Why does the United States oppose a way to punish the world's greatest villains? In short -- and in no uncertain terms -- congressmen such as Senate Foreign Relations Committee Chairman Jesse Helms demand that no such court have jurisdiction over potential American criminals.

U.S. efforts to impede the court's development are the latest in a series of American slaps to the United Nations, such as the refusal to pay membership dues, leaving many international observers appalled. Law professor Christopher L. Blakesley of Louisiana State University speaks for many foreign affairs specialists when he characterizes the U.S. approach to the ICC. "From the first, it has been embarrassing, pathetic and nefarious."

After years of deliberation, the vast majority of countries voted last year to establish the ICC to try those who commit crimes against humanity. So far 97 countries have signed and 12 have ratified the treaty establishing the court. There is already a "world court," the International Court of Justice, that deals with "civil" cases between countries and whose judges are appointed by the United Nations.

Running in parallel, the ICC, also based in The Hague, would be able to try individuals for crimes against humanity. It would replace ad hoc tribunals like Nuremberg and those the United Nations set up for the Balkans and Rwanda. The ICC won't have retroactive effect, so it will only be able to try future criminals, and only after 60 countries have ratified it.

For many countries and human rights activists, the court offers the real possibility that future Pinochets and Pol Pots can be brought to genuine justice. It could also break the cycle of impunity and cause would-be perpetrators to think carefully before committing the atrocities that have become such a perennial feature of world headlines.

In Rome, the U.S. delegation sought concession after concession in order to try to deliver what Helms demanded, that no American should ever stand in the dock. Their major effort was to ensure that any prosecution would have to be approved by the Security Council, which meant that the United States could veto any attempt to prosecute an American. Of course, that would also mean that Russia and China could veto prosecutions of their clients and protégés.

In the end the United States was defeated in Rome although it did manage to get many concessions. The overwhelming majority of countries adopted the statute with no provision for Security Council filtering of suspects. Meanwhile, the United States joined such paragons of international law and order as Iraq, Libya, Syria and China in the tiny minority against.

Other nations' delegations are aghast at what many frankly call the hypocrisy of the American position. After all, Congress vociferously wants international trials for prosecutions of Slobodan Milosevic and Saddam Hussein, not to mention Foday Sankoh from Sierra Leone, the leaders of Khmer Rouge from Cambodia and the Hutu genocide instigators from Rwanda -- and if they could get their hands on him, Moammar Gadhafi of Libya would certainly be dragged before the court.

So committed is the United States to the principle of trials for all that it sent an army to Panama to bring back President Manuel Noriega to put him in the dock in Miami. But there is one major exception to this principle. We can try who we like, but don't anyone try to try one of ours. For the sake of that, the U.S. delegation is prepared to let a whole rogues' gallery run loose.

This week the battle was rejoined in New York where delegations assembled at the United Nations to draft the "Rules of Procedure" for the new court. The U.S. delegation is trying to recoup its losses in Rome by amending these rules to overturn the court's founding statute. If the Americans succeed, the court could not try citizens of states that have not signed up -- unless the U.N. Security Council specifically approved those prosecutions.

Apart from the Clinton administration's deference to Helms, the Pentagon has also provoked opposition to the court. Last year, the Pentagon summoned military attachés in Washington from all over the world, lobbying them to pressure their governments not to support the court. Since the ICC is aimed at the practices of many of these military forces -- Gen. Pinochet springs to mind -- this was hardly a reassuring message to human rights organizations, which tend to think that the military should do what civilian administrations tell them, not vice versa.

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Above: Momcilo Krajisnik appearing before the U.N. war crimes tribunal in The Hague. Krajisnik pleaded innocent to charges of genocide and other war crimes for the wholesale slaughter of thousands of non-Serb civilians in "ethnic cleansing" campaigns. Photograph by AP/Wide-World

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