The appeal by two German terrorist killers for release from prison, to which they had been sentenced for life terms in 1985, paradoxically makes another point for capital punishment.

One might begin a reconsideration of the eternal question by starting at the other end from the execution chamber. Does anybody in the house believe that they, or the two other surviving members of the Baader-Meinhof gang, should never have the chance for release from prison?

The question of capital punishment achieved dramatic force in 1924 when the two young killers of Bobby Franks stood at the bar of justice. The trial had attracted the riveted attention of the whole world, it seemed, and there was little sympathy for the accused.

Their guilt was manifest, and nobody could criticize the defense resources of Clarence Darrow, probably the most renowned lawyer of the age. In his celebrated 12-hour speech, Darrow argued eloquently against sending the young killers to the electric chair.

But there was this one thing, which Judge John Caverly emphasized, namely that the public case against the defendants could not be satisfied other than by capital punishment unless it was made as a matter of record that they would be in prison for the rest of their lives. Darrow accepted the alternative to death gratefully and, perhaps, cynically.

Because, of course, the sentences did not add up to life plus 99 years, as the judge had ordered. One of the two men, Richard Loeb, was killed in prison after allegedly making a homosexual advance to another inmate. But Nathan Leopold was released from prison in 1958 and died 13 years later, at liberty in Puerto Rico. By the time of his release, there wasn’t much of a public outcry. How do you generate wrathful indignation for letting somebody out of prison after he has served 34 years?

A way to put the point is: Would there be a great commotion if the man who attempted to kill George Wallace in 1972 were released from prison, assuming there was reason to think him reformed?

The answer to that does not belie that if, when he was captured, tried, and found guilty, he had been sentenced to the chair, there would have been, in the judgment of Nemesis, the goddess of vengeance and justice, the balm of satisfaction that is justifiably felt by the community that wishes to record its total dedication to the proposition that there is no right to kill except with due process of law or under military orders.

World almanacs have to be revised every year or two to keep up with changes in the public mood. The opponents of capital punishment are, mostly, members of the intellectual elite.

When the death penalty was eliminated in Great Britain, there had been poll after poll inquiring into public sentiment on the question of capital punishment, and the returns were steadfast.

Seventy percent of the British population wanted to continue to impose death sentences for capital crimes. But the abolitionists were always, you know, the editors of the prestigious newspapers, while the posses were mere workhorses.

So that within the framework of disapproval of capital punishment there are today variations of true piquancy. Greece has a “life term” that lasts for 25 years. But one can apply for parole in 16 years. If sentenced to more than one life term, the prisoner must serve at least 20 years before being eligible for parole. Get it?

It is not to be deplored that there are people out there who plead to let prisoners out after a while. They are moved by humane and compassionate instincts.

But what are the criteria to be observed? Has the murderer suffered enough? How does one define “enough”?

How do we register our commitment to safeguarding the innocent, if not by bringing on death to the killer?

It is a pity that arguments on the question are so often made by citing the number of people who are discovered, years later, to have been innocent.

To attempt to devise a criminal justice system that absolutely ensures against mistaken verdicts is to guarantee the immobilization of justice.