Jerome A. Cohen, a towering figure who not only established the academic discipline of Chinese law in the United States but also courageously became one of the first foreign lawyers to practice commercial law in China while outspokenly advocating for human rights across Asia, passed away recently at his New York home at the age of 95. His sons, Ethan and Peter, confirmed his death.
An accompanying image shows Jerome A. Cohen in 2012, seated in his office at the U.S.-Asia Law Institute at New York University, which he founded. A colleague aptly remarked that Cohen “created the field of the study of Chinese law in the United States.”
Stephen Orlins, president of the National Committee on U.S.-China Relations and a former student and colleague, highlighted Cohen’s unique impact, noting, “It’s rare to find a field where in the beginning it was so shaped by one person.”
Cohen’s early career path seemed conventional, marked by graduation from Yale Law School and prestigious clerkships for two Supreme Court justices, followed by a teaching position at the University of California, Berkeley, where he focused on mainstream legal topics.
Yet, a pivotal opportunity to delve into Chinese language and law redirected his professional life. To the surprise of some peers, he embraced this new direction during a tumultuous period of political revolution in China when most Americans were barred from entry.
After mastering Chinese, Cohen relocated to Hong Kong, where he meticulously gathered insights into Mao Zedong’s judicial and prosecutorial systems by interviewing refugees from mainland China, including former police officers. This groundbreaking research culminated in his seminal 1968 study, “The Criminal Process in the People’s Republic of China, 1949-63.” He subsequently founded an East Asian law program at Harvard Law School, serving on its faculty from 1964 to 1979.
Another image features a black-and-white photograph of a much younger Mr. Cohen in 1975 at Harvard Law School, where he spent a significant portion of his career shaping the study of Chinese law.
Following Mao’s death and China’s opening to Western investment, Cohen embarked on another bold career transition, moving into private law practice. He became a trusted advisor to foreign companies and an educator for Chinese officials keen to understand commercial law.
In 1990, he joined New York University, establishing the U.S.-Asia Law Institute. There, he fostered a vibrant academic hub for lawyers, judges, and human rights advocates from across Asia. Even in his later years, until his death, he remained a powerful critic of China’s increasing repression under President Xi Jinping.
News of Cohen’s passing elicited heartfelt tributes from politicians, legal professionals, academics, and activists throughout Asia, many of whom credited him for their careers or even their freedom. Notably, Chinese law professor Xu Zhangrun, who faced job dismissal and severe police surveillance for criticizing Xi, was among those who benefited from Cohen’s vocal support.
A photograph from 2002 shows Mr. Cohen and his wife, Joan Lebold Cohen, during a trip to China. She was a student of Chinese history and culture who worked as an art historian, curator, writer, and photographer.
“His passing truly marks the end of an era,” Xu Zhangrun wrote in a poignant eulogy. “For Jerome Cohen, the idea of legal rights was always grounded in a respect for basic human rights.”
Jerome Alan Cohen was born on July 1, 1930, in Elizabeth, New Jersey, and grew up in nearby Linden. He was the younger of two sons born to Philip Cohen, a lawyer, and Beatrice (Kaufman) Cohen, a schoolteacher.
He excelled in high school and attended Yale University, where he majored in international relations before entering the law school there.
An image captures Jerome and Joan Lebold Cohen in Kyoto, Japan, in 1972 with their sons, Peter, Ethan, and Seth, dressed in Japanese garb, sitting in front of a house.
He met Joan Lebold in college, and they married in 1954. She, along with their three sons, seven grandchildren, and six great-grandchildren, survives him.
In his recently published memoir, “Eastward, Westward,” Cohen candidly recalled the antisemitic biases that often prevented bright Jewish law students, including himself, from securing summer internships at prestigious law firms.
Despite these challenges, his career flourished. After graduation, he and his wife moved to Washington, where he served as a clerk for Chief Justice Earl Warren and then Justice Felix Frankfurter. He also worked for the firm Covington & Burling and as a prosecutor before joining the University of California, Berkeley, faculty in 1959, initially teaching criminal law.
The cover of Mr. Cohen’s memoir, “Eastward, Westward,” published this year, features a black-and-white photo of him, wearing a trench coat and sitting on a railing. The name of the book appears over his photo in white uppercase letters on two red rectangles.
The following year, when the law school sought a candidate for a Rockefeller Foundation grant to study Chinese language and law, a field largely unexplored due to China’s isolation, Cohen found no takers. He then considered the opportunity for himself.
Some colleagues expressed doubt. Cohen recounted how the law school’s dean, William L. Prosser, cautioned him, “Don’t throw away your career on China.”
Undeterred, Cohen embraced the challenge. His wife, Joan, who had a passion for Asian art, dedicated herself to studying Chinese history and culture, eventually becoming an accomplished art historian, curator, writer, and photographer.
A black-and-white photo depicts Mr. Cohen with Jill Spruce of the International Commission of Jurists leaving a courthouse in Singapore in 1988 after observing a proceeding involving political detainees.
In 1963, after learning Chinese, Cohen and his family moved to Hong Kong. With official documents on China’s legal system scarce, he ingeniously sought out refugees from the mainland, including former police officers, to gain invaluable insights into the practical workings of the law. His pioneering research culminated in the 1968 publication of “The Criminal Process in the People’s Republic of China, 1949-63.” Donald J. Clarke, an emeritus professor at George Washington University Law School, noted, “He showed the great value of paying attention to what’s going on in the ground, what’s really happening down there, as opposed to just relying on written materials.”
Cohen then transitioned to Harvard, where he became actively involved in advocating for U.S. diplomatic recognition of Beijing. He also harbored a deep desire to visit mainland China, making several unsuccessful attempts, including written appeals and even a proposal to acquire a panda for an American zoo.
His opportunity finally arrived in 1972, when he joined a small group of scholars on a delegation to Beijing and other cities. Cohen vividly recalled the challenge of engaging wary residents in conversation over breakfast. A memorable highlight of the trip was a dinner with China’s premier, Zhou Enlai.
Mr. Cohen is pictured with Zhou Enlai, the premier of the People’s Republic of China, in Beijing when he visited China as part of a delegation of scholars in 1972. They stand stiffly next to each other.
“I understand that you have done many books on our legal system,” Cohen recalled Zhou telling him, a remark that “gently implied that perhaps I had made more of China’s legal system than China had.”
With Mao’s death and China’s subsequent opening to foreign visitors and investment, Cohen’s expertise in Chinese law became highly sought after by international companies. He frequently lectured Chinese officials eager to learn about drafting contracts, commercial laws, and tax regulations.
In 1981, Cohen made the decision to leave his academic post at Harvard and dedicate himself to full-time law practice, joining the esteemed firm Paul Weiss. He passionately encouraged young lawyers to specialize in China-related matters. Many fondly remember his vibrant enthusiasm, his generosity towards students and emerging legal professionals, and his signature bow tie. Yvonne Y.F. Chan, whom Cohen recruited to Paul Weiss, remarked on his insatiable curiosity: “We’d be in these grueling negotiations and he’d ask these questions that might even go off a tangent, because he was so curious to understand where the other side was coming from.”
A black-and-white photo from the late 1970s shows Mr. Cohen leaning back in a chair, looking relaxed, and looking up at the camera while holding a newspaper in his hands. The headline “New Chinese Constitution to Be Okayed” is visible. He retired from practicing law in 2000 but remained a professor at NYU until 2020. He also continued to visit China and occasionally took on cases.
Cohen retired from Paul Weiss in 2000, though he continued as a professor at NYU until 2020, where he founded the U.S.-Asia Law Institute. He remained active, visiting China and occasionally taking on significant cases, including the defense of Zhao Yan, a researcher for The New York Times who was unjustly imprisoned for fraud in 2006 after initial state secret theft charges were dropped.
He also deeply committed himself to the struggles of Chinese legal and human rights activists like Xu Zhiyong and Ding Jiaxi, who received lengthy prison sentences for subversion in 2023. His advocacy extended to Chen Guangcheng, a blind legal activist who found refuge in the American Embassy in Beijing before seeking asylum in the United States in 2012.
Ding’s wife, Sophie Luo, shared her gratitude: “He organized a seminar to make sure that people paid attention to the case. He put me in touch with people and organized resources. He didn’t want them to be forgotten.”
Despite China’s increasingly repressive policies under President Xi, Cohen maintained a nuanced perspective, refusing to succumb to complete pessimism.
“I’m not totally pessimistic, as some people are,” he remarked in an interview published last year. “China’s development has been pendulum-like. At the moment, we’re in a repressive period. That won’t last. It can’t last.”