BEFORE I came to Darlington, I worked a year for a human rights organisation in Pietermaritzburg, South Africa, a Zulu area of a country that was only recently celebrating "free" democratic elections and, in some respects, was still at war with its past. It was an experience that was going to change my life.

As I arrived, the saintly Bishop Desmond Tutu established the year-long hearings throughout the country known as the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) sessions, which celebrates its tenth anniversary this year.

In essence, at the heart of any such commission (with the possible result of overcoming political stagnation, warfare and injustice), was that perpetrators of political violence, from each and every side, had to disclose full details of past crimes. Simply put, it was agreed that "justice" would be overlooked, provided the perpetrators told the truth.

An amnesty from prosecution was granted so that the truth became more important to understanding what had happened, assisting victims to come to terms with the past, and preventing its repetition. Sessions were chaired and witnesses were asked questions but not in a form of "cross-examination".

The TRC that began in 1996 ended, to some extent, formally, when the commission handed its 3,500-page report to the then President Nelson Mandela in October 1998. About 20,000 people came forward and told how they had been victimised under apartheid. More than 7,000 people applied for amnesty and, to date, nearly 800 have received amnesty for such crimes as murder and torture. Public acknowledgement of past crimes was, and is, the TRC's greatest success.

South Africa did not invent the concept of a truth commission - since 1974 there have been 15 around the world in various forms - but the TRC was to capture the world's attention. Day after day, we would hear of fresh revelations in the newspapers, on the television and radio, flowing from a society that had, under apartheid, kept much of the truth hidden.

People from all backgrounds gave witness to their own experiences - whether black against black, black against white or white against black. Police officers confessed, former terrorists spoke of their deeds, and politicians, including Winnie Mandela, were asked to apologise when atrocities had taken place. The words "I am sorry" and "can you forgive me?" became daily mantras in the news. It was a form of corporate and individual confession that was going to change the state of modern day South Africa.

The idea of a truth commission to deal with political conflict has gained some momentum. Indonesia, Sierra Leone and Northern Ireland are, or have been, flirting with the idea, and Desmond Tutu was recently on television with a potential or pilot, for a Northern Ireland version. But of course, some governments around the world do not want the truth about themselves to be exposed. South Africa took that gamble and it has largely worked.

There are haunting memories that will remain with me in relation to the South Africa TRC, when victims of political violence were given the opportunity to tell their stories in front of a public audience and the media. There was the Zulu woman who spoke of being brought up to think that black members of the African National Congress were almost literally "snakes" to be slaughtered. One mother arrived home to unusual silence, only to discover that her son's brains had exploded due to a detonator in his stereo headphones - and of course there were all the details of fabricated "suicides". And there were the tears, from men and women, some of whom had been in positions of great power, pleading for forgiveness, as they couldn't live with themselves. And the haunting sound of wailing, African women who were hearing for the first time of what had happened to their loved and lost ones.

In some cases, missing bodies were located, exhumed and respectfully buried. For others, the confessions of perpetrators brought answers to previously unsolved political crimes - crimes which the courts, due to expense and inefficiency, might never have tried. And, undoubtedly, it was difficult for victims to watch while the perpetrators have received amnesty.

But like so many of those who have publicly forgiven the perpetrators of horrendous crimes against their family members in the UK in recent times, the scenes of forgiveness were the most powerful for me. It became quickly evident that apartheid was not simply a black and white issue. The TRC gamble not easily taken by Mandela and Tutu brought the best of human nature to the world's table when that country had been in isolation and despair. From the horror, there was hope after all. Today, the amnesty process still continues, the TRC makes recommendations regarding possible reparations, as well as proposals to prevent future human-rights violations.

A conference entitled The TRC: Ten Years On, was recently organised by the Institute for Justice and Reconciliation in the Iziko South African History Museum, with the aim to promote national dialogue on justice and reconciliation and to address the unfinished business of the TRC. A central theme that emerged throughout the conference was the need for former political leaders of the apartheid state to acknowledge responsibility for gross human rights violations and other abuses prior to 1994.

In addition, those perpetrators who have avoided disclosure of their involvement were urged, at least, to find ways to supply the families of victims with the closure they so desperately seek. Furthermore, apartheid beneficiaries, notably, but not only, whites, were called on to acknowledge that they benefited from a corrupt and destructive system that privileged a racial elite and its allies. Unfortunately, the one aspect of truth, which may well remain hidden, was the international business support for the apartheid regime.

Victims still state repeatedly that they wish to be informed and consulted.

Court action can still be unsuccessful and there's a need for it to be transparent, rapid and well resourced. So the past is not over for the majority of victims, many of whom continue to suffer poverty.

If there is serious consideration to any truth commission in Northern Ireland, it has been suggested that it should be used to consolidate peace after a formal agreement has been secured, not mistakenly used to try to make peace. This does not mean questions of truth and justice will disappear in Northern Ireland, or elsewhere. While power relations shape the path a country follows in the post-conflict phase, dealing with the past cannot be put off forever.

But a truth commission is a structure for reconciliation that may not work universally: independent inquiries, tribunals and grassroots initiatives can also help victims and perpetrators come to terms with the past. I do, however, believe that a major agent of success in relation to these concepts is when the strategy employed is public.

Alternatively, or additionally, there are avenues such as tape recording personal testimonies, or in books, libraries, literature and the arts, as well as through the counselling offered by organisations such as Victim Support.

Truth may not, of course, answer the plight of every victim and dealing with the truth is a tricky and sometimes dangerous path. But what needs to be discussed publicly is how the victims of all those regions in the world which bear the scars of political violence, can best deal with the past.

The example provided by the TRC in South Africa and elsewhere, is that the victims and the perpetrators can produce peace by letting the truth be known to each other, the media, and in public.