In 2024, Natasha Pavićević (SIGMA Group, Montenegro) – an expert in small modular reactors, graduate of MGIMO and MEPhI, specialist in nuclear diplomacy – took part in the "ObninskTech" Summer Leadership School. This experience completely transformed her perspective on women's opportunities in the nuclear sector - from working with IAEA experts to visiting the world's first nuclear power plant.
Applications are now open for a special 2025 Summer Leadership School program for young female professionals in nuclear and related industries, «[in] Visible Power» Female Leadership Camp.
Apply for «[in] Visible Power» Female Leadership Camp
– Let’s rewind to the beginning - what first drew your attention to the ObninskTech Summer Leadership School? What was your emotional state at the time, and how did you find the courage to apply?
What immediately captured my attention was the striking combination of three words: women, nuclear, and leadership. It was an unexpected yet deeply compelling intersection—one not often seen brought together so intentionally. The idea of a program dedicated to exploring this space felt bold, even improbable. And yet, it was precisely that boldness that made it feel so necessary—and so fascinating.
At first, I was certain that I wanted to apply. But as I considered the caliber of women in the nuclear field—many of them with extraordinary accomplishments—I began to question myself. How would I be perceived among such distinguished candidates? A quiet doubt crept in, the kind that often accompanies ambition.
It was Daria who helped silence that doubt. Her encouragement and belief in me were the push I needed to move forward with the application. And what made her support even more meaningful was that it came from one woman to another—a girl lifting up a girl. In a world where competition often overshadows collaboration, that simple act of solidarity meant everything. Sometimes, all it takes is one person who sees your potential to make everything suddenly feel possible. Her support reminded me that courage often begins with someone else saying, “You can.”
– When you arrived, did you have any expectations? What surprised you most about the school, and how did it contrast with the world you’d been navigating professionally?
My expectations for the program were naturally quite high—especially knowing it was organized by Rosatom. I anticipated strong organization and a certain standard of excellence, but even so, there were moments that left me genuinely awestruck. I often caught myself thinking, “Thank you, God, for this incredible opportunity.” To be in the presence of senior figures from institutions like the IAEA, ITER, Rosatom, CERN -listening to their insights and learning from their decades of experience - was deeply inspiring.
One particular moment that stands out was our visit to the first nuclear power plant in Obninsk. The experience was almost surreal. It felt as though we were standing at the very birthplace of nuclear energy, sharing a collective reverence for its history and the immense promise it still holds. It was a profound and unforgettable experience.
What struck me just as powerfully, however, was the contrast between this environment and the world of international nuclear business I’m familiar with. There, even when you’re working side by side with senior management, it’s all about deliverables and deadlines. No one stops to mentor you or offer advice - results matter, not reflection. In that sense, this program offered something truly rare: a space where world-class experts are not only present, but open to engaging with you. You’re encouraged to ask questions, to challenge ideas, and to feel like a participant in a much larger conversation. That kind of access and intellectual generosity is a rare privilege—and, in my view, one of the greatest gifts this program provides.
– What did the environment of the School give you that your day-to-day job couldn’t at the time? Were there any moments that made you feel like you were finally “seen”?
My professional journey has always revolved around the fundamentals of business: producing a product and selling it. Negotiation plays a key role, of course, but the ultimate goal has always been straightforward—what I often call "earning your bread." Over time, you adapt to that world. No matter how big the company or how senior the executive across the table, the rhythm of these conversations becomes familiar.
But this school offered me something entirely different—a real shift in perspective. It reminded me that working in the nuclear industry isn’t just about commerce. It’s about contributing to something larger than oneself. It's a global, even philanthropic endeavor—one that can touch lives, communities, and entire generations. That realization changed the way I view my work.
The program also highlighted that real success isn’t just about checking off daily tasks. Growth and development are essential—and deeply personal. No one can do that part for you. You have to be willing to challenge yourself, step outside your comfort zone, and reach higher.
One of the most inspiring aspects of the experience was meeting young women from across the globe—from Namibia through Belgium and Bulgaria to the Philippines—each facing their own unique challenges. And yet, despite those obstacles, they are building impressive careers and creating meaningful change in society. Listening to their stories, alongside the insights from our brilliant lecturers, opened up new ways of thinking. The sessions on soft skills, in particular, emphasized something I had overlooked for too long: personal development starts with self-awareness and self-belief.
Most of all, the school reminded me that we are only as capable as we believe ourselves to be. Yes, like the others, I am highly educated and have accomplished much in my field. But the pressure of the industry—and sometimes our own self-doubt—can cloud that truth. This program reignited something in me. It reminded me that I have a voice, valuable ideas, and the power to make a difference. It encouraged me to stop being afraid and to act. And most importantly, it reminded me that I’m not alone. “Do it with us”—that message was both empowering and deeply reassuring.
As a young woman, there are times when you're seen a certain way—by default, beautiful perhaps, but not necessarily intelligent. Unfortunately, that’s still how some men perceive us, and it can become an obstacle. But at this school, I saw clearly that women can be incredibly strong—and that many of us are facing the same biases and yet confronting them head-on. That sense of unity, of shared values and vision across borders, centred on the mission to improve and promote the peaceful use of nuclear science, gave me something profound: the feeling of being heard.
– With two degrees in international relations and global affairs, your entrance into the nuclear sector is fascinating. What pulled you into this field - and what keeps you here?
International relations are, at their core, about communication - about interaction, empathy, and understanding one another. As a global society, we dedicate significant energy to these themes. We study them in depth, create countless programs and initiatives focused on cross-cultural dialogue. And yet, these efforts are often concentrated within the realm of the humanities - targeted at those who are naturally more attuned to human interaction, perhaps more extroverted by nature.
What I came to realize - thanks to an exceptional scientist, an remarkable individual, and a truly brilliant mentor, the late President and Rector of MEPhI, Moscow, Boris Nikolayevich Oinikiy - is that diplomacy is just as vital in the scientific and industrial world. While writing my master’s dissertation under his supervision, within the Department of Comparative Analysis, I saw firsthand how powerful the intersection between science and diplomacy can be.
Progress, especially in complex fields like nuclear science, can only happen when we share knowledge and ideas across borders. Yet, those in the scientific community - particularly in nuclear - are often so deeply focused, so devoted to the purity of their mission, that they rarely have the time or space to consider the human, diplomatic dimension. That’s where I want to step in.
My goal is to serve as a bridge: to advocate for nuclear science, to connect people across cultures and countries, and to create space where great minds can meet—not only to exchange data, but to foster trust, collaboration, and shared progress. Because in the end, science may fuel innovation, but it is human connection that powers cooperation.
– You’ve rebuilt a department in a foreign country, in a field traditionally dominated by men. How did you handle being the only woman, the only foreigner, and often the youngest in the room?
In my current work, I often face the kinds of challenges that demand not only technical understanding, but deep diplomatic skill—especially now, amid complex and shifting geopolitical dynamics. More than ever, there is a need for what I like to call “people of the word”—those of us trained in international relations, who can interpret not just language, but intention, cultural nuance, and unspoken meaning.
At first, I was intimidated—often the youngest person in the room, and frequently the only woman. And honestly? I’m still sometimes afraid of that. But over time, I’ve learned to turn what once felt like disadvantages into my strengths. I've come to see that being young and female doesn’t make me less credible—it gives me a different kind of power. A genuine smile before addressing a tense topic, or even a light, sincere “girl comment,” can disarm a room full of men and soften even the hardest conversations. But reaching that place—where you can use what sets you apart as an advantage—takes time, effort, and constant internal work. It's not easy; it's a process of quiet, ongoing negotiation with yourself.
That’s precisely why programs like the one in Obninsk are so valuable. They don’t just expand your technical knowledge or leadership skills; they help you understand how to manage your personal strengths—how to recognize them, refine them, and put them into strategic use.
I've had the privilege of bringing business leaders from opposing sides into the same room—sometimes those who, under other circumstances, might not speak to one another at all. My role has been to mediate, to help remind them that while their personal views can stay at home, mutual business cooperation—particularly in the nuclear sector—can bring immense benefit to all parties involved. And more than that, it can deliver progress for the countries where these nuclear power plants are built.
I thrive in those moments. And perhaps I thrive even more because I come from a small country—one that many might overlook—but through me, it plays its part in shaping the global nuclear narrative. There’s a real sense of pride in that. It’s a reminder that no matter your background, your age, or your gender, you can be a meaningful force in the most complex conversations of our time.
– How did your international education (MEPhI and MGIMO) prepare you - or fail to prepare you - for the challenges you’ve faced in practice?
I’ve always believed that all education holds value—but when you have the rare privilege of studying at some of the most prestigious institutions of the Great Russia, the advantages are both significant and lasting.
One individual who deeply influenced my thinking was Professor Andrey Bezrukov, whose lectures I attended at MGIMO. He taught us a principle that has proven invaluable in my career: if you want to succeed—whether in diplomacy, business, or any complex negotiation—you must first understand the fundamental interests of the other party. Then, shape your actions in a way that aligns with those interests. If you follow this logic, no matter how challenging the environment, you increase your chances of success dramatically. This insight has been especially useful in international business, particularly in dealing with equipment for nuclear power plants.
Coming from a humanities background, I initially lacked the technical knowledge that’s essential in this field. I didn’t understand how industrial pumps functioned or why non-destructive testing was such a critical part of equipment validation. But another lesson I took from Professor Bezrukov was just as important: it’s never too late to learn. In fact, the willingness to keep learning is what truly defines long-term success.
With that mindset, I enrolled in several courses through the Rosatom Technical Academy. These programs helped me bridge the gap between my diplomatic training and the technical realities of the nuclear sector. They gave me not only the technical foundation I needed but also a stronger grasp of the manufacturing environment I now work in—allowing me to navigate it with greater clarity and confidence.
– Your current focus includes advanced nuclear technologies and small modular reactors. Why do these areas excite you, and what do you see as their potential in shaping the future?
Small Modular Reactors (SMRs) excite me because they embody the very essence of philanthropy through innovation. The idea that something so compact can produce clean, reliable energy—and, more importantly, deliver that energy to even the most remote corners of the world—is profoundly valuable. It’s not just a technical breakthrough; it’s a deeply human endeavour. Making energy accessible on a global scale is, in my view, one of the most meaningful contributions we can offer to future generations.
What also energizes me is the opportunity for the company I work for to participate in such projects. SMRs are not typical—neither in their design nor in their construction. They represent a new frontier, which brings complexity, but also immense prestige. Supplying pumps and critical equipment for such systems is not just a technical task; it’s a statement of excellence. To be part of being part of the supply chain of such a project or project manager would be both a professional challenge and a transformative personal experience. It would be an incredible learning journey—technically demanding, deeply beneficial, and above all, empowering.
– What part of your identity were you able to reclaim through this experience? Was it confidence, voice, joy - or something else?
The soft skills sessions at the school were, for me, a turning point. They prompted a much-needed moment of reflection—an opportunity to take a step back and ask myself: Where am I now, and where do I actually want to go? More importantly, they reminded me of the personal development goals I once held, before they were buried under the weight of KPIs and daily deliverables.
One moment that really stuck with me was when we were exchanging contact details with other participants. I asked one of the girls for her number, and she casually replied, “Just scan my QR code.” I blinked—your what? Then another participant was using modern slang I wouldn’t even dream of trying to use. These were small things, but they made something click. I thought to myself: The world is evolving—and I’m here recycling the same old patterns.
From that moment on, I began to listen to the lectures differently. I started engaging more actively in discussions, not just out of duty but with genuine curiosity. I suddenly realized that the school wasn’t just a program—it was a living, breathing world of ideas, connections, and energy. And I was on the verge of missing it simply because I hadn’t been motivated enough to tune in.
Looking back, it was confidence that came first. And from that confidence, joy - joy in learning, in participating, in being part of something dynamic and new.
– What was the hardest part of restarting your personal development? Was it about time, courage, or simply believing you were “allowed” to invest in yourself again?
The hardest part, honestly, was learning to believe in myself again—and facing down the fear of failure. Self-doubt has a way of creeping in quietly, especially when you start comparing yourself to others. The problem is, you see your own flaws and mistakes in sharp detail, but others’ shortcomings remain hidden. So, by default, they seem better, more accomplished, more ready.
It doesn’t help when you’re surrounded by colleagues who, often without malice, remind you that you lack their level of experience. It’s easy to start thinking, I need to wait—maybe once I’ve learned more, achieved more, then I’ll be ready to belong. But that mindset becomes a trap.
Last but not least was the vision. Although I was initially apprehensive about what the programme would entail, I began to reflect on all that I might miss if I didn’t at least try. I also realised that this was a unique opportunity—one that might not come again. This understanding encouraged me to envision myself as part of the programme. Once the image became clear in my mind, it gave me additional courage to complete and submit the application.
– You mentioned meeting a woman from South Africa with four children who inspired you. Do you see yourself as someone who now inspires others - especially young women in science?
There isn’t just one moment, to be honest—there have been many. At the school, I met incredibly brave women from across Africa who, despite facing challenging living conditions, managed to complete their education, build careers, support not only their own families but also those they came from, and work in fields that demand extraordinary mental strength. Learning their stories was—and continues to be—a powerful source of inspiration.
In April 2025, during a few-weeks-long business trip to the Akkuyu Nuclear Power Plant, one day I was at an informal meeting speaking with several young women working there. I wasn’t trying to inspire anyone—I was simply there, being myself. But during this conversation, a specialist from the project management department, if I recall well, turned and said to others, “I want to be like Nataša. I want to keep learning. Life doesn’t end here—we have to share the message of the nuclear women across.”
I was genuinely moved. That moment reminded me that sometimes, the most meaningful influence comes not from trying to lead, but from simply showing up authentically. It’s in those quiet, unexpected exchanges that you realize you’ve become part of something larger—a message, a legacy worth carrying forward.
– In your bio, you emphasize the importance of young, educated leaders in shaping nuclear science diplomacy. What do you think makes you the kind of leader the future needs?
I believe there are several key elements that contribute to this. At its core, it’s about putting the needs of others ahead of your own. It’s about valuing people for who they are—regardless of background, personality, or position—and actively avoiding any form of discrimination. It also means making a conscious effort to look for the good in people.
One of the most powerful lessons I’ve learned is that people often respond to the energy you project. If you show them that you believe in their worth, that their contribution—no matter how small—is essential to the bigger picture, they rise to meet that belief. They want to become exactly that indispensable piece.
To me, that’s what real diplomacy looks like: creating an environment where people feel seen, trusted, and motivated to be their best. It’s not just about negotiations—it’s about building something better together, and making space where everyone can thrive.
And no matter what shape our future may take—whether it’s defined by new technologies, shifting borders, or global challenges—it will always come down to people. That’s why, for me, human connection comes first. Relationships are not just part of the process—they are the foundation of everything.
– What would your younger self say if she could see you now - managing a nuclear department, traveling, speaking up, and leading?
Even now, when I hear the phrase “managing a nuclear department,” it feels slightly surreal—like something out of science fiction. Especially the word nuclear. I grew up with the narrative that nuclear energy was something ominous, dangerous, even threatening. So, discovering the other side of the story—how nuclear science can bring immense benefit across borders—was nothing short of revelatory. It opened up a whole new world, and with it, a deep sense of responsibility. I now feel compelled to advocate for nuclear energy, to give it the voice it’s been denied for far too long. It has been unfairly demonized, and I consider it part of my mission to challenge that perception.
This is the part of me I know my younger self would be proud of—the part that’s fighting for something important, for something that serves people who may not even know it yet.
As for the rest—managing, traveling, speaking up, and leading—well, I think I’d keep that part a surprise. If I had the chance to speak to my younger self, I wouldn’t spoil it. I’d let her discover just how much she’s capable of, on her own terms. That, in itself, is part of the magic.
– What would you say to someone hesitating to apply for the Summer Leadership School because they feel too tired, too lost, or too “late”?
In fact, I think those are some of the best reasons to apply. This school has a remarkable way of recharging your energy by broadening your perspective and deepening your knowledge. It helps you step back and reassess your priorities, and gives you the clarity to chart a more purposeful path forward.
And yes - yesterday was already too late to take that next step toward your brighter future. So why wait any longer?
– What does “leadership” mean to you now - especially in a field like nuclear, where trust, science, and diplomacy intersect?
To me, leadership in the nuclear field means carrying complexity with clarity—and never forgetting the human element behind every calculation, contract, or core design. It's about having the courage to make decisions that are not only technically sound but ethically anchored, and about communicating across boundaries—scientific, cultural, and political.
In this industry, where trust is both a currency and a responsibility, leadership requires consistency. You cannot hide behind titles or jargon. You have to earn credibility with both experts and the public—often simultaneously. What I’ve come to understand is that leadership isn’t just about setting direction; it’s about building confidence, in yourself and in others.
It’s also about being willing to step into the unknown. I've learned that sometimes you're the youngest in the room, the only woman, or the one without the technical background others expect—and still, you lead. Not by knowing everything, but by listening, connecting, and showing that your perspective adds value.
And finally, leadership means staying curious—especially in a field that never stops evolving. Whether it's new technology like SMRs or new global dynamics, the leaders who make a difference are the ones who keep learning, keep questioning, and keep pulling others forward with them.
– If the ObninskTech School were to invite you back as a speaker or mentor, what would you most want to share with the next generation?
If I were invited back to the ObninskTech School as a speaker or mentor, the one message I’d most want to share is this: your journey doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s to be valid, meaningful, and powerful. In a field as complex and high-stakes as nuclear, it’s easy to feel that you need to have all the answers, all the credentials, all the experience—but the truth is, your perspective, your story, and your willingness to grow are already valuable.
I’d want to talk to the participants about what no one puts on PowerPoint slides—the internal battles. The fear of not being enough. The comparison game. The pressure to “stay in your lane.” And then I’d tell them that some of the most important steps I’ve taken were the ones where I didn’t feel ready—but showed up anyway.
I'd speak honestly about the power of curiosity, of saying “yes” even when you’re unsure, and of using what makes you different as a strength, not a limitation. And I'd remind them that leadership doesn’t start when someone gives you permission—it starts when you begin to believe in the worth of your voice and your contribution.
Because the nuclear field doesn’t just need engineers or diplomats or business leaders—it needs humans, women who think boldly, act ethically, and connect authentically across borders. That’s what I would share.
– And finally, what’s your biggest hope - not just for your career, but for the community of people building the future of nuclear together?
My biggest hope is that we, as a community, never lose sight of the human purpose behind all the science, innovation, and strategy. That we remember we're not just building reactors—we're building futures. Energy security, climate solutions, medical breakthroughs, peacekeeping tools—nuclear touches them all. But it only becomes meaningful when we remember who it's for.
For my own career, I hope to continue bridging worlds—technical and diplomatic, business and human, national and global. I want to be part of building the trust that this field depends on, and I want to help create the kinds of international partnerships that make progress possible, even across political divides.
But more than anything, I hope our nuclear community remains one that’s driven not by fear, but by curiosity. Not by competition, but by collaboration. And not by legacy alone, but by vision—bold, inclusive, and grounded in the belief that energy is not a privilege, but a right.
Because when we work together—scientists, diplomats, policy-makers, and dreamers—we're not just preserving the past. We're shaping a safer, smarter, more connected future.
Apply for «[in] Visible Power» Female Leadership Camp
