Zhang Boling and the Dream of a Chinese University
Today, we’ll talk about the pioneering educator Zhang Boling and how he built a private education system in modern China while navigating war, politics, and shifting ideologies, leaving behind a complex yet enduring legacy as a patriotic educator.
Zhang Boling and the Dream of a Chinese University
Today, we’ll talk about the pioneering educator Zhang Boling and how he built a private education system in modern China while navigating war, politics, and shifting ideologies, leaving behind a complex yet enduring legacy as a patriotic educator.
On April 5, 2026, educators, students, and alumni gathered in the northern Chinese city of Tianjin to mark the 150th anniversary of the birth of Zhang Boling, a pioneering figure in modern Chinese education and the founder of the Nankai school system. That afternoon, a commemorative event themed “The World, China, and Nankai” was held at the former YMCA building on Dongma Road, part of the global Young Men’s Christian Association network that played a notable role in promoting education, social reform, and public life in modern China.
Earlier in the day, at the central garden of the Balitai campus of Nankai University, participants laid flowers and bowed in tribute before the statues of Zhang Boling and his longtime collaborator Yan Xiu, honoring their enduring contributions to education. After the ceremony, a symposium to reflect on Zhang’s legacy was held under the theme of carrying forward patriotism and the spirit of educators.
More than a century after he began his work, Zhang Boling remains a central figure in the story of modern Chinese education. Yet his life was certainly no simple tale of success. It unfolded in a time of national crisis and transformation, and at its heart was a constant tension between ideals and reality, independence and compromise, education and politics.
Decades earlier, in September 1935, Zhang stood before students and alumni at the opening ceremony of Nankai University and posed three questions that would define his legacy: Are you Chinese? Do you love China? Do you want China to be strong? At the time, northern China was facing an unprecedented national crisis, and these somewhat routine questions were suddenly charged with urgency. They were not merely philosophical. They were a call to action, aimed at shaping the moral consciousness of a generation.
For Zhang, those questions were inseparable from his own life’s mission. His answer took form not in speeches alone, but in institutions. In 1904, together with Yan Xiu, he founded a private middle school in Tianjin. This modest beginning would evolve into Nankai Middle School, and eventually into a comprehensive educational system that included primary and secondary schools as well as a university. Among its early students was Zhou Enlai, who would later play a decisive role in modern Chinese politics.
By the late 1910s, Zhang had set his sights on higher education. In 1918, he began preparations to establish Nankai University. At the time, China’s higher education system was dominated either by government institutions or by missionary universities backed by foreign organizations. Zhang envisioned something different: a private university built with Chinese resources, comparable in quality to leading Western institutions, yet grounded in China’s own needs.
Skepticism was widespread. Many doubted that such a project could succeed in a country where even state-funded universities struggled to survive. Salaries often went unpaid, and closures were not uncommon. Critics openly questioned Zhang’s judgment, wondering how he could sustain a private university under such conditions.
The financial difficulties were real. In the early years, Nankai University operated under constant strain. At one point, the Rockefeller Foundation expressed willingness to provide funding, but only on the condition that the university could match the amount with its own resources, a requirement amounting to hundreds of thousands of silver dollars. Observers doubted that Zhang could raise such a sum. Yet through persistent effort, he succeeded, mobilizing donations from across society.
Zhang often described himself as a “begging monk,” traveling widely to solicit funds. He approached merchants, officials, and military leaders alike. Over time, he secured donations from figures across the political spectrum, including prominent warlords and government officials. Some criticized him for accepting such support, arguing that education should remain morally pure. Zhang, however, adopted a pragmatic stance. He believed that the value of education justified the means required to sustain it. As he once remarked, even the most beautiful flowers might grow from humble or impure soil.
In 1919, Nankai University officially opened with only ninety-six students. Among them was Zhou Enlai, former Chinese premier, who was admitted without needing to take an examination. From this small beginning, Zhang began to build something unprecedented in modern China: a privately funded, comprehensive educational system spanning from elementary school to university level.
The system expanded steadily. In 1923, Nankai established a girls’ middle school, reflecting Zhang’s commitment to expanding educational opportunities for women. In 1928, a primary school was added. By 1936, another secondary school had been founded in Chongqing, extending the Nankai model beyond Tianjin. Together, these institutions formed a complete and coherent system, united by shared values and educational philosophy.
Yet financial pressure never eased. Each year, the schools required substantial funding, and Zhang bore the primary responsibility for securing it. One significant donation came from the warlord Li Chun, who left a quarter of his estate, amounting to 500,000 silver dollars. Zhang used these funds to purchase land in Balitai, which would ultimately become the permanent campus of Nankai University.
Despite his willingness to accept support from political figures, Zhang remained firm in his commitment to institutional independence. On several occasions, foreign missionary organizations offered to take over Nankai, promising financial stability in return, but Zhang steadfastly rejected these proposals. He insisted that Nankai must remain a Chinese institution, run by Chinese people, serving Chinese society.
In its early years, Nankai’s curriculum reflected a strong Western influence. Most courses, in fact, were taught in English, and the educational model drew heavily upon foreign educational systems. However, by the late 1920s, Zhang began to reconsider this approach. He came to believe that Chinese universities needed to develop their own intellectual foundations rather than rely entirely on imported models.
In 1928, he led the development of a new plan for Nankai’s growth, emphasizing what he called the “localization” of education. This approach sought to ground academic work in China’s social and economic realities while maintaining international standards. One key initiative was the establishment of a strong economics program, reflecting Tianjin’s emergence as an industrial and commercial center. Over time, Nankai gained a reputation as a leading institution for the study of economics in China.
Zhang’s relationship with politics also evolved over time. In his early career, he had deliberately avoided official positions, declining for example offers to serve as minister of education or mayor of Tianjin. He had once pledged to devote his life entirely to education, and he understood the risks of political involvement.
However, as the political landscape changed, he came to see that education and politics were deeply interconnected. During the period of the Nationalist government, he actively sought government support for Nankai, and the proportion of state funding increased significantly. This shift brought him into closer contact with Chiang Kai-shek, whose support would later prove crucial.
The outbreak of the War of Resistance against Japanese Aggression in 1937 marked a devastating turning point. Nankai University, as a center of patriotic activity in Tianjin, became an early target. On July 30, Japanese forces bombed the campus, reducing it to ruins. The destruction was nearly total. When Zhang learned of the event, he was overcome with grief. Yet even in destruction, Nankai’s story continued.
In August 1937, Nankai joined with Peking University and Tsinghua University to form a temporary university in Changsha. The following year, this institution relocated to Kunming, becoming Southwest Associated University, one of the most celebrated academic communities in modern Chinese history. Although Nankai was smaller than its partners, its inclusion reflected both its academic reputation and Zhang’s political connections.
During the war, Zhang took on a more active public role. He served as vice speaker of the National Political Council and spent much of his time in Chongqing, then the wartime capital. His residence in the Shapingba district became a gathering place for politicians, intellectuals, and cultural figures. It was a space where ideas were exchanged and alliances were formed.
Among his frequent visitors was Zhou Enlai, who maintained close ties with his former headmaster. Zhang had long regarded Zhou as one of Nankai’s finest students, and Zhou, in turn, held deep respect for Zhang. Their interactions during this period reflected broader efforts to build a united front against Japanese aggression. Zhou even delivered speeches at Nankai alumni gatherings, emphasizing the importance of perseverance, democracy, and national resistance.
Despite his growing involvement in political circles, Zhang remained cautious. He resisted joining the Nationalist Party for several years, arguing that it was better for him to remain outside. However, under continuous pressure, he eventually joined in 1941. His relationship with Chiang Kai-shek allowed him to secure resources for Nankai’s continued operation and future reconstruction.
After the war, in 1946, Nankai University was nationalized and became a state institution. Zhang remained its president, but the transition was not easy for him. He had always envisioned Nankai as a private university and hoped that it might one day return to that status.
In 1948, Chiang Kai-shek invited Zhang to serve as president of the Examination Yuan, one of the five branches of government under the Republic of China’s constitutional system, responsible for overseeing the civil service examination and appointment process. Reluctant but unable to refuse repeated requests, Zhang agreed, on the condition that he would serve only briefly and continue his work at Nankai. However, government regulations soon forced him to relinquish his university position. At the age of seventy-two, he was effectively separated from the institution he had devoted his life to building.
Disillusioned by his experience in government, Zhang resigned and returned home. He later described this period bitterly, likening it to stepping into a foul ditch. As the Chinese Civil War neared its end, he faced another difficult choice. Chiang Kai-shek urged him to leave for Taiwan or the United States, while Zhou Enlai, through intermediaries, encouraged him to remain in China. Ultimately, Zhang chose to stay.
After the founding of the People’s Republic of China in 1949, he donated his remaining schools in Chongqing to the new government. Not long afterward, he suffered a stroke. Although he partially recovered, his final years were marked by declining health and a sense of isolation.
In 1950, he returned to Tianjin, hoping to reconnect with Nankai. However, he found himself on the margins of the institution he had created. He was not invited to play a significant role, and at times was even discouraged from attending school events. The experience left him deeply saddened, and he gradually withdrew from public life.
In February 1951, after an evening of animated conversation with a friend about rumors of a possible new appointment, Zhang suffered a fatal cerebral hemorrhage. He died at the age of seventy-five. At the time of his death, he had no savings. In his pockets were only a small amount of money and two expired theater tickets.
Zhou Enlai attended his funeral and offered a measured reflection, emphasizing that Zhang’s life should be understood within its historical context. While acknowledging that he had made mistakes, Zhou described him as a progressive and patriotic figure whose contributions to education were significant.
In the years that followed, Zhang’s legacy became a subject of debate. During political campaigns, his ideas were criticized, and his name faded from public discourse. Even within Nankai University, discussion of his role remained sensitive for a time.
It was only after the reform and opening up period that a more balanced reassessment emerged. Scholars revisited his work, and his contributions were gradually recognized. In 1986, on the 110th anniversary of his birth, national leaders formally honored him as a “patriotic educator.” His ashes were eventually interred at Nankai University, fulfilling a wish he had long held.
Today, Zhang Boling is remembered as a complex and deeply human figure. He was both idealistic and pragmatic, capable of compromise yet guided by enduring principles. He navigated a turbulent era with determination, building institutions that shaped generations of students and contributed to the modernization of Chinese education.
And the three questions he posed in 1935 continue to resonate. They are not confined to a particular moment in history. Instead, they remain enduring questions about identity, responsibility, and the role of education in shaping the future.
Well, that’s the end of our podcast. Our theme music is by the famous film score composer Roc Chen. We want to thank our writer Liu Wen, translator Yu Shougang, and copy editor Pu Ren. And thank you for listening. We hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, please tell a friend so they, too, can understand The Context.