By Junaid Qaiser
As the world marks World Interfaith Harmony Week from February 1 to 7, an annual United Nations observance dedicated to promoting mutual understanding, respect, and peaceful coexistence among faiths, the global conversation this year feels especially urgent. In 2026, WIHW coincides with a period of deep polarization—religious, political, and ideological—making initiatives that foster dialogue more necessary than ever.
It is in this global context that the 6th International Religious Freedom (IRF) Summit, scheduled in Washington, D.C., was meant to bring together policymakers, scholars, journalists, and civil society actors committed to defending freedom of belief and interfaith harmony. Ironically, at a moment when such engagement is most needed, my own inability to attend the summit due to a U.S. visa refusal raises troubling questions—not just about one decision, but about broader priorities embedded in contemporary immigration and visa policies.
I applied for a U.S. visa with a single, transparent purpose: to attend the IRF Summit as a journalist and writer who has spent decades advocating religious freedom, minority rights, and interfaith coexistence in Pakistan. My professional record is public, my social media platforms are open, and my views—often expressed at personal risk—consistently oppose extremism, intolerance, and sectarian hatred. Yet the visa interview process took a direction that was both unexpected and unsettling.
Rather than focusing on the purpose of travel or my professional credentials, the interview—particularly with a local visa officer—shifted toward questions that felt ideological and, at times, intrusive. I was asked repeatedly about my views on the Abraham Accords, Pakistan–Israel relations, and even whether I intended to visit Israel from the United States—despite having applied solely for a U.S. visa to attend a conference in Washington. These questions were puzzling not only because of their irrelevance to my stated travel plans, but also because my views on these matters are neither hidden nor extreme; they are aligned with dialogue, normalization, and peaceful engagement.
More concerning was the line of questioning related to the funding and internal affairs of an American organization sponsoring the summit, as well as personal questions about the life and salary of a professional colleague coordinating IRF-related activities in Pakistan. As a journalist and conference participant, I have no role in auditing U.S.-based nonprofits, nor access to their financial records. Such organizations operate under U.S. law, file tax returns, disclose donors, and are subject to rigorous oversight by American authorities. Asking a Pakistani applicant to explain these matters felt misplaced and disproportionate.
These experiences prompt a larger, uncomfortable question: are visa systems inadvertently undermining the very values they claim to protect? Western democracies rightly emphasize the importance of screening and security, especially in an era marked by extremism and radicalization. But there is a growing perception—shared quietly by many—that immigration and visa regimes sometimes prioritize wealth, convenience, or superficial indicators over a serious evaluation of values and intent. The result is a paradox: individuals with extremist or illiberal worldviews may pass through weakened filters, while writers, academics, and peace advocates encounter disproportionate suspicion.
This isn’t just a personal issue; it’s a matter of policy. When we discourage voices that champion religious freedom, interfaith dialogue, and pluralism—whether intentionally or not—it sends a troubling message, especially in places like Pakistan, where opposing extremism can come with serious consequences. It also risks reinforcing the idea that while the West talks a good game about values, it doesn’t always practice what it preaches.
World Interfaith Harmony Week serves as a reminder that engaging in dialogue across different faiths and cultures is more than just a catchy phrase; it’s a commitment that demands openness, consistency, and trust. The IRF Summit truly embodies this spirit. At the very least, visa processes should not create obstacles that silence those who are striving—often in challenging circumstances—for these shared ideals.
I firmly believe in choosing engagement over isolation, reflection over resentment, and reform over retreat. Bringing up these issues isn’t an attack on the United States; it’s a call to uphold its finest traditions. If we want to defend religious freedom and interfaith harmony on a global scale, then the systems that determine who gets to join these important conversations must align with those values, not undermine them.
