Listener Reviews

I was impressed by how well Laura Migliorino expressed her ideals on the podcast and in her art work. Living up to her belief that "Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable," she created a project placing 100 pairs of white shoes throughout the state of Minnesota, marking the locations where ICE murdered, abducted, or traumatized Minnesotans. I'll be listening a second time and recommending this to others!

Limbert was one of the American diplomats taken hostage in Tehran in 1979, a crisis that exposed how badly U.S. diplomacy had failed. Listening to him today, it’s striking — and troubling — how many of those lessons remain unlearned. Limbert’s voice matters because he’s lived the consequences. His critique isn’t partisan; it’s a warning from someone who has seen what happens when diplomacy is treated as an afterthought. If you care about how the U.S. shows up in the world — and what happens when it doesn’t — this interview is worth your time.

John Limbert's remarkable journey—from Peace Corps Volunteer to diplomat to hostage—illustrates exactly why SoftPower/FulStories matters. Political crises dominate headlines, but understanding comes from hearing the stories of people who lived through them. Nearly fifty years after the Iran hostage crisis, Limbert still speaks not with bitterness but with curiosity, empathy, humor, and a diplomat's belief that understanding another culture is not a luxury. It is a necessity. I'll also remember this podcast because of John Limbert's description of the books the hostages got--MIDDLEMARCH, WAR AND PEACE--indicating that they weren't expected to be released anytime soon. Another fascinating detail is his cultural exchange with Ali Khamenei, now Iran's Supreme Leader. The episode underscores a theme running throughout the interview: political conflict and human interaction are not the same thing. Even in captivity, cultural expectations, curiosity, and conversation persisted.

While headlines push fear and talk of targets, Limbert brings what’s missing: a human, insider’s view of Iran shaped by decades of personal connection, language, and lived experience. As a former hostage and later a senior U.S. diplomat, he explains the overthrow of the Shah and the rise of clerical rule with clarity you won’t find in the usual soundbites. His message is simple but urgent: understanding Iran’s people and history matters far more than imagining where we can bomb. I can't wait for Part II!

While headlines push fear and talk of targets, Limbert brings what’s missing: a human, insider’s view of Iran shaped by decades of personal connection, language, and lived experience. As a former hostage and later a senior U.S. diplomat, he explains the overthrow of the Shah and the rise of clerical rule with clarity you won’t find in the usual soundbites. His message is simple but urgent: understanding Iran’s people and history matters far more than imagining where we can bomb. I can't wait for Part II!

John Limbert's Part 1 interview is both entertaining and enlightening. A Peace Corps Volunteer in Iran before the 1979 Revolution, Limbert combines humor, humility, and historical insight as he recalls a country where resentment of the Shah was already widespread. He tells amusing stories about cultural misunderstandings and admits that he sometimes felt he was in Iran mainly "to provide amusement for our host country." Among the more startling revelations is that some Iranians suggested that if he ever gained access to the Shah, he should assassinate him—a measure of the anger many felt toward the regime.Limbert also recalls meeting the Iranian woman he would later marry (apparently after losing a ping-pong game to her), adding a personal dimension to his account of life in Iran.The episode ends just as the hostage crisis begins to enter the story. Since Limbert would spend 444 days as one of the American hostages, Part 2 promises to be fascinating. In the meantime, Part 1 offers an engaging and nuanced glimpse of Iran before the storm broke.

Andrea Cristancho's story shows the power of soft power. Her engagement through programs like the Peace Corps in Romania illustrates how ordinary people can influence one another across borders and, ultimately, improve institutions from within.This episode also introduced me to the William R. Rivkin Award for Constructive Dissent from the American Foreign Service Association (AFSA)—an award worth looking up in an era when constructive dissent is badly needed. I was sorry to learn that Andrea's work with USAID came to an end when that agency was dismantled, and her story left me feeling an urge to send a constructive dissent message myself.Through both her experiences and her reflections, Andrea Cristancho offers a poignant reminder that listening, learning, and building relationships across cultures can be among the most effective forms of American soft power.

I find most Soft Power Stories engaging and inspiring, but this one made me cry—the first time I have ever cried over a Toshiba typewriter. (When you listen, you'll know what I mean!)Kao Kalia Yang describes her Hmong family in a way that is certain to stir hearts. She also made me appreciate anew why the Peace Corps Legacy Association chose Minnesota as the site of its Peace Plaza. The state has long been associated with a spirit of public service—from Senator Hubert Humphrey's early introduction of a United States domestic version of International Voluntary Services to the remarkable percentage of Peace Corps volunteers who came from the small Minnesota community where the plaza is being built. It is also home to many refugee families who, after being resettled elsewhere, found in Minnesota a second chance to build a life. Yang's story is a moving reminder of what can grow from that second chance—and of why so many people are determined to preserve it for others.

Paul White’s story is worthy of two interviews. Thanks to International Volunteer Services, his life was shaped by crossing borders—racial, cultural, and professional—and the results are inspiring. In Laos, he developed a deep appreciation for the Hmong whose resilience and loyalty were too often overlooked in U.S. policy debates. Those formative years set the tone for a long, principled career with USAID, where he became one of the agency’s most respected field leaders, known for listening first, honoring local knowledge, and insisting that development work be rooted in dignity rather than geopolitics. The two episodes trace a rare arc—one that shows how personal history, cultural humility, and decades of on‑the‑ground experience can shape a public servant who never lost sight of the people behind the policy

I don’t doubt the courage or good intentions of Paul E. White or of the Laotian people whose lives intersected with his. But at times, the podcast sounded less like an exploration of soft power than a retrospective justification for CIA subterfuge during the U.S. war in Laos.Under those circumstances, I can understand why International Voluntary Services eventually withdrew. In fact, I admired Paul White more in the earlier episode when he described building swing sets and teaching Laotians how to make school furniture — work rooted not in covert strategy, but in practical human solidarity.White also spoke movingly about the accomplishments of many Lao and Hmong refugees in the United States who rebuilt their lives after unimaginable upheaval. But those achievements reflect not the righteousness of the war so much as the resilience of people forced to survive its consequences, along with the help of individuals like Paul White who genuinely cared about the Laotian people themselves.What also haunted me while listening was the knowledge that the war’s consequences did not end when the Americans left. Laos still bears physical and economic scars from the bombing campaign, with unexploded bombs, land mines, and other hidden explosives continuing to threaten farmers and children decades later. Against that backdrop, stories of courage and friendship become not less meaningful, but more morally complicated.

I don’t doubt the courage or good intentions of Paul E. White or of the Laotian people whose lives intersected with his. But at times, the podcast sounded less like an exploration of soft power than a retrospective justification for CIA subterfuge during the U.S. war in Laos.Under those circumstances, I can understand why International Voluntary Services eventually withdrew. In fact, I admired Paul White more in the earlier episode when he described building swing sets and teaching Laotians how to make school furniture — work rooted not in covert strategy, but in practical human solidarity.White also speaks movingly about the accomplishments of many Lao and Hmong refugees in the United States who rebuilt their lives after unimaginable upheaval. But those achievements reflect not the righteousness of the war so much as the resilience of people forced to survive its consequences, along with the help of individuals like Paul White who genuinely cared about the Laotian people themselves.What also haunted me while listening was the knowledge that the war’s consequences did not end when the Americans left. Laos still bears physical and economic scars from the bombing campaign, with unexploded bombs, land mines, and other hidden explosives continuing to threaten farmers and children decades later. Against that backdrop, stories of courage and friendship become not less meaningful, but more morally complicated.

I was filled with both wonder and admiration for Paul E. White as I listened to his stories, but I was aghast by the "welcome" he did not get when he arrived in a deserted spot in Laos, later waking up to what made him (and me) think of the Ku Klux Klan. I can see what his story requires more than one episode. I'm looking forward to the second part!

"What's the Peace Corps" and "What's a social worker?" were two questions Diane Raleigh found satisfying answers to after leaving her New Jersey neighborhood most notable for its cabbage patches, and it was no Cabbage Patch Doll that she informally "adopted" for a year. I enjoyed hearing how her experience in International Living in Italy led to her living in Somalia and Nigeria, where being entrusted with a baby whose mother had died led her to help found a home for motherless babies--just one of her accomplishments. But maybe her greatest accomplishment was an enthusiasm and appreciation for the people with whom she always felt a commonality.

Because I'm horrified by the ongoing war-mongering and the $1.5 trillion proposed U.S. military budget for fiscal year 2027--especially when peace-keeping organizations are being diminished or abolished-- I cringed at the thought that Keith Mines' talents, curiosity, and empathy would be wasted in such actions as "Liberating Grenada." Of course, he had a lot of other overseas experiences--as a missionary in Colombia and in peace-focused organizations--and his empathy made him effective in working with people in Iraq. He clearly has his heart in the right place--with people and peace. It's good to learn that Keith Mines closed his career with peace-making. I'm sorry that this institute was abolished by DOGE. But listen to the end for all he's done.

Glenn Ivers exudes enthusiasm, smashes negative stereotypes, and fuels hope as he speaks with host and producer Chris Wurst about his experience living in Liberia and traveling in other parts of Africa. I’m making this review short so I can look up his documentaries “Soul of a Refuge,” “Literacy Saves Lives,” “Hope Is a Literate Woman,” and “The Angels of Bastogne."

Ashley Fairbanks relates what it's like to grow up with the pressure and privilege of a special identity and great expectations and to be now and forever a proud Minnesotan. At a time when this state is getting our attention as it defends against the weirding of America, I learned more about Minnesota as well as what it takes to be an organizer with a huge impact.

Mike Tidwell didn't grow up in privilege, but he certainly made the most of volunteer opportunities that made him "rich" ($70 a month, more than anyone else around him got) and "famous" as a Peace Corps Volunteer and educated people, sometimes running up against the village ethos that meant sharing rather than building on capital. He has also educated readers on climate change, starting with the trees on his own block, inspiring others in our "global community."

I so admire the Peace Corps volunteers who served in African countries. Mike Tidwell’s work in introducing fisheries projects in Zaire, and his environmental work since is truly inspirational. Another well-produced and educational episode! Thanks Chris.

I first learned about his work through a correspondence he had with one of my favorite writers, Moritz Thomse in Ecuador. But I now appreciate the influence of those early years with the Peace Corps in Zaire, his leadership of the Chesapeake Climate Action Network, and his excellent memoir, The Ponds of Kalambayi: An African Sojourn and now in his latest book, The Lost Trees of Willow Avenue. Tidwell’s story is a reminder that Peace Corps service doesn’t end when the assignment does; sometimes it becomes the engine for a lifetime of writing, advocacy, and bearing witness.

John Berry, who served in both the Peace Corps and USAID, tells an astonishing tale about the time he (plot spoiler) fell into a well in Niger, but all's well that ends well! He also describes how striking Rwanda's beauty was--before the genocide began, leading to the deaths of 800,000 people. He relates the horrendous story of Sister Gertrude's complicity in the killings. This episode compelled me to look further into what soft power might have done if the US, chastened by its unsuccessful intervention in Somalia, hadn't weakened the United Nation 's mission in Rwanda.

This is a very timely episode with Paul Barker, who was a Peace Corps Volunteer in Iran for five years and understands and appreciates this ancient culture. It's fascinating that his best student there in the days of the Shah became one of the revolutionaries who overthrew the shah and wound up being a captor of a former Peace Corps Volunteer in the 444 days following the taking of hostages in 1979 . Paul Barker emphasizes the importance of understanding the people and culture of the countries targeted by military powers and laments the fact that those negotiating for a peace pact before the war on Iran were in the real estate business and couldn’t even understand what the Iranians were offering. It’s clear from this podcast that overthrowing the democratically elected leader of a country to put in someone who will do the bidding of our country is more likely to foment a revolution than to lead to long-lasting peace.

Thank you Christopher for always having a podcast that speaks to whichever country our government is meddling in at the time. Being reminded of how gracious and hospitable the Iranian poeple are makes the bombing of them and their schools even more tragic. Equally sad is how much more of our tax dollars go towards weaponry and military might than towards diplomacy. Is it because our leaders don't have the patience for learning about other cultures? Diplomacy takes time, skill, and an intellectual curiosity for those different from oneself. Values nowhere in evidence in our current US leadership.

Another timely interview on what principled diplomacy is, as well as an informed appreciation of the Persian culture--generosity and poetry rarely highlighted in today's news cycle. His comment on the consequences of the US sending two real estate agents to negotiate peace when there is nothing about diplomacy or Middle Eastern culture would be comic if it weren't so dangerous. Paul's service through the Peace Corps, CARE, Save the Children, and Mercy Cops is a testament to the impact of the Peace Corps experience.

This episode provoked both admiration and frustration in me. John "Dink" Dinkelman, after serving 37 years in diplomacy , was laid off in a mass firing of 1300 civil service employees and diplomats of the American Foreign Service Association in 2025, and from this podcast, I see that he is an admirable man. The frustration I feel comes from the administration's withdrawing peace-keeping people while waging wars that may mean the kids at Aunt Deb's Thanksgiving table may be killed or injured--or kill or injure -- in war. The firing was called an RIF: Reduction in Force. It's frustrating that military force is the only area in which there's never a reduction unless we count a reduction in lives. But I feel hope as long as people like "Dink" Dinkelman exist and persist and people like him and Chris Wurst tell their stories.