Amid the collapse of the Soviet regime, NYU Shanghai law Professor Stephen Harder found himself in the middle of Poland’s privatization reform. “It was all gray. There was only one hotel you could stay in, no supermarkets, and very few restaurants.” The year was 1992. The Berlin Wall had collapsed three years before, tumbling with it the Soviet umbrella in Easter Europe. In Poland, an adventurous 35-year old American lawyer stood among a handful of foreigners invited to advise the new democratic government. Boston native Stephen Harder, represented the prestigious law firm White & Case while constructing the nation’s legal privatization regime. For many students at NYU Shanghai, Stephen Harder is known as one of the energetic law professors on campus. His depth of knowledge on constitutional and contract law evokes the image of a successful Wall Street lawyer, yet conceals his past. “He impresses me with the amount of inside knowledge and experience he has … but there’s definitely something mysterious about him,” commented BPE Junior Jacob Hamilton, a study abroad student from New York. Harder normally wears a dark-toned plaid shirt, light khaki pants, and a pair of thin metallic glasses. He has a simple sense of elegance, not overpowering, but instead timid within him—the difference between someone who wears elegance as a mask and someone who naturally evokes it. A proud graduate of both Columbia Law and Business School, Harder began his career at White & Case’s New York office as an associate. The position earned him a decent salary, but as he noted, the opportunity made him feel like “one in a million.” Instead of a paper pusher, the young daring lawyer saw himself more as an archeologist— a modern white-collared Indiana Jones with a thirst to discover the intricacies of the legal world through his own pair of glasses, rather than a computer monitor on the 42nd floor of the Rockefeller Center. In the early 1990’s, White & Case pivoted its European practice towards Eastern and Central Europe’s privatization reforms. With the fall of the Berlin Wall, these countries sought to replace their centralized production systems and government-controlled companies with a free-market structure. In the Czech Republic, Daniel Arbess, a 31-year old associate, landed a massive contract to privatize Skoda Auto, the Czech Republic’s largest automobile manufacturing. Within the next year, all the previously Communist countries would privatize their government-run enterprises, and Western law firms competed to advise the newly democratic governments. With his adventurous spirit, Harder dreamt of joining the historical movement, and pleaded with his superiors to be sent to Warsaw. Over the course of five years, Harder led a team of international lawyers, Polish university professors, and government officials to construct the legal process for Poland’s privatization. Once in Warsaw, most of the government officials and senior advisors were double his age and had twice his experience. Despite this difference, Harder finagled his way into the upper chambers of the Polish government. With no clear game plan, he bonded with the Polish elite over his appreciation and love of history, which he believes landed him the massive 400-State Owned Enterprise privatization contract. However, Harder reflects that age was not his main concern, but instead his lack of experience in privatization. “No one could say coming in that they had done six of these before, because no one had,” said Harder. “We went in with a completely blank slate.” At the time of privatization, Western scholars—of which Jeffrey Sachs is the most notable—argued that a democratic, free-market society would offer the best economic opportunities for transitioning countries. A free market could not function without a multi-party democracy, and economic efficiency would be difficult to achieve otherwise. Yet, the rocky transition on the ground reflected a different reality. The Polish government privatized its 400 companies, and distributed the stock to Polish citizens. With economic stagnation, many Polish citizens traded their stock for a fraction of their value—they did not understand the real value of the stock they owned. “There was some suffering, but they got through it quite quickly,” commented Harder. Moving to a transitioning economy in the 1990s would mean disconnecting from the West and its comforts. A handful of government officials and university professors spoke English, but other than that, buying a simple loaf of bread would prove to be a challenge in itself. At the local bakery soon after Harder arrived to Poland, the elderly woman across the counter looked firmly at Harder and stated “słucham.” Harder assumed she was greeting him and repeated the word to her. Perplexed by Harder’s response, the woman repeated the word once more, and Harder finally pointed at the loaf of bread. Upon telling the story to a coworker, Harder realized that “słucham” did not mean “hello,” but in fact meant “I am listening.” But for Harder, these moments of difficulty did not define his experience in Warsaw. In many ways, Harder felt like a pioneer. “You are doing many things for the first time, and then you see society change during the next five years,” explained Harder. From the first supermarkets appearing, to his wife establishing the first Montessori school in Poland, these changes occurred all around him. After five years in Poland, Harder eyed China as his next adventure. The economic boom and the promise to become the world’s largest consumer market pulled Harder towards Hong Kong. There, Harder served as a Partner for British international law firm Clifford Chance, where he later got promoted to Managing Partner of their Shanghai office. Seeing China’s gradual transition from socialism to a free market economy, Harder’s opinion of the Polish model changed in many ways. “The Chinese have proven that you can have a vast, sophisticated, and in many ways humane society in which you have substantial freedom of economic activity, without driving society into a multi-party democracy,” said Harder. Although his children now live in the United States, Harder maintains his life in Shanghai. “I want to be part of this very interesting time in China and potentially write about it,” said Harder when asked why he continues to live in Shanghai. In many ways, the dynamic environment of this city mimics his time in Warsaw. With new buildings springing up around Shanghai every month and the political and economic climate shifting quickly, Harder finds himself reflecting on Poland. “Slowly, the lights turned on. Slowly, you a see a neon sign here, and a disco open there,” said Harder. Yet the question of why he continues to live in Shanghai uncovers one of the themes that defines his purpose. His life follows the brink of history. From Poland to China, he has placed himself where history drills the present, and the present develops its own history. A profound reader and writer, Harder expresses his innate command over language. For him, W.H. Auden is not his favorite poet, but instead his “greatest intellectual friendship and affinity.” Harder does not read Auden, but rather converses with him, forming his “intellectual identity.” A delightful Saturday for him involves sitting in a café in the French Concession while reading. The sun rays bounce off his glasses as passersby stare at the mysterious American lawyer reading German literature in the old French Concession of Shanghai. This article was written by Andres Gomez-Perry. Please send an email to [email protected] to get in touch. Photo Credit: NYU Shanghai