In the first of a three-part investigation, Rory Carroll reports from the gateway to America, at the centre of drug cartel violence that has claimed 28,000 lives

The events which have no name scythe through the valley like invisible reapers. They slice east to west, west to east, a homicidal pendulum. No one sees anything.

The pair of human heads left in a coolbox on the corner of the plaza? A mystery. The 18 houses burnt in a single night? An enigma. The doctor and his family who disappeared? A rumour.

This much residents do tell you: Juárez valley stretches along the Rio Bravo and used to grow cotton. It roasts by day, shivers by night. Lob a stone over the river and it lands in Texas.

Beyond that, conversation tends to dry up. Of the slaughter, of the reason this has become one of the deadliest places on the planet, residents have little to say. At most they refer to 'the situation', 'the things happening' or, simply, 'it'.

Manuel Robles, curator of the valley museum in the hamlet of San Agustín, can talk about dinosaur fossils and Apaches but not unfolding history. Pressed, he rubs rheumy eyes, gazes out the window and falls silent. Finally he says: 'If I tell you, tomorrow I won't be here. They'll kill me.'

It's as close as you get to an acknowledgment that this valley of a dozen villages and towns, once home to 20,000 people, has detached from Mexico and entered a realm beyond any map. There is no state here, no rule of law. There are killings and beheadings and burnings and no one sees anything.

The official explanation is that the Sinaloa cartel is challenging the homegrown Juárez cartel for a venerable gun and drug trafficking route to the United States. Just as Billy the Kid coveted this trail, so do modern outlaws.

It is perhaps the loneliest corner of what is termed Mexico's drug war. More than 500 people are estimated to have died here in the past four years, a per capita toll far worse than Iraq or Afghanistan. Nationwide 28,000 have died.

As violence raked up and down the valley, exterminating entire families, an exodus began. By the time a church was torched and anonymous notes warned of an imminent bloodbath most were gone, leaving blackened, boarded-up ghost towns. Nature, at least, is thriving: weeds festoon carcasses of abandoned pick-up trucks.

The cemetery outside Guadalupe, the biggest town, is a scorched, desolate place with fresh mounds. 'Four in the past week, all young ones,' says Ignacio Montes, 66, the gravedigger. A cloth hangs from his baseball cap.

He indicates a family plot: Omar Amaya, mayor, killed in 2006, aged 33; his father, Apolonio, also mayor, killed in 2007, aged 59; Omar's sister Aglae, aged 29, and mother, Maria, aged 57, both killed in 2008.

'They go after the relatives, you see,' says Montes. During a burial in 2008 gunmen ambushed mourners, killing the dead man's daughter and wounding his granddaughter. 'It doesn't stop,' says Montes. He recently found a 16-year-old boy's battered body dumped on a grave.

Victor Luque, 53, is the acting mayor of Guadalupe. His predecessor was assassinated two months ago, the town's fourth murdered mayor. Urbane, courteous and elegant in a white guayabera, Luque agrees to an interview.

What is going on in the valley? 'I really don't know.' Who is doing the killing? 'I really don't know.' Who is responsible for security? 'I really don't know.' How many people have fled? 'I really don't know.' The mantra almost becomes a joke. The mayor shrugs, smiles. He knows this exchange is ridiculous. He floats a metaphor. The 'situation', he says, is 'a perfect storm'. There is a local expression: 'Hasta que el viento tiene miedo'. Even the wind is afraid. In this town hall, with its black ribbons, bleached peach paintwork and near-empty offices, terror is in the heavy stillness.

Momentarily dropping the charade, Luque mentions he has no bodyguard. 'What would be the point? If they decide to kill you then there would be two bodies instead of one.' Who would 'they' be? The mayor smiles again. 'I really don't know.'

But someone knows a lot about the valley. During the Guardian's tour there was barely another vehicle or soul in sight. Yet the next day the guide's family received an anonymous phone call detailing our entire itinerary – who we met, what we discussed, even places where we slowed but did not stop – with precision.

Mexico's agony is ritually explained as a turf war between drug cartels. Group A versus Group B versus Group C. A savage conflict, but the mayhem, according to authorities, is a sign of cartels' desperation. Slowly but surely the state is prevailing thanks to brave soldiers and police. 'My government is absolutely determined to continue fighting against criminality without quarter until we put a stop to this common enemy and obtain the Mexico we want,' President Felipe Calderón, who declared war against cartels in 2006, said in recent newspaper advertisements.

Juárez valley suggests otherwise. It is proof of profound failure, says Gustavo de la Rosa, the state human rights commissioner. 'It is abandoned, a land without law.' One reason, he says, is a lack of political will. 'There are few votes there so politicians ignore it. The place has gone back to the 1880s.'

In fact the state is present in the form of the army, which has cameras and checkpoints with sandbags on the only road in and out. The soldiers' presence, however, prompts the question: why did they watch thousands of residents flee – convoys of furniture-packed trucks – and do nothing. 'What's the point of them?' says José Sereseres, 84, a lone soul in a cowboy hat on the main street of Caseta village.

If there is a pattern to the slaughter it is that Sinaloa is exterminating suspected Juárez cartel members and their relatives. Rocio Gallegas, an editor at Juárez's main newspaper, El Diario, says the security forces must have intelligence about what is happening. 'It's not possible that they don't know.'

Authorities did catch José Rudolfo Escajeda, the Juárez cartel's valley enforcer, but a Sinaloa commander, nicknamed Quitapuercos – pig killer – is believed to remain free. It suggests, say some, that the army is tacitly backing Sinaloa.

A similar pattern emerges in Juárez city. On the surface things looks normal. Shops and schools are open, there is rush-hour traffic and fast-food restaurants are packed at lunchtime. The scythe, however, is busy. More than 6,000 have been murdered since 2008, a shocking total for a city of just 1.3 million. Last month was the bloodiest yet: 363 dead, according to El Diario's count.

It is less immediately obvious than in the valley, but the city is ebbing away. Many offices and houses are empty and have 'for sale' signs outside. About 10,670 businesses – 40% of the total – have shut. A study by the city's university found that 116,000 houses have been abandoned and 230,000 people have left.

Juárez is the main gateway between Mexico and the US. Railways and roads converge here, as do smugglers. 'Poor Mexico, so far from God, so close to the United States,' the dictator Porfirio Diaz observed in the 19th century. With the US the world's biggest market for illegal drugs the quip still holds.

Just as in the valley, security forces in the city are an oxymoron. Their absence breeds insecurity, their presence breeds insecurity. They prey on the population, kidnapping and extorting in cahoots with criminal gangs, according to multiple complaints filed to the human rights commission. In an opinion poll published last week 39% of people cited official corruption as the main driver of violence. Narco-trafficking – despite government claims and media echoes – was cited by a mere 14.6%.

It is a disturbing finding. Here in the broiling desert heat the boundary between warring criminal groups and the state, a comforting delineation within the drug war, blurs and shimmers. Soldiers and police – and elected officials – fight with, as well as against criminal gangs. 'Our security forces are infiltrated and there are links between criminal groups and certain politicians,' says De La Rosa, the human rights commissioner. 'The way they work is to strengthen each other and the phenomenon is getting worse. There are some politicians who flaunt their connections.'

A large man with a rumpled shirt, snowy beard and hair pulled into a ponytail, the commissioner resembles a hippy Santa Claus but is a tough, shrewd operator. He investigates human rights abuses with a small team of young assistants; one of the few state agencies credited with working as it should.

For protection De La Rosa sleeps across the border in El Paso and travels to Juárez every day with 12 bodyguards. In between fielding phone calls on the latest atrocities and rumours he coaxes testimony from frightened families.

He is an outspoken critic of a government strategy that, he says, allows crooked politicians and financiers to go free. 'There are untouchables.'

When thousands of army troops deployed in 2008 the violence briefly abated. A well-placed source from city hall, a sophisticated, cultured man, smiles at the memory. 'It was a cleaning. And it worked.' What he means is death squads took out mid-ranking narcos, including crooked police.

The campaign has never been officially admitted. 'But the cleaning stopped after a few months,' rued the official. 'That was a mistake.' The authorities did not anticipate how quickly criminal gangs would rebound and co-opt security forces, he said.

Police have replaced the army on the streets. They are seen as ineffectual at best, predatory and murderous at worst. Business owners who spoke on condition of anonymity accused officers of treating the city as booty. 'If you don't pay, you risk disappearing, that's the game,' said one car showroom manager.

Despite shake-ups, municipal and state police are still regarded as loyal to the homegrown cartel, a tradition going back decades. Federal police, outsiders brought in for the drug war, have become linked with the Sinaloa interlopers. Last month 250 officers roughed up and arrested their own commanders, accusing them of siding with narco-traffickers. A mutiny of the honest, say optimists; a row over 'cuota', the levy the force charges on civilians, say others.

Arrest statistics fuel suspicions of favouritism. Of 81,128 drug-related arrests until the end of July some 24% were from Sinaloa, the oldest and mightiest cartel. The motive, apart from pay-offs, supposedly would be to end turf wars by promoting one cartel's hegemony. Calderon indignantly denies favouritism, but the nature of violence in Juárez suggests local commanders – with or without approval from Mexico City – have cut deals with Sinaloa.

The Juárez cartel, fearing extinction, has lashed back at the black-uniformed 'federales' who allegedly back their rivals. An urban guerrilla onslaught has killed about 40 officers since April. The campaign includes drive-by shootings, kidnappings, car bombs – and a surreal request to the FBI to investigate their Mexican counterparts.

On a particularly hot morning last week a patch of asphalt on Bulevar Ampliacion Cuatro Siglos revealed a new cartel tactic: it started with a bloodied, naked foot, continued with chunks of leg, then a trunk, then arms, hands and finally, 200 metres further, a head on the bonnet of a black Nissan. The quartered remains of federal police officer Hector Mendoza Guevara, aged 25. There was a placard: 'This is what happens to those who help Chapo.' Joaquin 'El Chapo' Guzman is the boss of Sinaloa.

Any police force would be shaken by the sight, but the grisly tableau's arrangement seemed designed to instill terror in young officers from parts of southern Mexico where superstition and belief in sorcery are common. Those at the scene were ashen. 'Get away! Fuck off!' one screamed at onlookers.

In Juárez good news passes for this: the federales are so busy trying to stay alive that they recently suspended their extortion rackets, according to business owners. The force spokesman declined interview requests for this article.

With killings averaging about a dozen a day, and businesses fleeing, the city edges ever closer to the Hobbesian dystopia of the valley 50 miles east. Each day brings fresh horrors. Two men stabbed and left to die face-down in a dump. Six people incinerated in a van. Two cyclists gunned down on the street. A child shot on the family porch. That was just one day. Before lunch.

'It amuses me when various experts in the US or Mexican government, or in the media, try to explain what's going on,' said Charles Bowden, a veteran chronicler of the border and author of Murder City: Ciudad Juárez and the Global Economy's New Killing Fields. 'The thing about Juárez is you can't see a pattern to the violence anymore. Killings are everywhere. They cross all class lines. You can't make sense of it.'

There are an estimated 500 gangs in the city, many drawn from slums where parents work in sweatshop factories that pay $40 (£26) a week. Some gangs are independent, some work for the cartels, some work for the police and some have no idea whom they work for. They just take orders over the phone from unknown bosses.

Few murders are investigated let alone solved. Even when suspects are arrested and paraded before TV cameras they are, according to numerous media investigations, often freed days later for want of evidence, prison space or judicial will. 'It's like a war in which no one remembers how it started. No one controls the killing now, it's got a life of its own,' said Bowden.

Unable to staunch the flow of blood, Calderón has sought to redefine it, claiming that 90% of those killed are involved in narco-trafficking. A general urged the media to report each death not as another murder victim but 'one less criminal'. Given so few homicides are properly investigated it is unclear how the president, general or anyone can know such things.

Miguel Morales has no doubt he would have been classified as a criminal. The 24-year-old, who would only speak under a pseudonym, was, after all, a thief and a junkie and haunted street corners where gangs peddled drugs. As his fixes progressed from pills to cocaine to heroin his body weight shrivelled to 50kg, a spectre. One of Juárez's estimated 80,000 addicts, his death – he had numerous scrapes with gangs and police – would have caused not a blip. He recounts all this in a matter-of-fact tone at a rehabilitation centre which has become his home.

Then his eyes blaze. 'My story would have been buried with me.' What angers him is not the prospect of dying so much as dying anonymous, forgotten. 'Everyone has a story.' This is his. Morales was from a middle class home but, shy and awkward, with a clumsy body and goggle eyes, jealous of a brother's effortless success, he started smoking cannabis at 14 to get through weekends. He progressed to harder drugs, dropped out of business college, lived rough, begged, stole, got high. Somehow he found a way back and now, clean, lives in the rehab centre. He mops the floors and gives talks to new arrivals. 'It's not much of a story is it?' he smiles. 'But I'm glad I can tell it.'

In numbers: Four years of bloodshed

28,000+

Number murdered since Felipe Calderón launched his crackdown on cartels in 2006

84,000

Number of weapons confiscated

$400m+

Amount of suspected drugs money confiscated

963

Number of clashes between security forces and drug gangs (nearly one a day)

50,000+

Troops and federal police involved in the operation

$13bn

Estimated annual profit made by Mexican drug traffickers

90%

Proportion of cocaine consumed in the US that comes from Mexico

Quake measuring 7.4 on the Richter scale hits west of Christchurch, with residents reporting collapsed buildings

A powerful earthquake measuring 7.4 on the Richter scale struck New Zealand's South Island tonight.

The quake hit 19 miles west of Christchurch, on the south of the island, at 4.35am local time. It shook a wide area with some residents reporting collapsed buildings, bridges and power cuts.

Christchurch, which has a population of around 400,000 people, was also rocked with a series of sharp aftershocks. Minor injuries have been reported but no deaths.

Colleen Simpson, from Christchurch, said panicked residents ran into the street in their pyjamas. She said some buildings had collapsed, there was no power, and the mobile telephone network had failed. 'There is a row of shops completely demolished right in front of me,' she told the Stuff news website.

Another person from Christchurch, Kevin O'Hanlon, said the jolt was extremely powerful.

'I was awake to go to work and then just heard this massive noise and 'boom',' he said. 'It was like the house got hit. It just started shaking. I've never felt anything like it.'

Bruce Russell, 50, said that although he lives in Lyttelton, a port town to the south of Christchurch, which is on firmer volcanic ground, the earthquake had been 'very alarming.'

'We were woken up at 4.30am and it swayed like a ship at sea,' he said. 'It was very alarming. We have no power, which is a problem across [Christchurch]. We're listening to reports on a wind-up radio. It's still very frightening.'

Russell said he had not experienced an earthquake on this scale before.

There were local reports of looting on one of Christchurch's commercial shopping streets and police were advising residents to stay inside until given an all-clear.

The geological agency GNS Science said the earthquake struck at a depth of 21 miles below the Earth's surface and the Pacific Tsunami Warning Centre said 'no destructive widespread tsunami threat existed, based on historical earthqake and tsunami data'.

New Zealand lies above an area of the Earth's crust where two tectonic plates collide. The country records more than 14,000 earthquakes a year – but only about 150 are usually felt. School children in the country often undertake earthquake drills.

Cricket council rebuts conspiracy charge as players accused of spot-betting scam are interviewed by police under caution

The International Cricket Council today defended its decision to charge three Pakistan cricketers under its anti-corruption code.

The three men, accused of an alleged betting scam, were today formally interviewed by police under caution and later released without police charges.

Mohammad Amir, Mohammad Asif and Test captain Salman Butt were interviewed separately at Kilburn police station in north London.

Afterwards, their lawyer, Elizabeth Robertson, said they had attended voluntarily and at no time were they under arrest. She said the men would continue to co-operate fully with police and the ICC, which has charged them under its anti-corruption code and provisionally banned them from playing in any match.

Despite the ICC charges, police have yet to decide whether there is enough evidence to charge the players with conspiracy to commit fraud. The council's anti-corruption and security unit is conducting its own, parallel investigation.

ICC investigators will not question the players until they receive permission from the police. They are finalising an 'information sharing protocol' to pool evidence.

The police seized money and mobile phones from the players last Sunday and are investigating any possible link between bank notes found in their possession and the money handed to a middle-man as part of the sting by the News of the World, which made the allegations.

Before any prosecution, Scotland Yard would have to prove that any money they received from Mazhar Majeed was taken in return for deliberately bowling no-balls. The players have told friends they are prepared to tell detectives they did receive payments from Majeed, but this was entirely proper because he was their agent.

Majeed, who was arrested last weekend by police over the News of the World allegations, and by customs over money-laundering allegations, is responsible for organising the three players' sponsorship deals.

At least one of them did not have a UK bank account. Majeed has represented members of Pakistan's test side in this role for several years.

Last night, the ICC moved to suspend the trio provisionally after charging them with 'various offences' under its code of conduct. Sir Ronnie Flanagan, the recently appointed chairman of the anti-corruption unit, and Haroon Lorgat, the ICC chief executive, insisted the offences were not 'the tip of the iceberg'. But Lorgat conceded that the sport faced its worst crisis since the Hansie Cronje match-fixing affair a decade ago.

Pakistan high commissioner Wajid Hasan this morning accused the ICC of 'playing to the public gallery' by suspending the three cricketers.

He said: 'I have heard the press briefing by two ICC Representatives today. I have also learnt that ICC has taken Amir's name off from the list of players of the year. What happened to the general principle of law – innocent until proven guilty?

'After the shocking, arbitrary and high-handed suspension of the three cricketers through the ICC's uncalled-for action, nothing is coming to me as a surprise. My apprehensions that there is a rat in the whole affair are being strengthened.'

He said the ICC had 'no authority' to intervene and has previously claimed the players were 'set up' by the News of the World, which is expected to publish further revelations on Sunday. On the same day, England will face Pakistan in the first of two Twenty20 matches in Cardiff.

Lorgat insisted that the proper processes had been followed and denied Hasan's claims.' I certainly wouldn't subscribe to the view that there is some sort of conspiracy around Pakistan cricket.

'This particular incident with the three players is unrelated to the challenge that we've got in keeping Pakistan involved as a full member of the International Cricket Council,' he said. The country has been unable to play at home since a terrorist attack on the Sri Lanka team bus in Lahore last year.

British man among victims after aircraft crashes on takeoff from Fox Glacier airport in South Island

Nine people, including a British man, have died in a plane crash in New Zealand.

The aircraft, carrying a party of skydivers and tourists, crashed and burst into flames shortly after takeoff from Fox Glacier airport on the west coast of the South Island, police said today.

A police spokesman said five New Zealanders were killed, including the pilot, and individuals from Australia, Ireland, Germany and the UK.

'The embassies of each overseas victim have been informed and relatives are in the process of being advised,' he said.

The Foreign Office said: 'We can confirm that one British national has died. He has been identified and next of kin have been informed.'

New Zealand police said the bodies would remain at the crash site until tomorrow.

The dead Irishman was later named locally as Patrick Byrne, 26, from Gorey, County Wexford. He had been in New Zealand on a working visa.

Witnesses said the plane was almost totally destroyed in the accident which happened at 1.15pm local time.

A man told the New Zealand Herald: 'It was like a fireball and then there was big puffs of smoke going up. [The plane] was engulfed in flames immediately.'

Fox Glacier is a popular tourist spot in New Zealand's Southern Alps, about 90 miles from Christchurch, which was yesterday hit by an earthquake that damaged buildings and injured at least two people.

The lot of Afghan women has improved since 2001, but they still struggle to be heard

For women in Afghanistan, some things have changed since 2001. Many more girls are in school, though attacks on schools are at an all-time high. Maternal mortality has decreased in some areas, though still one woman dies in childbirth every 30 minutes. Women do have a number of seats in parliament, even more than in many western countries for example, though they will tell you how difficult it is for them to get their voice heard. Many Afghan women and men are now truly afraid of what might happen in the future.

It is not just the Taliban who have sought to limit freedoms in Afghanistan; certainly many of the more extremist elements in the government have done so as well. With elections coming up later this month, it will be critical to ensure that women still play an active and equal part in government.

Some people try to reassure me that accepting the fundamentals of the constitution, which mandates equal rights for women, will be a prerequisite to peace negotiations. But the constitution is no guarantee. It would take just another grand council or Loya Jirga to revise it.

The question is what safeguards for women's, and other basic human rights, could be built into the negotiations. It is hard to see what these could be but there is much leverage through aid money, through support to Afghan women or by pressure on any new government in the international arena.

The best defence is the development of Afghanistan itself. Afghanistan's future must be driven by the desires and aspirations of the Afghan people, and greater efforts must be made to build Afghan institutions over the long term. But for development to be effective, there must be much more transparency and accountability – by the government as well as donors and by Afghan civil society groups. It will also require a surge of efforts at the local level, to ensure that Afghans get the services they need and strong partnership with non-governmental organisations who, at the moment are the only ones capable of delivering at scale at local level.

The key to alleviating poverty and improving life for both Afghan men and women is community development. What has worked best so far in Afghanistan is efforts, such as the National Solidarity Programme, that focus on the grassroots level and empower communities to decide their own priorities, whether that's a well, a road or women's literacy schemes. As one of the poorest countries in the world, Afghanistan is only really going to develop if it starts in communities and if its economic development focuses strongly, though not exclusively, on agriculture.

But what is really critical is that Afghans are at the heart of these efforts – both women and men. Without their involvement and buy-in, development projects are unlikely to have lasting impact and any process to establish peace is likely to be superficial and unsustainable.

Building in women's rights must also begin in communities and focus on women's priorities, whether that involves literacy courses, legal support or income generation projects. It's not easy and it is not a quick process In Oxfam's work with communities it has taken time to persuade men that literacy for women is a positive development for their families, it has taken time to persuade women why it is of value to them – for example, for understanding information for their children's health.

There are dilemmas too about singling out individual women or women's groups. To do so runs the risk that they will be directly targeted now or in the future. The answer is not to give up but to talk and work with these women to see how we can support them with as little risk as possible.

Meanwhile, we have to put pressure on our own governments, particularly the UK and US, to stand firm in discussions with the Afghanistan government, and exert all the pressure they can to uphold women's rights in the peace negotiations. What we do to try to safeguard women's rights has to be done alongside Afghan women and men, and with great care. But a bland statement that Afghans should decide this themselves just isn't good enough. Women in Afghanistan simply do not as things stand have a voice to be able to defend their rights. We need to support them in having that voice, but they need our voice too.

The world must not abandon Pakistan to the religious extremists

On a recent Pakistan International Airlines flight from Karachi to Lahore, a local – and somewhat revealing – fashion show played out on the TV screens. Among those having to watch were a large number of people returning from the hajj, the pilgrimage to Mecca. This scene is but a microcosm of contemporary Pakistan. On the one hand, there are signs everywhere not just of personal piety but of a narrow and intolerant ideology based on religion, and, on the other, of people, especially the young, straining to break through the barriers of convention. The clash is evident everywhere, with the same newspapers, magazines and television channels carrying Islamic revivalist messages and permissive films. How this clash is resolved will be a clue to the destiny of the country.

This destiny is one that, in the medium term, is fraught with difficulty. The noted journalist Ahmad Rashid has said that Pakistan is going through political, economic and terrorist crises simultaneously. It is impossible in these circumstances to be ambitious, for example, about infrastructure and the urgent energy needs of the country. The confidence of international financial institutions is being bought by the strict and immediate implementation of harsh IMF policies, especially the removal of subsidies on domestic gas and electricity consumption. Needless to say, this has huge political implications in terms of public unrest.

The political situation remains very fragile, with the parties, the judiciary and, of course, the military all, publicly or privately, jockeying for power. Although there are encouraging signs, levels of violence remain obstinately high. There are daily reports of suicide bombings, political assassinations and kidnappings. There is evidence that attacks on minorities, such as Christians, Shia Muslims and the Ahmadiyya are a deliberate attempt by the Pakistani Taliban and their related 'lashkars' – tribal militias – to widen the conflict in the area.

Independent surveys show that over 90% of Pakistanis believe that religious extremism is the greatest single threat to the country. As someone said to me recently: 'It seems that an extremist 3% are holding the other 97% to ransom.' A close encounter with extremism and terrorism has made even previously sympathetic Pakistanis realise the mortal danger they are in. This must be taken into account when assessing the effects of the 'war on terror' on Pakistani public opinion. It may not be as uniformly hostile to combating terrorism as is sometimes made out by the press. The means used and the time taken, as well as civilian casualties, are crucial in determining the direction in which public opinion will go.

For these reasons Pakistan should not be isolated from the mainstream of the international community. It is important also to make sure that ordinary Pakistanis remain in contact with the outside world. The response by the international community to the earthquake in Kashmir in 2005 was hugely appreciated by ordinary people in Pakistan. A generous and timely response to the recent floods is yet another sign that the world has not abandoned Pakistan, whether to natural disaster or to extremists.

Pakistan will be a litmus test as to whether the international community and the Muslim world can halt the advance of extremist ideologies based on religion. It is vital for us to co-operate with those in Pakistan and elsewhere who have similar aims. These may be NGOs, universities, the media, women's and minority groups and, indeed, progressive elements in government. The world needs a stable, strong and moderate Pakistan, and so do its own citizens.

DfID and other donors may subsidise the cost to manufacturers of slashing their prices for effective malaria drugs, but experience on the ground makes it seem doubtful children will benefit as they should

I'm in Kampala where the rain is pounding on the roofs and turning any patch of earth to red mud. In Katine in north-eastern Uganda, where the Guardian supports an international development project and I have been most of the week, mosquitoes are breeding faster than ever. The swamps are full of water. The children's wards are full of malaria cases.

So since we've been discussing on this blog a donor scheme to get the new antimalarial drugs to poor people in all the mosquito-ridden parts of the developing world, I thought I'd try to find out how it would work in reality in Katine. The big idea is for donors to get ACTs (artimisinin combination treatments) out where they are needed, in poor communities, by subsidising the price in the private sector. This is the Affordable Medicines Facility - malaria. It is going to be paid for by UNITAID, a European organisation which aims to improve access to medicines, and the UK's own department of international development (DfID).

In rural Katine, where 25,000 people barely subsist off the land and there is no power and water comes from boreholes and wells (it used to come from the swamp), sometimes the government health centres have drugs and quite often they do not. Stock-outs are frequent and prolonged, as I have written elsewhere.

So if the health centre has run out of ACTs, they cannot treat simple malaria. The old drugs like chloroquine and Fansidar are not supposed to be used any more because the malaria parasite has become resistant to them. Local people gather in large numbers outside the health centre every morning if there are drugs - there are plenty of diseases to treat here, although 75% of the burden is probably malaria. If there are no drugs, they don't bother going. They go to the local unlicensed, slightly dodgy drug shop instead. This shop may have ACTs, but they cost 12,000 shillings (over $5 or £3.50). That is unaffordable, so the shop sells the mother a handful of the old, cheap drugs instead. If they don't work, the child will end up on a quinine drip for severe malaria, which is the biggest killer of small children here.

So the big idea is to bring the price of ACTs down dramatically by subsidising the manufacturers. The price for patients would drop, they believe, to 20 to 50 US cents, which is 450 to 1,120 Ugandan shillings. When I first heard about this, I thought it sounded like a good idea. But I have changed my mind.

Unfortunately, 500 or 1000 shillings is still quite a bit of money for those who have nothing. But my main concern is that everything depends on the drug shops, which close down whenever the inspectors are around. It depends on them telling the patient they must have ACTs and it depends on them not selling their cheaper stocks of the old drugs. It also depends on both these shop owners and the many intermediaries in the supply chain - bigger shops and then wholesalers before you get to the manufacturers - not taking a cut on the way down.

Sadly, Uganda seems to function on people taking cuts. Primary elections were going on. The main topic of conversation locally was how much money politicians were handing out to voters. People are philosophical. Everything is business, they say. But when I talk about cut-price ACTs in the drug shops, nobody believes it. Somebody, if not everybody, further back in the chain will be on the take, they say.

It would be nice to think that for once they will be wrong. But I can't help believing there are better ways of getting people the drugs they need. The best would be to strengthen the government drug supply system - after all, it works some of the time. The other, if donors really want to spend lots of money, is to bring in a parallel system, as has happened with HIV drugs. The consequences of leaving malaria drugs to the market could be bad for everybody. The reason why chloroquine and Fansidar and others do not work is that poor people bought just a few tablets and the parasite developed resistance. You can see it coming.

In his only live TV interview since his memoirs were published, he tried to convince the audience of his motivations for the Iraq war

Tony Blair tried to bury his 'toxic legacy' last night by flying to Ireland to appear on The Late Late Show.

In his only live TV interview since his memoirs were published, he tried to convince the audience that he acted against the one million people who marched in opposition to the war in Iraq in 2003 because he simply couldn't take decisions 'based on those that shout most'.

Blair was greeted by about 50 protesters at the RTE studios – although they were easily outnumbered by the number of squealing teenagers who had gathered for another set of guests on the show – The X Factor twins Jedward.

During the interview, he was asked how he felt that morning drinking his coffee in Downing Street, with a million protesters outside.

'Look it's not them that give you pause for thought. You should have pause for thought all the way through. In the end you have to decide this way or that, there is, unfortunately no third way.'

'Yes I had to listen to people who were opposed but there were also people in favour of the decision I took including, incidentially many many Iraqis.'

He denied he had 'blood on his hands' and said he didn't believe he was a 'war criminal' showing a flash of exasperation when asked to explain why people thought that he was.

Interviewer Ryan Tubridy sought the advice of Jon Snow ahead of the interview but was warned it would be difficult to extract anything 'revelatory' out of Tony Blair.

It is believed Blair chose Ireland for his only live interview since his memoirs because he felt he would get a better hearing because of the peace he secured in Northern Ireland.

'When we finally got the whole lot together literally weeks before I left office in 2007 and there was Martin McGuinness sitting with Ian Paisley and it was such a strange and extaordinary sight and it was one of the few times in politics I felt really proud actually.'

Portuguese TV presenter among six convicted over child prostitution at Casa Pia state-run orphanages

One of Portugal's most famous television presenters and a former ambassador were among six men found guilty yesterday of involvement with a paedophile prostitution ring that exploited children from state-run orphanages.

The guilty verdicts handed down to TV presenter Carlos Cruz and the five others exposed the truth of more than three decades of rumours about systematic abuse of young boys at the 230-year-old Casa Pia network of orphanages.

It was only when Joel, a former orphanage boy, came forward in 2002 and accused some of the country's best-known names of being involved that Portugal woke up to full horror of the scandal.

Members of Portugal's media, civil service and professional elite were alleged to be regular abusers of the boys, some younger than 14. Even well-known politicians were involved, it was initially rumoured. A flood of accusations from boys who had passed through the Casa Pia system followed. Some 32 boys alleged at least 800 crimes.

The case pitted the orphanage boys against a group of well-educated, influential people – including a former ambassador to Unesco, a lawyer, a doctor and Cruz. Yesterday, eight years after they dared to speak out, the boys finally won their case.

The four men and two former orphanage employees received sentences of between just under six years and 18 years. Carlos Silvino, a 53-year-old Casa Pia worker who confessed to 600 crimes and gave evidence against other defendants was sentenced to 18 years.

'The court recognised that we were telling the truth,' said Bernardo Teixeira, one of the victims. 'It's a happy ending for us. The paedophiles are going to jail.'

The court ruling was hailed as a victory by those fighting for children's rights in Portugal. 'The stories that I heard were the most terrible of my life,' said Catalina Pestana, who was put in charge of the Casa Pia orphanages after the crimes were first reported in 2002.

'I think Portugal, the country, all of us, won a lot from this process. Now, when a child accuses an adult, nobody will look with the same lack of attention that they did for many years.'

The court case lasted six years, bringing additional outrage about the slow way in which Portugal's legal system worked. The case was already in court when three-year-old Madeleine McCann disappeared while on holiday with her family in the Algarve in 2007. Portuguese police were, at the time, defensive about claims, particularly those made in the British press, that they had a history of mishandling cases involving children.

Buried in the case paperwork are allegations that Casa Pia was known to paedophiles internationally and that some flew in to abuse children from the orphanage, according to at least one source familiar with the case.

Portuguese media provided live running coverage of the reading of the sentence. The judges said they were giving only an abbreviated version of events, with a much fuller judgment due to be made public next week. The senior member of the three-judge panel, Ana Peres, began by warning those present that the abuse they described would be graphic and shocking. 'Some of the accounts could be considered pornographic,' she said.

Cruz, 68, who was once voted Portugal's most popular man, had paid for sex with a 14-year-old, the judges declared. He also abused at least one other boy. The father of two was known as 'Mr Television' after several decades as a national star. He was sentenced to seven years in jail.

A doctor, Ferreira Diniz, was also sentenced to seven years and a former ambassador, Jorge Ritto, 74, to six years, and the former Casa Pia ombudsman, Manuel Abrantes, to five. They were found guilty of abusing several young boys.

The court found that boys had been regularly taken to a house in the eastern town of Elvas during the 1990s to meet the paedophile clients. Abuse had also taken place in Lisbon.

Some of the victims who gave evidence were present to hear the verdicts. Psychiatrists said several of the victims had tried to kill themselves after denouncing the abuse to the police. One threw himself from a second-floor window.

Lawyers said their clients would almost certainly appeal. 'It seems inevitable that we will have to appeal,' said Cruz's lawyer, Antonio Serra Lopes, before the sentence was read out. 'This is the first round.'

State of emergency declared after earthquake with magnitude of 7.0 strikes 19 miles west of Christchurch

A powerful 7.0 magnitude earthquake struck New Zealand's South Island last night, causing widespread damage to buildings, although there were few injuries.

Christchurch mayor Bob Parker declared a state of emergency four hours after tremors rocked the region, warning that continuing aftershocks could cause masonry to fall from damaged buildings.

The quake hit 19 miles west of the city, on the east coast of the island, at 4.35am local time. Residents reported collapsed buildings and bridges, as well as power cuts. Christchurch, which has a population of around 400,000 people, was then rocked with a series of sharp aftershocks.

No deaths have been reported so far but doctors at Christchurch Hospital said they had treated two men with serious injuries. One was hit by a falling chimney and was in intensive care, while a second was seriously hurt after being cut by glass, a hospital spokeswoman said. Other minor injuries have also been reported.

'There is considerable damage in the central city,' police inspector Mike Coleman told New Zealand's National Radio.

Police Inspector Alf Stewart told the station that some people had been arrested for looting. 'We have some reports of people smashing [shop] windows and trying to grab some property that is not theirs … we've got police on the streets and we're dealing with that,' he said.

Colleen Simpson, a Christchurch resident, said panicked neighbours ran into the streets in their pyjamas. She said some buildings had collapsed, there was no power and the mobile telephone network had failed. 'There is a row of shops completely demolished right in front of me,' she told the Stuff news website.

Another person from Christchurch, Kevin O'Hanlon, said the jolt was extremely powerful. 'I was awake to go to work and then just heard this massive noise and 'boom',' he said. 'It was like the house got hit. It just started shaking. I've never felt anything like it.'

Bruce Russell, 50, said that although he lives in Lyttelton, a port town to the south of Christchurch, which is on firmer volcanic ground, the earthquake had been 'very alarming'.

'We were woken up at 4.30am and it swayed like a ship at sea,' he said. 'It was very alarming. We have no power, which is a problem across [Christchurch]. We're listening to reports on a wind-up radio. It's still very frightening.'

Russell said he had not experienced an earthquake on this scale before. There have been local reports that some people many have been trapped in damaged houses.

Video footage showed some cars crushed by heaps of fallen bricks. Authorities were advising residents to stay inside until given the all-clear.

Residents have been asked not to flush toilets because of potential damage to the city's sewerage system which could lead to contamination. Christchurch airport was also closed as a precaution while runways were safety checked.

Despite tsunami fears by residents, the Pacific Tsunami Warning Centre said 'no destructive widespread tsunami threat existed, based on historical earthqake and tsunami data'.

New Zealand lies above an area of the Earth's crust where two tectonic plates collide and the country records more than 14,000 earthquakes a year – but only about 150 are usually felt. Schoolchildren in the country regularly undertake earthquake drills.

We have an anaemic recovery at best. And the housing market, where this crisis began, remains in terrible shape

Back in January, US vice-president Joe Biden offered up a huge hostage to fortune. Talking to fellow Democrats about the Obama plan for the economy, he promised: 'You're going to see, come the spring, net increase in jobs every month.' Yesterday figures showed that a net total of 54,000 workers lost their jobs in August, taking the official unemployment rate to 9.6%. A big dollop of gloomy news just in time for Labour Day weekend.

Not that you would have taken it as bad news, going by the immediate reaction. The Dow enjoyed a modest bounce, while Mr Obama described the non-farm payrolls report as 'positive news'. Which is true, if what you really mean by positive is 'not as awful as it might have been'. Oh sure, optimists can point out that the job losses were below analysts' estimates. And they can also take heart from the report's scaling down of job losses over June and July – so that a net total of 229,000 posts were lost, rather than the 352,000 previously reported. But consider this: over two and a half years after America's recession officially began in December 2007 (according to the National Bureau of Economic Research), the economy is still only limping along. By this stage, one would normally expect the US to be surging ahead, with companies producing much more, bosses taking on droves of recruits and even the housing market picking up. Instead, we have an anaemic recovery at best. And the housing market, where this crisis began, remains in terrible shape. Sales of new and existing homes are cratering, and the numbers of foreclosures and borrowers falling way behind on their repayments are as bad as they were last summer.

Some economists, such as Carmen Reinhart and Ken Rogoff, pointed out years ago that this downturn was always going to be worse than a normal recession, simply because banking crises are more crippling and have worse aftermaths. But the White House underestimated the scale of this crash – which is why Christina Romer, the outgoing chair of Mr Obama's council of economic advisers, admitted this week that she and her colleagues 'failed to anticipate just how violent the recession would be'.

Mr Obama promised yesterday that he would unveil 'a broader package of ideas' next week. Let us hope they are more action than ideas. Before November's midterms, the president must bring in big measures to encourage job creation and stop the freefall in the housing market. That makes political as well as economic sense. Politicians tend not to win elections by pointing out that things are not as terrible as they might have been. If Mr Obama wants proof of that, he should ask Gordon Brown.

The free travel pass is a great boon to many older people, but serious questions have to be raised as to whether it should be a universal benefit at 60. We are now in an era of huge cuts in public funding and there are more urgent social care needs among the poorest and most vulnerable older people than a free pass which can and is used by people who are still at work, such as Keith Ludeman, chief executive of Go-Ahead (Let pensioners pay one-off fee for bus pass, says Go-Ahead, 3 September). There are serious questions as to whether it is the poorest older people who benefit most from the universal free pass, or whether, as in so many other cases, it is of more value to the wealthier people. Rather than go down a means-testing route, though, one answer may be to raise the age of eligibility for a pass.

Leon Kreitzman

Chair, Age Concern Lewisham & Southwark, London

• A one-off payment for bus passes would, indeed, cut the £1bn annual cost, but it would seriously affect the poorest pensioners. A better solution would be to make all benefits received by pensioners (bus passes, winter fuel allowances, free TV licences and NHS prescriptions) taxable so better-off pensioners contributed according to their means.

John Howes

London

• The greatest benefit of the bus pass is that pensioners who have lost their cars through ageing and ill health can still get about without worrying about the cost. They meet neighbours on board who become friends that help each other when needed, and save the social services far more money than the obnoxious Ludeman complains about.

Brian Robinson

Brentwood, Essex

• Transport for All's attack on London Underground's staffing proposals (Letters, 30 August) is based on a misunderstanding. Our proposals have come about because ticket sales at stations have dropped significantly since the introduction of Oyster, so that now only one in 20 journeys starts with a visit to a ticket office, and some stations sell fewer than 10 tickets each hour. Under our plans, every station that has a ticket office now will continue to have one, and staff will remain in every station in exactly those areas that Transport for All want them to be: in ticket halls and on platforms where they can help customers, not hidden away behind under-used ticket office windows. Staff will still help with any problems and provide a reassuring presence across the network – including for older and disabled Londoners, many of whom receive a Freedom Pass which requires no interaction with either ticket offices or machines.

Mike Brown

Managing director, London Underground

Binyamin Netanyahu and Mahmoud Abbas try to breach the wall between them, with the help of Barack Obama's delicately balanced diplomacy

Stephen Hawking assumes that the big bang started from 'nothing' (Universe not created by God, says Hawking, 2 September). I would like to know what his definition of 'nothing' is. It is no answer to point to the emergence of positron-electron pairs that appear from 'nothing' as each of these have energy and this energy must have existed beforehand. It is difficult to think of a universe in which there is 'nothing' because nothing means just that, no mass, no energy and therefore no means of making anything in this or any other related universe. This is the crucial phrase: how can anything be born of absolutely nothing? If we accept this definition then the universe has existed for ever – and will continue for ever. If anyone wishes to call this infinitely long existence 'god', then fine, but it doesn't solve anything, it still leaves all the questions of existence that all organised religions fail to explain. Such as: if the gods created the big bang then what were they doing before then? And since it is impossible to make absolutely nothing from something, what will they do after Armageddon – start all over again?

Professor AB Turner

University of Sussex

• Spontaneous creation, 'something from nothing', is puzzling coming from a physicist. No-thing means no physical reality, but all reality is logically the realisation of possibility; ergo possibility is meta ta physica: beyond the physical.If one considers nature as two interdependent domains: the universe of physical reality, and the metaphysical realm of logical possibility, then some-thing does indeed arise from no-thing. Physical nature arising from metaphysical nature makes a supernatural explanation for reality entirely unnecessary. That doesn't disprove the god hypothesis, of course, but it does offer arguably a more probable explanation for our existence. Mathematics is a form of logic by which possibility is reduced by a process of entertained argument to a hypothetical conclusion, which while logically consistent is not necessarily true. So M theory, by which the metaphysics of logical possibility is used to argue an explanation for physical reality, without the mind of god, is only one of many possibilities. The only truly definitive conclusion arises when there is only one possibility left, the end of the current universe and a new 'big bang' nature of possibility and reality.

John Stone

Thames Ditton, Surrey

• The capacity for self-delusion of the enormously gifted and intelligent seems to be as limitless as that of the rest of us.

If Stephen Hawking thinks that everything will be explained by the laws of gravity and physics, well, what explains the existence of the laws by which everything is explained? Why and how should there be any laws of gravity? How did they happen to exist even before matter came into being?

His theory just leaves yet another question begging. Even if we did come from nothing, where did the nothing come from? The existence of nothing is surely just as mysterious and inexplicable as the existence of anything.

Hawking's theory is not a satisfactory answer even for an atheist like myself. There probably never will be a full explanation for our existence. To explain A in terms of B simply leaves B to then be explained, and so on down an infinite alphabet.

Alex Shearer

Backwell, Somerset

• God, gods, whomever, may well have become tired of the arguments about his/her/their existence (In praise of… God, 3 September). Two thousand years ago, the Epicureans maintained that, while the gods certainly existed (well, obviously), the Immortal Ones had no interest whatsoever in mankind; much, I suppose, as interstellar travellers feel about defective species generally.

Tom Drane

Mitcham, Surrey

• Professor Hawking's new book is called The Grand Design. Doesn't a design require a designer? Without one, it is 'A Grand Accident'. It's curious how atheists cannot help resorting to religious language.

Rev Richard Haggis

Oxford

Palestine is synonymous with violence, but politics takes a back seat on this extraordinary new walking route where the people are welcoming and the countryside stunning

There was a moment of silence. Then the Palestinian youngsters marched in front of us and I thought to myself, this is where they sing about being martyrs and dying glorious deaths. A gentle breeze swayed the mulberry tree. On the far ridges of the mountains around Nablus, the lights of the illegal Israeli settlements twinkled. This village, I knew, had seen 2,000 acres of olive groves taken by those settlers, plus several lives. An older girl called the group to order then, in English, they launched into their chant.

'I'm a red tomato, you're a green tomato. You're a little cucumber...'

Everyone started to laugh. A walking holiday in Palestine. You've got to laugh really. I laughed a lot on that walk. And this in a part of the world where something horrible is always happening, be it shootings in Hebron, attacks on aid flotillas, or separation walls and rocket attacks. In the middle of such madness, laughter is the most unexpected and valuable pleasure, one that people seize at every opportunity.

It was perhaps appropriate that I started my hike in the far north of the West Bank, within a few miles of a hill called Megiddo, where Pharoah Thutmose III overwhelmed the Canaanite king Durusha in about 1457BC, thus beginning the legend of Armageddon, the site of the Last Battle. With my guide Hejazi, I walked through peaceful fields of wheat past other ancient sites, exploring Roman tombs lost in undergrowth and watching storks circling overhead on their migration north. Our first major stopping point was Jenin, a town whose name is tied inextricably to violence and death. Despite its reputation, however, Jenin turned out to be a friendly market town of Palestinian farmers, a place to gorge on strawberries and almonds, washed down with carob juice sold from huge ornamental brass urns.

I walked around the souk in a bit of a daze. How could reality be so different from expectations? Certainly, the walls were pockmarked with bullet holes from the second intifada, but the martyrdom posters were all faded by the sunshine and people wanted to shake hands. The carob-juice seller adjusted his Ray-Bans and grinned: 'Why not join me on Facebook?'

There are several long distance footpaths in Palestine, but the one I was following was the Masar Ibrahim al-Khalil – literally Path of Abraham the Friend of God, simply the Masar for short. This new route stretches across the Middle East, starting at Abraham's birthplace in Sanliurfa, south-east Turkey, and winds south through Syria, Jordan and Israel. Eventually, it could stretch all the way to Mecca, linking existing paths associated with Abraham, and new routes. Its purpose is to promote understanding between different faiths and cultures; it's also intended 'as a catalyst for sustainable tourism and economic development'. In places the path barely exists yet, in others it is well-worn, but everywhere it needs a guide. Hejazi was my man in Palestine, a person of unending cheerfulness and optimism.

For a Muslim, Hejazi tells me, the idea of a path named after Abraham is attractive since the great patriarch is revered as the 'father of hospitality'. To Jews and Christians, he is equally important – the starting point for monotheistic worship. The Masar, I discovered, is not some do-gooder peace initiative, but simply a great way to see the landscape and meet people.

The path makes no attempt to follow Abraham's original route, even if such a path could be discovered; rather it links sites that bear legends and folk tales about the man. Our first major site was south of Jenin at Jebel Gerazim, a mountain that stands above the ancient town of Nablus and affords astonishing views west to the Mediterranean and east to the hills of Jordan.

On the summit of the mountain is a tower built by Saladin and some fine, if neglected, Byzantine mosaics guarded by a group of Israeli teenage soldiers. Further down the hillside, we could see the houses of that renowned Jewish sect the Samaritans, a group that still has more than 700 followers.

'The reason the Samaritans revere this place,' Hejazi explained, 'is because they believe Abraham came here and built his first altar in Canaan.'

It was a well-chosen spot to view what Abraham wanted: territory. 'Unto thy seed,' said his God, 'will I give this land.' And that was very generous of the Lord, all things considered. Except, of course, that all things had not been considered: previous inhabitants and the sheer fertility of Abraham's seed, which includes not only the 12 tribes of Israel but the prophet Muhammad via Ishmael, fruit of Abraham's union with the serving wench Hagar. And what about all those cousins from Noah's brothers? If Abe's God had spent a few moments considering, he might have foreseen problems.

That evening we stayed in Awata, a village near Nablus where the children sang about red tomatoes. There were tales of horror and violence too – there is no escaping the bloodied history in this land – but it never became overwhelming, as I'd expected. Hassan, our host, was keen to enthuse about the Masar: 'It was like a light coming on here,' he said. 'We got connected to the outside world and that makes us feel hope. Everyone in the village is always asking about when the next walkers are coming.'

Like most Palestinian villages, Awata has long since burst out of its ancient walled settlement and sprawled along the hill. But what is fascinating is that, amid the concrete and graffiti, there are sudden glimpses of an ancient world. When we chatted about water resources, Hassan jumped up and hauled open a trapdoor under our feet. Below us was a vast echoing cavern. 'It's a Roman water tank,' he explained. 'We've got three of them.'

After a huge feast of chicken, freshly made bread, pickles, salads and yoghurt, Hejazi and I bedded down on mattresses in the living room and slept.

Next morning we started out at 8am, meandering through olive groves and wheat fields. Scents of Persian thyme, wild sage and oregano drifted up from beneath our tramping feet. We stopped at a spring to drink delicious clear water, then pressed on, meeting other walkers as we climbed through meadows of scarlet poppies and butterflies to Jabal Aurma, a bronze age fortress. One of the shocks of doing this path is that the countryside is lovely. Travellers have been returning from the Holy Land with scornful appraisals of its beauty for many centuries. Herman Melville is typically bleak: 'Bleached-leprosy-encrustations of curses-old cheese-bones of rocks,' he wrote. The image of an ill-fated land has proven hard to budge.

On top of Jabal Aurma we discovered six vast underground storage rooms carved from solid rock, presumably to supply the fort during prolonged sieges. There is never any doubt in Palestine that this land has been a chaotic crossroads for civilisations, armies and tribes for a very long time – that is what makes it fascinating and worth exploring.

Later that day, we emerged on the edge of a grand escarpment looking down to the Jordan Valley, around 800ft below sea level. The wheat fields around us were tiny rocky terraces splashed with the yellow of wild dill. It's a difficult place to farm, and we came across Shakir Murshid with his wife and six children busily harvesting wheat by hand. On a sage bush nearby was the complete shed skin of a viper.

That night we stayed in Douma, a cluster of old stone dwellings long since overgrown by the straggling concrete of modernity. Rural life, however, was pretty much the same as ever: woodpeckers tapped at the trees, wheat fields surrounded the houses and men rode past on donkeys. We spent the evening by a campfire listening to locals sing and play homemade flutes. The patch of flat ground where we had built our fire turned out to be a Roman wine press, empty sadly. Once again we slept in someone's living room, under the eyes of family martyrs.

Our third day took us further south near the springs of Ain Samiya, now a water source for Jerusalem. We spotted chameleons in the bushes, whistling rock hyraxes and huge flightless crickets, then clambered up a delightful gorge, taking narrow shepherds' trails along the cliff face. By evening we approached the village of Kufer Malik, a place that was to hold perhaps the biggest surprises. The first came at a huge hacienda-style house, where the whole family came out to invite us in for coffee. 'Do you speak Spanish?' asked the husband. 'I learned it in Columbia.'

Kufer Malik, bizarrely, is a little enclave of Latin America in Palestine. When we found our hosts for the night, the old man of the family, Hosni al-Qaq, explained: 'In the 30s when times were hard here, my uncle decided to seek his fortune in America. He ended up selling shirts in Columbia, then got a shop and then a supermarket. He became very rich.' Hosni smiled ruefully. 'My father on the other hand stayed behind and was killed in the first intifada.'

'And did other men go?'

'Oh yes, lots and lots, and then they spread out into other countries. There are now more than 800 descendants of this village in Brazil alone.'

The effect of this exposure to the outside world on Kufer Malik has been electrifying. The men are hard-working and ambitious; the women assertive and independent-minded. Hiba, our hostess, had been to the Côte d'Azur to see what it was like. 'We camped on the beach in Nice,' she said proudly. 'It was lovely.'

So was her cooking: roast chicken, rice, vegetables and musahn, a flat bread cooked with sumac and onions.

'What would you do if a Jewish person came to stay?' I asked.

'No problem,' they all said eagerly. 'We've had one Jewish lady from America already and another from Brazil. Everyone is welcome here.'

After dinner, the men sat out in the yard smoking shisha pipes. When they spoke Spanish, they looked like pure Columbians to me: all macho body language and grand gestures. When they spoke Arabic, they were Palestinian farmers again.

Our fourth day took us to Abu Taybah, home to the West Bank's only brewery – owned and run by a Palestinian Christian family (there are around 55,000 Palestinian Christians). After a glass of deliciously cold lager we moved on, walking down Wadi Qult to the marvellous fourth-century cliff-side monastery of St George, then on to Jericho.

The end of the Masar comes in Hebron, whose old city has been a dangerous flashpoint over the years. Zionist settlers have seized buildings in the market area – which has to be roofed with netting now to prevent rocks and rubbish raining down on shoppers. All of Abraham's progeny want a piece of the action here and the mosque has been forcibly divided to create a Muslim and a Jewish section. On one side, I found Indian Muslims praying and taking photos; on the other Jews from New York and Tel Aviv were doing the same. The Tomb of the Patriarchs, of course, looks pretty similar from either angle, though neither community, sadly, ever gets to see that fact.

Out in the street a shopkeeper invited me to have coffee. He was sitting with Micha, a former Israeli soldier turned peace activist, a young freckle-faced man with a friendly smile. What had convinced him to adopt what many Israelis see as a traitorous approach?

'Small things. It started when I was a soldier, talking at checkpoints to Palestinians, seeing what the settlers were doing, and what we were doing to protect them.'

At that moment a Palestinian lady came over. They introduced themselves. 'So now you work for peace?' she asked. 'But I have to ask: did you kill any Palestinians?'

Around the shopfront where people were taking coffee and chatting, everyone froze. There was a long silence while Micha considered his reply. 'I'd rather not say.'

'I think you should,' the woman said. 'For any reconciliation, you have to.'

A murmur of agreement passed through the small crowd. Micha thought again. 'The truth is, I don't know. At Abu Sinaina we did shoot, but it was from far away.'

'At Abu Sinaina? Then you killed at least five.'

There was a pause and then Micha nodded. The Palestinian lady smiled. 'You are welcome at my house. You must come for lunch.'

They exchanged addresses and Micha promised that he would visit.

What is remarkable about the Masar walk is that religion and politics mostly take a back seat, allowing ordinary people to climb out of the foxholes of prejudice and suspicion. When that happens, Palestine becomes so much more than a brief and violent television news clip. I saw gazelles running on hillsides, tasted the local cuisine and enjoyed conversation on everyday topics. I climbed down inside bronze age burial chambers, tracked hyenas into their lairs inside Roman tombs and lay on the benches in Nablus's marvellous Turkish baths, discussing the best way to pickle olives. The problems of Israel's land-grabbing tactics remain: the wall is still standing and unsmiling teenage soldiers at checkpoints demand to see passports.

The Masar is not for those who want private rooms or special treatment. It is intense and sometimes emotionally draining. There were moments when I felt rage about the injuries and injustices. But, more than anything, this was a life-affirming and exhilarating experience that will stay with me like few others.

'I knew immediately who he was. It was the same face I'd been carrying around with me for over a decade'

As a child growing up in London, I was blissfully unaware of other worlds less safe and secure than my own. That all changed when I was about 12. Leafing through National Geographic, I started reading a feature about some ancient ruins in Cambodia that looked very beautiful. But what really caught my attention was an article next to it about the country waking up from the nightmare of the Khmer Rouge.

Seeing those images of victims' skulls and mass graves was a defining moment for me. I couldn't believe there were countries where crimes such as this could happen – what really terrified me was finding out that members of the Khmer Rouge still hadn't been brought to justice. I started to read up about the country; how Pol Pot's regime had wanted an agrarian revolution where life would be very simple, which had instead resulted in horror and bloodshed. Nearly 2 million people had been killed outright or died as a result of torture, overwork or starvation in the latter half of the 1970s.

More than half a decade later, still fascinated, I went to art school, but dropped out after a year, realising there was only one thing I wanted to do – to travel to Cambodia to make sense of it myself.

On my second day in the country, I made a beeline for a memorial site at Tuol Sleng prison, an interrogation centre where confessions were forced out of alleged spies and saboteurs. The man in charge, Comrade Duch, had personally overseen the torture and execution of at least 14,000 people. It was Duch's portrait in the prison that fuelled my interest in tracking him down. I thought if there was anyone who could explain how these atrocities had come about, it was him.

Over the next few years, I worked in Bangkok as a photographer, making trips back to Cambodia, always carrying a photo of Duch to show defected Khmer Rouge members. I never believed I'd find him. But in 1999 I made a breakthrough. By chance, on another assignment, I travelled to a nearby Khmer Rouge area that had just opened up. I was wandering around when a small, wiry man in an African Refugee Committee T-shirt came and introduced himself as Hang Pin.

I knew immediately who he really was. It was the same face I'd been carrying around with me for more than a decade. Duch was a little bit greyer, but there was no doubt in my mind. We had a fairly banal conversation – he was interested in my camera, and I tried to appear as nonchalant as I could. This was no ranting, cold-eyed madman; he was garrulous, friendly, disarming. He told me he was a humanitarian aid worker and lay-preacher, converting Cambodians to Christianity. Surreptitiously I took a photograph, but it didn't seem the right time to confront him. I wondered if he might still be a killer.

Later, I returned to the village with Nate Thayer – the last western journalist to have interviewed Pol Pot. We talked to Duch about land mines and his planned church, but he dodged any leading questions about his past. It was only when he asked to see Nate's business card that we realised Duch had suspicions of his own.

'Nic,' he said, 'I believe your friend has interviewed Pol Pot.'

'That's right,' I said.

Duch gave a deep sigh: 'I believe it is God's will you are here,' he said. It was almost as if he'd always expected this day to come.

After that he talked openly about what had happened and said he was very sorry. I'd spent 10 years pursuing a 'monster', and found instead a wizened old man who appeared to be contrite and displaying humanity. We showed him confessions from Tuol Sleng prisoners, and he identified his handwriting on them.

A few days later, Duch simply gave himself up to the Cambodian authorities, but it took another decade for him to be tried through a United Nations-backed tribunal. Found guilty of crimes against humanity, he faces 35 years in jail.

My part in this process has been very small; finding him was an accident, and the chain of events since has had nothing to do with me. It wasn't my plan to bring him to justice; I simply wanted to see for myself how this man – a former mathematician and teacher – had become one of the most notorious mass murderers of the 20th century.

• As told to Chris Broughton.

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John Sentamu accuses government of 'sitting on sidelines' while other countries tackle the cross-border problem

The Archbishop of York has joined critics of the government's opt-out from the EU's new directive on sex trafficking, describing the decision as 'stunning'.

John Sentamu accused ministers of 'sitting on the sidelines' while other countries try to tackle a cross-border problem, which is thought to be growing but has seen fewer traffickers jailed this year than at any time since 2005.

The Archbishop said the 'evil trade, which is nothing less than modern-day slavery', requires joint international action with Britain playing a full part. Estimates suggest that 2,500 foreign women have been pimped into prostitution by gangs.

Writing in today's Yorkshire Post, Dr Sentamu said: 'I am no great supporter of European directives because of the supremacy of our parliament, but this one seems to be commonsense, designed to coordinate action against the trade in slaves. Britain should get involved now and be part of improving the situation – not sat on the sidelines offering wise words only when the match is over.

'Our government should be ensuring that Britain leads the way, as it did in the days of William Wilberforce.'

His plea for a change of heart follows a similar appeal from the Labour party earlier this week, backed by the charity Anti-Slavery International. The Home Office says that caution over the directive protects damage to other national interests, but that the country is already 'working constructively with EU partners' to fight sex trafficking.

What does it feel like to be the only person to survive a plane crash, a boat wreck or an ambush? Sole survivors tell their stories

In February 2009, 24-year-old Nick Schuyler went fishing with three friends in the Gulf of Mexico. An attempt to salvage a stuck anchor capsized the boat, and the four men were forced to cling to the hull to survive. When rescuers found the upturned boat after 43 hours (see picture, above), he was the only one still alive.

It was going to be our last fishing trip. I knew Marquis [Cooper] and Corey [Smith] from the gym – I was their personal trainer and we'd become good friends – but the following week Marquis was moving away. We'd been fishing once before and I didn't enjoy it that much – the anchor of Marquis's boat got stuck and we'd had to cut it free. But we decided to go out one last time. One of Marquis's friends couldn't make the trip, so at the last minute I invited my best friend, Will [Bleakley], from my college football team.

On the morning of 28 February, we motored three hours out to sea. We knew there was a cold front coming in, and the sea was rough, but we weren't planning to stay out that long. I got sick on the way out though, and I was really cold, even in my winter ski jacket, so at about 4pm we decided to pull up anchor and head home early.

The anchor was stuck again. 'We're not going to lose another anchor,' we said to ourselves. So we decided to floor the engine and see what happened – the line would either snap or become loose. In fact, the line got really tight, and then the back of the boat shot down and the boat flipped over. The four of us were thrown in.

The water was so cold, we were in complete shock. Our first thought was to try to flip the boat back over. We were as strong as oxes, but in rough seas and with no leverage, it was never going to happen. So we hung on to whatever we could at the back of the boat and waited to be rescued.

Corey had a waterproof watch, and we knew Marquis's wife would call the coastguard if the boat wasn't back by a certain time. We thought they'd rescue us by 2am at the latest.

The seas got worse, you couldn't see where the waves were coming from. Then it got darker and colder; you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. We didn't know it at the time, but the rescue helicopters had been delayed by the bad weather. When we finally saw them, after about 10 hours, they flew straight over our heads. They were looking for a little white boat upon thousands and thousands of whitecaps.

By that time, Marquis was deteriorating. He wasn't wearing much clothing and his body was so cold. We didn't know the symptoms of hypothermia, but his eyes were at the back of his head, he was slurring and foaming at the mouth. Eventually he lost consciousness. Then Corey developed the same symptoms. The hypothermia made him aggressive and he started pulling on Marquis.

I struggled to hold on to Marquis for about an hour, but he died in my arms, and eventually we had to let him go – otherwise, we were going to lose Corey at the same time. That was by far the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

It wasn't long before Corey started to struggle. I was holding on to his jacket, but he kept trying to jump off the boat. Eventually he got away from me. We were yelling at him, but one of the side-effects of hypothermia is that you think you're hot and take off your clothes. He took off his life jacket and just swan-dived into the sea.

Will and I were alone. We tried to keep each other going. The sun was coming up and we told each other we were bound to get rescued, but the weather kept getting worse and the waves higher. The helicopters and planes couldn't see us. We spent the whole day fighting to hold on to each other and the boat. Will was a strong swimmer, and he was able to dive under the boat to get supplies – sports drinks and pretzels – but when he got back he wouldn't eat. He was developing the same symptoms as Corey and Marquis. He didn't get aggressive, just very weak, and I knew it was just a matter of time. I felt helpless.

To watch these three athletes, my friends, go out that way, it was the hardest thing. But I knew I wasn't going to quit. I tried to keep the image of my mother in my mind – I thought about her attending my funeral. I knew I wanted to live to tell people what had happened. After a few hours on my own, I started hallucinating and caught myself yelling. My heart rate got really slow and it was hard to breathe. I knew I was dying. I thought about cutting myself, trying to write something on my arm. I just wanted to tell the story.

I didn't even see the rescue boat until it was right beside me, and then I couldn't believe it was real. I had been on my own for 18 hours; in the sea for 43 hours in total.

I've thought a lot about why I survived. I was in the best shape of my life, and I was wearing my winter jacket, so I was better insulated. But a lot of it was luck: it could have been any one of those guys. And to be saved, to see my family again – it was the most bittersweet feeling imaginable. I knew there were three families who were still hoping their sons would be found.

The worst was having to tell them what had happened. But still the search carried on, and I had to sit there in hospital, knowing they wouldn't find anyone alive.

I lost roughly 40lbs [18kg], tore my groin and my hip, and the ends of my big toes might always be numb, but that's not a big deal. I've had survivor's guilt, particularly at first. And there were lots of rumours afterwards – about us giving up, about inexperienced boating. So I wrote a book, Not Without Hope – not only to honour my friends but to get closure, for myself and for the families. They've dealt with the grief in their own ways, but I'm the only one who knows the truth.

It would be different if I'd been able to save somebody. But to come out of that water on my own, knowing I'd lost three friends – it's very hard.

Bahia Bakari was the sole survivor of Yemenia Airways flight 626, which crashed into the Indian Ocean near the north coast of Grande Comore, in the Comoros islands, on 30 June 2009. A schoolgirl from the outskirts of Paris, now 14, she was on her way to the Comoros for her summer holidays with her mother, Aziza Aboudou, who was among the 152 passengers and crew killed. She spent nine hours in the water, clinging to a piece of wreckage.

Suddenly, the lights started flickering, and the passengers became more and more anxious and panicked. The hostesses told us not to worry, that this happened sometimes because of bad weather; it was nothing. Mummy seemed calm, confident, she was smiling at me. She ran her hand through my hair. I turned my head to the window and pressed my face really hard against it, trying to see what was happening outside. A sudden loud whistle ran through the cabin. My head was like in a vice. There was a deafening noise of crumpling metal. I felt myself sucked out by a superhuman force. There were several explosions. I felt a big shudder, like an electric shock, run through my body. It anaesthetised me. Then I didn't feel anything, no pain. I plunged into a black hole.

I tried to open my eyes. How much time had passed? How long had I been unconscious? I was in water, underwater. My lungs were blocked up. I couldn't breathe. My body drifted up to the surface, I got my head out. I breathed in, at last. My lungs were burning, I was coughing and spitting; my throat was on fire. My left eye hurt terribly. I was alone in the middle of the sea. My clothes were heavy, my shoes weighed a tonne. I moved my hands and legs to keep my head above water; my shoulder hurt, and my hip. It was a black night, no moon, but I saw four pieces of white debris not far away from me. I managed to swim to one, and tried to climb up on to it. I couldn't stay sat on it; it was smaller and less stable than I thought. And I couldn't pull my legs up; they hurt too much.

The waves were huge; three times as tall as my dad. I was exhausted, I just wanted to sleep. So I rested my head on the debris. I thought about my mother. I thought she must have arrived at the airport by now and be wondering where I was. She must be really angry with me, that I'd managed to fall out of the plane into the sea just before we landed – I hadn't listened to her, again. I should have done my seat belt up tighter, and not looked out of the window, not leaned over so far. And she must be worried to death about me.

I closed my eyes. When I woke up, it was dawn. The sea was more and more agitated. I was terribly thirsty, and I couldn't feel my legs. But I was still clinging on to my piece of debris. I saw land, not too far away, green and yellow. I shouted for joy and tried to paddle towards it, but I realised it was actually getting farther away. I lost sight of the land.

It wasn't until the boat had found me and I was in the hospital in Moroni the following day, 1 July – after my uncle Joseph had been in to see me – that a psychologist came. She was a white lady. She told me I was the only survivor of the plane crash, that I was lucky to have escaped, but that one day, perhaps in 10 years, I would feel guilty to have lived. I didn't understand her. I had fallen from the plane, I knew that. But why was she talking to me about a crash?

Then I had an awful premonition. 'Why isn't mummy here with us?' I asked. She said: 'You know, I don't think they found your mother. They only found you.'

The coldness of those words, the offhandedness, almost destroyed me. In the sea, on my piece of debris, I had really believed I was the only one to fall out of the plane. Mummy couldn't have disappeared; mums don't disappear. The woman carried on talking, but I wasn't listening. And yet, little by little, I began to understand: I wasn't the only one to have fallen from the plane – everyone, passengers, captain, crew, they all fell. Mummy, too.

Even so, it wasn't until much, much later, back in France, with Daddy and my brothers and sisters, that I understood I would never see her again.

In June 2005, US Navy Seal Marcus Luttrell took part in Operation Red Wing in Afghanistan, to capture or kill Taliban leader Ahmad Shah. When three goat herders discovered their hiding place, the men voted to let them go. Shortly after, they were ambushed. Nineteen men were killed in the resulting gun battle – Luttrell was the only survivor. Wounded, he hid in a nearby village for six days before being rescued.

We were on a ridge watching the target when they came up behind us and started firing. I don't know why I survived. I'd put my foot one way, and step. And someone else would do the same thing and get hit. That's one of the things about being a lone survivor – you don't know why.

My skill level wasn't superior to anyone else's. I wasn't in any better shape than anyone else. We were all hit multiple times. I just outlasted it. So many guys were hit so many different times, they just bled out.

I watched all my guys die, but somehow I managed to crawl to safety. I escaped to the mountains. I must have been on my own for a day and a half – it's a blur really. I was dehydrated and bleeding to death. Eventually I was found by some local villagers. They took me in. At the time I didn't know why, but I discovered it's a tradition in that village. They take in travellers, people who are injured, and give them food, shelter and do everything they can to keep them alive – that includes defending them against enemies. I had gunshot wounds, broken bones, lacerations from the trees and rocks, but they took care of me until I was eventually rescued on 4 July.

I've never questioned why I survived, but I'm doing everything I can to repay the people who helped me in my recovery. I started the Lone Survivor foundation, and I work with a campaign called When They Come Back We Give Back, which helps veterans returning from conflict situations.

I remember the guys I lost every day – I play the scenario in my head every time. But I'm alive, and I don't take that for granted.

Captain George Burk was the sole survivor of a military plane crash in 1970. The 13 other crew members were killed. He had 65% burns and spent 18 months in hospital. He has dedicated his life since to motivating others.

It was like sticking a needle in a balloon. Shortly into the flight, the window glazing cracked, there was a boom and the plane decompressed. We pitched nose down, the windows blew out. The noise was deafening. Papers, clothing, everything was being sucked out of the windows.

There were 14 of us on board. Our crew chief was trying to hold the door on and my boss was flying the aircraft, but the left side of the cockpit was split open. Next to him was Daryl Robinson, or Robbie. His head was off his shoulders.

I sat back down, buckled my seat belt and assumed the survival position. My life didn't flash in front of me, but the last thought I remember having was, 'I hope my insurance policies are intact.' My children were six, four and two. I knew I was going to die, but the mind has this numbing mechanism. I was aware of everything, but I felt it wasn't really happening.

I remember the impact. The bending, breaking and shearing of metal. I was thrown violently back against the seat, then forward, breaking my nose on the seat in front. I had no sensation of blood, though; my adrenaline was pumping.

The next sensation was as though someone had dumped a large bucket of scalding hot water on me. Everything went black. I opened my eyes. I was face down outside the plane, my hands were charred and black, and the skin on my left hand was hanging off. I remember looking at my feet and finding it rather unique that my right shoelace was tied and my left one was gone.

I looked around me. I could see our crew chief, he was badly burned and dead. Near me was another body – Bob Ward, I knew him quite well. I remember thinking, if I sit here I'm going to die. I felt a terrible pain in my back, but I managed to walk. I was just praying to God to not let me die in this field alone, without a chance to say goodbye to my family. All the things that I thought were important – about my career and whether or not people liked me – was nothing; it didn't mean anything.

I started to go into shock and lay down under a tree. I knew I was dying. I felt like I was being stung by millions of bees. The bad cop in my head told me to close my eyes and go to sleep, the good cop was saying, if you close your eyes, you're going to die. I don't want to die. Focus, focus, focus. I held pictures of my children, their mother, my parents in my head. I could have closed my eyes so easily.

I heard voices coming towards me. I forced myself to my feet, waving my arms, then fell back down in a heap. A firefighter leaned over me. I heard his voice crack as he said, 'Oh my God.'

When I got to hospital, my total body surface was 65% burned, with a little more than 50% third-degree burns; the fingers on my left hand had burned down to the bone. I have no recollection of digging my way out of the plane through a crack in the fuselage, but apparently that's how I got out. I had a broken nose, a skull fracture, two fused bones in my neck, four cracked ribs, a fracture in my spine and my left shoulder is still separated. I was in hospital for months – it was a miracle I got out of intensive care.

Much later I found there had been problems with the pressure system on that aircraft before. It had been polished for inspection so often that perhaps the buffing had compromised the rivets.

There were no support groups in those days, and I didn't know about post-traumatic stress disorder or survivor's guilt. I didn't have anyone to talk to. Everyone on the flight and most of the guys I knew in the burns unit had died. I asked my doctor, 'What am I supposed to do with the rest of my life? Why me?' And he told me I had experienced the will to survive – he said I had to find my purpose.

It's been tough, and I still have my moments. I haven't been physically pain-free for 40 years, but it's the pain inside your head that will kill you; the guilt. I've tried to live my life in a way that honours the men who died, my family and the doctors and nurses who didn't give up on me or let me quit. I've realised that we're here for a reason – to make a difference – and that's what I've tried to do. To turn a negative into a positive.

• Bahia Bakari's story is extracted from Moi Bahia, la miraculee by Bahia Bakari and Omar Guendouz, published by Jean-Claude Gaweswitch. Edited and translated by Jon Henley.

Beating the stars of Mad Men to an Emmy for her role in The Good Wife was a 'well-received shock', British actor Archie Panjabi says

When Hugh Laurie went home from last Sunday's Emmy awards empty handed, there seemed to be a mass slumping of shoulders among the British press. Laurie has found spectacular success with his portrayal of a grumpy doctor in the TV drama House, but perhaps it's time for him to let another – younger, better-looking – Brit steal the spotlight in America. She may not yet be a household name in Britain, but Archie Panjabi is a big deal in America; the 38-year-old from Edgware, London, picked up her first Emmy on Sunday.

Panjabi's dazzling portrayal of a law firm's in-house private investigator in the hit CBS show The Good Wife swept aside Mad Men's Elisabeth Moss and Christina Hendricks, who were surely odds-on to win. Even with months of wildly supportive press in the US, did Panjabi have a clue that she would win best supporting actress in a drama series? She roars with laughter. 'No! It was a complete shock. I was up against five very talented and established actresses ... but it was a well-received shock. The best way to describe it is to compare it to a child's first trip to Disneyland.'

Panjabi was asked to audition for the show after the writers saw her performances in the films A Mighty Heart and A Good Year – Ridley Scott, director of the latter, was an executive producer. There's even a quote from him on her website, saying that she is 'smart and sensitive enough as an actress to make anything fly, comedy or drama, an unusual talent ... she's a beautiful girl'.

The great thing about Panjabi is that she doesn't rely on her considerable beauty. She can do comedy – she had fun with roles in East is East and Bend It Like Beckham - but is a serious character actor. She is able to lose herself in different roles yet is always commanding on screen - even alongside Angelina Jolie in A Mighty Heart. In the critically acclaimed 2004 film Yasmin, in which she played a bold, modern young woman who agrees to enter into an arranged marriage to please her traditional Pakistani family and whose world is rocked by 9/11, she gave her character dignity, depth and a very real sense of suppressed anger.

The role of Kalinda in The Good Wife is perfect for Panjabi: she is totally fearless in her figure-hugging clothes, stiletto boots and soft, expensive leather jackets. She wears her hair up, stands very straight and scares most of the people who come into contact with her. She is contained, emotionally remote and sexually ambiguous.

How did the writers first describe Kalinda? 'As an East Indian – which is what Americans say to differentiate from American Indian – Erin Brockovich who uses her sexuality to get what she wants. In the pilot I wore jeans and then came the high boots. The costume designer had this idea of making her wear tight clothes and really short skirts. We were trying to make her look sexy without it being obvious she'd made a big effort. It was a challenge, but we got there in the end. I love roles where I have to transform myself.'

Panjabi enjoys the spiky boots; they help her get into character, get her walking in a totally different way. Off screen, Panjabi is a little shy and learning slowly to shed her British modesty whereas Kalinda is feisty as hell. But there's a steeliness and a determination to succeed that they share. When I ask if she is ambitious, Panjabi repeats the question to herself. 'I knew what I wanted to do for my entire life, from nursery to university. I've always been geared towards wanting to act. I've stuck with it, dedicated time to it. So if that makes me ambitious, then the answer is yes.'

Her parents emigrated to London from India before she was born and in previous interviews she has mentioned family arguments about acting; as Yasmin compromises by agreeing to an arranged marriage, so Panjabi agreed to study management studies at Brunel before pursuing acting full-time. If anything, having to fight for her freedom to act has given her focus. She worked so hard on the first series of The Good Wife that she barely managed to do any sightseeing in New York (where the drama is filmed because Julianna Margulies, as the wife of Chris Noth's disgraced politician, wanted to stay close to home).

Panjabi thinks nothing of waking up at 2am and doing some work on her character but dismisses suggestions of being a workaholic; she insists extra-curricular research helps her to relax. She hasn't even had time to watch Mad Men, Nurse Jackie, 30 Rock, Modern Family or any of the other American TV shows of the last few years. These shows, great though they are, tend to be dominated by white faces and I wonder if Panjabi has ever felt thwarted by her ethnicity. 'Sometimes my ethnicity is relevant, other times not. I definitely get the best of both worlds. The great thing about Kalinda is that her ambiguous sexuality is more important than her background.'

There are times when Panjabi desperately misses family and friends in London, but she is committed to staying in New York until April, when series two of The Good Wife finishes filming. And what then? 'I honestly don't know. I'd love to work with Ken Loach and maybe even Quentin Tarantino.' As one of his tough chicks? She laughs. 'Yeah! Please! I'd love to do a romantic comedy. And perhaps, if the character was right and I had a good gut instinct, a Bollywood movie.' The words are now tumbling out. 'And I'd love to direct. One day. I'm learning a lot on the set of The Good Wife.'

So, apart from being totally focused on her work and, it's probably fair to say, consumed by Kalinda, what makes Panjabi so good at her job? 'Oh no! I'm too British to tell you that. Maybe it's always telling myself that I can do better. Remembering never to learn lines and then just recite them. Thank you for thinking I'm good.' She tails off, embarrassed.

State of emergency declared after largest city on New Zealand's South Island is hit by earthquake

Dr John Sentamu describes the government decision to opt out of new EU directive on sex trafficking as 'stunning'

The Archbishop of York has joined critics of the government's opt-out from the EU's new directive on sex trafficking, describing the decision as 'stunning'.

Dr John Sentamu accused ministers of 'sitting on the sidelines' while other countries try to tackle a cross-border problem which is thought to be growing but has seen fewer traffickers jailed this year than at any time since 2005.

The archbishop said that the 'evil trade which is nothing less than modern-day slavery' required joint international action with Britain playing a full part. Estimates suggest that some 2,500 foreign women have been pimped into prostitution by gangs.

Writing in the Yorkshire Post, Dr Sentamu said: 'I am no great supporter of European directives because of the supremacy of our parliament, but this one seems to be common sense, designed to coordinate action against the trade in slaves. Britain should get involved now and be part of improving the situation – not sat on the sidelines offering wise words only when the match is over.'

He compared the government's stance to him sitting silently in the House of Lords during debates on the sex trade.

'That is not how lawmakers should operate. Our government should be ensuring that Britain leads the way, as it did in the days of William Wilberforce,' he said.

His plea for a change of heart follows a similar appeal from the Labour party earlier this week, backed by the charity Anti-Slavery International. The Home Office said that caution over the directive protects damage to other national interests, but that the country is already 'working constructively with EU partners' to fight sex trafficking.

Wilful testing of race-related taboos really ought to stop

A judge once branded Morrissey 'devious, truculent and unreliable' and it won't take long to reach a verdict on the latest case against him. He tells Simon Armitage in the Guardian's weekend magazine that 'you can't help but feel the Chinese are a subspecies', a remark even nastier than his miserable rant against immigration in England a few years ago. There really is no defence. Loyal fans might, perhaps, plead in mitigation that these cruel words were unleashed in outrage about the mistreatment of animals, but there are aggravating factors as well.

He's caused enough upset on race in the past to know perfectly well that he ought to take care with his public remarks. But he hasn't. So if the charge is causing racial offence, the only feasible judgment is guilty.

What, however, should we do next: call on him to resign? The truth is that there is nothing more to be said, apart from insisting – in defiance of any expectation that he will listen – that his wilful testing of race-related taboos really ought to stop. That joke isn't funny anymore. In fact it never was, not even in the distant days when it took a slightly subtler form, as when he made his reported claim that 'all reggae is vile'.

Morrissey has a record release of sorts this autumn, and on one cynical reading, a bit of a race row has now become a standard part of the publicity strategy, raising the profile of the product in the same way as it seems to be doing with the latest V S Naipaul book. But I don't buy it. I think the outbursts are less about publicity to the outside world than self-absorption. With his last album called Years of Refusal, Morrissey is nothing if not defiant, and I suspect that his unattractive response to being challenged over race in the past is to grow ever-more certain of his own righteousness and then court fresh controversy in order to confirm to himself that he is being persecuted. What the world thinks – and the feelings of others – are nothing compared to the importance of being Morrissey.

It's an unfortunate facet of a complex character, but we fans should not feel obliged to disown the music we love, any more than opera enthusiasts should have to close their ears to Wagner because of his objectionable views. As the singer explains to Armitage, 'the ageing process isn't terribly pretty', and although he has produced some excellent songs in recent years, it is increasingly possible to enjoy his great oeuvre without any regard to the man. It is telling that this autumn's release is remastered and expanded material first recorded two decades ago.

Nothing Morrissey says or does now would taint my enjoyment of the songs unless I were convinced that they were actually racist in themselves, and I don't think they are. The most notorious single track – National Front Disco – is in fact a rather knowing tale of a young man's alienation leading him towards fascist delusions. Bengali in Platforms is more troubling, featuring the grossly insensitive refrain – bordering on a taunt – about how 'life is hard enough when you belong here'. It's offensive all right, but I don't think it's race hatred as such. Rather, it wallows in the plight of the immigrant who tries to fit in, much as the (equally offensive) November Spawned a Monster describes the self-loathing of a girl in a wheelchair. The last of the potentially troubling songs that I am aware of, Asian Rut, is suggestive of a bit of a preoccupation with race, but the lyrics reveal nothing more than that.

And then, let's not forget, there is the rest of a vast catalogue that has nothing to do with race. In the best of it – from There is a Light that Never Goes Out to I Know it's Gonna Happen Someday – the words mix with the music to speak to a human condition that defines people of every race. And that, I am sure, is what will be remembered long after this silly old man has finally got off the stage.

Remark came in context of an attack on China's animal welfare record, with singer having been criticised on a number of previous occasions for negative race comments

Read Simon Armitage's interview with Morrissey in full

Tom Clark: Morrissey, this joke isn't funny anymore

For almost three decades, indie rock icon Morrissey has made almost as many enemies as devoted fans willing to hang on his every melancholy-drenched lyric. Described by one high court judge as 'devious, truculent and unreliable', the former Smiths frontman is no stranger to controversy and criticism. But tomorrow he reignites a simmering row about his views on race in an interview in Guardian Weekend magazine, in which he describes Chinese people as a 'subspecies' because of their treatment of animals.

Morrissey, a vegetarian and animal rights advocate who last year abandoned the stage at the Coachella festival in California because of the smell of cooking meat, described the treatment of animals in China as 'absolutely horrific', referring to recent news stories about animals in Chinese circuses and zoos. He told interviewer Simon Armitage: 'Did you see the thing on the news about their treatment of animals and animal welfare? Absolutely horrific. You can't help but feel that the Chinese are a subspecies.'

A spokesman for Love Music Hate Racism, which received a donation of £28,000 from the singer in 2008 after his apparently anti-immigration comments made in music magazine NME convulsed the media, said it would be unable to accept support from Morrissey again if he did not rescind or dispute today's comments.

'It really is just crude racism,' said Martin Smith. 'When you start using language like 'subspecies', you are entering into dark and murky water. I don't think we would, or could, ask him to come back after that.'

Armitage said Morrissey was typically and deliberately provocative throughout the interview. 'I thought at the time it was a dangerous thing to say into a tape recorder. He must have known it would make waves, he's not daft,' he said. 'But he's provocative and theatrical, and it was one of dozens of dramatic pronouncements. I'm not an apologist for that kind of remark, and couldn't ignore it. But clearly, when it comes to animal rights and animal welfare, he's absolutely unshakable in his beliefs. In his view, if you treat an animal badly, you are less than human. I think that was his point.'

Morrissey said in a statement tonight: 'If anyone has seen the horrific and unwatchable footage of the Chinese cat and dog trade – animals skinned alive – then they could not possibly argue in favour of China as a caring nation. There are no animal protection laws in China and this results in the worst animal abuse and cruelty on the planet. It is indefensible.'

His latest comments are not the first time the singer has provoked accusations of racism. Some of his song titles and lyrics have attracted criticism, including the tracks Bengali in Platforms – 'He only wants to embrace your culture/And to be your friend forever/ … Oh shelve your western plans/ … life is hard enough when you belong here' – and National Front Disco.

In 1992 NME accused Morrissey of 'flirting with disaster' and racist imagery after wrapping himself in the union flag while on stage in Finsbury Park, north London.

In the same year, the singer, now 51, was quoted in Q Magazine stating that he did not want to be 'horrible or pessimistic' but he didn't 'really think, for instance, black people and white people will ever really get on or like each other. I don't really think they ever will.' While in 1994 he told Select magazine that the National Front should be given a clear voice or platform in order for them to be 'less of a threat'.

The war of words with NME continued in 2007 after Morrissey, who lived in Rome at the time, was quoted in an interview with the magazine apparently criticising levels of immigration after being asked if he would ever consider moving back to England. 'With the issue of immigration, it's very difficult because, although I don't have anything against people from other countries, the higher the influx into England the more the British identity disappears,' he said. 'If you walk through Knightsbridge on any bland day of the week you won't hear an English accent. You'll hear every accent under the sun apart from the British accent.'

At another point in the interview he stated: 'England is a memory now. The gates are flooded and anybody can have access to England and join in.'

Morrissey issued a writ for defamation against the magazine and its then editor Conor McNicholas, saying the publication had 'deliberately tried to characterise me as a racist … in order to boost their dwindling circulation'.

He vehemently denied the accusations of racism. 'I abhor racism and oppression or cruelty of any kind and will not let this pass without being absolutely clear and emphatic … Racism is beyond common sense and has no place in our society,' he said in a statement.

Simon Price, a music journalist who has followed Morrissey's career closely, said his die-hard fans who have idolised him for more than 25 years would be unlikely to desert him, but others would be 'appalled, if not exactly surprised'.

The singer appeared to have left little room for explanation in his controversial comment, he added. 'What are the apologists going to say this time? It looks like in his old age Morrissey has forgotten to include the ambiguity, like he has done in the past. Maybe he just doesn't care any more.'

He added: 'For Morrissey's hardcore fan base, no matter what he says he can do no wrong, but this is not going to make those in the media feel favourably toward him and lots of doors will be shut to him that maybe had been ajar in the past.'

After violence in Africa and protests in Egypt, Serbia and Pakistan, the UN are to urge action on the rising cost of food

The UN has called an urgent meeting on rising global food prices in an attempt to head off a repeat of the 2008 crisis that sparked riots around the world.

Seven people, including two children, were killed in Mozambique this week during three days of protests triggered by a rise in the cost of bread. There has also been anger over increasing prices in Egypt, Serbia and Pakistan, where floods destroyed a fifth of the country's crops.

The UN's announcement came after Russian prime minister Vladimir Putin extended the country's ban on grain exports. The ban has been partly blamed for a 5% increase in global food prices worldwide over the last two months, hitting their highest level in two years. The price of wheat has had its biggest monthly rise for 37 years. 'In the past few weeks, global cereal markets experienced a sudden surge in international wheat prices on concerns over wheat shortages,' the UN Food and Agriculture Organisation said.

'The purpose of holding the meeting is for exporting and importing countries to engage in constructive discussions on appropriate reactions to the current market situation.'

Agency spokesman Christopher Matthews said the meeting of the inter-governmental committee on grains will be held on 24 September, most likely in Rome. He added a large number of member countries had expressed concern about a possible repeat of the food crisis two years ago. But agency officials and other experts have stressed that conditions are different from 2008, when high oil prices and growing demand for biofuels pushed world food stocks to their lowest levels since 1982.

The tense atmosphere in developing countries, where food costs up to 70% of family income, erupted in Mozambique this week in three days of riots that left seven people dead, hundreds injured and millions of dollars of damage.

'This was the worst rioting I have ever seen in my life, people can really turn very violent and lives are at risk, instead of a peaceful demonstration,' said Felizmina Fabia, a resident of the capital, Maputo. As violence continued today, with police firing tear gas and rubber bullets, opposition parties and human rights groups criticised the government, saying it failed to gauge the anger that would be unleashed by the 30% bread price increase and hikes in water and electricity tariffs.

Alice Mabota, head of the Mozambican League of Human Rights, told Portugal's Lusa news agency: 'The government underestimated the situation and can't understand or doesn't want to understand that this is a protest against the higher cost of living.'

The government-imposed price rise took the cost of a bread roll - the staple of Mozambicans - to 20 US cents (13p) in a country where the average worker earns around $37 (£24) a month.

Egyptians have also protested over food prices in recent months, and analysts have warned that riots could follow the jump in prices in Africa and the Middle East. The trend comes after the global recession already put a squeeze on household budgets and intensified the risk of malnutrition.

In Mauritania in west Africa, rice prices doubled over the first three months of the year, according to the World Food Programme. Over the same period, the price of corn rose 59% in Zimbabwe and 57% in Mozambique.

Niger is suffering severe food shortages and price rises of up to 30%. Save the Children reported last week that the number of severely malnourished children visiting its clinics in Niger has gone up fourfold since the start of the year.

In Russia itself, the price of some essential food products soared 30% in August. Officials have blamed panic buying.

Susannah Nicol, a regional spokeswoman for the World Food Programme (WFP), warned that its operations could soon be affected. 'Any food rise means that donations to the WFP will buy less for the hungry and the poor,' she said.

In 2007-08, severe food shortages and resulting price rises led to worldwide demonstrations and violence. But analysts say global grain supplies are more abundant this time after bumper harvests in 2008 and 2009.

Daniel Sinnathamby [CORR], regional humanitarian coordinator for Oxfam in southern Africa, said: 'There is food around, which was not the case in 2000 and 2003 when production failed. Most countries in the region except Zimbabwe seemed to have had fairly good harvests.

'The question is how does it get around and into the hands of poor people. Governments need to take a look at internal distribution and see who is poor and marginalised.'

In June a UN report warned that food prices will rise by up to 40% over the next decade due to growing biofuel production and demand from emerging markets.

MI6 man jailed for a year for 'act of betrayal' for trying to sell top secret files

A software engineer working for MI6, who tried to sell intelligence for £2m, has been given a 12-month jail sentence for his 'act of betrayal'.

Daniel Houghton, 25, from Hoxton, east London, pleaded guilty at an earlier hearing to two offences under the Official Secrets Act. He offered computer files containing sensitive information about intelligence collection and M16 staff lists to agents from the Netherlands, the Old Bailey heard. The Dutch initially thought it was a hoax, but later tipped off their UK counterparts. Houghton was arrested after arranging a meeting at a London hotel in March.

He claimed he heard voices telling him to do it, but today the judge, Mr Justice Bean, was told there were conflicting psychiatric reports. 'You seem to be a strange young man. But whether you were hearing voices at the time, I don't know. If you were hearing voices they may have had a significant influence on your behaviour, but they could not be said to remove your responsibility for your actions.'

Sentencing him, he said: 'You were employed by the security services and attempted to sell secret material for very large sums of money.

'In particular you attempted to sell staff lists, which would have disclosed the identity and homes and whereabouts of agents whose identity must be protected almost at all costs. If the material had found its way into the hands of a hostile power, it would have done enormous damage and put lives at risk.

'On the other hand, you are not an ideologue. If you had been intent on causing harm to this country's interests, you would have chosen a different recipient than the Netherlands. These were unsophisticated offences. You made no attempt to conceal your identity.'

Houghton had worked for the Secret Intelligence Service (SIS), also known as MI6, between September 2007 and May 2009, the court heard. During this time he accessed a number of computer files belonging to the British security service (MI5) relating to the work of both agencies and marked 'secret' or 'top secret'. They were described as 'sensitive capabilities files, important tools developed by SIS staff for the gathering of intelligence for national security purposes'.

He also tried to sell two secret staff lists, one containing 387 names and the other with the home and mobile telephone numbers of 39 people.

Piers Arnold, prosecuting, said: 'It was a personal betrayal of these individuals with the potential, if it had fallen into the wrong hands, to compromise individuals' safety.'

Houghton will be released almost immediately, because he has already served half the term while on remand awaiting trial.

President Hamid Karzai's brother calls for US to guarantee deposits amid fears collapse would threaten police and army salaries

Officials in Afghanistan are resisting US pressure for a wide-ranging clean-up of Kabul Bank, which is mired in allegations of corruption that have engulfed some of the wealthiest and most powerful people in the country.

The stand-off came as the bank's third-biggest shareholder, Mahmoud Karzai – the elder brother of President Hamid Karzai – called for a US bailout of the stricken bank.

The central bank on Tuesday ordered that the chairman and chief executive of Kabul Bank, who are both large shareholders in the bank, should step down from their positions and a government official be appointed to manage the bank.

But western officials with intimate knowledge of the financial drama said the US treasury wanted to see much stronger action. That would include bringing the bank into line with international norms, not least the appointment of a fully independent board capable of standing up to overmighty shareholders.

Such independence would risk bringing to light allegations that members of the country's business and political elite have, for years, apparently got away with using deposits of thousands of ordinary Afghans to fund lavish lifestyles. The bank's funds are said to have been used to invest in loss-making enterprises and, allegedly, the re-election campaign of President Karzai.

In the words of one foreign official, the US treasury is anxious to 'rip the lid' off the cowboy capitalism that has been allowed to flourish at Kabul Bank.

But sources close to the negotiations say the central bank is under intense pressure to resist US demands.

'What [the US treasury is] asking for is not completely unreasonable, from a prudential regulatory perspective,' said one official. 'But there are lots of assets off the books. The hunch is that shareholders would like to continue to use bank assets how they want, rather than bring it into line with international best practice.'

The central bank's spokesman could not be reached by phone today.

Earlier in the week Abdul Qadir Fitrat, the bank's governor, said the removal of Sher Khan Farnood as chairman and Khalilullah Frozi as chief executive had been a long-planned decision to bring to an end the situation where the two largest shareholders controlled all the operations.

But western officials and banking industry sources say the government was forced to clean up the bank's suspected dubious practices after infighting between the two men threatened the bank's future. The collapse of the institution that manages the salaries of the country's police and army would create havoc, as well as hitting the Afghan economy.

Mahmoud Karzai, a minority stakeholder with 7% of the shares, said he welcomed a full audit of the bank and that he was concerned about three problems that may have occurred under Farnood and Frozi: lending over the bank's limits, lending to shareholders and investing outside the country in 'risky businesses'.

When asked whether he thought anyone should go to jail if fraud is uncovered he said, 'I don't think so because that would create chaos. Maybe there should be fines or something like that.'

But he said he would never let the bank be taken over: 'It's an independent bank owned by the shareholders and we will not allow the government or anyone else to take it over.'

Karzai had earlier told the Boston Globe that 'America should do something' and the US treasury should agree to guarantee the bank.

But when contacted by the Guardian he was anxious to sound a note of confidence, and said that with the bank's $400m in cash he did not think a bailout would be necessary. He said he only floated the idea of the US paying money because he held the American embassy and US newspapers responsible for starting the panic when they reported Kabul Bank had made $300m in losses, which he strongly denied.

But Karzai conceded that it had already suffered a bank run, with almost $160m withdrawn in the last two days alone – a huge amount considering Afghanistan's tiny banking sector. Despite efforts by Karzai and the finance minister to assure customers, the test will be whether the panic continues when banks open tomorrow. With so many of the bank's assets unlikely to be easily sold for cash a bailout could be huge, perhaps requiring $600m, in the estimate of one bank executive.

The financial scandal is a huge embarrassment for Afghanistan, with many leading figures linked to the unorthodox bank whose brazen business practices were allowed to flourish despite a modern banking law drawn up by foreign experts.

In a country that lacked any banking infrastructure in late 2001, the bank mushroomed into Afghanistan's largest financial institution by attracting depositors who had never had bank accounts before, allegedly in part by running a lottery system where account holders had the chance to win large prizes.

Sources claimed those deposits were then used to fund enterprises belonging to shareholders or their families, while investors wanting to set up legitimate businesses often got nowhere.

Renaissance artist Raphael's works are shown together for the first time after Vatican loans tapestries to V&A

The Renaissance artist Raphael may just have lived long enough to see the series of tapestries he designed for the Sistine Chapel in Rome. He died a few months after they arrived from the weavers in Brussels at the end of 1519. But it is certain he never saw them together with the cartoons he had drawn four years earlier as the basis for the tapestries. No one ever has. Until now.

Today staff at the Victoria and Albert Museum were putting the finishing touches to an exhibition of the tapestries, displayed for the first time alongside the cartoons which have been on display at the museum since 1865, and are among its foremost treasures. Curators and workmen were raising four of the heavy 494-year-old tapestries, woven in wool, silk and gilt-metal thread, which have been loaned by the Vatican - at its own suggestion - as an accompaniment toto mark this month's visit to Britain by Pope Benedict XVI. The cartoons and tapestries will be together on show for just six weeks.

'No one has ever seen them together before,' said Clare Browne, the museum's curator of textiles, who described the tapestries as 'among the most extraordinary productions of their era'.

Watching with barely suppressed excitement was the V&A's expert on Raphael, Mark Evans, who has been studying the works since he was an undergraduate. 'When the Vatican rang up in February and offered to loan us the tapestries for an exhibition, to say that my jaw dropped would be an understatement,' he said. '. I had always thought the logistical difficulties and political support necessary would make it impossible. This is my opportunity to realise something that has been at the fringes of my thinking for 40 years. I know I will never do anything like this again.'

The series of 10 tapestries, of events taken from the Acts of the Apostles, was commissioned by Pope Leo X in 1515. Raphael, a busy artist already at work on frescoes for the papal apartments, completed the designs, painted as full-size cartoons, within a year and it was from these that the finest weavers in Europe, based 1,000 miles away in Brussels, wove their work. It is estimated that each tapestry would have taken one loom a year to complete and at least seven were delivered to Rome in December 1519. So highly were they prized, that when Leo X died within two years, deep in debt, some of the tapestries were pawned. Only four of the surviving tapestries are robust enough to have been driven to London.

The cartoons themselves, which had been cut into strips so they could be placed under the loom and copied, remained in Brussels until they were bought a century later by Charles I. They have been owned by the royal family ever since and placed on loan to the museum for the last 145 years. Also in the exhibition are Raphael's preliminary preliminary drawings for the designs, loaned from the royal collection.

Had Raphael been able to compare his paintings with the finished designs, he would have spotted some intriguing differences. RapThe robe Christ is wearing in the work depicting his Charge to St Peter is a plain white, or pastel colour in the cartoon, but was decorated with gold stars in the tapestry. They went even further in the tapestry known as the Sacrifice at Lystra, showing the aftermath of the healing of a lame man by St Paul; probably believing the man did not figure strongly enough in the crowd, the weavers replaced the crutch Raphael had painted on the ground beside him with a wooden leg instead: the victim apparently having grown a new limb instead of merely having his own restored to muscled health. The Flemish tapestries have greater vivacity than one of the Mortlake copies, also in the exhibition, from 100 years later, which is evidently the product of reverent imitation rather than exuberant flair.

Evans said: 'You can see the sheer visual intelligence of Raphael in these designs. It is very common today to be snooty these days about brainpower in comparison to emotions, but the painter's great narrative shines through. It is supercharged.'

hael: Cartoons and Tapestries for the Sistine Chapel, at the V&A South Kensington from 8 September to 17 October.

Photograph: Linda Nylind for the Guardian

Two crew members from UPS cargo plane believed dead after crash near Dubai airport

Two crew members aboard an American UPS cargo plane are believed to have been killed after the aircraft crashed in Dubai today.

According to a United Arab Emirates official who appeared on local television station al-Arabiya, the plane was attempting to land at Dubai International Airport when it crashed due to technical problems. Witnesses reported seeing the aircraft setting fire to vehicles as it crashed and going up in a fireball. Some witnesses told Al-Jazeera that they had seen a fire on the aircraft before it crashed.

UPS spokeswoman Kristen Petrella said the Boeing 747-400 went down at about 8pm and was en route to the UPS hub in Cologne, Germany. Although the company has not officially confirmed casualties, it said two crew members were on board. 'This incident is very unfortunate and we will do everything we can to find the cause. Our thoughts go out to the crew members involved in the incident and their families,' UPS said in a statement.

Although local reports said the plane had come down near a busy highway intersection south-east of the airport, posters on the Professional Pilots Rumour Network (PPRN) suggest the aircraft went down near an area known as Silicon Oasis. The state news agency, Wam, reported the crash in an unpopulated desert area.

One poster on the PPRN said: 'Just five minutes ago. I heard and saw an aircraft, possibly an airliner going down in Dubai near Silicon Oasis. It has just over-flown my house and [there was] a big fireball.'UPS, a courier company based in US city of Atlanta, confirmed in a statement that one of its cargo planes had been involved in an accident in Dubai and said it was working to obtain more details.MrMachfivepointfive wrote on PPRN: 'UPS. Declared Mayday. Was on approach 30L and then veered off course. Last radar hit showed descending through 500' doing 250kts.'

In October 2009, a Sudanese Boeing 707 cargo plane crashed in the desert outside Dubai, killing six crew members. Emirati regulators have since banned Azza Transport, the plane's Sudanese owner, from operating in the country.

I trust you've been following to some extent the Jonathan Franzen-New York Times-chick lit debate. If not, it is summed up well here, in this Slate piece in which the authors counted up every piece of adult fiction reviewed in the NYT over the last two years and found that men get reviewed about twice as often as women.

Of course the book-reviewing trade discriminates against women. Why should it be any different from anything else? I say that derisively, you understand, not with approval.

I've never read Jodi Picoult or Jennifer Wiener, the two 'chick-lit' authors who kicked this off (and by the way, as literary feuds of the past go, this one ranks way way down the list). I have nothing bad to say about Franzen. I haven't read the new book but think I will. I did buy Gary Sheyngart's new one, also being beatified right now, and it's not really up my alley, although I see that he is immensely talented, and I wish him every success.

I'm a believer in lessening the distinction between serious and unserious writing, or music or anything. Shakespeare wrote things for money. Mozart wrote music he thought his paymasters would enjoy. Dickens? Please. He wrote magazine serials, placing his craft in the distinctly anti-aesthetic service of pumping up circulation. And I see nothing wrong with caring about how well one's product might sell. Another way of saying that: how many lives and hearts it might touch.

The image of the lonely creative genius in his (no; her!) garret, caring not about recompense and wanting only to share with the world what is in his (no, dammit; her!) heart is the image to which we all pay the greatest obeisance. And maybe on balance that does make for the greatest art. But if a writer or painter or musician happens to have a commercial touch in addition to being able to make art, that's certainly nothing to hold against anybody. The more I read about the matter, the more I conclude that most yes most of history's creative geniuses were indeed trying to be commercial, in many cases trying very hard. And bravo for them. Or brava.

Where is the art-commerce line? Discuss.

The horrible thing about China's 62-mile nine-day jam was that it destroyed the certainty that travel will inevitably result in arrival

Hold on to your hats – or rather, don't bother, as we shan't exactly be proceeding at a great lick, and could in fact be here for aeons – because the Chinese traffic jam is back! In a metaphysical sense, of course, it never went away … but we shall come to the tailback's status as a metaphor for the soul-sapping futility of all human existence later.

First, a recap. The gridlock came belatedly to international attention last week, when it emerged that vehicles bound for Beijing were sitting in a queue of 62 miles, and that some of them had been there, moving around half a mile a day, since mid-August. Stranded drivers were passing the time playing cards, sleeping in their vehicles or on the asphalt, and being preyed on by merciless local opportunists along the route, who saw a captive, hungry audience to whom they could flog water and wildly overpriced bowls of rice.

I must confess I was going to write about the traffic jam in this spot last Saturday, but then I thought: you know what, why hurry? It'll still be there next week. In the event, it cleared relatively suddenly and mysteriously – only for another, even longer one to form. This latest incarnation of hopelessness made flesh stretched at least 75 miles on the Beijing-Tibet highway at time of writing.

Forgive the fascination, but with the loathsome detachment of someone not cursed with having to sit in the thing, I can't help seeing the Chinese traffic jam as less an infrastructure planning failure and more a global psychological event, whose presumably apocalyptic meaning should soon become clear. The tailback is quite simply the breakout star of summer, more deliciously captivating even than that woman who took three of her kids on a 300-mile coach trip to Raoul Moat's funeral, and pronounced it 'better than Legoland'.

The Doctor Who fans among you may be put in mind of an episode called Gridlock, set on Planet New Earth, which sees the Doctor and Martha pitch up in New New York, where most of the population has lived for decades in a traffic jam trying to escape the city. The word among the benighted folk is that should you manage to get in the fast lane, you can travel 10 miles in as short a time as six years. It eventually emerges that the motorway's inhabitants – you can't really call them travellers, in the circumstances – are being held in this eternal glacial transit to keep them ignorant of the fact that a virus long ago wiped out the surface populace (the motorway was sealed off). The gridlocked masses are brought together by a holographic newsreader's regular traffic updates.

Among the hapless denizens of the Chinese jam, there is reported to be less camaraderie. This is hardly surprising – though traffic is a manifestly collective activity, we persist in pretending to ourselves that it is something being done to us. We are among it, but not of it. 'Have you ever noticed,' the American standup George Carlin once inquired, 'how everybody driving slower than you is an idiot, and everyone going faster than you is a maniac?' We say we are 'in' traffic, dramatising ourselves as a lone vehicle of noble and rational intent, with a sea of malevolent, deadweight antagonists stretching endlessly fore and aft. It was in a bid to highlight the flaws in this position that a German transport campaign erected roadside boards reading: 'You are not stuck in traffic – you are traffic.'

In his fascinating book Traffic: Why We Drive the Way We Do (And What it Says About Us), author Tom Vanderbilt meets Hans Monderman, the late, radical Dutch urban planner intent on restoring some of the mores of the 'social world' to the 'traffic world', which has long since dispensed with them. Monderman's redesign of a clogged intersection consisted of removing all the traffic signs, signals and paving markings, forcing the drivers to slow down, make eye contact and co-operate with each other as well as with pedestrians and cyclists – and, as you'll have guessed, the traffic immediately flowed more smoothly.

Vanderbilt's book produces some wonderful statistics, like the study of one 15-block area in Los Angeles, which found that on an average day cars were totting up 3,600 miles in search of a parking space. Why does the other lane always seem to move faster? Why do extra lanes only add congestion? In the nicest possible way, he explains how these things are mostly down to flaws in human nature.

But then we're cussed old things. Strictly speaking, the word traffic should mean movement, but we have commandeered it to imply sitting still. And if semantic progress has to take the place of physical progress round the North Circular, then do allow us to throw ourselves a bone.

What we've always comforted ourselves with, however, is the idea that we'll get out of this jam eventually. The grimly hilarious thing about the Chinese gridlock is that it has appeared at times to be undermining this last psychological defence against the fear that we are all eternally trapped on a journey going nowhere. 'Who knows when it will end?' one driver was quoted as asking. Another, more to the point, wondered: 'Who knows if it will ever end?'