The Code Book (2 page)

Although cryptography is now having a major impact on civilian activities, it should be noted that military cryptography remains an important subject. It has been said that the First World War was the chemists’ war, because mustard gas and chlorine were employed for the first time, and that the Second World War was the physicists’ war, because the atom bomb was detonated. Similarly, it has been argued that the Third World War would be the mathematicians’ war, because mathematicians will have control over the next great weapon of war—information. Mathematicians have been responsible for developing the codes that are currently used to protect military information. Not surprisingly, mathematicians are also at the forefront of the battle to break these codes.

While describing the evolution of codes and their impact on history, I have allowed myself a minor detour.
Chapter 5
describes the decipherment of various ancient scripts, including Linear B and Egyptian hieroglyphics. Technically, cryptography concerns communications that are deliberately designed to keep secrets from an enemy, whereas the writings of ancient civilizations were not intended to be indecipherable: it is merely that we have lost the ability to interpret them. However, the skills required to uncover the meaning of archaeological texts are closely related to the art of codebreaking. Ever since reading
The Decipherment of Linear B
, John Chadwick’s description of how an ancient Mediterranean text was unraveled, I have been struck by the astounding intellectual achievements of those men and women who have been able to decipher the scripts of our ancestors, thereby allowing us to read about their civilizations, religions and everyday lives.

Turning to the purists, I should apologize for the title of this book.
The Code Book
is about more than just codes. The word “code” refers to a very particular type of secret communication, one that has declined in use over the centuries. In a code, a word or phrase is replaced with a word, number or symbol. For example, secret agents have codenames, words that are used instead of their real names in order to mask their identities. Similarly, the phrase
Attack at dawn
could be replaced by the codeword
Jupiter
, and this word could be sent to a commander in the battlefield as a way of baffling the enemy. If headquarters and the commander have previously agreed on the code, then the meaning of Jupiter will be clear to the intended recipient, but it will mean nothing to an enemy who intercepts it. The alternative to a code is a cipher, a technique that acts at a more fundamental level, by replacing letters rather than whole words. For example, each letter in a phrase could be replaced by the next letter in the alphabet, so that
A
is replaced by
B, B
by
C
, and so on.
Attack at dawn
thus becomes
Buubdl bu ebxo
. Ciphers play an integral role in cryptography, and so this book should really have been called
The Code and Cipher Book
. I have, however, forsaken accuracy for snappiness.

As the need arises, I have defined the various technical terms used within cryptography. Although I have generally adhered to these definitions, there will be occasions when I use a term that is perhaps not technically accurate, but which I feel is more familiar to the non-specialist. For example, when describing a person attempting to break a cipher, I have often used
codebreaker
rather than the more accurate
cipherbreaker
. I have done this only when the meaning of the word is obvious from the context. There is a glossary of terms at the end of the book. More often than not, though, crypto-jargon is quite transparent: for example,
plaintext
is the message before encryption, and
ciphertext
is the message after encryption.

Before concluding this introduction, I must mention a problem that faces any author who tackles the subject of cryptography: the science of secrecy is largely a secret science. Many of the heroes in this book never gained recognition for their work during their lifetimes because their contribution could not be publicly acknowledged while their invention was still of diplomatic or military value. While researching this book, I was able to talk to experts at Britain’s Government Communications Headquarters (GCHQ), who revealed details of extraordinary research done in the 1970s which has only just been declassified. As a result of this declassification, three of the world’s greatest cryptographers can now receive the credit they deserve. However, this recent revelation has merely served to remind me that there is a great deal more going on, of which neither I nor any other science writer is aware. Organizations such as GCHQ and America’s National Security Agency continue to conduct classified research into cryptography, which means that their breakthroughs remain secret and the individuals who make them remain anonymous.

Despite the problems of government secrecy and classified research, I have spent the final chapter of this book speculating about the future of codes and ciphers. Ultimately, this chapter is an attempt to see if we can predict who will win the evolutionary struggle between codemaker and codebreaker. Will codemakers ever design a truly unbreakable code and succeed in their quest for absolute secrecy? Or will codebreakers build a machine that can decipher any message? Bearing in mind that some of the greatest minds work in classified laboratories, and that they receive the bulk of research funds, it is clear that some of the statements in my final chapter may be inaccurate. For example, I state that quantum computers—machines potentially capable of breaking all today’s ciphers—are at a very primitive stage, but it is possible that somebody has already built one. The only people who are in a position to point out my errors are also those who are not at liberty to reveal them.

1 The Cipher of Mary Queen of Scots

O
n the morning of Saturday, October 15, 1586, Queen Mary entered the crowded courtroom at Fotheringhay Castle. Years of imprisonment and the onset of rheumatism had taken their toll, yet she remained dignified, composed and indisputably regal. Assisted by her physician, she made her way past the judges, officials and spectators, and approached the throne that stood halfway along the long, narrow chamber. Mary had assumed that the throne was a gesture of respect toward her, but she was mistaken. The throne symbolized the absent Queen Elizabeth, Mary’s enemy and prosecutor. Mary was gently guided away from the throne and toward the opposite side of the room, to the defendant’s seat, a crimson velvet chair.

Mary Queen of Scots was on trial for treason. She had been accused of plotting to assassinate Queen Elizabeth in order to take the English crown for herself. Sir Francis Walsingham, Elizabeth’s Principal Secretary, had already arrested the other conspirators, extracted confessions, and executed them. Now he planned to prove that Mary was at the heart of the plot, and was therefore equally culpable and equally deserving of death.

Walsingham knew that before he could have Mary executed, he would have to convince Queen Elizabeth of her guilt. Although Elizabeth despised Mary, she had several reasons for being reluctant to see her put to death. First, Mary was a Scottish queen, and many questioned whether an English court had the authority to execute a foreign head of state. Second, executing Mary might establish an awkward precedent—if the state is allowed to kill one queen, then perhaps rebels might have fewer reservations about killing another, namely Elizabeth. Third, Elizabeth and Mary were cousins, and their blood tie made Elizabeth all the more squeamish about ordering her execution. In short, Elizabeth would sanction Mary’s execution only if Walsingham could prove beyond any hint of doubt that she had been part of the assassination plot.

Figure 1
Mary Queen of Scots.(
photo credit 1.1
)

The conspirators were a group of young English Catholic noblemen intent on removing Elizabeth, a Protestant, and replacing her with Mary, a fellow Catholic. It was apparent to the court that Mary was a figurehead for the conspirators, but it was not clear that she had actually given her blessing to the conspiracy. In fact, Mary had authorized the plot. The challenge for Walsingham was to demonstrate a palpable link between Mary and the plotters.

On the morning of her trial, Mary sat alone in the dock, dressed in sorrowful black velvet. In cases of treason, the accused was forbidden counsel and was not permitted to call witnesses. Mary was not even allowed secretaries to help her prepare her case. However, her plight was not hopeless because she had been careful to ensure that all her correspondence with the conspirators had been written in cipher. The cipher turned her words into a meaningless series of symbols, and Mary believed that even if Walsingham had captured the letters, then he could have no idea of the meaning of the words within them. If their contents were a mystery, then the letters could not be used as evidence against her. However, this all depended on the assumption that her cipher had not been broken.

Unfortunately for Mary, Walsingham was not merely Principal Secretary, he was also England’s spymaster. He had intercepted Mary’s letters to the plotters, and he knew exactly who might be capable of deciphering them. Thomas Phelippes was the nation’s foremost expert on breaking codes, and for years he had been deciphering the messages of those who plotted against Queen Elizabeth, thereby providing the evidence needed to condemn them. If he could decipher the incriminating letters between Mary and the conspirators, then her death would be inevitable. On the other hand, if Mary’s cipher was strong enough to conceal her secrets, then there was a chance that she might survive. Not for the first time, a life hung on the strength of a cipher.

The Evolution of Secret Writing

Some of the earliest accounts of secret writing date back to Herodotus, “the father of history” according to the Roman philosopher and statesman Cicero. In
The Histories
, Herodotus chronicled the conflicts between Greece and Persia in the fifth century
B.C
., which he viewed as a confrontation between freedom and slavery, between the independent Greek states and the oppressive Persians. According to Herodotus, it was the art of secret writing that saved Greece from being conquered by Xerxes, King of Kings, the despotic leader of the Persians.

The long-running feud between Greece and Persia reached a crisis soon after Xerxes began constructing a city at Persepolis, the new capital for his kingdom. Tributes and gifts arrived from all over the empire and neighboring states, with the notable exceptions of Athens and Sparta. Determined to avenge this insolence, Xerxes began mobilizing a force, declaring that “we shall extend the empire of Persia such that its boundaries will be God’s own sky, so the sun will not look down upon any land beyond the boundaries of what is our own.” He spent the next five years secretly assembling the greatest fighting force in history, and then, in 480
B.C
., he was ready to launch a surprise attack.

However, the Persian military buildup had been witnessed by Demaratus, a Greek who had been expelled from his homeland and who lived in the Persian city of Susa. Despite being exiled he still felt some loyalty to Greece, so he decided to send a message to warn the Spartans of Xerxes’ invasion plan. The challenge was how to dispatch the message without it being intercepted by the Persian guards. Herodotus wrote:

As the danger of discovery was great, there was only one way in which he could contrive to get the message through: this was by scraping the wax off a pair of wooden folding tablets, writing on the wood underneath what Xerxes intended to do, and then covering the message over with wax again. In this way the tablets, being apparently blank, would cause no trouble with the guards along the road. When the message reached its destination, no one was able to guess the secret, until, as I understand, Cleomenes’ daughter Gorgo, who was the wife of Leonidas, divined and told the others that if they scraped the wax off, they would find something written on the wood underneath. This was done; the message was revealed and read, and afterward passed on to the other Greeks.

As a result of this warning, the hitherto defenseless Greeks began to arm themselves. Profits from the state-owned silver mines, which were usually shared among the citizens, were instead diverted to the navy for the construction of two hundred warships.

Xerxes had lost the vital element of surprise and, on September 23, 480
B.C
., when the Persian fleet approached the Bay of Salamis near Athens, the Greeks were prepared. Although Xerxes believed he had trapped the Greek navy, the Greeks were deliberately enticing the Persian ships to enter the bay. The Greeks knew that their ships, smaller and fewer in number, would have been destroyed in the open sea, but they realized that within the confines of the bay they might outmaneuver the Persians. As the wind changed direction the Persians found themselves being blown into the bay, forced into an engagement on Greek terms. The Persian princess Artemisia became surrounded on three sides and attempted to head back out to sea, only to ram one of her own ships. Panic ensued, more Persian ships collided and the Greeks launched a full-blooded onslaught. Within a day, the formidable forces of Persia had been humbled.