Amanda Ripley Author of The Unthinkable

The Washington Post writes that the feds jammed wireless signals in DC on inauguration day—and state and local officials are trying to get the right to do the same thing. This is frightening news.

The intent is noble enough: stop terrorists from detonating bombs and coordinating with each other—by temporarily jamming all cell phones and other wireless devices near a potential security threat.

But the cost is much, much higher than the Post story—or any of the supporters of the idea acknowledge. This is a classic case of emergency plans being written for emergency officials.

In fact, in major disasters, regular people do the majority of the lifesaving. They text and tell each other which houses are on fire, how many planes have hit the Towers, where to go to escape the rising water. People have learned over the years to use cell phones to save lives—far more efficiently than government agencies.

Yes, it’s true that terrorists exploit the same tools the rest of us rely upon, and it has always been so. But the best solution is never a blunt one. It’s worth remembering that this technology was designed for the U.S. military to use in Iraq, where IEDs were being planted at the rate of 90 per day in 2007. (Interestingly, terrorists adapted rather quickly to the jamming technology by hardwiring their detonators.)

But as with other profitable military technology, once it exists, it’s hard to prevent it from spreading into the homeland. People stand to make money and see opportunity here. But this is not a war zone, not yet.

Terrorists also use TV news. Should we shut that down, too? Terrorists use GPS systems. Why are they so easy to buy? What about maps? Google? Box cutters? The solution has to be smarter than this. When Timothy McVeigh used 5,000 lbs of fertilizer to blow up the Murrah Building, did we ban fertilizer? No, we asked merchants to track sales of ammonium nitrate and report unusual interest in the product. Is it a perfect solution? No. It’s a compromise, just like every risk calculus we make. If we want to save lives by banning cell phones, we should do it behind the wheel, where talking on a cell phone quadruples your chance of getting in an accident.

Check out 20/20’s segment on Tilly, the 10-year-old girl who saved dozens of people in Thailand in 2004 because she knew the natural warning signs of a tsunami. I was intrigued to see how her parents moved through the three phases of disaster think: denial, deliberation and the decisive moment. Luckily, they moved quickly.

In the dead-tree version of Time this week, I have a piece on the crash of Flight 1549—and why it would never go down that way if it were a scene on the show 24.

I’m in Honolulu now to speak to the Pacific Preparedness conference. It’s so beautiful I don’t even want to tell you about it. It just seems wrong. But I will tell you that I sat next to Honlulu Mayor Mufi Hannemann on the flight from DC. The Mayor turns out to be quite the celebrity. During the flight, the pilot, all the flight attendants and several passengers came by to meet him. He was very gracious.

Like me, the Mayor had spent the past few days at inauguration festivities. (Not only is he a Hawaii VIP; he also coached a basketball team that played Obama’s team when he was in high school. He’s like family, this guy!) We talked a bit about what a surreal experience the inauguration was, and we agreed that it will probably never happen again.

Starting on Saturday, there was a buzz in the air. By Sunday, we couldn’t move our car because we knew we’d never get a parking space again. On Monday, I tried to work at a local coffee shop, and I quickly discovered that there were no empty seats left in the city. But the remarkable thing was the exuberance. People walked miles through town to get to the Mall, cameras hanging from their necks and Obama buttons on every piece of clothing. Strangers said hello and smiled like kids on a snow day. On Sunday, we ventured to the Mall to hear U2 and get a glimpse of the action. In front of us, by the Washington Monument, an old man in a Terps hat and sweats just danced and danced, like the happiest man alive. Everytime the JumboTron flashed a picture of Obama’s smiling face, people cheered.

I haven’t felt that much palpable connection between strangers since I lived in Manhattan after 9/11. I don’t know what this means. I do know it won’t last forever, nor should it. But it was lovely.

The Mall is packed. The bridges out of DC are shut down. People are cold and tired. Check out my story for Slate about how to survive a crowd crush.