Junteng Zheng: ‘In Tilburg I feel welcome’
At the age of eighteen, Junteng Zheng (34) swapped his home country of China for a law degree in the United States. But an academic career there turned out to be difficult for him as a newcomer. Since 2023, he has been teaching Global Law in Tilburg. ‘Tilburg is one of the few universities that is open to staff from all over the world.’

Lees dit interview in het Nederlands.
When Junteng Zheng looks outside on a gray winter day, he sees the center of Rotterdam emerging in misty patches between the clouds. In his immaculate home, high in a skyscraper by the water, the Global Law lecturer leads a contemplative life. During the day, he teaches in Tilburg, and in the evening, as the city lights flicker in the distance, files and legal codes pull him back to what he sees as the essence of his field: analyzing how international law can curb the power-driven ambitions of states.
At least, that is the goal, he smiles, as he pours tea into small ceramic cups. This year, he hopes to complete his PhD research. He gestures toward a high stack of printed papers, perfectly aligned at the corner of his desk. ‘The topic is rather bizarre and unconventional. I’m studying the concept of time within international law. That’s not entirely coincidental, since after high school, I studied philosophy for a year. Slowly, I’m returning to where I started.’
Zheng grows up under China’s one-child policy as the only son in Jiaoling, a poor town in the southeastern province of Guangzhou. His father and mother both work at the same electric company—he as an engineer, she in administration and human resources. His maternal grandmother is illiterate. When the Cultural Revolution breaks out in 1966, Zheng’s grandfather has to abandon his university studies, and his mother leaves high school early.
Internationals in Tilburg
Chinese, German, Brazilian: internationals from all corners of the world have been moving to the Netherlands for a long time. Science crosses national borders and Dutch universities want to score well on the world academic stage. But a lot of internationals came this way: lecture halls and student houses are overcrowded and many courses are only taught in English.
Time for a turnaround, it now sounds. Politicians want fewer internationals and English at universities. Universities are making plans to reduce internationalization. There’s a lot of talk about internationals. But who are they actually? And how do they see their future? In this section, Univers talks to international students and employees of Tilburg University.z
Chinese, German, Brazilian: for a long time, internationals from all corners of the world have been coming to the Netherlands. Science knows no borders, and Dutch universities aim to score well on the academic world stage. But an overwhelming number of internationals have come this way: lecture halls and student houses are overcrowded, and many programs are now only taught in English.
Time for a change, it is now said. The government wants fewer internationals and English in universities. Universities are making plans to reduce internationalization. And so it often revolves around internationals. But who are they, really? And how do they see their future? In this column, Univers talks to international students and staff from Tilburg University.
Junteng, the son, must make it at school, and he does, day in, day out. Pragmatically: ‘My childhood had few memorable moments. As a child, my main task was to do well in school. My parents had extremely high expectations. Every day was scheduled, from waking up, doing homework, eating together, watching TV, to my bedtime. I had little free time.
‘Without the love and support of my parents, I wouldn’t be here now. But as a child and teenager, I thought: why does every day look the same? When can I play outside? My parents were used to me being the best in my class. When I was accepted at the second-best university, they were disappointed and frustrated, but they tried to hide it because they knew I was struggling with it too.’
At seventeen, Zheng leaves for Renmin University of China in Beijing. ‘Finally, I could leave that small town.’ 2,000 kilometers away from his family home, everything is different—from the food to the social customs. He sleeps in a bunk bed in a small dormitory that he shares with seven other students, each one more brilliant than the other. ‘From that moment on, I realized I could never always be number one. That made my life much easier.’
After a year of philosophy, he switches to law. It was never his intention to become a lawyer. ‘I wanted to become a linguist. I loved reading, especially the encyclopedia. I was fascinated by different cultures, and I loved fashion and interior design. I drew and painted and played piano and violin. But in traditional Chinese families like mine, you were expected to become a doctor, lawyer, engineer, or government official. That was the only way to escape your environment and social class.’
Zheng’s interest in jurisprudence grows during high school. After China joins the World Trade Organization in 2001, his family gains more freedom at various levels. In 2003, when Zheng is thirteen, his parents trade their bicycle for a motorcycle, buy their first computer, and he starts learning English—thanks to China’s open-door policy, which welcomed Western technology and ideas from the 1970s.
‘Suddenly we had the internet and I gained access to all kinds of information that wasn’t available in Chinese. I read about what happened in Rwanda, and about police violence against civilians. I started wondering why those actions had no consequences. That’s how my interest in social injustice grew. America at the time was portrayed as a free country where anyone who worked hard could succeed. In my second year at university, I decided I wanted to go to America.’
At 23, Zheng graduates from university, the first in his family, and begins a law degree at the University of California with financial support from his parents. He meets new people there, including a number of Dutch people, who he still counts as friends. But the studies are tough.
‘My English was very bad, while language skills are essential for a law degree. The competition between students was fierce. It was hard being alone, far from home, without family. But in Chinese culture, it’s not common to share your worries with your parents. Like many other Chinese students, I was very shy and stayed out of group discussions.
‘In law, it’s often not about justice’
‘American universities are obsessed with networking, that’s the only way to climb. I remember a professor telling me, “Junteng, you really need to speak up to your professors, or they won’t have any idea what you can do. As long as you hide, you don’t exist to them.” So, I forced myself.’
‘By the end of my studies, I realized that without an American passport or Green Card, it would be difficult to get a job at a big law firm or at a prestigious university. I had originally studied law to do something about the injustices in the world. I quickly realized, however, that in jurisprudence, it’s often not about justice. Legislation often focuses on tax law, business law, commercial law, and family law, and I found that incredibly boring. Fortunately, I discovered that human rights existed. I thought: this is it, I’ll become a human rights activist.’
Zheng works as a legal advisor for several NGOs in New York. After three years, he gives up. ‘During the fieldwork, I became disillusioned. At some NGOs, it’s mainly about politics. They pretend to care about human rights, but it’s about prestige. They pretend to promote diversity, but it’s hypocritical diversity washing because they’ll never give a foreigner like me a position that really matters. I thought: now what? I’m at my best when I can quietly analyze and research cases. I thought: maybe an academic career suits me better.’
Zheng quits his job and begins a master’s in international law at Columbia University. Enthusiastically: ‘With international law and global law, you really see how different countries, cultures, and legal systems interact on the world stage. In China, people tend to think that the government stands above everything and can do whatever it wants, and that we must obey.
‘When I started studying international law, I realized that there are indeed rules and laws that can limit or at least regulate the power of governments and states, which I had once considered untouchable. That completely turned my thinking upside down.’
Do I detect a certain criticism of China, do you feel free to talk about it?
‘It depends on whether you want to publish it, because even a simple quote can cause problems.’
Cautiously: ‘As a child in China, I never felt unfree or oppressed. It was only when I left that I saw that the political system and freedom of speech, which I had grown used to, were different from other countries. By the way, I don’t think the Western view of China as a model of human rights violations is entirely correct.
‘Compared to 20 or 30 years ago, the Chinese lead mostly a free and pleasant life. But I don’t want to live in China anymore. I don’t know the exact daily situation there, but I do know that I prefer the academic freedom and working conditions in Europe.’

After Zheng earns his master’s in international law in 2018, he works as a clerk for South African judge Edwin Cameron. A great opportunity, he recalls. ‘The South African constitution is one of the few in the world that requires the national court to respect international law.’ In 2019, he returns to New York to conduct research at his alma mater, Columbia Law School.
When the COVID pandemic breaks out in 2020 and the global economy collapses, all job openings are frozen. Zheng moves to Geneva to pursue his PhD. He gives up his hope for an academic career in America. ‘Initially, I saw the United States as the land where dreams come true. Gradually, I realized that as a non-white foreigner, you are treated differently. Columbia University and the University of California are relatively liberal bubbles, but outside of them, it’s a different story.’
While you’re a man with a good education.
‘But no one cares about that at first glance. They just see someone who is not white, not blonde, and doesn’t have blue eyes. The academic world is closed, and the legal field is a traditional profession—someone like me doesn’t get in easily.
‘If you want to become a professor at an Ivy League university, you have a lower chance if you haven’t completed your entire education at an Ivy League institution. Also, American universities have to arrange a work and residence permit for you. That costs so much money and effort that they’d rather hire an American unless you’re exceptionally good.’
Did you feel treated as a second-class citizen on the streets as a Chinese in America?
‘If you’re from China, Africa, or the Middle East, going through U.S. customs takes much longer than if you have a European or American passport. Once Donald Trump took office, I started encountering overt racism. I remember a woman shouting on the street: “Damn Mexican, go back to your own country!” She didn’t even see the difference between Asians and Latinos.
‘I was afraid she was going to hit me. Looking back, I became angry: why is this happening to me? Before that, I hadn’t realized that the Western world is so preoccupied with identity, because in China, my identity was seen as mainstream and acceptable. But once I stepped out of that environment, I realized that every aspect of your identity gets labeled, including the question of whether you have a Western passport.’
Since August 2023, you’ve been a Global Law lecturer in Tilburg. Why did you choose Tilburg?
‘I had been looking at the Netherlands for some time because all the international courts and tribunals are based in The Hague. Dutch universities have many international law programs taught in English. If I wanted to teach here, the university had to pay for my work and residence permit.
‘Tilburg was willing to do that. It is one of the few universities open to staff from all over the world, so as soon as I saw the vacancy, I was excited. When they hired me, they didn’t even know I didn’t have a European passport, but they never held that against me.’
You felt welcome.
‘Absolutely. The hiring process at the university was very thorough, and they even hired someone to help me with the move and settling in within the organization. That level of service is rare in academia.’ Zheng smiles. ‘Everything in the Netherlands runs efficiently, streamlined, and reliably, except for the train schedules.’
What do you remember from your first time in Tilburg?
‘I noticed that faculty members work quite autonomously, maybe because the faculty is much larger than what I’m used to in the U.S. Dutch colleagues don’t engage in small talk unless there’s a reason. As long as they don’t know you, they’re reserved and avoid eye contact. Once the ice is broken, it’s fine.
‘The only thing that shocked me was that shortly after I arrived, the far-right party PVV received the most votes in the national elections. I never expected something like that to happen in the Netherlands. Many friends abroad also found it shocking because they always saw the Netherlands as a progressive and left-wing beacon. But in the Netherlands, it was strikingly quiet.
‘I asked my Dutch friends and colleagues why the Dutch were less shocked by Wilders’ victory than Americans were when Trump was first elected president. A colleague explained that the Dutch have had it so good for so long that they don’t feel the need to worry about the consequences when an extreme-right cabinet takes office.’
How do you experience the atmosphere on campus, compared to universities in China?
‘Dutch universities care less about hierarchy. In Tilburg, students are encouraged to speak up if something bothers them. In China, you only address professors about serious matters related to your studies; you don’t chat with them about personal issues or problems.’
‘I feel like we are constantly spoon-feeding students’
‘I think we make it too easy for our students. In China and America, you’re thrown into the deep end and have to gather your own literature and case law. Here, everything is handed to you in PDFs, and you’re guided step by step. This isn’t just in Tilburg, I see it at other Dutch universities too.’
How do you view this as a lecturer?
‘At first, I found it rather absurd; some students couldn’t even find something on Google! Apparently, they didn’t even dare to ask their fellow students for help because they came to me in a panic, saying they hadn’t done their homework. I feel like we are constantly spoon-feeding students instead of challenging them and teaching them to study independently.’
What’s the result of this approach?
‘The average education level in the Netherlands is higher than elsewhere because people are admitted to university more quickly, and professors do everything they can to get them to graduate. But I doubt whether all students are really ready for the job market, where they’ll have to do it on their own.’
‘As soon as students struggle with their studies, the university helps them out. But if you’re an employee and don’t feel well, you’ll have to push through one way or another. It might not be much of a problem if you want to work within Dutch jurisprudence, but students aiming for an international career will find it difficult because they have to compete with students from countries where you’re trained more independently.’
‘The global academic job market is competitive and shrinking more and more. As soon as a job opens up somewhere, you seize the opportunity, wherever it may be. Many people bounce from fellowships to postdocs after their PhDs and move around constantly.’
Amnesty International published a study in May 2024 revealing that Chinese students at Western universities are being monitored by the Chinese government, and their family members in China are severely intimidated if students speak negatively about China. Does Zheng recognize these stories?
‘I haven’t experienced this myself, but that’s because I consciously don’t work on issues related to China, because I don’t want my family to get into trouble. Many people ask me why I never engage with China, but I no longer identify with that culture.’
Do you no longer consider yourself Chinese?
‘I’m in the bizarre situation where I have a Chinese passport, but I no longer fully identify as Chinese. I’ve lived outside China for half my life, and I don’t think the average Chinese person would identify with me. When I’m in China, I feel like I’m no longer fully part of it, because life there revolves around scanning QR codes and your social credits. China belongs to my past; I live very differently now.’

‘For most Chinese, family comes first, and it’s common to visit them three or four times a week. I’m very focused on my privacy, and I’m no longer used to being surrounded by people all the time. It’s not common there to contradict your parents if they say something foolish; you just suppress it.’
‘But nowadays, I argue with my parents if they say something I think is wrong. I’m not the shy boy who always made it easy for them anymore; they had to get used to that. My parents’ generation was raised with the idea that life in China is the best, and you give everything your heart desires.’
How do your parents feel about you living in the Netherlands now?
‘Initially, they thought an international education would prepare me well for a bright future in China. But returning was never my plan.’
Did you not tell them this?
‘I just hinted at it, which is why my father was okay with me leaving. My mother had a hard time with it. As an only child, I was everything to her. Like many Chinese, my parents believe you can only have an intimate bond if you live close to each other, which is why Chinese families never move. My parents were obsessed with the idea that I would live next to them after my studies. Over time, they visited me in different countries and started to realize that you can lead a good life elsewhere.’
‘I’ve tried to show my parents that they haven’t lost their son to Western morals. At first, they were worried because they’re misinformed about life outside China. They think the Western world is a lawless chaos where sexual morals have unraveled and women have too much power. They believe everyone carries a weapon and can kill each other. All I can do is counter this with my perspective, and they trust that because I’m their son.’
You function as a sort of cultural translator for them.
‘I try to explain the difference between what they’ve heard and what actually happened. Last June, they were worried because they saw videos of mass protests in France. Marine Le Pen’s far-right party had gained significant seats in the European elections. President Macron then dissolved the parliament to prevent the far-right from taking power.’
‘People went out into the streets because the left gained the majority afterward. But my parents heard that a revolution had broken out and that things were going terribly wrong in France. This happens all the time. Meanwhile, the situation in China is also not always accurately described by Western media. Sometimes I read that all of China is living in poverty, but then you see that only the poorest areas are highlighted.’
Zheng stands up. ‘Time for some snacks, right?’ Orazio, his small bulldog, follows him into the kitchen. On his Instagram feed, Zheng almost proudly poses next to his pet in every photo. They are inseparable. ‘I used to be surrounded by the care and support of my family, as long as I studied hard. Orazio is the first being I have to take care of. He’s three years old and has a European pet passport. In that regard, he’s better off than I am.’
In the year and a half that Zheng has lived in the Netherlands, he has been too busy with his PhD, teaching, and adjusting to his new environment to make new friends, he says. When asked whether he feels part of the Chinese community on campus, he firmly shakes his head. ‘In every country, internationals tend to stick together, but I don’t like that. Why would you spend so much money and energy studying and working abroad just to hang out with other Chinese?’
He video calls his parents every other day. A recent Instagram post shows Zheng with his parents in a restaurant in Rotterdam. A long-awaited reunion after years, he writes enthusiastically, to dryly continue: Those smiles lasted for around 4 minutes before they started asking why I still don’t have kids.
Since 2023, he has been in a long-distance relationship with an aerospace engineer who lives in Geneva, but this is not something he shares with his parents. ‘My parents know that I’m gay, but I don’t even try to discuss it anymore because I hit a wall. We’re very close, but with this topic, they stay far away.’
How did it feel growing up as a gay boy in China?
‘My identity didn’t exist there. From about seven years old, I knew I was attracted to boys, but I thought: I’m just the perfect child who studies hard and does everything my parents expect of me. When I was about 14 and gained access to the internet, I discovered that there was a definition for what I felt, and more importantly, that I wasn’t the only one. There were many other boys like me. That realization supported me.’
How important is it for you to be more openly gay here in the Netherlands than in your home country?
‘It’s not the main thing, but it certainly plays a role. But don’t get me wrong, the discomfort and limitations you experience as a gay man in China don’t necessarily come from the government. Admittedly, you don’t enjoy protection as a homosexual, but China also doesn’t have a political, policy, or legal system that opposes or persecutes homosexuals. The real problem lies with the older generation, who have a fixed idea of what a family should look like.’
‘It’s the families that hold back the change and make your life difficult. With my friends and cousins, I can discuss it freely; we support each other. They too can’t be openly gay, only within their circle. There’s a huge gap between the generations, like looking at two different Chinas. They’re parallel universes.’
Are you planning to stay in the Netherlands long-term?
‘Yes, in principle. I have a five-year appointment. I recently started a serious language course because just half an hour a day on Duolingo during the train ride wasn’t getting me anywhere. The university is currently considering imposing mandatory language requirements on all students and staff. Let’s hope the Dutch government doesn’t discontinue English-language programs, because then I’ll have to reconsider my stay.’
Do you miss anything from China?
‘I don’t miss the place itself, but I miss my old friends, and I miss the direct support and help from my family. If I get sick, no one will help me. Many old classmates and friends, like me, have scattered around the world after graduation.’
‘We don’t see each other often, but their friendship is my anchor. Sometimes I feel like I don’t really belong anywhere anymore. Maybe I’m losing a clear framework or identity to define myself, but how bad is that? It also gives me the freedom to feel at home everywhere.’
ABOUT JUNTENG ZHENG, 1990, JIAOLING, CHINA
2011 – 2013 Bachelor of Law, Renmin University of China, Beijing, China
2013 – 2016 Juris Doctor, University of California, Davis, United States
2016 – 2017 UC Davis Presidential Public Service Legal Fellow, New York, United States
2017 – 2018 Master of International Law, Columbia University, New York, New York, United States
2018 – 2019 Clerk, Constitutional Court of South Africa
2019 – 2020 Mark Haas Fellow, Columbia University, New York, United States
2022 – Present PhD Researcher in International Law, Geneva Graduate Institute, Switzerland
2022 – 2023 Researcher, International Law Commission, United Nations, Switzerland
2023 – Present Lecturer in Global Law, Tilburg University