Fear not: Americans have been very jittery lately. As we cautiously open our mail, terror is ever present. Here, we take a look at fear itself – Feature – Statistical Data Included
The passengers boarding the Virgin Atlantic Airways flight from London to Los Angeles were wary, but everyone began to relax after takeoff. In midflight, over Canada, an attendant noticed a suspicious object behind a seat. Immediately, the cabin erupted in panic. The plane made an emergency landing in Edmonton, Canada, the passengers were evacuated, and a bomb squad was dispatched. The suspicious item? A cell phone.
WE KNOW NOTHING WILL BE THE same after September 11, 2001. Yes, policies will change: Airline security will tighten, mail service will be examined, and restrictions on civil liberties must be accepted. These are the sorts of changes politicians propose and men and women in uniforms will carry out; they are the unavoidable inconveniences of everyday life.
Such changes are coming to pass, but the altered American landscape includes more than security measures and ID cards. On September 11, terrorists did more than destroy buildings; they scarred the American psyche. The details are telling: Pharmacists report an increased demand for anti-anxiety drugs and the antibiotic Cipro, and some HMOs have seen a 25 percent increase in calls.
We are having difficulty grappling with our sudden loss of security. In the weeks immediately after the attacks, a survey of 668 Americans by the Institute of Social Research in Ann Arbor, Michigan, reported that 49 percent of participants felt their sense of safety and security had been shaken. And some 62 percent of respondents said they had difficulty sleeping. In another poll of 1,015 Americans conducted by the Harvard School of Public Health and the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, 57 percent had taken steps to protect themselves–such as taking precautions when opening mail and avoiding public events.
In place of invulnerability, many people now harbor a small and disquieting fear–a fear of attack by unseen agents at unexpected times using unthinkable weapons. The most common objects or occurrences have now assumed horrific resonance. A plastic knife is no longer a utensil packed for a picnic, but a means to mass murder.
Psychologists study many kinds of fear. There are common phobias, such as the fear of spiders, and posttraumatic stress, the fears that spring from memories of dramatic, sometimes life-threatening events. But because most Americans are far removed from New York City and Washington, D.C., other sorts of fears are probably at work. In particular, psychologists will look for symptoms of generalized anxiety disorder, which creates an exaggerated fear response in people who have been emotionally scarred.
Over time, the general level of anxiety should ease. But some long-lasting effects will remain, and a few things will never be the same.
A MAN ON A FLIGHT TO SAN JOSE, California, opens an envelope and a powdery substance spills out. A fellow passenger alerts the flight attendant, reporting that he had dispersed the powder into the ventilation system. Once the plane lands, it is held on the tarmac for three hours and the FBI is called to investigate. The “powdery substance” was confetti enclosed in a greeting card.
Such an overreaction shows just how fearful ordinary people are. But there is nothing wrong with feeling fear: We all do at some point. Fear is one of the most basic emotions and is not, in itself, dangerous; it is part of a natural alarm system designed to react to or anticipate danger. And though that system was first employed to avoid natural predators–a lion on the prowl, say–it has been adapted over time to deal with abstract threats or even social situations. For some, a letter filled with a powdery substance or the sight of a man wearing a gas mask would create a distinct sensation of fear, even panic, though it would be hard to explain the exact threat to someone who lived just one hundred years ago.
Although the reaction to fear is perfectly natural, it can be unpleasant. Fear begins in the amygdala, a cluster of cells deep in the most primitive part of the brain that weighs information for emotional content and possible threat. If a threat is sensed, the amygdala sends out immediate signals. Simple reflexes are set off: a jump or a shout. And the adrenal glands in the kidneys begin pumping adrenaline and noradrenaline, two chemicals that act as messengers to trigger reactions all over the body. A rush of adrenaline and noradrenaline causes the heart to race, breathing to quicken, pupils to widen and saliva to dry up. In the extreme, it is common to experience hyperventilation, dizziness, trembling and even nausea.
Another physical reaction is a change in the blood’s circulation pattern–the vessels close to the skin constrict so that more blood is available to the large muscles. This redistribution is important because muscles in the arms and legs might be needed to run from or fight off an attacker. But it creates a distinct physical sensation–the blood running cold or a chill down the spine.
As an outgrowth of this ancient alarm system, fear also weakens the ability to concentrate. People who are anxious often complain that they are easily distracted from daily chores. That’s a normal part of the fear response: One of the most important aspects of dealing with danger is finding out where it is coming from. Instead of focusing on small tasks, the brain cries out to scan the environment and find the threat. In the distant past, the threat might have been a predator in the bushes. With the current threats coming not from tigers but from terrorists, people most often study the newspaper looking for clues to potential danger.
The entire design of the body’s alarm system is geared toward protecting the individual from threats. But people don’t just react to threats–they anticipate them, as well. Again, this kind of fear is part of the normal strategy humans have evolved to avoid danger. Anticipatory fear has two distinct modes: anxiety, a preoccupation with an impending threat, and worry, the internal struggle to find a way to escape the danger.
It is probably safe to say that most of the fear experienced since September 11 has been worry and anxiety. Americans have been anxious about attacks from anthrax-laced mail, they have worried about the availability of antibiotics and the safety of the water supply. Such anticipation is not only normal, it is healthy–often the best way to protect oneself is to spot a threat before it is imminent and find ways to avoid it.
For decades, many people feared the threat of nuclear war. Indeed, after the Soviet Union demonstrated its nuclear weapons in 1949, many Americans were beset by the kinds of worries and anxieties that some people now feel about the possibility of terrorist attacks. In fact, many people were certain that civilization as we know it was about to end–a feeling made stronger by books and movies, such as “On the Beach” and “The Day After,” set in postapocalyptic futures.
This worry about nuclear annihilation led to actions such as building bomb shelters and installing the so-called hotline between Moscow and Washington. Indeed, one can argue that taking such steps in response to cold-war hysteria kept nuclear war at bay.
YET SOME FEARS PERSIST IN WAYS that are not advantageous to the fearful. Those sorts of fears create more problems than they solve, paralyze rather than motivate. Anxiety disorders are a significant mental health problem in the United States–about one in four people experience one form at some point in their lives. Several variants have been identified, from social anxiety disorder, a fear based on social scrutiny, to panic disorder, in which a person is actually afraid of fear itself.
Sometimes, though, a person may develop anxiety or worry about potential catastrophes to an extent far beyond the normal fear response. Even though the individual may not think she is worrying too much, her anxieties, in fact, cause an enormous amount of stress and may even keep her from fully participating in everyday life. This sort of exaggerated worry is known as generalized anxiety disorder (GAD). Some 4 million American adults have GAD, and it afflicts women twice as often as it does men.
The development of GAD appears to involve a small genetic factor. In July 2001, researchers from the Medical College of Virginia in Richmond reported in the Journal of Nervous and Mental Disorders that a study of 3,100 twins suggests that inherited traits account for some 15 to 20 percent of the vulnerability to GAD; the other factors are environmental.
The National Institute of Mental Health describes the symptoms of GAD this way: People with GAD can’t seem to shake their concerns, even though they usually realize that their anxiety is more intense than the situation warrants. Their worries are accompanied by physical symptoms, especially trembling, twitching, muscle tension, headaches, irritability, sweating or hot flashes.
The physical symptoms of GAD, then, mirror the body’s reaction to fear. Indeed, GAD can be thought of as living in a state of constant, if low-level, fear. But unlike the normal causes of fear–real threats that require a serious response–generalized anxiety disorder exaggerates the amount of danger arising from a potential situation. People with GAD tend to overestimate the likelihood of harm coming from a given situation and view minor or ambiguous events as catastrophes. If normal fear is an alarm, GAD is a false alarm you can’t turn off.
Normal worrying differs from excessive worrying in amount, not in kind. A study of 1,588 college students, published in the Journal of Abnormal Psychology by psychologists at Pennsylvania State University and Elizabethtown College in Pennsylvania, found that there was no clear way to separate levels of worry into two tidy groups. Instead, there seems to be a continuum of worry.
Research suggests that GAD is linked to the brain’s storage of emotionally charged memories. The feelings one has at the time of an event appear to play an important role in the strength of later memories. Although all memories fade over time, the ones connected with the most passionate emotions remain the most indelible.
From the evolutionary perspective, that makes sense: Memories are stored so that we can gain information about the world; so remembering emotional events helps us duplicate our biggest triumphs and avoid repeating our most ignominious defeats. The best way to do that is to retain the memory with a mental tag that conveys an emotional message.
Sometimes, though, emotionally laden memories of a dangerous situation get stored in a confusing way. That’s particularly true of threats that may be somewhat abstract in nature. If a snake has threatened you, you know what to look out for in the future. But for Americans who feel threatened by terrorism, the danger signs are not exactly clear. Indeed, in the weeks after September 11, the news was filled with details of the hijackings and reports of anthrax bacteria arriving in the mail. These images, as well as predictions that future attacks are 100 percent certainties, are all “tagged” with fearful emotions.
Once a memory has been tagged with fear, the brain is ready to respond when it senses something that triggers that memory. It is almost as if a person becomes scarred emotionally and will react anytime the wound is touched. To test this model, Schmidt conducted a study of some 1,300 men and women in their first year at the U.S. Air Force Academy. Cadets who had reported having a panic attack in the past were found to be more likely to believe that anxieties are harmful–which is itself a cause of panic attacks. After experiencing a panic attack, a person becomes more vulnerable to additional attacks. This suggests that traumatic events in a person’s past may play a large part in creating anxiety disorders.
Psychologists believe such scarring is the result of a person experiencing an unexpected personal loss, some event that makes him feel the world is a threatening place. But there are many people with GAD who have not had such personal losses. Instead, seeing friends experience a tragedy or even receiving mistaken information about potential risks is enough to trigger exaggerated anxiety.
Whatever the cause, once the fear structure is in place, even the most everyday occurrences can instill deep anxieties. If the fear involves the health and safety of your children, for instance, then simply watching them board a school bus can be unsettling.
IT’S IMPORTANT TO REMEMBER that, on balance, fear is a good thing. It warns us of imminent dangers and reminds us of past threats. Many ingenious solutions–from the Constitution to the Internet–have come from worrying about difficult problems.
The fears that resulted from the attacks on the World Trade Center have been paralyzing for some. For others, the anxiety has led to extreme overreactions–such as refusing to enter a post office.
In time, perhaps we can put these fears to constructive use. Rather than panic at the sight of a man in a turban, read up on other cultures. Instead of worrying about the supply of antibiotics, research how difficult it is to contract anthrax.
In the wake of the most horrendous attacks in American history, it is healthy to feel some fear. Just don’t allow that fear to defeat you.
READ MORE ABOUT IT:
The Anxiety Epidemic Billie Sahley, Ph.D. (Pain & Stress, 1999)
Stop the Nightmares of Trauma Roger Callahan, Ph.D. (Professional Press, 2000)
Rapid Eye Technology Ranae Johnson, Ph.D. (Rain Tree Press, 1996)
Also visit: www.selfhelpuniv.com
RELATED ARTICLE: The normal abnormal.
By Ray Monsour Scurfield, D.S.W.
People often feel they must be crazy to continue feeling bothered by the events of September 11. Yet trauma is unforgettable. It is normal to be bothered, months or even years later. Symptoms will be evoked in almost everyone. Indeed, as concentration-camp survivor Viktor Frankl has said, “An abnormal reaction to an abnormal situation is normal behavior.” Therefore, to react “normally” to the horrific acts of September 11 is abnormal.
1. Immersion in media coverage: Dwelling on events to the point that it interferes with everyday life.
2. Avoidance or minimization: Carrying on with life as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened.
3. Task and activity-oriented tunnel vision: Focusing on daily tasks and remaining detached from feelings and intrusive thoughts.
4. Resurgence of memories: New pain triggers pain from past trauma.
5. Inappropriate behaviors and altitudes: Trauma can bring out the worst–price gouging, tasteless humor about recent events.
6. Hyperreactivity, intolerance: Reacting negatively to the behaviors and altitudes of people who are going on with life as usual.
7. Preoccupation with what happened and what might happen: Fear of environmental dangers, loss of sense of safely.
8. Marked emotionality: Crying, disturbance of sleep, irritability, sadness, anxiety, grief, rage, fear, nausea, guilt, change in appetite, feelings of helplessness or pessimism.
9. Racist stereotyping: Tendency to dehumanize the enemy.
10. Feeling blessed or cursed: Belief in a higher power is typically affected.
Strategies for Coping: There are simple strategies to get back on track: Rest, exercise, eat a healthy diet, prioritize what is important. Here are a few more suggestions specific to recovery:
1. Get back to everyday routines: Find a balance between reflection and introspection versus routines and activities.
2. Remember what worked before: There is no need for new strategies; do things you normally enjoy.
3. Reassess priorities: Dedicate attention to what is most important.
4. What lessons have you learned? Engage in constructive discussion by talking, writing and speaking about it.
6. Balance: Keep up with current events yet pay attention to yourself.
7. Find positives in the negatives: For every negative aspect there is a potential positive corollary. For example, after September 11 came a sense of caring. By helping others you will reinforce your own self-esteem.
Ray Monsour Scurfield, D.S.W, L.C.S.W, is an assistant professor of social work at the University of Southern Mississippi.
RELATED ARTICLE: Getting past the trauma.
By Michael Seeber
A 200-foot-long plywood wall at Pier 94 stands as an impromptu symbol of grief. It is covered with photocopied sheets, each one displaying a photograph depicting a highlight of a person’s life: a graduation portrait or a wedding picture or a vacation snapshot. Thousands of pictures, every one of them portraying a person who died in the September 11 attack on the World Trade Center in New York.
“Something this huge is incredibly difficult to process,” says Margaret Pepe, an officer of disaster mental health at the Red Cross. The psychological toll is enormous: 1,600 mental-health workers contacted more than 57,000 people in the first three weeks after the attack. And the magnitude of the disaster challenges our understanding of grief. “Grief moves through shock and denial and anger,” says Pepe. “But here in New York, the sheer scope of it is slowing the process down. It is taking a lot longer to go through shock and denial than we see in other types of disasters.” In fact, reports showed a dramatic rise in drug and alcohol abuse in the months following the attack.
Although the victims’ families can’t shake off shock and numbness, the rescue workers–firemen, National Guardsmen and volunteers from across the country–have quickly moved on to anger. For them every day at work is like a funeral, having to return to the horrific scene and see comrade after comrade pulled from the rubble. “Here, the rescue workers have been working nonstop every day at the site with constant exposure to the trauma of finding body parts. What we have known about acute stress–studies about functioning under stress–we have to put that knowledge aside. It just doesn’t apply here.”
Allen Russell, a Red Cross social worker from Atlanta, is on the last day of his two-week assignment. He is exhausted, his eyes red and watery. His voice occasionally quivers when he speaks. “We have seen the normal expectations of reaction to trauma magnified. The enormity of it sucks the energy out of you,” he says while thinking about the people he has counseled.
“I try to use humor as a way of starting a conversation,” says Maura Cain, a licensed professional counselor from Alabama. She works at one of the respite centers for rescuers on the very edge of Ground Zero. “If I see someone sitting alone, I’ll say, `Are you really going to eat all that?'”
But reaching a worker on the edge of shock is not always as simple as making a joke. “Making contact challenges every bit of creativity you have; sometimes
they simply can’t talk,” says Russell. “They just need someone there to be a witness to their grief so that they can cry.”
THE RED CROSS LIMITS ITS mental-health workers to just two weeks at a disaster site. Even so, the toll is obvious on the faces of those volunteers about to head home. To disperse the accumulated burden of grief, the Red Cross provides counselors for the counselors. But there are also more informal consolations. “We are a pretty demonstrative group,” explains Russell. “We monitor each other all day and give a hug or pat on the back. It’s the only way you can get through it.”
Brad Schmidt, Ph.D., of Ohio State University, is an expert on fear. Jeffrey Winters is a freelance writer based in New York.
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