Shahbaz Bhatti’s legacy of courage, faith and solidarity endures 15 years after his assassination
By Benedict Rogers in UCA News
Fifteen years ago this month, Pakistani jihadis assassinated my friend Shahbaz Bhatti in broad daylight.
I will never forget the morning of March 2, 2011. I woke up and, as usual, switched on the radio and turned on my computer. Within seconds, I received the news that I had long feared, though hoped and prayed would never happen: Shahbaz’s murder.
Shahbaz and I worked closely together for five years, from 2004 to 2009, at a time when I was working on Pakistan as one of my focuses in my work advocating for freedom of religion or belief across Asia.
Shahbaz was a young and courageous Catholic grassroots human rights activist who co-founded the All Pakistan Minorities Alliance (APMA). We spoke by phone every week, often several times, and exchanged emails almost every day. We travelled together in Pakistan several times, and on one occasion, we missed a bomb in Islamabad by just five minutes. We had been in a meeting with others in the Marriott Hotel over dinner and had left moments before the explosion. That shared near-death experience caused a special bond between us.
On another occasion, Shahbaz and I sat together with a seven-year-old Christian girl who had been brutally raped and tortured by Islamist extremists. Shahbaz was helping her and her family because nobody else would.
And one other formative experience will always remain in my memory: one night, in 2007, when a Christian community in Charsadda in the North-West Frontier Province of Pakistan faced an ultimatum by extremists: convert to Islam or face the consequences. For weeks, I had been advocating for some international assistance, pressure, or protection to help this vulnerable community, with little success. As the ultimatum deadline approached, I sat alone in my home in London, thinking about the danger that awaited these beleaguered people.
I watched the clock tick and, as I did so, I debated whether to telephone Shahbaz. I went through a mental battle between the desire not to bother him when he is busy and the desire to help and offer solidarity. Finally, late at night in London, I called him. Almost immediately, Shahhaz answered. The line was one of the clearest I have ever had. And Shahbaz told me he was in Charsadda, which was a surprise to me.
Shahbaz’s next words have stayed with me forever. “Ben, thank God you called,” said Shahbaz. “The community is terrified. They are expecting an attack at any moment, and they think no one in the outside world knows or cares. The mere fact that you called means I can reassure them that there is one person out there who does know, who does care, who is praying, and who is speaking out and trying to help: one who cares enough to telephone to find out how they are. That will give them strength and encouragement.”
And in fact, miraculously, the expected attack never came.
In subsequent years, our paths diverged. Shahbaz moved into Pakistani politics, was elected to the National Assembly in 2008, and within a few months was appointed Pakistan’s federal minister for minorities affairs. And while Pakistan remained on my heart, my focus shifted to North Korea, China, Indonesia, Myanmar, and other parts of Asia. But Shahbaz and I remained friends, and so when the news of his assassination came, I was heartbroken. I wrote an op-ed that was published the next day, headlined “Yesterday, Pakistan lost its Martin Luther King.”
The key thing to understand about Shahbaz — and the bond he and I had — is that while he was a devout Catholic, he recognized that, as Martin Luther King Jr. said, “injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”
He stood — as I do — for freedom of religion or belief for everyone, everywhere, no exceptions. That is why he built APMA. And it is why, as Minister for Minorities, he traveled the country visiting mosques and building friendships with the country’s majority Muslim population. Those who pulled the trigger on the gun that fired the bullets into Shahbaz Bhatti did so in the name of Islam, but they did not represent Pakistan’s Muslims, many of whom admired Shahbaz and mourned his death deeply.
So, what is Shahbaz’s legacy for human rights, and what are the lessons learned 15 years on from his murder?
His legacy is a message of peace and human rights for all. Shahbaz was deeply rooted in his Christian faith, and that informed his efforts to be a defender of the human dignity of everyone. We can — indeed we must — learn from Shahbaz to defend not only the rights of those of our own creed, but the rights of those of other creeds, colors, and communities.
His legacy — which is needed across Asia and indeed the world — is one of sacrifice, service, and love to counter the forces of hatred.
In October 2009, Shahbaz delivered these words to a Christian Solidarity Worldwide conference in London: “I live for religious freedom, and I am ready to die for this cause. We have a commitment to bring a change in the lives of people. We will bring a change in the life of those who are living in darkness, we will bring a change in the lives of those who don’t have a hope, and we will bring a smile on the faces of those living under severe harassment and victimization.”
He continued: “This is the key objective of my life — to live for those who are voiceless, who are suffering. We need to change the plight of those who are living in the darkness of persecution, victimization, and that is the commitment we made, to bring justice for those who are denied justice.”
Shahbaz challenged head-on the “forces of intolerance,” promising that, in unity with others, “we will not allow you to capture our country”. He called on his audience to join with him in this struggle: “Let’s pledge that we will work together to promote harmony and tolerance. We will bridge the gaps among different faiths. We will strengthen this world with the message of peace and tolerance.”
Four months before his murder, Shahbaz recorded an interview with the BBC for broadcast in the event of his death. He said: “These Taliban threaten me. But I want to share that I believe in Jesus Christ, who has given his own life for us. I know what is the meaning of the Cross, and I am following the Cross. I am ready to die for a cause. I am living for my community and suffering people, and I will die to defend their rights.”
That is a message all of us who value human rights should take to heart. We may not all be called to pay the ultimate sacrifice he paid, but all of us can devote some aspect of our life and some proportion of our time to defending human rights and human dignity.
Without doubt, Shahbaz is a modern-day martyr — and 15 years on from his murder, it is high time for the Vatican to recognize him as such. A cause for his beatification has been started, and I hope it will be recognized soon. His personal Bible is on display in the Basilica di San Bartolomeo all’Isola in Rome in a commemoration to modern-day martyrs, and every single time I go to Rome — without fail — I visit the Basilica as an act of pilgrimage. I hope you will too.
My friend Knox Thames — who served for so many years within the US State Department defending freedom of religion or belief — has written this remarkable graphic novel about Shahbaz. It is an important account and tribute.
But what is even more important than writing, reading, or hearing about Shahbaz is for all of us to implement the values he lived and ultimately died for, around the world. Let us defend freedom of religion or belief for everyone, everywhere. Let us confront and counter hatred everywhere. And let’s build a world based on dialogue, justice, respect, and truth. That is what Shahbaz would want and, in building it, it is the best tribute to him we could bring.
This article was originally published in UCA News.