Yet even the atrocious treatment accorded to prisoners of war failed to dim his spirits. Bitterness was foreign to his nature and he often warned that it is wrong to hold the Japanese nation collectively responsible for the actions of individuals, however brutal. In later years, watching television recreations of those times, he would sometimes shake his head and mutter, "impossible: we all had such dysentery ..." but that was all he said. He suffered considerably in the notorious Changi Camp but amazingly he and other captive scholars managed to establish a rudimentary "POW University". He was elected Dean by his fellow prisoners. Although they were desperately short of paper for assignments, Oppenheim and his colleagues succeeded in persuading an untypically sensitive Japanese officer, Lieutenant Okazaki, to allow the collection of books from Raffles College as a nucleus for a library. These efforts lent purpose to many in despair, even after the venture was disrupted by transfers, including Oppenheim whose health meantime deteriorated further, to construction camps along the Siam (Thailand)-Burma Railway. Thoughts of his family, he once recalled, kept him alive.

Under his stewardship, the university in the Malaysian capital underwent healthy development, with due attention being paid to both high teaching standards as well as research. New field of study were introduced, the most notable being medicine with the establishment of a medical faculty, complete with its teaching hospital. The student population rose rapidly, increasing from 650 in 1962 to about 2000 in 1965 when he retired. This steep rise in enrolment was perhaps not ideal for the university but was necessary to make good the past neglect of the colonial period. Although Oppenheim held the title of Vice-Chancellor of the University of Malaya from 1957 to 1965, when he retired, he in fact held successively three different jobs. Each of these presented peculiar problems which called for, on the part of the principal academic and administrative officer, a high order of skill and diplomacy. The problems he faced in the Singapore period (1957-59), [resulted from the fact that] the territory was rapidly moving towards self-government ... The years from 1959 to 1962 found him not much more than just a figurehead, reigning over two jealously autonomous institutions, each with a principal under its own council. From 1962 on, he resumed the normal position of a Vice-Chancellor of an institution which in many respects differed from the previous one in Singapore, particularly in the form of its governance.

As always, Alexander Oppenheim remained fiercely loyal to his students and younger members of the faculties, but as local confidence developed, his wise opinions, for instance not to rush too soon into the effervescent early computer market, were not always heeded - at some cost to the young university. He was much liked by Nigerians and his wide experience, impeccable manners, and cool advice were generally widely appreciated. Even so, he began to weary of certain distinctly if not uniquely Nigerian administrative practices and in 1977 politely declined to renew his contract.

... for contributions to mathematics, education and human rights.

It is our good fortune as a University of the British Commonwealth situated in the Far East to have a companion, if also at times a rival, institution in this region whose academic habits we can understand and largely share. In spite of the great difference in age between ourselves and the University of Malaya (they are very young indeed) it must be acknowledged that we are extremely good friends. Partly, no doubt, this is because we have many interests, and also a few problems, in common. But it is also due in great measure to the active co-operation and goodwill of individuals, such as Dr Alexander Oppenheim, Vice-Chancellor of the University of Malaya, whom we gladly welcome into our society today.