The Age of the Fear of Terror

In 2001, about 30,000 Americans committed suicide, roughly 18,000 were killed in drunk driving accidents, and 14,000 were homicide victims.

But the statistic that mattered most was 3,000 -- the number of people murdered in the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, a tragedy that spread panic across the country. In response, Americans sent a clear message to our leaders: This can never happen again. If it does, we will hold you personally responsible.

President Bush acknowledged our mood through actions as big as our anger and fear, launching a "war on terror" that "will not end until every terrorist group of global reach has been found, stopped and defeated."

Though America has not suffered another direct attack on our soil, Bush's popularity has plummeted amid a series of difficulties, miscalculations and deceptions. Yet even as a string of critical books -- including "Fiasco," "Hubris" and "Imperial Hubris" -- document his failures, the basic narrative of our times, felt by the American people and articulated by the president, remains unchallenged: We are fighting a powerful, shadowy enemy ever willing and able to destroy us.

Five years after 9/11, Americans will accept all manner of death, except by the hands of terrorists. For that we have zero tolerance. John Kerry learned this lesson in 2004, when he was pilloried for suggesting that we will never vanquish terrorism, that our goal should be to render it a "nuisance" like prostitution or illegal gambling.

Since then fearful Democrats have castigated Bush's prosecution of the war on terror, rather than his description of it. They have depicted Iraq as a diversion from that effort, without challenging his basic assumptions about it. As a result, the global struggle has become a hostage to domestic politics. We argue over "Who's stronger?" and "Who's to blame?" instead of pursuing the crucial question raised after 9/11 -- "What are we up against?"

Our collective failure to focus on the motives, methods, capabilities and aims of our enemies has exacted a steep price. "If anything, we appear to know less about the nature of our adversaries in the war on terrorism than we did when we began," Louise Richardson writes in her vital new book, "What Terrorists Want: Understanding the Enemy, Containing the Threat" (Random House, $25.95, 312 pages).

A senior lecturer at Harvard University who grew up in Ireland when the IRA was at its peak, Richardson reminds us that Osama bin Laden and his acolytes did not invent terrorism. Their motives and methods fit a wider tradition of terror -- from the Zealots who attacked Roman soldiers, to medieval period Assassins to today's Tamil Tigers in Sri Lanka. She also argues that America's response to 9/11 corresponds to actions taken by other governments facing strange and deadly foes.

"The first reaction," she writes, "is almost always to demonstrate resolve by the adoption of a draconian response that goes largely unchallenged by the public."

Just as we found it hard to believe that a lone gunman had killed President Kennedy, we couldn't accept that a small, relatively weak band of ideologues could have produced such damage, whose impact is better measured by its psychological blow than its body count.

"In responding to the attacks of 9/11, Americans opted to accept al-Qaeda's language of cosmic warfare at face value and respond accordingly," Richardson writes, "rather than respond to al-Qaeda based on an objective assessment of its resources and capabilities relative to their own."

As a result, we elevated al-Qaeda, making it seem a worthy adversary. Bin Laden may be as evil as Hitler, but he lacks the dictator's resources. In addition, we defined the battlefield on the terrorists' terms, turning their weakness into a strength. "By dispatching any operative into any Starbucks, subway station, or shopping mall in the country and blowing it up," Richardson writes, "a terrorist group could demonstrate that the most powerful country in the history of the world has not been able to beat it."