Every week for more than two decades a group of women with white scarves tied tight around their heads has met in the main square in Buenos Aires to protest over the forced disappearance of their children and the atrocities committed during Argentina's bloody military dictatorship.

This week the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, as the group is called, have had something to celebrate: the country's Supreme Court has declared unconstitutional two laws that for years have protected the military from prosecution for human rights abuses.

The decision removes the last obstacle to bringing to trial and punishing hundreds thousands, according to some estimates of members of the armed forces who carried out systematic kidnappings, torture and murder during the 1976-1983 military regime.

Amid tears and laughter, Nora Cortiñas, the group's president, said: "After 20 years of struggle, of course we are happy." At last, those responsible for the disappearance of up to 30,000 Argentines would have to "sit before a judge and say what happened".

Fernando remembers only too well what happened. He was one of the survivors of the Naval Engineering School (Esma), a collection of austere whitewashed buildings that was used as the military's main torture camp.

"They used to hold our heads under water or in plastic bags to the point of suffocation and submit us to mock executions," he says. On one occasion, Fernando watched a friend bleed to death after a guard drove a broom handle up his anus and then gave him electric shocks. "I know what hell is because I have been there," he says.

For the thousands of victims of the military's regime of terror and for their families the court ruling is an important step towards righting the wrongs of the past. It is also a sign that democracy and the rule of law are finally being consolidated in South America's second biggest economy.

But, surprisingly perhaps, Argentina remains divided. Many of the country's 36m inhabitants place the issue of human rights well down the list of priorities. Instead, they are more concerned about employment and personal security. With high crime rates compared with the past, some even remember with nostalgia the days during the military regime when you could leave your front door open and walk down the street without fear of being mugged.

Moreover, many believe that the passing of time has largely healed the wounds the military regime inflicted on society. Even Raúl Alfonsín, the country's first president after the dictatorship and the author of the two laws deemed unconstitutional last week was non-committal about the benefits of revisiting the past. "The wounds were probably healing over," he told the FT a few months ago.

For Martín, however, another Esma survivor, the wounds have never looked like healing. Sitting in the FT's office in Buenos Aires, he explained through tears and a faltering voice how he endured the horrors that were piled upon him, as well as the constant feeling that he was living out his last day. "It stays with you. It haunts you," he said.

He also recalls years later how he saw Juan Antonio Azic, a former member of the navy and, he claims, one of his torturers walking calmly down the street, a free man and seemingly without a care in the world.

Two years ago, when a Buenos Aires judge ordered Azic's arrest together with 44 other military officials wanted by a Spanish judge, Azic put the barrel of a pistol into his mouth and squeezed the trigger.

"All I can remember thinking when I heard the news was that I wanted him to survive so that he could stand trial in an Argentine court," says Martín. "I wanted to see him punished through our legal system for the crimes he committed."

Azic never got to stand trial but now many of his former colleagues will. That change, according to Estela de Carlotto, head of another human rights called the Grandmothers of the Plaza de Mayo, is a sign that Argentina is coming to terms with its bloody past.

"It is a historic victory but not just for human rights. The world is finally going to look at Argentina and see a country they can rely on and in which people are punished for their crimes."