In the first half of this year, while helping a friend inquire about acquiring an American university, someone suggested I contact President Chen of the International Technological University (ITU) in California, as he was reportedly considering selling the school. A quick online search revealed that this university had quite an illustrious background. It was founded by Shu-Park Chan, son of the Republican-era Cantonese warlord Chen Jitang, and is now led by Jitang’s grandson, Yau-Gene Chan.
When visiting the former residences of historical figures in cities like Shanghai, Beijing, or Tianjin, one can’t help but wonder: where are the descendants of these once-familiar names from our history books today? What are they doing? Can a person’s life really vanish like a wisp of smoke, leaving no trace behind? Certainly not. As long as their descendants remain, their stories will never truly end.
The Family Saga and the Dream of Education
In early 20th-century China, warlordism swept across the land like a prolonged storm, shaking every corner of the ancient empire. Among the figures emerging from this turbulent era was Chan Jitang, known as the “King of the South” — a Cantonese warlord who stood out not merely as a conqueror but as a modernizing reformer driven by industrial dreams. His life represented both the essence of the warlord age and the starting point of a three-generation family mission — a dream that eventually took root in the soil of Silicon Valley and blossomed into the International Technological University (ITU), carrying on a legacy that bridged Guangzhou and California.
Born on January 23, 1890, in Fangcheng, Guangxi, to a Hakka family, Chan Jitang came of age as the Qing dynasty crumbled and revolutionary fervor spread. At 18, he joined Sun Yat-sen’s Tongmenghui and took part in the movement to overthrow imperial rule. After the 1911 Revolution, his military talent quickly brought him prominence in Guangdong’s army. Rising from company commander to brigade general, he eventually became one of the most powerful leaders within the Kuomintang forces.
From 1928 to 1936, as governor of Guangdong, Chan oversaw what many later called the province’s “Golden Era.” Unlike other warlords who ruled through plunder, he pursued modernization through an “industrial salvation” strategy. Viewing Guangzhou as his laboratory for reform, he encouraged foreign investment, built infrastructure, widened roads, and erected modern buildings. The Pearl River saw China’s first mechanical drawbridge. He established the nation’s first “smokeless” green factory, built power plants and hydroelectric stations, and fostered more than 200 light and heavy industries. Chen also implemented comprehensive welfare programs covering healthcare, education, and social assistance, transforming Guangdong into one of the most advanced regions in China.
In June 1936, the “Two Guangs Incident” broke out when Chan allied with Guangxi leaders Li Zongren and Bai Chongxi to oppose Chiang Kai-shek’s centralization of power, advocating instead for provincial autonomy. The rebellion failed due to military weakness and internal divisions, marking the end of Chen’s rule in Guangdong. After the Communist victory in 1949, Chan followed the Nationalists to Taiwan, where he served as a senior presidential adviser and worked to establish the Deming School. He died of a cerebral thrombosis in November 1954 while inspecting school sites in Taipei, at the age of 63.
Chan Jitang fathered eighteen children and placed great emphasis on education. He sent all ten of his sons to the United States, most to study engineering — including his tenth son, Shu-Park Chan (1929–2013). Believing that American higher education was the best in the world and that engineering was the cornerstone of national revival, Chen instilled this vision deeply in his children.
Born in Guangzhou, Shu-Park Chan arrived in the U.S. at age 19. He earned his bachelor’s degree at the Virginia Military Institute and later his Ph.D. in Electrical Engineering from University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. He joined Santa Clara University, rising from assistant professor to department chair and eventually dean.
Though he lived in America, Shu-Park never forgot his father’s dream of “rejuvenating the nation through education.” In the early 1990s, he sought to establish a university in Guangdong and even met Deng Xiaoping to discuss it, but the plan never materialized. Disappointed yet undeterred, Shu-Park turned to Silicon Valley — the world’s innovation hub — and in 1994, at age 65, founded the International Technological University (ITU) in San Jose, California.
ITU focused on practical, industry-driven education. Shu-Park recruited Silicon Valley executives as faculty, designing courses aligned with emerging technology sectors such as electrical and computer engineering, engineering management, and international business. Despite modest beginnings, his academic prestige and network — including former students who later founded firms like Cadence and Atmel — helped the university flourish.
Accreditation, Growth, and Decline
In 2005, Shu-Park handed the reins to his son Yau-Gene Chan (b. 1964), appointing him Executive Vice President. Yau-Gene, born in Santa Clara and educated at UC Berkeley (B.A. in Sociology) and UCLA (M.F.A. in Performance Arts), had spent years in Taiwan and understood Chinese culture well. Though he never met his grandfather, he had long absorbed the family’s educational ethos.
When he took over, ITU was running a $300,000 annual deficit — a pattern since its founding. Instead of retreating, Yau-Gene invited Dr. Gerald A. Cory, an education specialist, to join the board and initiated a full restructuring. Within three years, by 2008, ITU achieved a $4.2 million surplus — marking its transition from a family vision to a sustainable institution.
In 2006, Yau-Gene launched the school’s Western Association of Schools and Colleges (WASC) accreditation process. WASC is one of six regional accrediting agencies recognized by the U.S. Department of Education — the gold standard of academic credibility. The path to accreditation was arduous, requiring ITU to demonstrate academic quality, financial stability, and measurable student outcomes.
In 2010, Yau-Gene officially succeeded his father as President and CEO. The university moved to a larger downtown San Jose campus in 2011. On February 22, 2013, WASC granted ITU full accreditation — the very day Shu-Park passed away at age 84, a poetic closure to his lifelong mission.
Post-accreditation, ITU’s enrollment surged from a few hundred to 1,500 students, 94% international, primarily from India and China. The school launched MBA and doctoral programs emphasizing “Day 1 CPT/OPT,” allowing students to work full-time upon admission — a major draw for Silicon Valley hopefuls.
However, challenges soon followed. In 2015, WASC initiated a third-party review investigating ITU’s visa and enrollment practices. The same year, the board removed Yau-Gene as president, appointing an interim leader of its choice. Yet the university’s situation worsened. In October 2019, WASC issued a Show Cause Order, citing leadership instability, faculty shortages, and financial unsustainability. Yau-Gene disputed the findings, questioning the integrity of the evaluation process.
In June 2022, WASC decided to withdraw ITU’s accreditation. The university appealed, but during the appeal period, international enrollment dropped precipitously — from 800 in 2023 to 200 by 2025. Annual losses exceeded $1 million. In June 2025, the appeal was denied, and ITU officially became an unaccredited private university.
Can It Rise Again?
Visiting ITU’s website today, one might think nothing has changed — courses, events, and announcements remain visible. But the loss of accreditation means federal aid has ceased, student transfers face obstacles, and market recognition has eroded. Enrollment has plummeted, revenue has fallen by over 70%, and the school now stands at the brink of survival.
Refusing to give up, Yau-Gene Chan has announced plans to rebuild ITU as an Artificial Intelligence University, charging $100 per month for U.S. students and $250 for international ones. The idea stems from two realities: the global AI boom reshaping industries through tools like ChatGPT and Gemini, and the crushing burden of student debt caused by soaring U.S. tuition costs. Yau-Gene hopes this low-cost, AI-centered model will attract strategic investors and open a new chapter for ITU.
Over the past decade, American higher education has faced a structural crisis. Declining international enrollment, demographic shifts, geopolitical tensions, and skyrocketing costs have placed unprecedented strain on universities. Since COVID-19, international student numbers have continued to fall — with NAFSA projecting a 30–40% drop in new international enrollment by fall 2025, costing the U.S. economy an estimated $7 billion.
Tighter visa policies under the Trump administration, worsening U.S.–China relations, and rising competition from Canada and the U.K. have exacerbated the decline. Meanwhile, the domestic “demographic cliff” is shrinking the pool of high school graduates by 15% after 2025, intensifying competition for students.
Small private colleges have been hit hardest: in 2024 alone, 20 institutions either closed or merged — roughly one per week. Even some public universities have shuttered branch campuses and cut programs. The University of Wisconsin–Milwaukee closed one of its extensions, its international student body numbering just 1,500 (7% of total enrollment). The University of North Texas expects to lose $47.3 million in tuition by 2025. By contrast, low-cost, career-focused vocational schools are expanding, offering practical alternatives.
Collectively, these trends signal that American higher education has entered a “post-expansion era” — one defined not by prestige or scale but by the struggle for sustainable survival. In this “perfect storm” engulfing U.S. higher education, ITU’s fate is not an isolated tragedy but a microcosm of a nationwide reckoning. For any university, losing accreditation is a crushing blow. Yet beyond the Ivy League and flagship state schools, how many institutions are truly immune to such pressures? As elite universities accumulate ever more resources, countless small and mid-sized colleges quietly wither away — their disappearances silent yet unstoppable, forming the hidden fractures of America’s educational landscape.
The three generations of the Chan family have carried forward a century-long mission — from a warlord’s industrial dream, to an engineer’s educational bridge, to an innovator’s AI-era experiment. Whether ITU can rise again remains uncertain. But one thing is clear: as long as there is perseverance and renewal, the story of this family’s devotion to education — and to the belief that learning can build nations — will continue.