He had every reason to feel this way. The World Trade Centre tragedy came two years after Russia was rocked by a series of co-ordinated terrorist attacks. In September, 1999, four massive explosions in the cities of Moscow, Volgodonsk and Buinaksk claimed the lives of 305 people and left more than 500 injured. Thirteen more bombs were discovered before they detonated: in Moscow alone, 2 tonnes of high-powered explosives were detected.

Just like Americans today, millions of Russians were abruptly made aware of a new threat to their lives. The headlines fuelled their fears, screaming that terrorism, once alien, had become a common feature of everyday Russian life. Recently, asked to name the most memorable event of 2000, 20 per cent of respondents mentioned both the Sydney Olympic Games and the huge underground explosion in the centre of Moscow.

At the time of this carnage there was no shortage of rumour and conspiracy theory about the identity and aim of the perpetrators. Some hinted that an internal war between the Russian ruling elite had manufactured the event. Others claimed that the Russian secret services were trying to destabilise the country. Yet the majority of Russians shared the view that it was the Chechen rebels who had unleashed a campaign of terror against them.

As the investigation unfolded, the Chechen connection was proved beyond doubt. Moreover, evidence was produced that the terrorists had received training, equipment and orders in camps controlled by militants whose loyalty is not to the Chechen President Aslan Maskhadov, but to radical Islamist organisations abroad, and Osama bin Laden in particular.

The strikes against Russian cities were planned by field commander Khattab. He is an Arab from Jordan who, before coming to Chechnya in 1994, was involved in jihads in Afghanistan, Iraq and Tajikistan. In charge of the logistical support for the operation was Khattab's deputy, Abu Omar from Saudi Arabia, who was killed by Russian forces last July. The likes of Khattab and Abu Omar rely on financial backing from the Taliban, Muslim Brothers and numerous Islamic charities around the world. They recruit from among radical Islamists in Pakistan, Afghanistan, Sudan and even Bosnia.

Russia quickly realised the impossibility of combating the export of holy terror alone, and called for a united front against terrorism. During an APEC summit in September, 1999, Putin said Russia and the US had a common foe in bin Laden. Neither the US nor its NATO partners showed great enthusiasm towards Moscow's initiatives. On the contrary, anti-terrorist operations by federal forces in Chechnya were condemned on humanitarian grounds, and the spectre of sanctions against Moscow was raised.

When Russia remonstrated with Pakistan against the presence on its territory of camps churning out combatants for various hotbeds, including Chechnya and Central Asia, Washington refused to lend diplomatic support. Russia's resolution to create a broad anti-terrorist coalition was reinforced during Putin's visit to India in October, 2000. He told the Indian parliament that the same groups, even the same individuals, were engaged in acts of violence from the Philippines to Kosovo, including Kashmir, Afghanistan and Russia's Northern Caucasus. In hindsight, this statement appears prophetic.

Now that the US and its allies are gearing for retaliation for the attacks in Washington and New York, Russia has offered all-round assistance, including sharing of intelligence and possible access to military facilities.

The ball is in the US court. Much depends on Washington amending its Cold War-like stance on Chechnya. It has to admit that conflict has transcended the boundaries of an irredentist movement and become part of the global terrorist project. It could begin by investigating some 50 organisations in the US that collect money for Khattab and co.