G.A. Cohen, universally known as Jerry, died suddenly in the early hours of 4 August, following a suspected massive stroke. Born in 1941, he had recently retired as Chichele Professor of Social and Political Thought at Oxford University, and had taken up a part time post as Quain Professor of Jurisprudence at University College London. UCL was where he had begun his lecturing career in 1963, before his appointment to his Oxford Chair, previously held by Isaiah Berlin, John Plamenatz and Charles Taylor, in 1985, at a youthful 44.

The question of who would be appointed to the Chichele Chair was, somewhat surprisingly, a matter of discussion in the national press. Jerry was relatively unknown and an unlikely candidate, at that time the author of just one book, Karl Marx’s Theory of History: A Defence (1978), and a handful of papers. On his appointment the satirical magazine Private Eye speculated that the committee may have been influenced by Jerry’s reputation as a wit and raconteur, and the need to enliven the quality of dinner table discussion at All Souls. In truth, the committee understood that Jerry had a rare, perhaps unique, philosophical talent, and their confidence in him has been amply rewarded.

Jerry was born into a Jewish Marxist family, and his life and character were woven into his philosophical work in an unusual way, to the point where some of his writings contain descriptions of his upbringing and family. His first book, he said, was a type of vindication of his upbringing: an attempt to state Marx’s theory of history in a fashion that met the standards of rigour and clarity of contemporary analytic philosophy, in the face of criticisms from Plamenatz and others that this could not be done. The resulting monograph is a classic not only of Marxism but also of analytic philosophy.

On finishing the book, however, Jerry reported that his attitude to Marxism changed. While writing it, he was sure that Marx’s theory of history was correct. After, he said, it was not so much that he believed it to be false, but that he did not know how to tell whether or not it was true. In the 1980s Jerry published a number of papers further defending and refining the doctrine, but then turned his attention elsewhere. His subsequent books include the collections History, Labour and Freedom (1988), and Self-Ownership, Freedom and Equality (1995) as well as his Gifford Lectures, If You’re An Egalitarian, How Come You’re So Rich? (2000) and most recently his major work Rescuing Justice and Equality (2008), which brings together many of his criticisms of John Rawls. A very short book, Why Not Socialism?, is in press.

Modestly Jerry has characterised himself as a reactive, rather than creative, philosopher, but this hides the originality and power both of his methods and of his contribution. As well as Marx he has defined his own position in response to the work of Robert Nozick, Ronald Dworkin, and Rawls. His style is often that of an expert demolition worker: finding what might look like a rather commonplace weakness, but pushing and pushing until the edifice collapses. Jerry had the skill to work out exactly where to locate his criticism, and how to develop it to greatest effect. At first sight the criticisms can look pedantic or fussy, but as the arguments develop something of great significance emerges. Jerry’s work simply draws people in. It is common to hear of philosophers staying up all night to try to formulate their objections to an argument of Jerry’s that they heard that day, and coming round to the view that there might be something in it after all. If the mark of success is to have PhD theses written on, or inspired by, your work, then Jerry is one of the most successful political philosophers of recent times.

Jerry will be remembered for his work, but just as much for his wit and support for other people. Even in prestigious public lectures he would burst into song, or imitate other philosophers. His valedictory lecture at Oxford in 2008 included a series of imitations or parodies of many well-known philosophers, and was said by members of the audience to be one of the funniest and most entertaining lectures they had witnessed.

Recently a conference at Oxford was held in his honour. Jerry remarked how odd it is that in this country the way we honour people is to attempt to rip their work to pieces. But he was extremely proud of his former students, how confident they had become, and how much they had become their own people. Jerry was extraordinarily generous with his time, and not only for his own students, and not only on his own topics. His native intelligence – honed by tutorials with Gilbert Ryle – enabled him to grapple with any topic put to him, and fifteen minutes with Jerry would leave anyone understanding both more and less about their own view or argument. All of those who met him, or read his work, will realise what a hole his unexpected death leaves. He gave so much, yet he still had so much more. Any attempt to express how much he will be missed by his family, friends, colleagues and even those who never met him, will seem trite or formulaic.