NEW YORK: Britain's law lords will begin to decide this week (after botching the first attempt) whether General Augusto Pinochet should continue to be detained for possible extradition to Spain. The case has inspired many debates over amnesties such as that which Pinochet decreed for himself decades ago.

Some commentators, ranging from the liberal Polish ex-dissident Adam Michnik to ultra-conservative US Senator Jesse Helms, oppose prosecuting Pinochet on the ground that, unless such dictators are allowed to retire with their impunity intact, it will be impossible to persuade them to relinquish power.

In Pinochet’s case, there is an ahistorical aspect to this argument. Pinochet did not abdicate voluntarily. He had no choice. After seizing power in September 1973, torturing and murdering thousands in the process of consolidating his rule, Pinochet needed to establish his legitimacy, domestically and internationally. So the dictator promulgated a Constitution in 1980 which required that his continuation as President be subject to a plebiscite eight years later. That plebiscite was scheduled for October 5, 1988, fifteen years after Pinochet’s coup.

Pinochet's opponents were permitted little opportunity to campaign against him. As the date of the plebiscite approached, it became apparent that they were likely to prevail. Signs appeared that Pinochet was planning to abort the plebiscite. To prevent this, the American State Department summoned the Chilean Ambassador, issued a stern warning to Pinochet, and announced publicly its demand that the plebiscite be held as planned.

So it did. Early returns (not publicly reported) indicated that Pinochet had been defeated. However, his fellow military commanders insisted on compliance with Pinochet's own Constitution, forcing the General to back down from a demand for emergency powers to set aside the results. When the ballot counting was completed, Pinochet's continuation had been rejected by a margin of 55% to 43% (the remaining votes were blank or invalid). A year-and-a-half later, Pinochet stepped down.

Though it is not often the case that severely repressive regimes go of their own volition or through a negotiated transfer of power, it does happen. Perhaps the outstanding example of a peaceful transition made possible by a guarantee of non-prosecution is South Africa. There, even many of the most dedicated opponents of apartheid favored the provision of the 1993 Temporary Constitution that required an amnesty. Without amnesty, it was widely accepted, whites would fight to keep power, leading to all out war.

South Africa made the best of amnesty by not providing it collectively, but only individually to those on both sides of the struggle who acknowledged and disclosed their crimes. Even so, amnesty allowed many people with blood on their hands to escape punishment in the interest of avoiding greater bloodshed.

It is difficult to quarrel with those who made the decision in South Africa to accept an amnesty. Yet there are compelling arguments to call a halt to the practice, inaugurated by Pinochet in 1978 and copied by military regimes in several other Latin American countries, to protect themselves by issuing amnesties for their own crimes. A crucial factor in many countries that facilitates the commission of great crimes is the belief by the perpetrators that they will never be held accountable. Amnesties allowed the development of what is often called a culture of impunity. It is high time to signify the end of the era in which that culture prevailed.

Dictators who demand amnesty as a condition for leaving power are somewhat like airplane highjackers who insist on freedom for themselves and imprisoned comrades as the price for releasing hostages. We know that innocent persons will die unless we accede to the highjackers. Nevertheless, a consensus has developed internationally that yielding to such extortion costs even more lives. Though we do what we can to save the lives of passengers, we do not give in to the demands of terrorists. Similarly, we should not submit to those who have terrorized nations.

Whatever its outcome, Pinochet’s case demonstrates that the amnesties tyrants grant themselves provide only limited protection. Another contributing factor to the culture of impunity is the difficulty in deciding how and where to try those whose crimes include the destruction of the judicial systems of their countries. Here is a difficulty illustrated by the recent surrender in Cambodia of two Khmer Rouge leaders, Khieu Samphan and Nuon Chea, who claim that their crimes should be forgotten, that "bygones should be bygones."

Everyone seems to agree that Cambodia’s courts are unable to try them for the murder of millions. On the other hand, there is limited enthusiasm for establishing yet another ad hoc international tribunal – in addition to those now at work for ex-Yugoslavia and Rwanda – because of the costs.

In years to come, when a permanent International Criminal Court is established, such problems will no longer present insurmountable obstacles and the significance of amnesties will be further reduced. It will take another two or three years before the treaty for such a Court (adopted in Rome last summer) is ratified by the required sixty governments. Thereafter, the Court will not be able to consider the crimes of the past, such as those committed by Pinochet and the Khmer Rouge. It will only have prospective jurisdiction.

The International Criminal Court’s existence will reinforce the message being sent by the proceeding against Pinochet: there are no statutes of limitations and there will be no permanent safe havens for those who use state power to engage in mass torture or mass murder. Denying dictators a guarantee of impunity will only rarely figure in whether they depart from power. But it may be an important factor in how they exercise power.