By Junaid Qaiser
The sixth annual International Religious Freedom (IRF) Summit took place from February 2–4 in Washington, D.C., and it wrapped up with a powerful message: the global fight for the freedom to believe is heating up just as repression is on the rise. For those in Pakistan, the discussions at the summit hit home—religious freedom isn’t just a concept; it’s central to our founding principles, our reputation on the world stage, and our unity as a society.
Speaking to a crowd of advocates, faith leaders, and policy experts at the Washington Hilton, IRF Summit co-chair Dr. Katrina Lantos Swett highlighted the irony of our times with a quote from Charles Dickens: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” On one hand, the movement for freedom of conscience is more widespread and organized than ever. On the other hand, more individuals are living under governments that limit or suppress religious beliefs than at any time in recent memory. Almost 80 percent of the global population resides in countries where there are significant governmental or societal restrictions on religion—a statistic that should concern anyone who values human dignity and social harmony.
The summit brought together more than 90 organizations representing over 30 faith traditions, underscoring that religious freedom is not a parochial cause but a universal one. Co-chair Sam Brownback, former U.S. ambassador-at-large for international religious freedom, framed the issue not only as a moral imperative but as a geopolitical reality. Dictators, he argued, fear religious freedom more than military hardware because belief systems create loyalties beyond the state. People of faith living under repression, Brownback said, are often the greatest internal challengers to authoritarian power.
This linkage between authoritarianism and the suppression of belief was echoed by Maureen Ferguson of the U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom (USCIRF), who noted that governments target people of faith precisely because they “can’t control the way they think and believe.” History supports this view. From the Soviet Union to present-day autocracies, restrictions on religion often accompany broader crackdowns on civil liberties.
For Pakistan, a country founded on the promise of equal citizenship, these conversations should provoke introspection rather than defensiveness. Quaid-e-Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah’s vision—where citizens were free to go to their temples, mosques, churches, or any other place of worship—remains a benchmark against which we are still measured. The IRF Summit reminds us that religious freedom is not a Western imposition but a universal right, rooted in both international law and Islamic principles of justice and protection for minorities.
One of the most compelling—and troubling—episodes surrounding the summit involved Anila Ali, President and CEO of the American Muslims Multifaith Women Empowerment Council (AMMWEC). During the gathering, Ali met with U.S. Senator James Lankford, one of Washington’s most consistent bipartisan advocates for international religious freedom. Their discussion focused on an alarming trend: Muslim advocates who speak out for religious freedom, counter extremism, and defend minorities are themselves being silenced or subjected to intimidation—even within Western systems that claim to champion these values.
Ali’s case is particularly striking because it defies stereotypes. She is not a fringe activist but the founder of the first Muslim women’s civil rights movement in the United States, established after 9/11 to counter violent extremism and promote interfaith harmony. Her family history is deeply intertwined with Pakistan’s pluralistic legacy. She is the daughter of Qutub-ud-din Aziz, one of Pakistan’s founding fathers, a journalist and public intellectual who spent his life defending minority rights and writing for international publications. Her grandmother founded educational institutions dedicated to respect for all faiths.
However, Ali recounts what she describes as deeply disturbing experiences involving visa interviews at the U.S. Embassy in Islamabad, where her organization’s name was allegedly maligned and used to intimidate applicants. Her question is blunt and uncomfortable: why are Muslims who dare to speak for religious freedom also being persecuted? Why are American Muslims who stand against radicalization and defend minorities facing suspicion rather than support?
This is not merely a personal grievance. It points to a broader pattern that should concern both Western policymakers and Muslim societies. Moderate Muslim voices—those who challenge extremism, defend minorities, and advocate interfaith harmony—often find themselves attacked from all sides. They face threats from radicals at home and skepticism, or worse, institutional hostility abroad. Then, paradoxically, the same societies ask, “Where are the moderate Muslims?”
Anila Ali’s answer is clear: they are here, they are speaking, and they are being silenced.
For democratic countries, protecting such voices is not an act of charity; it is a strategic necessity. When Muslims publicly defend religious freedom, challenge extremist ideologies, and uphold pluralism, they reinforce the very values that stabilize societies and undercut radical narratives. Undermining them weakens the global fight against extremism and fuels cynicism among those who risk their lives to promote moderation.
The IRF Summit 2026 made one thing clear: religious freedom is a frontline issue of our time. It shapes global security, social cohesion, and moral credibility.
