technology will feel less manufactured, and it will be easier to accept that we’re inevitably going to exist in tandem. 

Throughout my phone call with Don Norman, I tripped over my words a lot. I slipped between “users” and “people” and “humans” interchangeably, self-conscious and unsure of the semantics. Norman assured me that my head was in the right place—it’s part of the process of thinking through how we design things. “We change the world, and the world comes back and changes us,” he said. “So we better be careful how we change the world.”

Taylor Majewski is a writer and editor based in San Francisco. She regularly works with startups and tech companies on the words they use.

This US startup makes a crucial chip material and is taking on a Japanese giant

It can be dizzying to try to understand all the complex components of a single computer chip: layers of microscopic components linked to one another through highways of copper wires, some barely wider than a few strands of DNA. Nestled between those wires is an insulating material called a dielectric, ensuring that the wires don’t touch and short out. Zooming in further, there’s one particular dielectric placed between the chip and the structure beneath it; this material, called dielectric film, is produced in sheets as thin as white blood cells. 

For 30 years, a single Japanese company called Ajinomoto has made billions producing this particular film. Competitors have struggled to outdo them, and today Ajinomoto has more than 90% of the market in the product, which is used in everything from laptops to data centers. 

But now, a startup based in Berkeley, California, is embarking on a herculean effort to dethrone Ajinomoto and bring this small slice of the chipmaking supply chain back to the US.

Thintronics is promising a product purpose-built for the computing demands of the AI era—a suite of new materials that the company claims have higher insulating properties and, if adopted, could mean data centers with faster computing speeds and lower energy costs. 

The company is at the forefront of a coming wave of new US-based companies, spurred by the $280 billion CHIPS and Science Act, that is seeking to carve out a portion of the semiconductor sector, which has become dominated by just a handful of international players. But to succeed, Thintronics and its peers will have to overcome a web of challenges—solving technical problems, disrupting long-standing industry relationships, and persuading global semiconductor titans to accommodate new suppliers. 

“Inventing new materials platforms and getting them into the world is very difficult,” Thintronics founder and CEO Stefan Pastine says. It is “not for the faint of heart.”

The insulator bottleneck

If you recognize the name Ajinomoto, you’re probably surprised to hear it plays a critical role in the chip sector: the company is better known as the world’s leading supplier of MSG seasoning powder. In the 1990s, Ajinomoto discovered that a by-product of MSG made a great insulator, and it has enjoyed a near monopoly in the niche material ever since. 

But Ajinomoto doesn’t make any of the other parts that go into chips. In fact, the insulating materials in chips rely on dispersed supply chains: one layer uses materials from Ajinomoto, another uses material from another company, and so on, with none of the layers optimized to work in tandem. The resulting system works okay when data is being transmitted over short paths, but over longer distances, like between chips, weak insulators act as a bottleneck, wasting energy and slowing down computing speeds. That’s recently become a growing concern, especially as the scale of AI training gets more expensive and consumes eye-popping amounts of energy. (Ajinomoto did not respond to requests for comment.) 

None of this made much sense to Pastine, a chemist who sold his previous company, which specialized in recycling hard plastics, to an industrial chemicals company in 2019. Around that time, he started to believe that the chemicals industry could be slow to innovate, and he thought the same pattern was keeping chipmakers from finding better insulating materials. In the chip industry, he says, insulators have “kind of been looked at as the redheaded stepchild”—they haven’t seen the progress made with transistors and other chip components. 

He launched Thintronics that same year, with the hope that cracking the code on a better insulator could provide data centers with faster computing speeds at lower costs. That idea wasn’t groundbreaking—new insulators are constantly being researched and deployed—but Pastine believed that he could find the right chemistry to deliver a breakthrough. 

Thintronics says it will manufacture different insulators for all layers of the chip, for a system designed to swap into existing manufacturing lines. Pastine tells me the materials are now being tested with a number of industry players. But he declined to provide names, citing nondisclosure agreements, and similarly would not share details of the formula. 

Without more details, it’s hard to say exactly how well the Thintronics materials compare with competing products. The company recently tested its materials’ Dk values, which are a measure of how effective an insulator a material is. Venky Sundaram, a researcher who has founded multiple semiconductor startups but is not involved with Thintronics, reviewed the results. Some of Thintronics’ numbers were fairly average, he says, but their most impressive Dk value is far better than anything available today.

A rocky road ahead

Thintronics’ vision has already garnered some support. The company received a $20 million Series A funding round in March, led by venture capital firms Translink and Maverick, as well as a grant from the US National Science Foundation. 

The company is also seeking funding from the CHIPS Act. Signed into law by President Joe Biden in 2022, it’s designed to boost companies like Thintronics in order to bring semiconductor manufacturing back to American companies and reduce reliance on foreign suppliers. A year after it became law, the administration said that more than 450 companies had submitted statements of interest to receive CHIPS funding for work across the sector. 

The bulk of funding from the legislation is destined for large-scale manufacturing facilities, like those operated by Intel in New Mexico and Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Corporation (TSMC) in Arizona. But US Secretary of Commerce Gina Raimondo has said she’d like to see smaller companies receive funding as well, especially in the materials space. In February, applications opened for a pool of $300 million earmarked specifically for materials innovation. While Thintronics declined to say how much funding it was seeking or from which programs, the company does see the CHIPS Act as a major tailwind.

But building a domestic supply chain for chips—a product that currently depends on dozens of companies around the globe—will mean reversing decades of specialization by different countries. And industry experts say it will be difficult to challenge today’s dominant insulator suppliers, who have often had to adapt to fend off new competition. 

“Ajinomoto has been a 90-plus-percent-market-share material for more than two decades,” says Sundaram. “This is unheard-of in most businesses, and you can imagine they didn’t get there by not changing.”

One big challenge is that the dominant manufacturers have decades-long relationships with chip designers like Nvidia or Advanced Micro Devices, and with manufacturers like TSMC. Asking these players to swap out materials is a big deal.

“The semiconductor industry is very conservative,” says Larry Zhao, a semiconductor researcher who has worked in the dielectrics industry for more than 25 years. “They like to use the vendors they already know very well, where they know the quality.” 

Another obstacle facing Thintronics is technical: insulating materials, like other chip components, are held to manufacturing standards so precise they are difficult to comprehend. The layers where Ajinomoto dominates are thinner than a human hair. The material must also be able to accept tiny holes, which house wires running vertically through the film. Every new iteration is a massive R&D effort in which incumbent companies have the upper hand given their years of experience, says Sundaram.

If all this is completed successfully in a lab, yet another hurdle lies ahead: the material has to retain those properties in a high-volume manufacturing facility, which is where Sundaram has seen past efforts fail.

“I have advised several material suppliers over the years that tried to break into [Ajinomoto’s] business and couldn’t succeed,” he says. “They all ended up having the problem of not being as easy to use in a high-volume production line.” 

Despite all these challenges, one thing may be working in Thintronics’ favor: US-based tech giants like Microsoft and Meta are making headway in designing their own chips for the first time. The plan is to use these chips for in-house AI training as well as for the cloud computing capacity that they rent out to customers, both of which would reduce the industry’s reliance on Nvidia. 

Though Microsoft, Google, and Meta declined to comment on whether they are pursuing advancements in materials like insulators, Sundaram says these firms could be more willing to work with new US startups rather than defaulting to the old ways of making chips: “They have a lot more of an open mind about supply chains than the existing big guys.”

Modernizing data with strategic purpose

Data modernization is squarely on the corporate agenda. In our survey of 350 senior data and technology executives, just over half say their organization has either undertaken a modernization project in the past two years or is implementing one today. An additional one-quarter plan to do so in the next two years. Other studies also consistently point to businesses’ increased investment in modernizing their data estates.

It is no coincidence that this heightened attention to improving data capabilities coincides with interest in AI, especially generative AI, reaching a fever pitch. Indeed, supporting the development of AI models is among the top reasons the organizations in our research seek to modernize their data capabilities. But AI is not the only reason, or even the main one.

This report seeks to understand organizations’ objectives for their data modernization projects and how they are implementing such initiatives. To do so, it surveyed senior data and technology executives across industries. The research finds that many have made substantial progress and investment in data modernization. Alignment on data strategy and the goals of modernization appear to be far from complete in many organizations, however, leaving a disconnect between data and technology teams and the rest of the business. Data and technology executives and their teams can still do more to understand their colleagues’ data needs and actively seek their input on how to meet them.

Following are the study’s key findings:

AI isn’t the only reason companies are modernizing the data estate. Better decision-making is the primary aim of data modernization, with nearly half (46%) of executives citing this among their three top drivers. Support for AI models (40%) and for decarbonization (38%) are also major drivers of modernization, as are improving regulatory compliance (33%) and boosting operational efficiency (32%).

Data strategy is too often siloed from business strategy. Nearly all surveyed organizations recognize the importance of taking a strategic approach to data. Only 22% say they lack a fully developed data strategy. When asked if their data strategy is completely aligned with key business objectives, however, only 39% agree. Data teams can also do more to bring other business units and functions into strategy discussions: 42% of respondents say their data strategy was developed exclusively by the data or technology team.

Data strategy paves the road to modernization. It is probably no coincidence that most organizations (71%) that have embarked on data modernization in the past two years have had a data strategy in place for longer than that. Modernization goals require buy-in from the business, and implementation decisions need strategic guidance, lest they lead to added complexity or duplication.

Top data pain points are data quality and timeliness. Executives point to substandard data (cited by 41%) and untimely delivery (33%) as the facets of their data operations most in need of improvement. Incomplete or inaccurate data leads enterprise users to question data trustworthiness. This helps explain why the most common modernization measure taken by our respondents’ organizations in the past two years has been to review and upgrade data governance (cited by 45%).

Cross-functional teams and DataOps are key levers to improve data quality. Modern data engineering practices are taking root in many businesses. Nearly half of organizations (48%) are empowering cross-functional data teams to enforce data quality standards, and 47% are prioritizing implementing DataOps (cited by 47%). These sorts of practices, which echo the agile methodologies and product thinking that have become standard in software engineering, are only starting to make their way into the data realm.

Compliance and security considerations often hinder modernization. Compliance and security concerns are major impediments to modernization, each cited by 44% of the respondents. Regulatory compliance is mentioned particularly frequently by those working in energy, public sector, transport, and financial services organizations. High costs are another oft-cited hurdle (40%), especially among the survey’s smaller organizations.

This content was produced by Insights, the custom content arm of MIT Technology Review. It was not written by MIT Technology Review’s editorial staff.

How ASML took over the chipmaking chessboard

On a drab Monday morning in San Jose, California, at the drab San Jose Convention Center, attendees of the SPIE Advanced Lithography and Patterning Conference filed into the main ballroom until all the seats were taken and the crowd began to line the walls along the back and sides of the room. The convention brings together people who work in the chip industry from all over the world. And on this cool February morning, they had gathered to hear tech industry luminaries extol the late Gordon Moore, Intel’s cofounder and first CEO. 

Craig Barrett, also a former CEO of Intel, paid tribute, as did the legendary engineer Burn-Jeng Lin, a pioneer of immersion lithography, a patterning technology that enabled the chip industry to continue moving forward about 20 years ago. Mostly the speeches tended toward reflections on Moore himself—testaments to his genius, accomplishments, and humanity. But the last speaker of the morning, Martin van den Brink, took a different tone, more akin to a victory lap than a eulogy. Van den Brink is the outgoing co-president and CTO of ASML, the Dutch company that makes the machines that in turn let manufacturers produce the most advanced computer chips in the world. 

Moore’s Law holds that the number of transistors on an integrated circuit doubles every two years or so. In essence, it means that chipmakers are always trying to shrink the transistors on a microchip in order to pack more of them in. The cadence has been increasingly hard to maintain now that transistor dimensions measure in a few nanometers. In recent years ASML’s machines have kept Moore’s Law from sputtering out. Today, they are the only ones in the world capable of producing circuitry at the density needed to keep chipmakers roughly on track. It is the premise of Moore’s Law itself, van den Brink said, that drives the industry forward, year after year. 

To showcase how big an achievement it had been to maintain Moore’s Law since he joined ASML in 1984, van den Brink referred to the rice and chessboard problem, in which the number of grains of rice—a proxy for transistors—is doubled on each successive square. The exponential growth in the number of transistors that can be crammed on a chip since 1959 means that a single grain of rice back then has now become the equivalent of three ocean tankers, each 240 meters long, full of rice. It’s a lot of rice! Yet Moore’s Law compels the company—compels all of the technology industry—to keep pushing forward. Each era of computing, most recently AI, has brought increased demands, explained van den Brink. In other words, while three tankers full of rice may seem like a lot, tomorrow we’re going to need six. Then 12. Then 24. And so on. 

ASML’s technology, he assured the gathering, would be there to meet the demands, thanks to the company’s investment in creating tools capable of making ever finer features: the extreme-ultraviolet (EUV) lithography machines it rolled out widely in 2017, the high-numerical-aperture (high-NA) EUV machines it is rolling out now, and the hyper-NA EUV machines it has sketched out for the future. 

The tribute may have been designed for Gordon Moore, but at the end of van den Brink’s presentation the entire room rose to give him a standing ovation. Because if Gordon Moore deserves credit for creating the law that drove the progress of the industry, as van den Brink says, van den Brink and ASML deserve much of the credit for ensuring that progress remains possible. 

Yet that also means the pressure is on. ASML has to try and stay ahead of the demands of Moore’s Law. It has to continue making sure chipmakers can keep doubling the amount of rice on the chessboard. Will that be possible? Van den Brink sat down with MIT Technology Review to talk about ASML’s history, its legacy, and what comes next. 

Betting big on an unwieldy wavelength

ASML is such an undisputed leader in today’s chip ecosystem that it’s hard to believe the company’s market dominance really only dates back to 2017, when its EUV machine, after 17 years of development, upended the conventional process for making chips. 

Since the 1960s, photolithography has made it possible to pack computer chips with more and more components. The process involves crafting small circuits by guiding beams of light through a series of mirrors and lenses and then shining that light on a mask, which contains a pattern. Light conveys the chip design, layer by layer, eventually building circuits that form the computational building blocks of everything from smartphones to artificial intelligence. 

Martin Van Den Brink

ASML

Photolithographers have a limited set of tools at their disposal to make smaller designs, and for decades, the type of light used in the machine was the most critical. In the 1960s, machines used beams of visible light. The smallest features this light could draw on the chip were fairly large—a bit like using a marker to draw a portrait. 

Then manufacturers began using smaller and smaller wavelengths of light, and by the early 1980s, they could make chips with ultraviolet light. Nikon and Canon were the industry leaders. ASML, founded in 1984 as a subsidiary of Philips in Eindhoven, the Netherlands, was just a small player.

The way van den Brink tells it, he arrived at the company almost by accident. Philips was one of a few technology companies in Holland. When he began his career there in 1984 and was looking into the various opportunities at the company, he became intrigued by a photo of a lithography machine.

“I looked at the picture and I said, ‘It has mechanics, it has optics, it has software—this looks like a complex machine. I will be interested in that,” van den Brink told MIT Technology Review. “They said, well, you can do it, but the company will not be part of Philips. We are creating a joint venture with ASM International, and after the joint venture, you will not be part of Philips. I said yes because I couldn’t care less. And that’s how it began.”

When van den Brink joined in the 1980s, little about ASML made the company stand out from other major lithography players at the time. “We didn’t sell a substantial amount of systems until the ’90s. And we almost went bankrupt several times in that period,” van den Brink says. “So for us there was only one mission: to survive and show a customer that we could make a difference.”

By 1995, it had a strong enough foothold in the industry against competitors Nikon and Canon to go public. But all lithography makers were fighting the same battle to create smaller components on chips. 

If you could have eavesdropped on a meeting at ASML in the late 1990s about this predicament, you might have heard chatter about an idea called extreme-ultraviolet (EUV) lithography—along with concerns that it might never work). By that point, with pressure to condense chips beyond current capabilities, it seemed as if everyone was chasing EUV. The idea was to pattern chips with an even smaller wavelength of light (ultimately just 13.5 nanometers). To do so, ASML would have to figure out how to create, capture, and focus this light—processes that had stumped researchers for decades—and build a supply chain of specialized materials, including the smoothest mirrors ever produced. And to make sure the price point wouldn’t drive away its customers. 

Canon and Nikon were also pursuing EUV, but the US government denied them a license to participate in the consortium of companies and US national labs researching it. Both subsequently dropped out. Meanwhile ASML acquired the fourth major company pursuing EUV, SVG, in 2001. By 2006 it had shipped only two EUV prototype machines to research facilities, and it took until 2010 to ship one to a customer. Five years later, ASML warned in its annual report that EUV sales remained low, that customers weren’t eager to adopt the technology given its slow speed on the production line, and that if the pattern continued, it could have “material” effects on the business given the significant investment. 

Yet in 2017, after an investment of $6.5 billion in R&D over 17 years, ASML’s bet began to pay off. That year the company shipped 10 of its EUV machines, which cost over $100 million each, and announced that dozens more were on backorder. EUV machines went to the titans of semiconductor manufacturing—Intel, Samsung, and Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company (TSMC)—and a small number of others. With a brighter light source (meaning less time needed to impart patterns), among other improvements, the machines were capable of faster production speeds. The leap to EUV finally made economic sense to chipmakers, putting ASML essentially in a monopoly position.

Chris Miller, a history professor at Tufts University and author of Chip War: The Fight for the World’s Most Critical Technology, says that ASML was culturally equipped to see those experiments through. “It’s a stubborn willingness to invest in technology that most people thought wouldn’t work,” he told MIT Technology Review. “No one else was betting on EUV, because the development process was so long and expensive. It involves stretching the limits of physics, engineering, and chemistry.”

A key factor in ASML’s growth was its control of the supply chain. ASML acquired number of the companies it relies on, like Cymer, a maker of light sources. That strategy of pointedly controlling power in the supply chain extended to ASML’s customers, too. In 2012, it offered shares to its three biggest customers, which were able to maintain market dominance of their own in part because of the elite manufacturing power of ASML’s machines. 

“Our success depends on their success,” van den Brink told MIT Technology Review

It’s also a testament to ASML’s dominance that it is for the most part no longer allowed to sell its most advanced systems to customers in China. Though ASML still does business in China, in 2019, following pressure from the Trump administration, the Dutch government began imposing restrictions on ASML’s exports of EUV machines to China. Those rules were tightened further just last year and now also impose limits on some of the company’s deep-ultraviolet (DUV) machines, which are used to make less highly advanced chips than EUV systems.

Van den Brink says the way world leaders are now discussing lithography was unimaginable when the company began: “Our prime minister was sitting in front of Xi Jinping, not because he was from Holland—who would give a shit about Holland. He was there because we are making EUV.”

Just a few years after the first EUV machines shipped, ASML would face its second upheaval. Around the start of the pandemic, interest and progress in the field of artificial intelligence sent demand for computing power skyrocketing. Companies like OpenAI needed ever more powerful computer chips and by late 2022 the frenzy and investment in AI began to boil over. 

By that time, ASML was closing in on its newest innovation. Having already adopted a smaller wavelength of light (and realigned the entire semiconductor industry to it in the process), it now turned its attention to the other lever in its control: numerical aperture. That’s the measure of how much light a system can focus, and if ASML could increase it, the company’s machines could print even smaller components.

Doing so meant myriad changes. ASML had to source an even larger set of mirrors from its supplier Carl Zeiss, which had to be made ultra-smooth. Zeiss had to build entirely new machines, the sole purpose of which was to measure the smoothness of mirrors destined for ASML. The aim was to reduce the number of costly repercussions the change would have on the rest of the supply chain, like the companies that make reticles containing the designs of the chips. 

In December of 2023, ASML began shipping the first of its next-generation EUV device, a high-NA machine, to Intel’s facility in Hillsboro, Oregon. It’s an R&D version, and so far the only one in the field. It took seven planes and 50 trucks to get it to Intel’s plant, and installation of the machine, which is larger than a double-decker bus, will take six months. 

The high-NA machines will only be needed to produce the most precise layers of advanced chips for the industry; the designs on many others will still be printed using the previous generation of EUV machines or older DUV machines. 

ASML has received orders for high-NA machines from all its current EUV customers. They don’t come cheap: reports put the cost at $380 million. Intel was the first customer to strike, ordering the first machine available in early 2022. The company, which has lost significant market share to competitor TSMC, is betting that the new technology will give it a new foothold in the industry, even though other chipmakers will eventually have access to it too. 

“There are obvious benefits to Intel for being the first,” Miller says. “There are also obvious risks.” Sorting out which chips to use these machines for and how to get its money’s worth out of them will be a challenge for the company, according to Miller. 

The launch of these machines, if successful, might be seen as the crowning achievement of van den Brink’s career. But he is already moving on to what comes next.

The future

The next big idea for ASML, according to van den Brink and other company executives who spoke with MIT Technology Review, is hyper-NA technology. The company’s high-NA machines have a numerical aperture of .55. Hyper-NA tools would have a numerical aperture higher than 0.7. What that ultimately means is that hyper NA, if successful, will allow the company to create machines that let manufacturers shrink transistor dimensions even more—assuming that researchers can devise chip components that work well at such small dimensions. As it was with EUV in the early 2000s, it is still uncertain whether hyper NA is feasible—if nothing else, it could be cost prohibitive. Yet van den Brink projects cautious confidence. It is likely, he says, that the company will ultimately have three offerings available: low NA, high NA, and—if all goes well—hyper NA. 

“Hyper NA is a bit more risky,” says van den Brink. “We will be more cautious and more cost sensitive in the future. But if we can pull this off, we have a winning trio which takes care of all the advanced manufacturing for the foreseeable future.”

Yet although today everyone is banking on ASML to keep pushing the industry forward, there is speculation that a competitor could emerge from China. Van den Brink was dismissive of this possibility, citing the gap in even last-generation lithography. 

SMEE are making DUV machines, or at least claim they can,” he told MIT Technology Review, referring to a company that makes the predecessor to EUV lithography technology, and pointed out that ASML still has the dominant market share. The political pressures could mean more progress for China. But getting to the level of complexity involved in ASML’s suite of machines, with low, high, and hyper NA is another matter, he says: “I feel quite comfortable that this will be a long time before they can copy that.”

Miller, from Tufts University, is confident that Chinese companies will eventually develop these sorts of technologies on their own, but agrees that the question is when. “If it’s in a decade, it will be too late,” he says. 

The real question, perhaps, is not who will make the machines, but whether Moore’s Law will hold at all. Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang has already declared it dead. But when asked what he thought might eventually cause Moore’s Law to finally stall out, van den Brink rejected the premise entirely. 

“There’s no reason to believe this will stop. You won’t get the answer from me where it will end,” he said. “It will end when we’re running out of ideas where the value we create with all this will not balance with the cost it will take. Then it will end. And not by the lack of ideas.”

He had struck a similar posture during his Moore tribute at the SPIE conference, exuding confidence. “I’m not sure who will give the presentation 10 years from now,” he said, going back to his rice analogy. “But my successors,” he claimed, “will still have the opportunity to fill the chessboard.”

This story was updated to clarify information about ASML’s operations in China.

VR headsets can be hacked with an Inception-style attack

In the Christoper Nolan movie Inception, Leonardo DiCaprio’s character uses technology to enter his targets’ dreams to steal information and insert false details into their subconscious. 

A new “inception attack” in virtual reality works in a similar way. Researchers at the University of Chicago exploited a security vulnerability in Meta’s Quest VR system that allows hackers to hijack users’ headsets, steal sensitive information, and—with the help of generative AI—manipulate social interactions. 

The attack hasn’t been used in the wild yet, and the bar to executing it is high, because it requires a hacker to gain access to the VR headset user’s Wi-Fi network. However, it is highly sophisticated and leaves those targeted vulnerable to phishing, scams, and grooming, among other risks. 

In the attack, hackers create an app that injects malicious code into the Meta Quest VR system and then launch a clone of the VR system’s home screen and apps that looks identical to the user’s original screen. Once inside, attackers can see, record, and modify everything the person does with the headset. That includes tracking voice, gestures, keystrokes, browsing activity, and even the user’s social interactions. The attacker can even change the content of a user’s messages to other people. The research, which was shared with MIT Technology Review exclusively, is yet to be peer reviewed.

A spokesperson for Meta said the company plans to review the findings: “We constantly work with academic researchers as part of our bug bounty program and other initiatives.” 

VR headsets have slowly become more popular in recent years, but security research has lagged behind product development, and current defenses against attacks in VR are lacking. What’s more, the immersive nature of virtual reality makes it harder for people to realize they’ve fallen into a trap. 

“The shock in this is how fragile the VR systems of today are,” says Heather Zheng, a professor of computer science at the University of Chicago, who led the team behind the research. 

Stealth attack

The inception attack exploits a loophole in Meta Quest headsets: users must enable “developer mode” to download third-party apps, adjust their headset resolution, or screenshot content, but this mode allows attackers to gain access to the VR headset if they’re using the same Wi-Fi network. 

Developer mode is supposed to give people remote access for debugging purposes. However, that access can be repurposed by a malicious actor to see what a user’s home screen looks like and which apps are installed. (Attackers can also strike if they are able to access a headset physically or if a user downloads apps that include malware.) With this information, the attacker can replicate the victim’s home screen and applications. 

Then the attacker stealthily injects an app with the inception attack in it. The attack is activated and the VR headset hijacked when unsuspecting users exit an application and return to the home screen. The attack also captures the user’s display and audio stream, which can be livestreamed back to the attacker. 

In this way, the researchers were able to see when a user entered login credentials to an online banking site. Then they were able to manipulate the user’s screen to show an incorrect bank balance. When the user tried to pay someone $1 through the headset, the researchers were able to change the amount transferred to $5 without the user realizing. This is because the attacker can control both what the user sees in the system and what the device sends out. 

This banking example is particularly compelling, says Jiasi Chen, an associate professor of computer science at the University of Michigan, who researches virtual reality but was not involved in the research. The attack could probably be combined with other malicious tactics, such as tricking people to click on suspicious links, she adds. 

The inception attack can also be used to manipulate social interactions in VR. The researchers cloned Meta Quest’s VRChat app, which allows users to talk to each other through their avatars. They were then able to intercept people’s messages and respond however they wanted. 

Generative AI could make this threat even worse because it allows anyone to instantaneously clone people’s voices and generate visual deepfakes, which malicious actors could then use to manipulate people in their VR interactions, says Zheng. 

Twisting reality

To test how easily people can be fooled by the inception attack, Zheng’s team recruited 27 volunteer VR experts. The participants were asked to explore applications such as a game called Beat Saber, where players control light sabers and try to slash beats of music that fly toward them. They were told the study aimed to investigate their experience with VR apps. Without their knowledge, the researchers launched the inception attack on the volunteers’ headsets. 

The vast majority of participants did not suspect anything. Out of 27 people, only 10 noticed a small “glitch” when the attack began, but most of them brushed it off as normal lag. Only one person flagged some kind of suspicious activity. 

There is no way to authenticate what you are seeing once you go into virtual reality, and the immersiveness of the technology makes people trust it more, says Zheng. This has the potential to make such attacks especially powerful, says Franzi Roesner, an associate professor of computer science at the University of Washington, who studies security and privacy but was not part of the study.

The best defense, the team found, is restoring the headset’s factory settings to remove the app. 

The inception attack gives hackers many different ways to get into the VR system and take advantage of people, says Ben Zhao, a professor of computer science at the University of Chicago, who was part of the team doing the research. But because VR adoption is still limited, there’s time to develop more robust defenses before these headsets become more widespread, he says.