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.
"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).
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."
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.
"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."
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."
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."