"We have five decades of research on all kinds of disasters -- earthquakes, tornadoes, airplane crashes, etc. -- and people rarely lose control," Clarke said. "Policy-makers have yet to accept this. People are quite capable of following plans, even in the face of extreme calamities, but such plans must be there." - Lee Clarke

Clarke says that part of the panic myth is that people misinterpret their own, and others’, behavior as panic. "What they are usually reporting, though, are feelings of fear and not panic-stricken behavior." He explains that the myth provides authorities (i.e., decision-makers, politicians, and administrators) with an easy explanation for complex events. Even when panic does happen—say at soccer matches—focusing on it usually detracts attention from more important factors such as official misconduct or police over-reaction. In addition, by using pacifying speech (e.g., "Everything is under control...") to allay public fear and hiding information from the public, spokespersons cultivate distrust at a time when nothing could be more important to public safety than trust of the information that authorities disseminate.

Citing three disasters in which panicky behavior would be expected, Clarke shows that in dangerous situations (e.g., in a plane crash, a fire in a crowded hotel), people don’t usually turn against their neighbors or forget moral commitments. People rarely lose control. The same message rises from the rubble of the World Trade Center.In Disasters, Panic Is Rare; Altruism Dominates, ASA News

Almost eight years ago, in the summer after college as I entered the working world, I made my second wave of "adult" consumer purchases. The first wave, as I entered college, comprised most expensively a stereo and a computer. I replaced every single component in the computer case more than once before finally shelving it as hopelessly obsolete. The stereo I still have, except that I had to replace the receiver twice and the cd player once, but the speakers are original. The second wave including a car, some furniture, and a bicycle. Most of the furniture, transported home from IKEA on a Los Angeles freeway sticking out the sunroof of the car, has been replaced by other IKEA furniture. And the car's gone, too. But I still ride the bicycle almost every day - I rode it to work this morning. And this is why I felt betrayed when, after seven years of faithful service, the bicycle computer died.

It's not actually original equipment - I think I had to replace the first one after using it as a detachable pocket-watch and losing it - but it's of the same lineage. Every few years I have to replace the battery, and though I lost the manual a long time ago, a bit of fiddling always suffices to set the clock and tire size (which I miraculously remember. It's 2074. I think that's millimeters).

Well, it died last month. It got dimmer and dimmer, and then it just wouldn't wake up any more. I got a new battery, and put that in, and then you could see the display if you squinted and looked at an angle, but a day later even that was gone. So I needed a new bicycle computer.

The thing is, bicycle computers have infrastructure. They sit on "shoes," plastic clips on the handlebar with metal contacts that lead to wires that go down the front fork to a magnetic sensor that lines up with a revolving magnet on a wheel spoke. They installed the first one at the store, it's all covered with road grime, and has worked perfectly for seven years, except for when I change the front tire and put the wheel on backwards. I don't really want to futz with the shoe and the sensor, because I can tell it's going to be a pain in the ass. I just want to buy a new computer that fits the shoe. Of course, each manufacturer has a different shoe, so I need a new "Vetta C15," or at least some kind of Vetta.

I won't bother with the details of the visits to six different bicycle shops except to mention that Fremont Free Range Cycles is not open on Tuesdays, even if you go three Tuesdays in a row.

And Vetta doesn't make my model any more; in fact, they don't make any model with that shoe any more. In the end, I bought a CatEye Mity 3, because it was the cheapest on the rack at the bicycle store where I happened to be standing when I gave up on a simple replacement. Installing it was, as I had foretold, a pain in the ass. And when I finished, at a total cost of two months of calendar time, several billable hours, and $30 (twice what I paid for the old one), the replacement was in most respects worse that the original.

Why? Because it's a speedometer combined with a computer, and anything combined with a computer is a computer, and most people can't design computers. The old computer must have been designed by bicycle elves who have since departed across the Western Sea, because it actually worked. It told me how fast I was going, my average speed, my top speed, how far I'd gone, how long I'd been going, and the time of day. It did this with two unlabelled buttons on the front. Push the button on the right, it shows you different information. Push the button again, you see differenter information. If you push it a few more times, you're back where you started. Anything the computer can tell you, it will, if you just push the button enough times. Push the wrong button and nothing happens. Push both buttons and hold for two seconds, it resets the speed and distance for your new trip.

The new one had three basic modes, which you get to by pushing the button labelled Mode. Each mode has a different number of submodes, which you get to (if it's in AT mode, and don't ask me what AT mode is and what the alternatives are; I just know that AT mode has nothing to do with the Mode button) holding down the Start/Stop button, which is labelled S. The buttons are both on the bottom rim of the device, so that when you push them too hard you run the risk of popping the computer out of the holder and onto the street in front of - whoosh - behind you. Most of the screens display something cryptic like 0-Hr or "Tm 0.00.02. Setting the clock entails holding down three buttons at once - the two on the rim and a third, on the back of the computer and recessed so you need a third hand to hold the pin that you'll need to push it. It is, of course, inaccessible if the computer is mounted on the clip. But you knew that, didn't you? The instructions refer to the Set button, so make sure that you remember that that's the tricky one on the back and not the yellow button labelled S, which, remember, is Start/Stop except that holding it down for several seconds also does something non-start-stoppy; I think it changes you from one sub-mode to another sub-mode, which is something you'll have to do regularly because it each time you change the main Mode it goes to the first sub-mode, not to the sub-mode you left it in. But holding down the Mode button for two seconds also changes something. But not the same something.

I think I've reached an accomodation. I've got it set up so that I see the time and how fast I'm going. I'm not going to try and see other things, like how far I've gone or my top speed, because it's just not worth the pain. So while in theory the new computer does more than the old one, in practice it's not worth the bother. But by leaving it on current speed at least I can focus on the one improvement: it gives me tenths of mph instead of nearest 0.5. That's progress for you.

What, then, explains the administration's Iraq policy? I offer here my own account ... It's not an explanation that will satisfy anyone looking for a single cause such as "blood for oil." ...

Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld were not concerned about enriching American oil companies, but they were worried that if Iraq acquired nuclear weapons, Hussein could achieve dominance over a region vital to world economic stability. ...

The second consideration was more psychological. The September 11 attacks, combined with the subsequent anthrax episodes, created a national trauma -- a feeling of powerlessness in the face of the unknown. ... Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld believed that by knocking out Hussein they would reduce America's vulnerability to attack.