- If terrorists strike again, Bill believes he is ready
-- no matter what form the attacks might take. In his rural home he keeps
biowarfare chemical agent detection paper, airline smoke hoods, P100 disposable
protective face masks, a Geiger counter and radiation pills; plus a freezer
full of beans, 19 containers of water with filters and an air cleaner and
a roll of plastic and duct tape to fashion a "safe room" in case
of chemical attack.
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- Bill -- no last name, just "Bill," as he anonymously
posts on misc.survivalism newsgroup -- says he's kept this protective arsenal
around for years "just in case." He's an old-school survivalist,
once the target of widespread eye rolling and derision, now a respected
font of sought-after tips for staying alive in the wake of Sept. 11.
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- "My neighbor used to call me her 'psychotic neighbor,'"
says Bill. "Now she is asking me questions about self-protection and
stocking up on some things like food, getting protective masks, a battery-operated
radio, etc."
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- Ever since a handful of terrorists managed to commit
crimes that few Americans, other than Bill and his comrades, were able
to imagine, the scramble to be prepared for something akin to the apocalypse
has escalated mightily. There's been a nationwide run on gas masks; Cipro
sales are through the roof, as are military rations and chemical protection
suits. People who considered themselves prepared for the worst if they
had fresh batteries in their flashlights and beer in the fridge have begun
to ponder smallpox outbreaks, the destruction of major bridges and urban
tunnels; poison drinking water and general chaos.
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- Americans, eternally smitten by Hollywood action figures,
wild West pioneers, and lovable bootstrapping heroes, have always loved
a worst-case scenario. Witness the runaway success of the "ironic"
"The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook," which has instructed
hundreds of thousands of readers how to jump from a moving train, escape
from a sinking car, survive adrift at sea and perform an emergency tracheotomy.
The most popular television show of the last two years is called "Survivor."
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- But much comfort has come from the heavy influence of
fantasy and irony in this romance. Suddenly, we have proof that awful things
can, in fact, happen. We seriously contemplate the possibility that the
worst is still to come. And people like Bill -- the crackpots, extremists,
paranoiacs and alarmists of three months ago -- are the gurus of right
now.
-
- The iconic survivalist hasn't had a very positive public
image, due, in part, to the past behavior of survivalist-identified folks
like the Freemen and Randy Weaver. Just a few weeks ago, authorities in
Illinois seized 12,000 rounds of ammunition and bomb-making materials from
a group calling itself the United Survivalists of America, adding more
fuel to the idea that survivalists are violent anti-government alarmists
whose preparations are likely to trigger the all-consuming disasters they
predict.
-
- But many Americans who call themselves survivalists,
some of whom have only recently adopted the label, argue that a very small
percentage of all survivalists could be described as extreme. While the
survivalist community has its share of radical isolationists, gun nuts
and fundamentalist Christians, it also includes a somewhat benign corps
of hunters, outdoorsmen, farmers, libertarians, environmentalists and reasonable
grown-ups who simply believe in preparing for disasters. The divergent
strains of survivalism, say its boosters, all intersect with the collective
belief in self-reliance.
-
- The Live Free Survival movement, for example, has been
around for several decades and boasts some 400 members according to its
president. Ever flexible -- and plugged in enough to understand the publicity
value of latching onto current events -- the group has seized the threat
of terrorism as a big part of its motivation and promotion. The group originally
taught essential outdoor survival skills and hazard analysis and offered
instructions on how to prepare for nuclear war. It has broadened its advice
menu since Sept. 11 to include shopping guides to the best silent weapons
and nuclear fallout shelters, while recommending that in addition to the
portable "survival pack" that every American should have -- packed
with a minimum five days' of food and water, temporary shelter and medicine
-- they should include Tyvex suits and gas masks, in case of biological
attack.
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- Coincidentally, the group's long-held motto is ostensibly
patriotic -- survivalism, they say, is all about being a good American.
"You can't be your brother's keeper until you are your own keeper,"
explains James Jones, the group's president. "Being prepared is a
civic responsibility: Once you've done it, you can help other people. If
not, you may be a burden on the system or endanger your neighbors. It's
not being paranoid, it's good citizenship."
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- According to Jones, who prefers to be called a "self-reliance
and preparedness advocate" ("When we don't want to say 'survivalist,'
that's what we say," he explains), the Live Free Survival movement
was popular during the Cold War, but its membership fell off as concerns
about nuclear war faded.
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- "In the last few a years, since the Cold War downgraded,
everyone got a comfortable feeling, and our staff and volunteers went out
the window," says Jones. "Then this happened and now we're hard-pressed
to answer all the mail."
-
- In addition to firing off letters to Live Free Survival,
neophyte survivalists also are heading in droves to the Net for information
on what to do to prepare for attacks. There, they are finding emergency
FAQs and survivalist Web sites that offer instructions on how to install
solar heating systems, purchase gas masks and freeze-dry food for storage.
Jim Benson, the editor of the new online survivalism magazine ModernSurvivalist.net,
says that his subscriptions have doubled since Sept. 11, and he's obliging
his readers by filling his magazine with terrorism-related advice and information
about self-defense (in particular, how to use really large guns).
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- Benson sees a frustrating lack of specificity on the
part of the government about survival techniques as the main reason his
publication has become so popular. "The government is doing everything
they can to help us, but they can't promise anything. People can do a lot
more themselves to help themselves," says Benson, who hopes that the
new interest in survivalism will boost his publication. "Chance favors
the prepared. That's why people like to have things like gas masks, NBC
[nuclear-biological-chemical] suits to protect against radioactive fallout
or aerosol anthrax."
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- It is possible that a majority of Americans will not
rush to subscribe to Benson's publication, or buy themselves big guns and
a nuclear fallout suits; but the essence of Benson's belief -- that chance
favors the prepared -- is being cribbed by many who never before considered
themselves survivalists.
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- "I used to roll paranoid scenarios around in my
head for fun, but now, channeling Tom Clancy just isn't what it used to
be," says John Courte, a 35-year-old technical director at Digital
Domain in Venice, Calif. "The most horrible things we can think of
just became plausible, or even likely."
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- These days, Courte says, "I never have less than
a half-tank of gas in my Xterra," Courte says, in case he has to flee
the city. "In the back of it is a sleeping bag, a spare pair of hiking
boots, a couple of MREs [military ready-to-eat meals], a mag flashlight,
a pair of cargo pants, a jacket maps, and a Marine combat knife. This isn't
paranoia, this is readiness."
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- Michael, a 34-year-old medical administrator living in
the Pacific Northwest, asked that his full name not be used in his description
of the steps he has taken for survival. He has stocked up on food and water,
kerosene for his Coleman stove and first aid supplies; his camping gear
has been stashed close at hand under the bed, alongside copies of all his
important documents. He has updated his passports and applied for one for
his baby son, just in case, and has planned out routes of escape with his
wife.
-
- "Most importantly, my wife and I sat down and talked
about what we would do if bad things happened," he says. "How
would we decide to stay put or flee? If the latter, where would we go?
How would we get there? What could we expect to find once we got there?
Keep in mind, we're city dwellers, and like most people, we don't have
a second house in the country." Michael and his wife have put together
disaster plans for a number of scenarios, he says; nothing drastic, "but
at least now we feel a little more mentally prepared."
-
- These are exactly the kind of preparations that Bill's
crowd at misc.survivalism -- the online ground zero for survivalists --
would approve of. The newsgroup, which typically overflows with discussions
of everything from the merits of crossbows vs. flintlocks to recipes for
nutritious food pellets, is now avidly debating how to prepare for any
number of terrorist scenarios that might disrupt the system and send citizens
of America running for cover.
-
- Their grisly discussions have helped boost the survivalist
service industry, scrambling at the moment to keep in stock all the gas
masks, chemical suits, booties and gloves now in demand. TheEpicenter.com,
an online preparedness depot, already has run out of those supplies, and
is now struggling to meet requests for demand for MREs and alternate water
and energy sources.
-
- "In the last month we've seen a tenfold increase
in some products, maybe sixfold in others," says Brian Nelson of Epicenter.
"New stories will come out about the guys hanging out where the crop
dusters were -- and gas mask sales will go ballistic. Then it's stories
about how vulnerable the water supply is -- and then water barrels, filters,
purification systems go ballistic. Then there's a story about the food
supply or about daily rations we're dropping in Afghanistan, and then all
of the sudden the military meals will spike."
-
- In fact, much of this gear is not likely to be very useful
in the event of a terrorist attack. Many gas masks aren't capable of screening
out biological contaminants; and the mask, along with the biohazard suit,
has to be worn around the clock to be in place for a surprise attack. Doctors
don't advise self-diagnosing and treatment with Cipro, either: If you really
think you have anthrax, you're probably going to need to visit your doctor
anyway.
-
- Still, many Americans under the influence of a government-issue
generic request to be "beware of suspicious activities," are
succumbing to the advice of hardcore survivalists, tempted by what they
have seen and what they don't know, to be deeply pessimistic. And, in the
sense that it hammers home the point of preparedness, there is probably
little harm in hanging around with the survivalist crowd. Anyone who lives
in earthquake, tornado or hurricane territory knows that it doesn't hurt
to have at least a few days worth of food, water and candles, warm blankets
and first aid kits on hand.
-
- But does it hurt to also stash away military meals, water
barrels and a generator? Some say it does -- at least psychologically.
If gas masks and guns become the totems of the post-terror America, say
critics, Americans give up the pride of pre-terror America -- the freedom
to live without fear. And in some ways, almost any preparation can be interpreted
as surrender.
-
- Americans may have been naive to believe -- before Sept.
11 -- that we would always be safe at home. But, say those who oppose extreme
preparation for future terrorism, we would be equally naive to believe
that gas masks and drums of fresh water will somehow, like magic charms,
ward off the threat of terrorism. For that, they say, we must do the harder
work of helping facilitate geopolitical change.
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- http://www.salon.com/mwt/feature/2001/11/12/survivalists/index.html
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