Picture of Professor Alfred Ward, taken on Feb. 28, 2025
In Memoriam: Alfred Ward, 1932-2025
The Department of East Asian Studies was saddened to learn of the passing of Professor Alfred Ward in March. Professor Ward served as a dedicated and inspiring member of our faculty for 30 years. A passionate scholar and educator, he left a lasting impact on generations of students and colleagues through his deep intellect, commitment to teaching, and generous mentorship. Our thoughts are with Professor Ward’s family, to whom we express our deepest condolences and heartfelt gratitude for reminding us of the wisdom, humour, and kindness he shared with so many, as well as his meaningful contributions to teaching, mentorship, and the life of the department.
Memories of Professor Alfred Ward from Helen Xiaoyan Wu, Associate Professor, a former student
I was saddened to learn of Professor Alfred Ward’s passing. He was three weeks older than my father and remained relatively healthy. I used to visit him whenever I attended a conference in Vancouver or Victoria before the COVID-19 pandemic, as he had retired and moved to British Columbia after his retirement. In early 2025, I told him that I would finally see him again before a conference in Vancouver this May and was looking forward to taking a side trip to Victoria after eight years. Sadly, I ended up paying my last respects on March 4, the very day he passed away, which was unplanned.
I first met Professor Alfred Ward in the early 1990s as a Ph.D. student. I applied for a student instructor position for the then EAS206Y1 Classical Chinese I. Professor Ward would be on sabbatical leave the following year, so an advertisement was posted to find a graduate student to teach the course. Later, when I had the opportunity to ask him why he chose me from a pool of applicants, especially since I was not his student then, he replied, “Mencius.”
I couldn’t help laughing, wondering what Mencius (372-289 BCE) or China’s second sage (亞聖) after Confucius had to do with his decision. How interesting this professor was, I thought.
“Did you know what Mencius said to King Hui of Liang (梁惠王)?” asked the Professor.
“Well, Mencius essentially told King Hui of Liang that benevolence and righteousness are far more important than how to ‘profit’ or get material gain for his Kingdom of Liang.”
“That was correct,” Professor Ward continued. “Mencius argued that pursuing personal benefit would create a competitive environment that would harm his state. The right way of ruling lies in moral virtues and taking care of the well-being of the people. Likewise, an instructor should prioritize students’ well-being rather than consider a ‘profit’ or good pay only.”
When I complimented his high moral standards, he laughed aloud and replied, “I’m just joking, but I’m not joking, either.” He then shared that his first formal Chinese textbook was the Mencius, and he had studied Classical Chinese more than Modern Chinese. He had two professors who impressed him very much. One was Professor W.A.C.H. Dobson, an expert on Mencius, who popularized the Chinese classic in the English-speaking world with a new translation arranged and annotated for general readers. The other professor was a native Chinese speaker from Shandong, who taught Classical and Modern Chinese using the Shandong accent. Professor Ward advised me not to feel strange if he occasionally spoke Chinese with a Shandong flavour or quoted Mencius’ sayings more often than those of Confucius.
Later, Professor Ward served as the co-supervisor on my Ph.D. supervisory committee, even after he retired and moved to B.C. in the mid-1990s, continuing until I graduated in 1997. Inspired by his sense of humour, whenever I sought advice from him, I would jokingly say or write in an email something like, “King Hui of Liang requests the advice of Your Majesty, Mencius.” He would cross out the word “King” and replace it with “Queen.” We would share a knowing smile, often accompanied by an emoji.
Professor Ward’s feedback on my writing and translations has benefited me the most. Before teaching EAS206Y1 Classical Chinese I, I translated each lesson of Harold Shadick’s A First Course in Literary Chinese for his review. The same was true when I translated every classical piece into English for EAS306Y1 Classical Chinese II. He meticulously corrected everything, including punctuation marks, using so much red ink that I called it “a sea of red ink” (红海洋). He often told me, “If you don’t see any red, it doesn’t necessarily mean your writing or translation is perfect. After all, English and Chinese languages and cultures are different. Sometimes, a sense of foreignness is acceptable, but the spirit of the concept must be conveyed one way or another, rather than just the terms. If you see red throughout the page, that doesn’t necessarily mean everything is wrong. There could be different interpretations, or it might simply be a matter of style.” What a caring professor he was! Inspired by him, I follow his example when marking my students’ work.
Professor Ward admired today’s students who could learn another language in a country where the language is used, but it was scarce in his time. He said he only had a brief stay in Taiwan. Nevertheless, he had an excellent command of Chinese. According to the American Council on the Teaching of Foreign Languages guidelines, I was trained to conduct the Oral Proficiency Interview Test. I was looking for Guinea pigs to become an accredited OPI tester, and Professor Ward became my target. Despite his modesty, I found him particularly fluent in speaking Mandarin Chinese, with perfect tones. I rated him Superior in the highest category, which was later blindly double-rated by a committee of OPI trainers in the US. Hence, it was official that Professor Ward’s spoken Chinese was at the Superior Level.
Professor Ward was pleased that every language he studied, whether at school or independently, opened his eyes to new perspectives. At over 80, he continued teaching himself Korean and Arabic while actively maintaining his Chinese, French, German, and Russian skills. When asked why he had such a passion for learning multiple languages, he explained that knowing more languages provided access to different cultures, as if having more windows and doors to new things. “I’m one-quarter Jewish and perhaps one-eighth African. By the time I’m 100, I’ll have learned Hebrew, Yiddish, and an African language. I believe this could help prevent dementia. It would be a more peaceful world if everyone understood more languages.”
How true! I am following in Professor Ward’s footsteps, teaching Chinese language, reading Chinese and English bilingual courses, and English and Chinese translation, all of which I founded at UTSC. I am very grateful for the time we shared, in person, through emails, and on the phone. I’m so lucky to have known him as my caring professor, supportive mentor, and fatherly friend. I will always cherish the memories of this great person.
Rest in peace, Fred.
Helen
Helen Xiaoyan Wu, Ph.D.
Associate Professor, Teaching Stream
Department of Language Studies, UTSC
Obituary
Alfred Harry Charles Ward
Alfred Harry Charles Ward, a man of resilience, intellect, and unyielding determination, passed away peacefully at the age of 92 on March 4, 2025, just two weeks shy of his 93rd birthday. He succumbed to liver cancer at home, surrounded by his daughter, Andrea, granddaughter Charlotte, and the comforting presence of his beloved parrots and small dogs.
Born on March 19, 1932, in London, England, Alfred’s early life was marked by adversity. Raised in poverty, he grew up with few comforts, sharing his childhood with a pet beetle and a passenger pigeon. The family lived in basements with dirt floors during World War II, and his circumstances were further complicated by personal loss. At the tender age of 8, Alfred lost his mother to breast cancer, a heart-wrenching experience he never forgot—vividly remembering the scar he kissed goodbye as he saw her for the last time. His father, a butcher, struggled with alcoholism and often was absent, leaving Alfred to fend for himself in difficult circumstances. As a result, he was frequently absent from school, often playing in the war-torn rubble that dotted London. However, despite these early hardships, Alfred had a natural aptitude for learning.
One of his greatest joys was collecting butterflies, and he developed a love for painting watercolors. He also enjoyed playing cricket until the age of 14 when his father passed away from lung cancer. Alfred was deeply touched when the owner of the butcher shop—who drove a Rolls Royce—funded his father’s funeral. This act of kindness left a lasting impact on him.
At this challenging crossroads, Alfred was adopted by a loving family, the Cross’, who provided him with the stability he so desperately needed. He was placed at Beechen Cliff School after excellent marks on his exams. Despite his remarkable academic marks, teachers often doubted his potential due to his humble beginnings. But Alfred was determined to prove them wrong. His gift for languages became evident, and he began to teach himself Mandarin Chinese, Russian, French, and German, fueled by a fascination with global cultures. His talents eventually led to a post with the British Army during the Cold War, where he served in intelligence operations in Germany.
After completing advanced studies at Oxford University, Alfred made the move to Toronto, where fate led him to meet the love of his life, Pamela. Pamela, a brilliant woman herself, was decoding Russian messages for the National Research Council, which later became a division of CSIS. Together, they spent over 60 years of marriage. In this time, Alfred adopted Pamela’s children from her first marriage, Judy and Richard Fiddes, and together they had two daughters: Deborah in 1964 and Andrea in 1966.
A passionate educator, Alfred became a full professor in East Asian Studies at the University of Toronto, where he served for 30 years, leaving an indelible mark on his students and colleagues alike. In 1989, after selling their beautiful home in Etobicoke, Toronto, Alfred and Pamela moved to Pender Island, British Columbia, where Pamela’s relatives lived. They spent many years fishing and exploring the breathtaking natural beauty of their surroundings, including a bald eagle nest near their home. Eventually, for health reasons, they relocated to Victoria, where they settled in the Dean Park community and enjoyed their peaceful lives together.
Alfred’s life was forever changed by the loss of his beloved Pamela, who passed away suddenly on November 15, 2021, at the age of 95. Although deeply saddened, Alfred continued to find solace in his family, the nature around him, and the many students he had mentored throughout his career. Professor Helen Wu, his most inspiring student, flew out at a moment’s notice to say goodbye.
Alfred was a man who overcame incredible challenges to build a life rich in love, learning, and legacy. His intellectual curiosity, kindness, and quiet strength will live on in the hearts of his family, friends, and all who knew him.
He is survived by his daughter Andrea, granddaughter Charlotte, his six grandchildren, his beloved pets, and a legacy of academic and personal achievements that will never be forgotten. Alfred’s family is grateful to have had him in their lives and will cherish his memory forever.