The limits of international justice

October 1998: the arrest of Augusto Pinochet in London was not only a diplomatic earthquake, it brought about an epistemological rupture in the world legal order, breaking the dogma of sovereign immunity. In his work 38, rue de Londresthe Franco-British jurist Philippe Sands seizes this tipping point to pursue a long-term reflection on the promises and aporias of international criminal justice.

By combining judicial sources, unpublished archives and his own courtroom practice, Sands deconstructs the architectures of impunity, particularly when the crime is lodged at the heart of the state apparatus. The originality of the work lies in the mirroring of two trajectories that everything seems to oppose: that of Pinochet, deposed ex-dictator, and that of Walther Rauff, officer SS whose Chilean exile after 1945 draws a geography of shadows. Through this dialogue between Europe and Latin America, Sands does not simply trace individual responsibilities ; it lays bare the institutional and ideological continuities which allow power to sustainably free itself from the law.

At the crossroads of international law, history and narrative

A story that is both dense and deeply embodied, 38, rue de Londres transforms a legal case into a major reflection on contemporary forms of impunity. A recognized specialist in international law, Philippe Sands extends a now characteristic approach, based on the dialogue between legal history, archival investigation and narrative writing. In continuation of Return to Lemberg and of The Industry (The Ratline. Love, Lies and Justice on the Trail of a Nazi Fugitive)Philippe Sands confirms his position in a hybrid field, at the crossroads of contemporary history, critical legal studies and a literature of indirect testimony. The narrative appeal and dramatic tension that characterize the author’s works are such that several of them have been adapted into sound formats, such as the podcast The Industrywhich extends its investigation by combining legal rigor, historical investigation and thriller-like writing.

At the convergence of international law, history and personal narrative, 38, rue de Londres follows the intersecting trajectories of two figures who exercised destructive power, benefited from institutional protections and, ultimately, escaped definitive condemnation. It is this tragic symmetry which gives the work its moral as well as narrative tension.

By linking Santiago, London and Patagonia, Sands places his investigation at the heart of a question that resonates with renewed acuteness today: what becomes of the rule of law when crimes emanate from the highest levels of power? ? This question, far from belonging to the past, runs through the contemporary debate on international justice. The recent release of the film Nuremberg (2025) by James Vanderbilt also testifies to the persistence of this issue in the collective imagination: almost eighty years after the founding trial, we continue to question the conditions and limits of the criminal liability of leaders.

Sands succeeds precisely in making this question sensitive and embodied, by showing how judicial procedures come up against diplomatic imperatives, reasons of state or the wear and tear of societies, all obstacles which, from Nuremberg to The Hague, still weaken the ideal of universal and effective justice today.

Impunity as a political and legal construction

The thesis of 38, rue de Londres is blunt: impunity is not an accident, but the product of repeated legal and political choices. The law exists, it is constantly circumvented.

Pinochet’s arrest in London in October 1998 constitutes the pivot of the work. An unprecedented event, it marks a symbolic shift: for the first time, a former head of state must answer outside his country for crimes against humanity. Sands brings the debates on immunity, doctrinal clashes and diplomatic calculations from the inside. The most decisive legal moment since Nuremberg, the case raises a crucial question: can a former leader claim immunity for acts committed in the exercise of his functions? ?

In counterpoint, Walther Rauff’s trajectory reveals another form of impunity: that which takes hold over time, through administrative silences and tacit complicity. His Chilean exile exposes the ideological continuities between post-war Europe and South American dictatorships, reminding us that mass crimes circulate and recompose themselves according to political contexts.

The unity of the book does not come from a linear demonstration, but from a constant overcoming of the enigmas posed. It does not matter, ultimately, the exact role of Rauff in Chile or the arrangements that allowed Pinochet’s return: what matters is what they account for — the structural fragility of universal justice in the face of the interests of States.

A writing of investigation and memory

The strength of 38, rue de Londres also has to do with his writing. Sands adopts the codes of the legal thriller without ever giving in to sensationalism. The London hearings, the contradictory medical expertise, the behind-the-scenes of the British judicial power are reproduced with almost surgical precision, which gives the reader the feeling of witnessing the events.

The essay, however, is neither reduced to a judicial chronicle nor to a classic historical investigation. Sands mixes autobiographical fragments, travel stories and an almost sensory attention to places. The title itself designates a real address, that of the detention center of the DINA in Santiago, which has become a condensed symbol of state violence and buried memory. Likewise, Patagonia and Punta Arenas acquire a dimension that goes beyond simple geography: the author analyzes the role of this region in the concealment of war crimes, going so far as to assert that “ Tierra del Fuego was also a land of genocide “.

In this attention to details, to individual trajectories, to secondary voices, Sands continues a reflection already begun in his previous books: what the law does not see, what judges do not record, but which continues to inhabit societies. In this sense, 38, rue de Londres is not only a book on international justice, but a work on the persistence of the past and on the tenuous, but tenacious, hope of those who refuse to be forgotten.

The illusion of international justice ?

Book remarkable for its ability to make complex legal issues intelligible through concrete details and human trajectories, 38, rue de Londres achieves the challenge of a rare alliance: that of an assumed moral clarity and an analytical rigor which refuses Manichaeism. Sands’ privileged access to the mysteries of British justice gives the story an almost romantic dimension, without sacrificing the documentary requirement.

The work does not, however, escape certain structural weaknesses. We can criticize him for lengths, a sometimes less well-controlled tangle between historical investigation, travelogue and autobiographical introspection, which exposes the author to a risk of self-indulgence. More fundamentally, two factual elements remain contested: the direct operational link between Rauff and Pinochet, which Sands suggests without being able to establish it decisively, and the existence of an Anglo-Chilean political agreement having facilitated the release of the dictator, a plausible hypothesis but not formally proven. These limits, far from invalidating the enterprise, reveal its nature: Sands does not seek to close the debate, but to shift its terms.

These limits, however, raise a fundamental question, which the work deliberately leaves unanswered: is international justice not doomed to a form of failure inherent in its own enterprise? ? The Pinochet affair reveals the disturbing ambiguity: the complaint emanates from Spain, a country which has never judged Francoism and which thus externalizes a moral requirement that it refused to apply to itself. This paradox resonates today with renewed acuteness in the case of Nicolás Maduro, imprisoned in the United States in January 2026 and whose extradition Argentina is demanding in the name of the principle of “ universal justice “.

Who is legitimate to judge a fallen head of state? ? Where should he be judged? ? And according to what criteria to recognize or challenge one’s immunity ? So many questions at the heart of transnational justice: it oscillates between an ideal of universality and a reality made up of political opportunism, legal gray areas and diplomatic unpredictability. By refusing to decide, Sands invites us to confront an uncomfortable truth: perhaps international justice can only exist in this unresolved tension, fragile but necessary, between moral aspiration and state pragmatism.