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This month, the world lost Professor Joseph Nye, the scholar who gave us the language to describe one of the most powerful forces in international affairs: soft power. 

Nye’s insight—that nations can shape the world not just through military or economic might, but through attraction, trust, and shared values—has never been more urgent. Nowhere is this force more quietly cultivated than in the classrooms and campuses that shape tomorrow’s leaders.

Nye’s commitment to students was legendary. Every Tuesday, he opened his door for office hours, welcoming current students and alumni alike, creating a space where ideas and experiences could be exchanged across generations. As former dean of Harvard Kennedy School, he once shared with me his pride in having doubled the number of international students during his tenure, believing these exchanges were not merely academic, but strategic—laying the groundwork for global goodwill and understanding.

One of those students was former Secretary-General of the United Nations  MC/MPA Mason 1984. When he stood before , he recalled how he had introduced himself to classmates back in 1985: “I am ‘JFK’—just from Korea.” A moment of humor, yes, but also a reflection of the global aspirations that brought him to Harvard. Decades earlier, Ban had sat in those same seats—an international student far from home but immersed in the ideas and relationships that would shape his path to becoming Secretary-General of the UN.

He later called his time at Harvard the “golden year” of his life—not only for what he learned in the classroom, but for the bonds formed across cultures, the crisis simulations that stretched his thinking, and the professors who helped shape his worldview. Among them was Professor Nye, who introduced the concept that would later define Ban’s diplomatic style: soft power. 

Soft power isn’t abstract. It lives in the career paths of graduates who once sat in classrooms like those at Harvard. From presidents and prime ministers to education ministers and humanitarian leaders, many of today’s public servants first learned to navigate complexity not in parliaments or press briefings, but in seminar rooms. Ellen Johnson Sirleaf MPA 1971, Africa’s first elected female head of state, earned her degree from ����vlog���� before leading Liberia’s post-conflict recovery. From Colombia to Kenya, Jordan to Singapore, leaders shaped by these institutions carry not just degrees—but the relationships and reflexes of dialogue. This is the quiet force of soft power.

I saw this force up close. At Harvard Kennedy School, I organized a series of weekly cultural diplomacy dinners that brought together students with diverse political and cultural experiences. Around the table, we shared meals and stories—of bias, resilience, identity, and leadership. What began as informal gatherings became intentional spaces for dialogue, connection, and reflection. 

In a time of global division, these stories reveal a broader truth: diplomacy isn’t forged only in official chambers.

 It is born in shared projects, honest conversations, and relationships that cross lines of language, culture, and history. If classrooms are where those habits are seeded, then universities are the quiet engines of global cooperation.

And yet, these institutions now face a growing challenge: the erosion of the very conditions that make soft power possible. Dialogue falters when trust is low. Diversity without inclusion breeds silence, not understanding. On campuses around the world—including at Harvard—we see students self-censoring, avoiding difficult conversations, or retreating into ideological or cultural silos. The very classrooms that once served as training grounds for global leadership risk becoming battlegrounds if not intentionally designed for reflection, empathy, and bridge-building.

The challenge is clear: Are we preparing students to lead across borders and beliefs—or only within their comfort zones? Are our institutions cultivating courage alongside competence, empathy alongside expertise?

In my final office hours with Professor Joseph Nye on April 8, 2025, he reflected on this very concern. He emphasized that universities like Harvard play a vital role in educating foreign students and fostering deeper understanding of American values. These exchanges, he argued, are strategic in strengthening U.S. soft power by building international goodwill and enduring relationships.

But this influence is not guaranteed. Nye cautioned that when institutions isolate themselves, restrict dialogue, or close their doors to global engagement, they risk undermining that very power.

“If we neglect the conditions that allow soft power to flourish—openness, inclusion, curiosity—we risk losing one of our greatest, most enduring tools of leadership,” he said and added: “That’s why we must treat our classrooms—and campuses—not simply as academic spaces, but as diplomatic ones. A place where the next secretary-general or president may quietly be learning how to listen. Where a dinner table conversation might inspire a global policy. Where soft power is not a theory, but a practice. And where the next chapter of leadership might already be sitting in the front row.”

Portraits by Natalie Montaner; inline images courtesy of Sara BinMahfooz