WASHINGTON: History does not always announce itself with thunder. Sometimes it arrives as a decision — taken calmly, consciously and against fear. “I am returning to Pakistan on October 18 to coalesce the forces of moderation against extremism,” Benazir Bhutto said in Washington in 2007. “Our goal, quite literally, is to save democracy in Pakistan.” She made that statement on September 25, 2007, at meetings hosted by the Middle East Institute and later at the Russell Senate Building. It was not a slogan, it was a commitment — one she fully intended to honour. I had met Benazir countless times over the years — in Pakistan, in London and in Washington — across different phases of her political life. She could be warm and disarming, cautious and guarded, sharply analytical and politically defiant, sometimes all of the above within the same conversation. But on that September day in Washington, there was a particular clarity about her. She had already decided. As she was leaving the Middle East Institute, I asked the question many were asking quietly but few were prepared to voice aloud. “Big announcement, Bibi — are you sure the time is right for your return?” She stopped, looked at me and replied without hesitation: “We cannot always wait for the right time. There comes a moment when you have to take certain decisions — and now is that time.” I asked her for an interview. She said she was leaving immediately and could not promise anything but would see what she could do. The next day — or perhaps the day after — my phone rang. “This is Benazir Bhutto,” the voice on the other end said. “I am at JFK [airport]. Let’s do the interview now.” I told her she must be busy at the moment and suggested we do it later. “No,” she said. “Let’s do it now.” That conversation, conducted while she was at the airport, became her last media interview in the United States. She kept the promise she made in Washington. Less than a month later, she returned to Pakistan. It was her third homecoming — and her last. On December 27, 2007, she was assassinated at a rally in Rawalpindi. Her return came less than a year after she and Nawaz Sharif signed the Charter of Democracy in London, a document shaped by experience, reconciliation and political maturity. Signed on May 14, 2006, it sought to end the destructive cycle of confrontation that had repeatedly destabilised democratic processes. Many argue, with justification, that this understanding between the PPP and the PML-N laid the groundwork for the restoration of democratic rule in Pakistan — albeit within constraints. Throughout 2007, Benazir’s message in Washington was steady, confident and principled. She insisted that Nawaz Sharif had as much right to return to Pakistan as she did. She warned that excluding mainstream political forces weakened national cohesion. And she emphasised that sustainable stability required political participation, legitimacy and public trust. Every word she spoke carried the weight of experience, the eloquence of a stateswoman, and the courage of someone who had survived exile, imprisonment and threats to her life. Benazir Bhutto emphasizes the importance of her “return” after delivering her address at the Middle East Institute, Washington in 2007. — Photo provided by author By then, the Bush administration had begun to reassess its approach to Pakistan. It was exploring ways to combine political legitimacy with counterterrorism efforts, and in that recalibration, Benazir increasingly emerged as a central and credible figure — a leader whose resolve and moral authority commanded attention even in the highest corridors of power. Her reception during that final visit reflected the shift. At the US Senate, flanked by her husband Asif Ali Zardari and former senator Khwaja Akbar, she received a standing ovation from lawmakers, diplomats, academics, and journalists — a marked contrast to earlier visits when she was treated with caution and reserve. Her international stature had long been evident. On October 20, 2006, Pakistani guests attending an iftar at the US State Department in Washington were struck by a large photograph at the entrance: a smiling Benazir. It underscored her place in history as the first Muslim woman prime minister. Beside her was Shirin Ebadi, the first Muslim woman Nobel laureate; next to her, Megawati Soekarnoputri, Indonesia’s first female president. It was a quiet but powerful tableau of Muslim women who had reshaped political history. During her final Washington visit, the late congressman Tom Lantos, then chairman of the House Foreign Affairs Committee, facilitated a telephone conversation between Benazir and the late ex-military ruler Pervez Musharraf. Media reports suggested she sought assurances about her return and addressed concerns about the political transition. On October 8, 2007, former US secretary of state Condoleezza Rice telephoned both Musharraf and Benazir, reportedly to ensure that understandings had been reached. The following day, the government announced it would drop criminal cases pending against her. These diplomatic efforts unfolded amid real danger. A day before Rice’s call, Tehreek-i-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) leader Baitullah Mehsud publicly threatened to target Benazir Bhutto upon her return. The threat was known. The risk was understood. She returned anyway — not out of recklessness, but out of unwavering courage, a deep sense of duty and love for her country. Read more: Why Benazir Bhutto was the daughter of Pakistan Musharraf, who ruled Pakistan during that turbulent period, died in Dubai on February 5, 2023. With the passage of time — and with both principal figures now gone — that chapter has now become a part of history books. What remains are the consequences of choices made at a decisive moment — particularly Benazir’s decision to return despite clear and present danger, because, as she told me in that final interview, “that’s where I belong”. Her September 2007 visit to Washington was her most consequential. She was everywhere in the media, met senior officials, engaged lawmakers and shaped the narrative. The signals of support were unmistakable. In the weeks following her return to Pakistan, Washington increased its emphasis on democratic processes. The White House spoke of strengthening popular political resistance to extremism and US lawmakers moved to link assistance with democratic outcomes. A decade after her assassination, her name was invoked again on the world stage. On September 22, 2017, at the 72nd session of the United Nations General Assembly, British Prime Minister Theresa May paused her address to remember Benazir. “This year is the tenth anniversary of the death of the woman who introduced me to my husband and who was well-known to many of us in this United Nations,” she said at the time. “Benazir Bhutto was brutally murdered by people who actively rejected the values that all of us here in this United Nations stand for.” She reminded the Assembly that no country had suffered more at the hands of terrorists than Pakistan. Benazir did not live to see the democratic transition she helped set in motion, nor the long and uneven struggle that followed. But she understood something elemental: that history rarely offers safe moments and that waiting for perfect conditions is often another way of surrendering to fear. She chose to return — fully aware of the threats, conscious of the risks and certain of the moment. In that return, in that final act of leadership, she showed the world what it means to lead with courage, to persist with vision and to embody the highest principles of service. For many across the globe, she remains a symbol of resilience, of hope and of the unwavering commitment to her country and its people. That choice, more than any office she held or speech she delivered, defines her place in history. Header image: Former premier Benazir Bhutto (C) waves to her supporters during her last election campaign rally in Rawalpindi December 27, 2007. — AFP