The timing of the election, one month before George Bush goes to the polls himself, has as much to do with American as Afghan politics. With Iraq in turmoil, a newly elected Afghan president will be offered as proof that at least some of the administration’s foreign policy objectives have been met.

Many Afghans, particularly in Kabul, clearly welcomed the removal of the Taliban. But the one thing that the Taliban did provide was security, so that people could travel in the countryside without fear of ambush and so that the plunder, rape and corruption of the warlord era that preceded them became largely contained.

Last week, President Hamid Karzai told the New York Times that the threat from the Taliban was “exaggerated” and that the real danger to the future of Afghanistan lay with the warlords and their militias. Part of the reconstruction process after the war was meant to be a disarmament of the militias, but so far only around 10,000 out of 60,000 have responded to the incentive of new jobs and handed in their weapons.

Not a few Afghans surveying the chaotic aftermath of war have ruefully, if not seriously, suggested that the Taliban should be invited back in a limited capacity to run security. Every day come reports of fresh attacks on anyone associated with the election process or the west, along with a steady drizzle of ambushes, assassinations, rocket attacks and explosions. Only yesterday there was a fatal clash between US forces and the Taliban in Zabul.

As it happens, the announcement of the election date comes as an independent research body has published a report on what it sees as the failure of the security policy in Afghanistan, accusing the international community of serious neglect. The report, by the Afghanistan Research and Evaluation Unit (AREU), points out that, compared with countries where the international community has intervened militarily, Afghanistan has been badly let down.

Nato has just decided to increase its forces there from 6,500 to 8,700, which the report claims will be inadequate. “Shamefully, Afghanistan has the lowest international troop to population ratio of any recent intervention,” asserts Col Philip Wilkinson, who co-authored the paper with Michael Bhatia and Kevin Lanigan. The report says that Afghanistan now has one member of the military to 1,115 members of the population, compared to one per 50 at an equivalent period in Kosovo, one per 111 in East Timor, one per 161 in Iraq and one per 375 in Haiti.

“Nato’s continued inability to provide significant forces will only further embolden President Karzai’s opponents — whether warlords, poppy-growers or terrorists,” the report concludes, arguing that “the Taliban are far from defeated, poppy production has soared, and regional warlords are still brazen in their abuse of citizens and in their dealings with the central government.” Andrew Wilder, director of AREU, which is based in Kabul and receives funding from the EU, the UN, Sweden and Switzerland, reckons that as the situation stands it is still not possible to hold fair and safe elections.

Aid agencies have also expressed their concerns. “Afghanistan continues to be sidelined as international attention and resources remain focused on Iraq,” says Barbara Stapleton, spokeswoman for the Agency Coordinating Body for Afghan Relief in Kabul. She says that many NGOs have called for an increase in security to help the country stabilise itself. Many others in the aid community have expressed concern that the election is being hurried through without enough attention paid to the safety of voters and registration teams.

In his novel about the Taliban period, The Swallows of Kabul, Mohammed Moulessehoul, under his nom de plume of Yasmina Khadra, writes: “The Afghan countryside is nothing but battlefields, expanses of sand and cemeteries … everything appears charred, fossilised, blasted by some unspeakable spell.”

For a moment, in the wake of the war, it looked as if the spell might be broken and the country would be associated with something other than battlefields and cemeteries. Then the caravan moved on to Iraq and the warlords returned to their old pursuits. Afghanistan deserves the world’s full attention — and its help — once more.

Four men, between 18 and 30, three of them with West Yorkshire addresses and all of them British, met up at Luton station before boarding a Thameslink train to King’s Cross the morning of July 7.

It appears that the four, described by security sources as “cleanskins” — with no convictions or known terrorist involvement — reached their rendezvous via two or three hired cars, one of which was located Tuesday at Luton station. Explosives were found in the car, police revealed Tuesday night.

Police were also examining a second car found at the station. It was taken to a storage facility at Leighton Buzzard.

Closed-circuit television film from around 8:20 a.m. July 7 shows the four young men, all with identical large rucksacks similar to those carried by infantry soldiers on their backs. The four appeared relaxed.

“You would have thought they were going on a hiking holiday,” said the senior security source, who has seen the footage. It is likely to be released Wednesday.

Police were alerted to the existence of one of the four when his distressed family in Leeds called the casualty bureau hotline shortly after 10 p.m. on July 7. Their son had been traveling to London “with his mates” and had not returned. A family liaison officer was dispatched to be with the family, as was the case for all those believed to have lost relatives in the explosions.

In the meantime, police had found personal documents relating to three young men ages 18, 22 and 30, all from West Yorkshire. A driving license and credit cards belonging to the 22-year-old whose parents were concerned about him were found on the bus that blew up in Tavistock Square. The documents of the 30-year-old, whose body was found at Edgware Road station, were discovered both at the scene of that explosion and at the Aldgate bomb scene, where another of the four dead suspects’ remains were found. Police believe that the fourth person’s remains and documents may still be trapped in the rubble below Russell Square and are hoping they may find those Wednesday.

On Monday night came the breakthrough police were waiting for — when the CCTV at King’s Cross showed the four young men setting off in different directions.

Police Tuesday raided three houses in the Beeston and Holbeck areas of Leeds and two in nearby Dewsbury just after 6 a.m. in a coordinated operation involving scores of officers from West Yorkshire and the anti-terrorist branch. They later raided another house in the Burley district after evacuating 500 residents from homes nearby and blasting down the door in a controlled explosion.

People who were evacuated in the Burley area were given temporary accommodation as police continued to search an address at Alexandra Grove where a suspicious substance had been found, according to officers.

In Dewsbury, officers carried out a meticulous search at a modern bungalow in a middle-class area, and forensic teams loaded at least one car onto a covered transporter.

At Colwyn Road in Beeston, as police searched a house belonging to the Tanweer family, a car hire firm arrived to collect an overdue hire car. Staff were immediately interviewed by police.

Family and friends of two young British-born Muslims — whose homes were among the six raided Tuesday — said they had been missing for several days. Hasib Hussain’s parents reported him missing on July 7; his documents were found on the No. 30 bus that exploded at 9:47 a.m. Shehzad Tanweer, 22, of Colwyn Road, has also been missing since last week. His documents, police said, were found in the wreckage of the Aldgate train.

While there was satisfaction within the police and intelligence services that they appeared to have identified a bombing team so swiftly, there were also fears on two fronts: that the finding of more explosives in Leeds indicates that this was not a one-off; and that there could be attacks by far-right groups against ethnic minority communities as it became clear that these were not foreign militants entering the country but homegrown bombers.

Assistant commissioner Andy Hayman of the Met’s special operations branch and deputy assistant commissioner Peter Clarke, head of the anti-terrorist branch, announced news of the breakthrough Tuesday afternoon. Tuesday night searches were continuing and police were questioning a relative of one of the four men who had been driven to London.

Now the search will concentrate on the “plotters and planners” who would normally brief and equip a team of suicide volunteers. The normal procedure for such operations, if they involved al-Qaida or one of its related groups, would be for the chief planner to have left the country before the operations took place. There is a possibility that those who planned it are still in Britain. Police are now checking flight records for suspicious passengers.

Clarke said: “I would like at this stage to thank the public for all the support and assistance they have already provided. It is invaluable.”

Hayman described those who had perpetrated the attack as “extremist criminals” and added: “It’s at times like these that communities bind together … No one should smear or stigmatize any community with these acts.”

There are as yet no indications that any of the four left behind any message about their intentions.

The police are going through 2,500 tapes and evaluating more than 2,000 calls from the public. They have more than 100 witness statements. They stressed Tuesday night that they were at the start rather than at the end of their investigation.

Nearly 400 cables and memos sent or received by Negroponte, who was the U.S. ambassador to Iraq and the U.N. before being nominated for his new intelligence position, indicate that he tried to undermine peace efforts, promoted the war against the Sandinistas — which he referred to as “our special project” — and gave tips to the State Department on how to cover up the U.S. role.

There is no indication of any concern for the Honduran regime’s human rights abuses, or the disappearances of left-wingers at the time, despite much contemporary evidence of atrocities committed by the Honduran military. The documents were released by the national security archive in Washington.

In a cable to the State Department in October 1983, Negroponte expressed alarm that peace might be agreed through negotiations taking place through the offices of the Contadora Group of Latin American governments, which was seeking an end to the conflicts in Nicaragua, El Salvador and Guatemala. “The Contadora process does indeed appear to be headed in directions inimical to our interests,” he cabled. “This raises specter of an imposed ‘peace.’”

He also expressed his concern about the possibility of a peace agreement in a cable in which he said of the initiative that “such an approach could eventually lead to de facto acceptance of old French/Mexican proposal, ie control of borders and effectively shutting down our special project.”

A cable received from his U.S. diplomatic counterpart in Managua, the capital of Nicaragua, in May 1983, showed that Negroponte was planning to entertain at dinner Adolfo Calero, the head of the rebel FDN (Nicaraguan Democratic Force). “Your hospitality is legendary and Calero’s charm is irresistible, but I have my doubts about a dinner at the residence for a man who is in the business of overthrowing a neighboring government,” wrote Anthony Quainton, the U.S. envoy to Nicaragua.

The release of the documents dominated Negroponte’s Senate hearing Tuesday.

Ron Wyden, a Democrat, accused him of “ducking the facts” and asked whether in his new position he would continue to tell the administration what it wanted to hear.

“It looks like you saw things through an administration-colored lens then,” Wyden said. “And what you need to do over the course of today is convince me that when you brief the president, you have this extraordinarily important duty, you’re going to make sure the facts get out there.”

Negroponte rejected the charge that he had covered up human rights abuses. He said the issue had been investigated in 1989 when he was named ambassador to Mexico, and again in 2001. “I think both instances have found that I had not carried out any improper behavior,” he said. “My comportment was always in an absolutely legal and entirely professional manner.”

The football stadium in Kabul may no longer be used for public executions, but someone accused of murder can still be tried and sentenced in less than an hour, with no legal representation. Now a group of Western lawyers are hoping to change the nature of Afghan justice with a pioneering system of legal aid for defendants.

The project, Legal Aid Afghanistan, has been organized by the International Legal Foundation, a New York-based group, which had its first experience of trying to create a legal aid system in a postwar environment in Rwanda in 1997. Now they are hoping to help the Afghan criminal justice system codify its existing laws and introduce legal aid defenders throughout the system.

Casey, a criminal law barrister with chambers in Red Lion Court in London, was one of a team of ILF lawyers from the West acting as mentors and advisors to a team of nine Afghan lawyers. “It has to be seen as part of a wider project trying to establish a functioning criminal justice system,” says Casey, who, before he was called to the bar, had jobs in commerce, teaching and music journalism in France, Italy and Britain. “The project sees itself as trying to reestablish the rule of law.”

The organization has already found itself defending three Americans in what would be a bizarre case in any country: two former U.S. servicemen and a New York cameraman accused of kidnapping and violently interrogating eight Afghans in a bid to discover the whereabouts of Osama bin Laden. The trio, Jack Idema, Brent Bennett and cameraman Eddie Caraballo, were arrested last July and jailed for between six and eight years after a brief trial. Their lawyers, who included two LAA attorneys, argued that they had not been able to present their cases properly, an argument that will form the basis of their forthcoming appeal.

Idema, a volatile character with a fraud conviction in the United States who dresses in military gear and dark glasses, claimed he was acting with the authority of the Pentagon and angrily presented his case to the media. American officials have distanced themselves from him and have made it clear that they have no intention of intervening in the Afghan justice system. The three men are anxious to get out of jail as soon as possible. Last December, there was a shootout at the Pul-e-Charkhi jail where they are being held in which four inmates and four guards were killed. The three Americans believe they were targets.

Cases involving locals are not quite so spectacular. One defendant had asked a driver to deliver 15 bags of peas to an address in Kabul, but the driver suspected that one bag contained opium and reported it to the police. Another, who was accused of gambling after being found with three sets of dice and two packs of cards during a police raid, claimed he just happened to be in the house by chance. A third was accused of kidnapping boys from a bus stop and taking them over the border into Peshawar in Pakistan.

“Property disputes are often the cause of violence,” says Casey. One of his cases, an attempted murder, resulted from a row over land. He also helped with the defense of a man who shot his wife with a Kalashnikov, and claimed that he had pulled the trigger by mistake.

Legal Aid Afghanistan has its origins in Peshawar back in 2000. The idea was to work with the many Afghan refugees living there so they could adapt their criminal justice system to international standards when they eventually returned home. For many, the return came sooner than expected with the overthrow of the Taliban government in 2001. Now the aim is twofold: to codify the existing legal system and to introduce the concept of defense lawyers into the criminal justice system.

The project is funded mainly by billionaire George Soros’ Open Society Institute, with assistance from the Canadian and German governments and the U.S. Agency for International Development, USAID. Under the scheme, Western lawyers visit for two months at a time, working free of charge, with their accommodations paid for by the foundation.

“We think that criminal defense is the engine of justice reconstruction,” says Natalie Rea, a New York public defender and founder of the project. There have been few problems recruiting lawyers from the West despite security concerns. “Basically, it seems lawyers in America and Britain are quite bored, so they are ready for an adventure. We get great people, and so we are able to select the best.” One of the fundamental principles, she maintains, is that they must take into account the cultural realities of Afghanistan with its long history of traditional laws.

For Casey, one of the main aims is to promote the notion that an accused should have access to a trained defender. There was an existing defense system, but it consisted mainly of people based outside the courts who were available for hire to write out statements for defendants in what is a largely illiterate country. Barristers in London operated in a similar sort of way 200 years ago, he points out.

The current project is one of two aimed at bringing representation to defendants in Afghanistan. A German group, Medica Mondiale, represents women defendants, including those charged with adultery. While such defendants no longer face public stoning as a punishment, men and women who have sex outside marriage are still liable to prosecution and jail terms. Even unmarried young people having consensual sex can face prosecution.

The Afghan lawyers in the team are all handsomely paid by local standards, so the project attracts the highest-quality lawyers. One is a woman who was a juvenile court judge in Taliban times, while two are former prosecutors. Despite the risks for Western lawyers operating in the country — three U.N. workers were kidnapped at the end of last year — Casey says he would be happy to return to the country.

Judges and prosecutors throughout Afghanistan have been receptive to the scheme. Judges say the presence of defense lawyers helps to establish the credibility of the criminal justice system at a time when parts of the country are still unsafe or subject to the control of warlords.

“On the whole, the judges are fair,” says Casey. “If there is no evidence, they will acquit.” But locals expressed incredulity at the notion of a jury system with people plucked from the general public to pass judgment. “They said, ‘Aren’t you undermining the authority of the judge?’”

The death penalty remains, although it will be employed much less frequently, and jail sentences handed out by the three-judge panel are on a par with those in British cases. Both prosecution and defense can appeal against a trial verdict.

The old public executions are in the past, however. One Kabul hotelier, a professional athlete, recalls having to wait until executions were finished in the national stadium before he could carry on his training. A boxer friend, he said, would run circuits of the stadium undeterred by bodies hanging from the goalposts at each end.

Because of the problems faced by an impoverished country recovering from 25 years of war, trials are rarely straightforward. Without an effective national communications and transport system, it is impossible to line up witnesses for a Western-style trial. “The police will take the statements and the prosecution will read them out,” says Casey. What the new defense lawyers will try to ensure is that defendants have an opportunity to challenge the statements made against them. One of the main issues they face is trying to make sure that hearsay evidence and evidence obtained by illegal searches or following illegal detention are excluded.

The eventual aim of the project is to establish an independent agency of public defenders in Afghanistan. To this end, the ILF has been working with the minister of justice and the Afghan judicial commission. There is one group, however, who will not be able to call on ILF lawyers to plead their case — the many detainees, more than 2,000 in total, who have been held without charge for interrogation by the U.S. authorities at Bagram Air Force Base.

“We came to Spain from Ecuador because my son was a very bright student and we wanted him to have a better education,” said Rita, who remembers the day she arrived in the country with Jose Luis — April 4, 2000 — to join her engineer husband, Luis, who had come a year earlier.

“He was a very special person. He wanted to work in films as a scriptwriter. He was very interested in documentaries but he liked all kinds of films — action films with Arnold Schwarzenegger, Latin American films, Spanish films by Pedro Almodóvar — and he was interested in animation, too, because he liked to draw.” His sketchbook is full of copies of film stills and stars.

“We haven’t touched his room at all,” said Luis, gesturing at the walls with their posters of Kylie Minogue and Angelina Jolie, “The Matrix” and “Spider-man” and a Bart Simpson replica propped up against the pillow. “Since we heard that he had not arrived at college that day, it has been one long nightmare.”

On a shelf beside bound encyclopedias that may never be opened again, and between a model of the Incredible Hulk and a tiny picture of Jesus, are Jose Luis’ ashes in a small satchel that Luis touches as he talks. They had only moved into their small apartment in the modest working-class suburb of Torrejon Ardoz 10 days before the bombs exploded.

Rita’s family are still in Quito in Ecuador, and Luis is from the Ecuador-Peru border. Had they thought of returning? “My son is here, so we are staying here,” he said.

The picture they paint of Jose Luis is of a studious young man, fascinated by the history of Spain and Madrid, who liked to visit the Prado, listen to U2 and hang out with a small group of friends, avoiding the big crowds because, as a nonsmoker, uninterested in football and intrigued by yoga and spirituality, he preferred a quieter life of reading and studying film, and making giant jigsaws. One is of the New York skyline with the Twin Towers still standing, which his parents have framed and hung on the wall.

One year on, the pain for his parents is as raw as ever. “For my part, I do not feel bitterness,” said Rita. “There are some people who would like to see them [the bombers] dead, but I am not one of them. I see it as a problem of education. As for my son — his dream was that everyone should be equal and that nothing like this should ever happen.”

They are critical of the media for constantly showing the pictures of the aftermath of the bombs, and they have found the psychological help offered to be of little comfort. “The only people who understand what we feel are the other families,” said Luis.

They meet a group of around 20 others who have lost someone every Tuesday night in Madrid, and a Bulgarian couple whose son was killed lives nearby.

As with the Sept. 11 attacks, many of those who died were immigrants. They had come to Spain from almost every Latin American country and from eastern Europe in search of a better life; 16 Romanians were among the dead.

In recognition of this, and with public support, the Spanish government granted permanent residency to those injured or bereaved, but some are still facing bureaucratic hurdles because of a lack of papers, the Bulgarian friends of Luis and Rita among them. “We are OK,” said Luis, “but the government has not done everything they said they would do for them.”

Pilar Manjon, the spokeswoman for the victims, whose 20-year-old son was killed, has berated the politicians for trying to score points rather than investigate how the attack might have been prevented. Last December, dressed in black, she poured scorn over the Spanish Parliament, accusing the politicians of “playground politics” and of shirking responsibility. “You are here to find out the truth; don’t use our pain for political gain,” said Manjon, a union leader.

The row over former Prime Minister Jose Maria Aznar’s original suggestion that ETA (the Basque separatist movement) was responsible rumbles on, with current Premier Jose Luis Rodriguez Zapatero accusing Aznar of wiping computer records about the bombings to perpetrate a “massive deceit.” He also claims the police had failed to track the growth of Islamist extremism in the months before the attack, presumed to be prompted by Spain’s support for the war in Iraq. Zapatero withdrew the troops after taking office.

Manjon has been seeking a fresh commission without any politicians attached and has called for the imposition of the maximum penalty of 40 years without remission for those convicted. “The victims are being given a lot of help,” said Luis Portero of the Association of Victims of Terrorism. “Does that mean they can get their loved ones back? No — but it does mean that things have changed in attitudes to victims in this country from the days when people were killed by ETA and no one wanted to talk about it.

“The pain is going to remain, but the pain can also make you take a new perspective on life; it can make you more sensitive to others and convert your suffering into a gift for others. The victims of the Holocaust and the Second World War did not get the sort of help that is being made available now, so in a way we are the lucky ones.”

Although the scale of the casualties was different from Sept. 11, there were similarities in the detailed planning and in the aim to kill as many as possible.

By chance, Puerto Rican writer and academic Lisa Paravisini was present for both events. “The mood and the media coverage here were less cataclysmic,” she said. “In New York, everything was paralyzed; they went into high paranoia that the whole country was under attack like a Hollywood disaster movie. Here the aim was to get back to normal as quickly as possible.”

There is a memorial at the Atocha train station in central Madrid where people can leave a computerized handprint and type in a message. There are 58,000 such handprints and messages now. Some say simply, “No words are enough.” Others are angry: “200 people died for an absurd religion and a God who doesn’t exist.” Some of those who leave messages knew the victims; for others it is almost a tourist attraction as they pose beside video images next to platforms where passengers now face airport-style security.

Part of the memorial consists of six hanging white pillar-shaped objects on which are written thousands of messages from loved ones and sympathizers. A teacher, Macarena Sarrion, from Alicante, said she had come out of solidarity with the victims but was upset at the way events had been handled. “I think the politicians are making use of the suffering of the victims for their own ends.” Handwritten expressions of loss and regret spiral around the pillars. None sadder, perhaps, than one tiny scrawl that reads: “04-12-2004. Irene. Te amo. Diego.”

Two very different cases but each involving journalists who said that they were reporting what they saw in the best way that they could and who ended up behind bars. So where does journalism end and participation begin? According to Caraballo’s brother, Richard, Ed was working on a film about Jack Idema, the extremely volatile former Special Forces soldier and bounty hunter, who had decided that he and his team would track down bin Laden and claim a $25 million reward. To this end, he rounded up potential sources of information, locked them up and, if they did not cooperate, subjected them to interrogation. Depending on whom you believe, this involved either “standard” techniques (Idema’s version) or the detainees being hung upside down by their feet, scalded and beaten (the prosecution case). Idema and another American bounty hunter were jailed for 10 years for torture and kidnapping, Caraballo for eight.

“I am sure if he had known all the angles to this thing he would have run for the door in a New York minute,” says Richard Caraballo, who has been trying to get attention for the case on the grounds that this is an issue of press freedom. He says his brother had to stay close to Idema: “Due to the extremely precarious security situation within Afghanistan for foreigners, it was agreed that Ed, a civilian with no military expertise, would need to remain in the secure presence of Idema’s team.” He says that his brother, who has been involved in five Emmy-winning U.S. documentaries, was merely hoping to complete a film about Idema that had taken more than two years.

The Afghan court took the view that Caraballo was part of the Idema team and could not plead any journalistic defense. Richard Caraballo is trying to persuade journalists’ bodies around the world to take up his brother’s case.

The Committee for the Protection of Journalists in New York is monitoring the case and describes it as “a very gray area.” Its spokesperson for the region, Abi Wright, says that while it was clear that Caraballo had worked as a professional cameraman in the past, with the facts they had available, “we did not see his [current] situation resulting from journalism.” The “gray area” here arises partly because Caraballo was not working for a specific network or company but was doing the film in cooperation with, and encouraged by, Idema. His brother says that he did not have a commission to make the film but believed he would able to sell it when he returned to the U.S.

Jasiewicz’s case is very different. Having embarked on a career in journalism five years ago, she was working for a news agency when she became disillusioned with the job and its lack of connection to her life as a political activist. “I quit and made my way to Palestine to do something of more practical value to people,” she writes in the Journalist this month. She has since filed stories from Israel and Iraq: “I would never have got close to people in Palestine or the oil workers’ union in Iraq if writing had been my only goal,” she writes. “Activist journalists work with their ‘subjects,’ see them as comrades and take the risks and make the sacrifices necessary to serve and support them.” She fell foul of the Israeli authorities, who suggested that her Palestinian contacts were violent people and thus she could not be allowed into the occupied territories. Now in London, she says that she still hopes to return.

“I’m not motivated by journalism, I’m motivated by international human rights,” she says. “I don’t really believe in objectivity; I don’t believe it’s possible.” She believes there there is a growing acceptance of “advocacy journalism” as exemplified by Arundhati Roy and Naomi Klein, “who speak on behalf of people who are marginalized and don’t have a voice.”

So is her position and that of Caraballo different from that of journalists who are embedded with the armed forces and who also have to “take the risks and make the sacrifices necessary,” or have they crossed a line that means that they cannot ask for special treatment as journalists?

There are risks, implicit or explicit, involved in any form of embedding. Reporters are no more immune to warming to people they hang out with than other human beings. If you eat with people, see their problems at close hand, experience their dangers and learn about their lives, you will inevitably be more sympathetic to their story than if you were dealing with a spokesman, whether the group you are embedded with consists of soldiers or bounty hunters. The problem is that, in a world where violence is increasingly the currency of political debate, journalists who are embedded — officially or unofficially — are more likely than ever to find themselves seen as indistinguishable from those with whom they are embedded and thus increasingly likely to have to face the consequences.

Tala Dowlatshahi of Reporters Without Borders in New York says that her organization recognizes the difficulties journalists face and has drawn up a code of ethics in conjunction with UNESCO that spells out how to behave in complex situations. She adds that conflict situations had thrown up a number of new ethical issues in how a journalist should behave. The cases of Caraballo and Jasiewicz will not be the last to throw up such dilemmas.