TOKYO -- Long before anthrax entered America's daily vocabulary, a doomsday cult in Japan was experimenting with the substance to explore ways to kill as many people as possible.
In 1993, members of the Aum Shinrikyo (Supreme Truth) cult sprayed anthrax into the air above its Tokyo headquarters. It was later found to be a harmless strain used as a vaccine for cattle. Besides complaints of a foul smell, nothing came of it.
But the Aum Shinrikyo cult's forays into germ warfare and chemical weapons didn't start or end with anthrax. It also did research on the botulism microbe and poisonous gases and at one point tried to obtain samples of the Ebola virus.
On March 20, 1995, it finally found a formula for wicked success – plastic bags filled with sarin, a nerve gas. Cult members used umbrellas to puncture the bags on crowded Tokyo subways during morning rush hour and exited quickly. Thousands were soon coughing and going into spasms. Mass chaos ensued. Twelve people died, and 5,500 were injured. Many are still suffering physical and psychological effects.
Seven years later, although several former cult leaders have been sentenced to death, many say the government has done little to aid the victims and even less to ready itself for future acts of terrorism.
"Unfortunately, the Japanese government has done very little since 1995," said Masashi Nishihara, president of Japan's National Defense Academy. "We are not very well prepared. We say it's a typhoon mentality -- we wait for it to pass, breathe a sigh of relief, don't worry about the next one. It costs a lot of money to build a strong house."
Japan's experience is relevant to the United States in the wake of the Sept. 11 terror attacks, with the still-unsolved anthrax mailings and the vulnerabilities they revealed in the nation's security.
Bush administration officials have cited bioterrorism as a major threat facing America. Funding for defense against biological terrorism would increase by more than 300 percent, to $5.9 billion, under the budget President Bush sent to Congress this year.
In Japan, instead of analyzing how the sarin gas attack could have taken place and trying to prepare for future catastrophes, authorities treated the incident simply as a criminal case, said Shoko Egawa, a free-lance journalist and Japan's most renowned expert on Aum Shinrikyo.
"They weren't thinking so much about crisis management or terrorism but how to solve the crime," she said.
The government enacted two countermeasures in the aftermath of the 1995 attack. It tightened access to materials that could be used to make chemical weapons and passed a law subjecting Aum Shinrikyo to surveillance. The surveillance law is reviewed every three years.
"If Aum is cunning enough to stay quiet for three years, that would mean the surveillance would stop," said Shizue Takahashi, whose husband died in the subway attack. "I fear what would happen after that because the organization is still intact and active."
Japan has refrained from outlawing the cult or taking harsher measures because of its strong belief in religious freedom. Nor, after much debate, has it passed a law giving the prime minister expanded powers in case of emergency.
Meanwhile, Aum Shinrikyo continues to recruit new members.
The man believed to be the cult's second-in-command, Fumihiro Joyu, was released from prison two years ago after serving four years for perjury and forgery. The cult promptly changed its name to Aleph, the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet.
To the amazement of many, it is finding willing converts. A report by the Japanese Justice Ministry last year said the cult is using the Internet to attract new followers and has more than 1,650 members. Although that is down from the 10,000 it claimed at its peak, membership is growing, according to the report.
It has resumed ties with Aum Shinrikyo members in Russia, where it once claimed 30,000 followers and half a dozen centers. It also had branches in New York, Bonn, Germany, and other major cities. Three Russian cultists were sentenced last month in Vladivostok for planning to detonate bombs in Japan in 2000 to free the imprisoned leader, Shoko Asahara. They got terms ranging from 4 1/2 to eight years.
The cult also announced late last year that it was starting up a software development firm. Aum Shinrikyo once ran a plethora of businesses, from computer consulting to noodle shops.
"They are sly and persistent enough to get around the laws and convince the public they are a decent and well-meaning organization," Takahashi said.
For the victims and their families, although they were awarded some compensation after suing the cult, the government has not responded to their requests for financial assistance, continued medical treatment or research into the long-term effects of sarin exposure, Takahashi said.
A survey of 1,000 of the victims found 20 percent still suffered physical effects -- including vision problems and mental disorders -- seven years later. Some have run out of insurance or been forced to give up jobs.
The attack has also shattered the Japanese people's sense of security. Once one of the modern world's safest societies, many have lost confidence in the government's ability to protect them.
"We feel the police are not taking enough precautions to keep us safe," said Mitsue Samada, a part-time office worker. "We used to rely on the police, but the trust has diminished."