In 2017, Dr. Brower traveled to Taiwan and participated in a conference.

I recall a student who once used a clever analogy, comparing our relationship with Dr. Brower to that of the Smurfs. The student said that if we were the adventurous Smurfs, always exploring new things yet frequently in need of guidance, Dr. Brower would be our Papa Smurf. This analogy perfectly captures Dr. Brower’s role in our lives—his willingness to listen to us and guide us as we navigate our problems, whether academic or personal.

I first met Prof. Ralph Brower in 2010 during my Visiting Scholar Fellowship at Florida State University, where he generously welcomed me into his graduate classes in Organizational Theory and Network Analysis at the Askew School. An expert in nonprofit and NGO governance, he was also deeply engaged with the Filipino community and intellectually fascinated by Global South concepts such as kapwa and bayanihan, which he believed offered powerful lenses for understanding community action beyond market or institutional explanations.

Our collaborations brought him across the Philippines — from urban poor communities outside Metro Manila to post-Haiyan Tacloban — where he observed how solidarity and relational values sustained collective life amid hardship. We later co-presented a paper together in Davao, and he frequently served as a resource speaker at De La Salle University, always generous with his time, insight, and encouragement to students and colleagues.

More than a scholar, Ralph was grounded, warm, and deeply human. He preferred real conversations over formality — sharing stories over San Miguel beer and sisig, riding jeepneys and the LRT, wearing his Hawaiian shirts and Barong at local academic events, and immersing himself in everyday Filipino life. I remember him simply as Ralph — curious, kind, and present. Rest in peace.

The phrase “there are no words” is so commonplace it has lost its weight. Since learning of Ralph’s passing, I have tried to write something worthy of his impact on the field, his students, me. I’ve sat staring at a blinking cursor, hoping language would come that captures his magnanimity. Everything feels too small compared to the lives he shaped.

Ralph  (“Brower,” as I always called him) built the kind of scholarly legacy many hope for, grounded in thoughtfulness, inquiry, and a deep commitment to public organizations. But his greatest legacy was people. He cared, first and always, about his students.

Brower was the rare scholar who offered unflappable, lifelong mentorship. He had an unwavering commitment to supporting underrepresented scholars and a quiet courage in confronting broken systems. He pushed me to go beyond emotion and examine the institutional failures that create barriers in academia.

 More than inking out insights, Brower showed up. When I faced pregnancy complications resulting in a 31-week micro-preemie just weeks before my dissertation defense, Brower refused to let me quit. Later, when institutional failures made it feel impossible to stay, he did not offer platitudes. He called. He wrote. He intervened. He fought for me. He reminded me that I belong.

My story is one of many. Because of Brower, countless underrepresented scholars thrive in a space that too often blocks them. He helped us find our voices when it felt dangerous to speak, and stood with us when we did. He didn’t just teach how institutions work, he showed us what to do when they didn’t. More than anything, he showed us what it means to be decent, brave, and kind public servants.

Words are not rich enough to capture Brower’s impact. But his actions live on in the scholars he mentored, the students we now teach, and the questions we are all emboldened to ask. As he often said, when you throw a stone into the water, it makes ripples. RSB, you’re our rock.

Tito Ralph was not just my former professor, colleague, friend, and mentor, but he was also a pillar in the Filipino community--in Tallahassee and abroad. For one, he inspired me to study social capital and Filipino-American communities for my dissertation. And I always loved speaking with him about his experience and knowledge of the Philippines. I would often joke that he was more Filipino than me. In fact, he told me that one of his favorite songs is Lea Salonga’s rendition of “Bayan Ko.” I am so sad that I did not have the chance to perform the piece for him.

In a recent tribute I shared with the Big Bend Filipino American Association (BBFAA), I reflected:

"Professor Ralph Brower was a devoted educator, mentor, and ally whose life’s work reflected a deep and abiding commitment to the Filipino community, to public service, and to the power of education to bring people together. For the Filipino and Filipino-American community, he was a trusted partner who served with humility, respect, and genuine love...

He will be remembered for the bridges he built—between nations, between institutions and communities, and between people...Ralph Brower was more than a kababayan (fellow Filipino/countryman); he embodied what it means to be Filipino, espousing bayanihan (communal unity and mutual support) and pakikipagkapwa (shared humanity and relational respect)...all that he has done <for Filipinos> reads like that of a historical figure in a textbook."

Thank you, Tito Ralph, for helping to make this world a better place. We miss you greatly.

This photo was taken at the Lunar New Year Gala at FSU in 2012.

Dr. Brower was a dedicated scholar and mentor who valued and respected students from all around the world. He guided us, students from Taiwan, into the world of qualitative research. We are grateful for the opportunity to learn from him at the Askew School in FSU.   

Dr. Brower, we will always miss you.

We in De La Salle University in Manila, Philippines, mourn the passing of Ralph Brower, an esteemed scholar and dear friend. A frequent visitor to the Philippines, Ralph collaborated extensively with the La Salle Institute of Governance (LSIG), working alongside Dr. Francisco Magno, Ian Hecita, and various local partners and students. We will remember him for his warmth, his kindness, and his commitment to scholarship that serves communities.

​Ralph played a pivotal role in my professional journey in connecting me with my mentor, which led to my Ph.D. studies at Konkuk University in Seoul, Korea, and my entry into the Korean Association of Public Administration (KAPA) and the American Society for Public Administration (ASPA). I am glad we were able to catch up via email as late as two or three months ago . Farewell Ralph and thank you. You will be missed.

Dr. Brower and Claire Connolly in 2007 at Askew School Award ceremony.

Dr. Brower was a mentor, a guide, and a trusted friend. He believed in me even when I doubted myself, challenged me to think more deeply, and consistently held me to the highest standard, always with grace and generosity. His mentorship shaped not only my scholarship, but the leader and person I have become.

Dr. Brower had a rare gift for combining intellectual rigor with genuine humanity. He invested in his students fully, celebrating our successes, steadying us through setbacks, and reminding us of the purpose behind our work. I will forever be grateful for his wisdom, his encouragement, and the countless conversations that extended far beyond academia.

His legacy lives on through the many lives he touched and the scholars he helped shape. I am honored to have walked part of my journey under his guidance, and I will carry his lessons with me always.

— Karen Samuel, PhD

Dr. Brower was my mentor and an academic advisor in organizational studies. As a senior in life as well, few people taught me as much wisdom as he did. I still remember the day I first met him in the summer of 2007, when rain poured relentlessly during the spring–summer conference of the Korean Association for Policy Studies. At that conference, he delivered a special lecture on research methodology.

I have not forgotten the date—April 20. At that time, Korea was not yet the prosperous country it is today. Nevertheless, he traveled to what could be considered a third country to lecture on grounded theory, in his students’ home country. Such a trip was not an easy decision then, especially for a scholar traveling solely as a methodology lecturer.

That day, he met me as a curious student from Seoul National University, and we spoke at length about American and Korean public administration and the culture of qualitative research. Later, that connection led him to invite me the following year as a visiting scholar, and when we met again, he told me that he had rarely experienced conversations of such depth with Korean scholars and that he was deeply impressed by the passion of young Korean researchers.

He was a scholar, teacher, and mentor in my life. Despite differences in nationality, gender, and age, we shared fundamental questions about how people think and act within organizations. This shared intellectual curiosity sustained our scholarly dialogue. Afterward, I formally enrolled at FSU and completed my doctoral dissertation under the supervision of both him and Dr. Berry.

Standing in the lineage from P. Sorokin to R. Merton, and from P. Selznick to C. Perrow and M. Abolafia, Dr. Brower passed on a tradition I strive to carry forward. His spirit and teachings will continue to live on—within me and through future generations.

Dr. Brower, who taught me how to think critically for the first time, I respect you and love you.

—Your eternal student, 
Jiwon

Dr. Brower treated us as intellectual equals and he never treated us as just students. We felt completely safe with him to share ideas, problems and questions. He never judged us, instead, he was always there to support us along with our ideas. His approach was very genuine. He spent countless hours with us at his office.

OBITUARY

Ralph Stuart Brower

23 July, 1947 – 15 January, 2026

Culley's MeadowWood Funeral Home

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