From Abuja to Tehran, from Qatar to Beijing, our voices must be heard, now

I have thought about my late father every single day since the horrific terrorist attack in Israel on Oct. 7 and the tsunami of antisemitism that has followed.

Rep. Tom Lantos would have been gripped by two emotions in a moment like this one: a sense of grief and outrage that antisemitism could remerge with such horror, yet again, in our modern age and a profound sense of resolve to do everything in his power to rally the world to push back against these dark forces. 

My father was not just the first and only Holocaust survivor to be elected to the United States Congress; he was a living example of how one individual can leave behind a better world. When he came to America as a penniless immigrant, he never dreamed he would one day rise to be chairman of the House Foreign Affairs Committee. When he did, he chose to use his influence to shape a culture that prioritized human rights in the hallowed halls of the Congress. It is a culture that, in various ways, persists to this day. Even in our divided and divisive time, Democrats and Republicans can still declare a truce on human rights issues and often stand together in support of those in the world who are at risk simply for who they are or what they believe. This commitment to human rights around the world is one reason we should all be very proud to be Americans.

This week the fourth annual International Religious Freedom Summit will demonstrate this power once again as hundreds of activists, survivors, and advocates from virtually every faith tradition and all sides of the political aisle will show up in Washington, D.C. to urge America and the democratic world to continue to stand for human rights, and specifically freedom of religion or belief, with total moral clarity.

It couldn’t come at a more urgent time.

The Chinese Communist Party in China continues to carry out its genocidal purge of its own Uyghur citizens under the wide-open eyes of the world, while simultaneously strengthening ties and providing funding to countries like Nicaragua, where entire religious communities are being dissolved. In Iran and Afghanistan, women cry out for “life” and “freedom” from repressive theocracies, while the leaders of their countries try in vain to silence them through intimidation, imprisonment and worse. 

Religious freedom violations are not happening in authoritarian states, only. In Africa’s largest democracy, Nigeria, a ten-year wave of Jihadist terror has decimated that country’s Christian community, killing thousands while taking out secularists and peace-loving Muslims in its wake. The world’s largest democracy, India, churns with tensions and violence stoked by religion-based nationalism. Even in stalwart democracies like Finland and Japan, we see governments and legal systems flirting precariously with whether to safeguard this fundamental right. 

Of course, the atrocities committed by Hamas on Oct. 7 and the consequent war in the Gaza Strip have unleashed a tidal wave of antisemitism and hatred of the Jewish people unlike anything we have seen for decades. The world seems to have quickly forgotten the horrors of the attacks that sparked the war in Gaza and the fact that Hamas still holds more than 130 hostages there. 

There is reason for both sorrow and deep concern as we look around the world today. But such sorrow cannot give way to despair. 

My father, who lived through the darkest days of the last century, understood the power of people — whether they be political leaders or ordinary citizens — choosing to raise their voices or even risk their own safety for those who cannot speak for themselves. 

I know where my father would be today if he were still with us. 

He would be standing outside of the Qatari embassy last week alongside Washington, D.C.’s Jewish community, demanding Qatar’s rulers do more to see the immediate, unconditional release of the hostages. He would be telling the world the stories of the Christians of Nigeria who are slaughtered simply for coming to Christmas services, and he would make infamous the names of the politicians in Abuja who act as if it isn’t happening at all. He would refuse to let the abuses perpetrated by the leaders of Tehran and Beijing unfold without unrelenting censure.

Tom Lantos was often called the “conscience of the Congress.” In a moment like this, with so much at stake, we must follow the example he set. As Americans, we aren’t the policemen of the world, but we do remain its conscience. It is time to speak up and speak out. 

Katrina Lantos Swett, PhD, is president of the Lantos Foundation for Human Rights and Justice, former Chair of the United States Commission on International Religious Freedom (USCIRF) and is co-chair of International Religious Freedom (IRF) Summit.