As I toiled over my master’s thesis in the basement of Brigham Young University’s Harold B. Lee Library in the late 1980s, I had no idea I’d one day be sitting across the table from its subject: Zimbabwe’s President Robert Mugabe. My thesis had explored how Mugabe managed to retain power through two election cycles.
Decades later, by this time a U.S. senator, I found myself in Harare, being lectured by a tired nonagenarian who, after more than 35 years in power, seemed most animated by his grievances. For what felt like hours, Mugabe recounted a history of slights at the hands of American presidents and British prime ministers. Margaret Thatcher had robbed him at Lancaster House. Barack Obama had snubbed him at the United Nations. Ronald Reagan was an amateur; Tony Blair, clueless.
I listened respectfully, waiting for an opening. When he dismissed George W. Bush, I finally jumped in.
“It was George W. Bush,” I reminded him, “who created PEPFAR — the program that provided life-saving AIDS treatment across Africa, including to Zimbabwe, where infection rates included a quarter of your population. Surely your country has benefited from that generosity.”
He paused, as if pondering his own ingratitude. “I’ll give you that,” he said softly. “I’ll give you that.”
That moment stayed with me. Not just because of the irony of a dictator begrudgingly complimenting an American president, but because it underscored something deeper: the enduring value of soft power. That exchange, unlikely as it was, would not have been possible through force or threat.
That’s why it was deeply troubling to hear about recent moves to dismantle USAID and other programs that represent the softer instruments of American influence abroad. These programs don’t just reflect our values — they advance our national interest.
Beyond PEPFAR’s humanitarian impact, the program has fostered security partnerships and goodwill that benefit Americans directly. Because of it, we have access to intelligence-sharing agreements, military cooperation and public health collaborations we wouldn’t otherwise have. Soft power works. It’s not just a moral imperative, it’s a strategic imperative.
In this era of alpha dominance, it’s easy to forget the virtues of diplomacy. High-minded rhetoric and saber-rattling may grab headlines, but it’s often quiet diplomacy that resolves crises, builds alliances and maintains peace.
I saw this again firsthand during my time as U.S. ambassador to Turkey. Just months into my tenure, Sweden and Finland sought NATO membership. Turkey balked at Sweden’s admission — citing Sweden’s permissive stance toward the PKK, a designated terrorist organization that has long threatened Turkey’s national security.
With 29 other NATO members eager to bring Sweden into the fold, the instinct was to pressure Turkey — to lecture and strong-arm its leadership into compliance. But diplomacy, not coercion, was the only viable path forward.
Sweden had genuine steps to take, including constitutional and statutory changes to address Turkey’s security concerns. Turkey, for its part, needed to show its citizens that the alliance would be strengthened — not compromised — by Sweden’s inclusion. Meanwhile, the United States had its own role to play, notably by moving forward on a long-stalled sale of F-16 fighter jets to Turkey, which would bolster its NATO interoperability.
What followed was a highly technical, deeply choreographed diplomatic effort that spanned 18 months. It required legislative finesse, alliance coordination and an immense amount of patience. But in the end, Sweden joined NATO. Turkey saw its legitimate concerns addressed. And the United States reaffirmed its role as a reliable partner and leader within the alliance. Most importantly, trust was built — a currency more valuable than any arms deal.
These are the dividends of soft power and diplomacy. They don’t come with parades or photo ops. But they endure. They make us safer. They reinforce the rules-based international order that, however imperfect, has spared us from global conflict for nearly eight decades.
As a former legislator and diplomat, I’ve seen the power of diplomacy up close — how a well-placed word or a quietly brokered compromise can accomplish what no threat ever could. It is far easier to tear down these institutions than to build them. And once gone, they are hard to rebuild.
In the end, diplomacy is not weakness — it is strength under control. And soft power is not softness — it is resilience, influence and moral leadership.
In our zeal to project power, let’s not forget that the best expression of American strength often comes not from the might of our military, but from the measure of our generosity, the soundness of our word and the reach of our ideals.
This story appears in the June 2025 issue of DeseretMagazine. Learn more about how to subscribe.