Safwan Masri, Unscripted and Unfinished

He wasn’t looking to leave Columbia. But when the call came to continue building Georgetown University in Qatar, Dr. Safwan Masri saw more than a job offer—he viewed the opportunity as a calling, a call to belonging, to his home, to duty. 

A longtime educator, Masri had spent decades at the intersection of academia and impact, from serving as Vice Dean at Columbia Business School to founding the university’s Global Centers, including one in his native Amman. In Jordan, he led the creation of King's Academy at the request of King Abdullah II and founded the Queen Rania Teacher Academy. Both institutions are now central to the country’s educational reform. With a Ph.D. from Stanford and a commitment to reshaping learning across borders, Masri's arrival at GU-Q marked not just a new chapter in his career but a continuation of a life’s work rooted in the Arab world. Indeed,  it was the mission of GU-Q—and the region it serves—that drew him back. “I wasn’t looking,” he said plainly, “but I was ready.” What followed was a bold vision: to transform a satellite campus into a benchmark of academic excellence, and to make space—politically, intellectually, and institutionally—for conversations others shy away from.

Why take a job at GU-Q? Why leave Columbia University?

“I think of myself as an academic entrepreneur… I’m always attracted to opportunities to build. (...) Whether it’s improving something that already exists or creating something from the ground up—I gravitate to that.” To Dean Masri, coming to GU-Q wasn’t just about ‘the next big thing.’ He expressed his admiration, keeping up with Qatar from a distance and hearing about and visiting Education City. While he wasn’t actively searching for another job, he explained the various stages he went through in his recruitment process to GU-Q. He spoke about the headhunter, who saw him go from uninterested to somewhat interested to keen on getting the job. At first, he admitted, he wasn’t convinced. After decades at Columbia—launching the Global Centers across four continents, conceiving and steering major initiatives, and building institutions from the ground up—he wasn’t looking to move. But he admitted that he was getting bored, and that he was exhausted from all the politics. The more he learned about Georgetown’s mission in Qatar, the more the opportunity began to align with both his professional instincts and personal calling. “The more I talked to people, the more excited I became,” he recalled. “At some point, I realized: this wasn’t just another job. It was a chance to come home, to a region I’ve spent my life caring about—and to make a real impact.”

By his own admission, Dean Masri had reached what he called a “management mode” at Columbia. Having successfully built the Global Centers network and navigated the university’s complex global development efforts, he found himself maintaining more than creating. “I’m always attracted to opportunities to build,” he emphasized, “and it was clear to me that GU-Q wasn’t finished—it was still in the making.” A pivotal moment in his decision came during a conversation with Georgetown University President John J. DeGioia. Dean Masri recalled DeGioia’s words vividly: “Our best days for GU-Q are ahead of us, and I’m convinced you can take us there.” For Masri, that wasn’t just a compliment; it was a call to action. “Hearing that convinced me,” he said. “It made me believe this was a place where ambition was not just allowed, but encouraged.”

Dean Masri described how his previous work in Jordan—helping establish King’s Academy and founding the Queen Rania Teacher Academy—shaped his belief in the transformative power of education. It wasn’t simply about creating prestigious institutions; it was about anchoring them in local relevance while aspiring toward global excellence. GU-Q, he realized, offered a chance to continue that work on an even more ambitious scale. “I’m drawn to moments where I can help shape the DNA of a place,” he said. “And I felt GU-Q was at a tipping point—one where the right vision could make all the difference.”

Hiwaraat has been locally, regionally, and academically highly acclaimed; however, it remains unpopular amongst some in the student body. What is your response to that?

It’s no secret that some students remain critical of Hiwaraat, the conference series launched by Dean Masri at GU-Q. When asked about the skepticism, he didn’t dismiss it, but instead offered a broader view. He began by addressing the importance of student learning and GU-Q’s future. “For you to be able to make waves and be recognized externally, you need that visibility.” For Dean Masri, Hiwaraat plays a foundational role in elevating the university’s profile, attracting top faculty, enriching student learning, and showcasing the important work of the university. He noted how his strategy of establishing relevance, visibility, and impact has paid off handsomely in terms of GU-Q’s standing in Qatar and the support we are getting, most critically felt with the unprecedented success of our negotiation of our agreement with Qatar Foundation for the next ten years. He also noted that the speakers Hiwaraat has brought to GU-Q represent an unprecedented intellectual moment—students are gaining access to world-class conversations through their education, either by attending public sessions or through student-only majlis discussions. At the same time, he was clear: Hiwaraat is not meant to compete with student life. “It’s not an either-or,” he said. “These things are not mutually exclusive.” He emphasized that GU-Q’s academic and extracurricular scene has flourished in recent years, noting that juniors and seniors today would describe current campus life as more vibrant than ever. His goal isn’t to pick between internal community-building and external visibility—but to prove they can reinforce each other.

Dean Masri also framed Hiwaraat as an extension of the classroom. Far from being a distraction, it’s part of the educational experience. One of the most emotional moments came when he spoke about the Reimagining Palestine event—arguably Hiwaraat’s most controversial installment. He acknowledged the criticism it drew, and was visibly frustrated. “We took such a risk—it was very bold,” he said. “Everybody was so complimentary of the bravery and courage to do this at that moment, and so you can imagine how upsetting it was to hear criticism instead of appreciation.” Still, he stood by the decision. Creating space for serious dialogue about Palestine was, in his view, an act of solidarity and reflection, not division. And while some students may not yet see the value, he believes they will. “Twenty or thirty years from now,” he said, “they will understand the value of what we did.”

Twenty years is a long time for an institution to grow and evolve. If you could use this anniversary to make one bold commitment for GU-Q’s future, what would it be?

Reflecting on GU-Q’s 20th anniversary, Dean Masri framed it not just as a moment of celebration, but as a call for ambition. When asked what bold commitment he would make for the university’s future, he spoke without hesitation: excellence across every dimension of the institution. “There’s no reason why GU-Q cannot be looked at as the benchmark for excellence, despite being a non-main campus,” he said. Looking ahead, Dean Masri outlined a vision centered on growth—expanding the faculty, diversifying program offerings, and ensuring that GU-Q attracts students, scholars, and practitioners of the highest caliber. It was clear that for him, the 20-year milestone is not a culmination, but a foundation. “I’m looking at the next ten years,” he said. “I want us to be impactful, vibrant, and a place where excellence is visible in everything we do.”

What’s one misconception about your role as Dean that you’d like to clear up once and for all?

Dean Masri was candid about the misconceptions surrounding his role as our Dean. Many, he said, mistakenly view the Dean as the equivalent of a corporate CEO—someone who simply dictates orders from the top down. But academic leadership, he explained, is far more collaborative and delicate. “It’s not like being the CEO of a corporation,” he said. “As Dean, you're constantly working with (constituencies)—you’re engaging with faculty, with students, with staff—to move forward together.” Rather than commanding change, Dean Masri described his role as building consensus, nurturing ideas, and creating the conditions for institutional growth. In his view, the power of a Dean lies not in authority, but in persuasion, vision, and trust.

What’s something you wish people would ask you about but never do? What is one thing you would change about GU-Q if you had the complete ability to? 

When asked what he wished people would ask him more often, Dean Masri didn’t point to strategy or leadership—it was something much simpler, but far more telling. “I wish students would ask: ‘What can I do for the school?’” he said. Too often, he reflected, conversations revolve around what the institution can offer individuals, rather than how individuals can contribute to shaping the institution. This desire ties directly to the cultural shift he hopes to lead at GU-Q. If he could change one thing with complete authority, he said, it would be the culture: making it more ambitious, more collaborative, more cohesive. “Culture change is the hardest thing to achieve,” he admitted, acknowledging that it requires patience, persistence, and a collective willingness to think beyond the self. For Dean Masri, the bold risks he has taken—from launching transformative events to reimagining the university’s identity—are not simply administrative decisions; they are steps toward a deeper goal: cultivating a community where every student, faculty member, and staff sees themselves as stewards of GU-Q’s future.

What surprised you most about GU-Q when you became its Dean?

When Dean Masri first arrived at GU-Q, he had already observed the university’s growth from a distance. But stepping into the role of Dean offered a closer view—one that came with unexpected surprises. “Frankly, what surprised me most was the quality of the students,” he said. He wasn’t just referring to academic excellence; he spoke of their diversity, their appetite for learning, and their ability to bring different perspectives into the classroom and community. Yet alongside that admiration, he also noticed something more sobering: how isolated students often felt from the broader institution. Addressing that sense of distance became one of his early priorities. Toward the end of his first year, he recalled hearing students say they finally felt "heard" and "seen"—a small but meaningful sign of progress. Still, he warned against complacency. “The greatest risk," he said, "is taking that connection for granted.”

Your academic background is in engineering, but your research has focused on education, politics, and Arab identity—how did that transition happen, and how do those interests come together in your work today?

Though trained as an engineer—earning a Ph.D. in Industrial Engineering and Engineering Management from Stanford—Dean Masri’s intellectual path has been anything but narrow. Over the course of his career, his focus shifted from analyzing technical systems to understanding the broader systems that shape societies: politics, education, and identity in the Arab world. He reflected that few people enter industrial engineering purely for the technical side; instead, it often attracts those interested in management, institutions, and how organizations work. Staying open to new ideas and resisting complacency, he said, has been a guiding principle throughout his professional life.

That openness eventually led him to Tunisia. What drew him to the country, he explained, was the question of why it followed a democratic path after the Arab Spring when so many others did not. His 2017 book, “Tunisia: An Arab Anomaly,” explores how early investments in education, women's rights, and civic identity helped set Tunisia apart—offering a rare glimpse of political transformation in a region often characterized by repression. But Dean Masri’s intellectual curiosity didn’t stop there. His current research turns to even more foundational questions: What does it mean to be Arab? Who defines the boundaries of Arabness? And how do narratives of displacement and marginalization—especially among Palestinians—shape collective identity across generations? These are the questions he hopes to bring into the classroom at GU-Q. If given the opportunity, he said, he would love to teach a seminar inspired by his upcoming book project, exploring Arab and Palestinian identity, postcolonial history, and the politics of belonging. “I’d love to do something experiential,” he added, envisioning a course that blends theory, lived experience, regional engagement, and travel. For now, however, his teaching ambitions have been humorously put on hold. “Dean Hill won’t let me,” he joked, explaining that his current administrative responsibilities are already more than enough to fill his days. Still, the desire to return to the classroom is clear—and if all goes well, he hopes to carve out the time to teach as early as next fall.

As Georgetown University in Qatar looks to its future, Dean Safwan Masri remains focused not only on what the institution has achieved, but on what it can still become. In every answer, whether discussing student engagement, academic excellence, or cultural change, his emphasis was clear: building is never static. It demands risk, care, and an unrelenting commitment to improvement. His journey—from engineering systems to managing global institutions, to rethinking Arab identity—reflects that same philosophy of constant evolution. For Dean Safwan Masri, building institutions isn’t about legacy—it’s about momentum. And, to him, at GU-Q, that momentum has only just begun.