NEWS AND VIEWS

Remembering a champion of freedom: educator and writer John Kolasky

by Andrij J. Semotiuk

If you had to single out one outstanding fact about the life of educator and writer John Kolasky, it would be that he had the courage to recognize the truth even when it contradicted his 30-year commitment to communism in North America.

The realization that he spent three decades defending a system that was destroying the land of his forefathers taxed Mr. Kolasky to the extreme. In fact, he fell physically ill, more than once, during the process of his awakening. Yet he endured, despite great hardship and even danger to himself. Ultimately he became a champion of freedom for Ukraine and oppressed people elsewhere.

Rarely do you meet someone who has a singular impact on the life of your community as well as on you personally. But such was the impact of Mr. Kolasky's life on the Ukrainian community in North America and on those who knew him (among them this writer). On October 20, 1997, the life of Mr. Kolasky, and his good work suddenly ended at the age of 82.

After contributing so much to the cause of a better Ukraine, and to the lives of those he touched, it seemed he passed on too quietly, almost unnoticed, like a blip on a radar screen that just disappears. Such a death was not in keeping with the giant legacy he left behind him. If today's Ukraine, like a newborn child, is growing stronger with every step; then in part, this is due to the tireless contributions of Mr. Kolasky in decades past. This legacy is worth at least a moment's reflection.

I remember first hearing about Mr. Kolasky in the late 1960s from my friend, Peter Smylski, who told me that Mr. Kolasky had been a member of the Communist Party of Canada for some 30 years until he was sent to Kyiv by his colleagues to attend the higher school of the Communist Party. Soon after his arrival Mr. Kolasky realized that Ukraine was being extensively Russified by Moscow and that Marxism and internationalism were nothing more than a camouflage for Russian imperialism in Ukraine and the other non-Russian republics of the USSR. Thus began the conversion of Mr. Kolasky from communism to democracy - and his efforts on behalf of a free Ukraine.

I distinctly recall my first meeting with Mr. Kolasky in Vancouver. Even back then he was a bald, frail, graying, modest man with bushy eyebrows and delicate, paper-thin skin. He had a pale complexion with steel blue eyes. Although gentle in physical appearance, Mr. Kolasky was a moral giant. In our first meeting on the campus of the University of British Columbia (UBC), Mr. Kolasky shared his extraordinary experiences with us. He was the kind of man who spoke in terms of ideals and with whom an idealist like me could develop a lifelong friendship despite our 30-year age difference. I sensed his commanding grasp of the political realities of those days and was very much attracted to his work. We agreed that his story needed to be shared with the widest possible circles.

Strangely, even though we became close friends, there were many important things about Mr. Kolasky that I did not know. For example, I did not know until his death that as a teenager he rode trains across Canada during the Great Depression in search of work. I did not know that it was the privations of the Depression that drove him to Marxism as a solution. I did not know that he was once a school teacher and that he had earned an M.A. from the University of Toronto. I did not know very much at all about his family life.

What Mr. Kolasky shared with me on that first meeting was the profound disenchantment he developed in Ukraine during his first visit there in 1963-1965.

He related how, at great personal risk, he began to collect everything he could about the Russification of education in Ukraine and to ship those materials in large trunks to Canada. Still unsuspected and trusted, his mail safely made its way to Canada. Meanwhile he continued to participate in the higher party school for two years as an insider.

His standing gave him a freedom of movement that foreigners otherwise could not enjoy. Using this freedom to his advantage, Mr. Kolasky met with the prominent dissidents of Ukraine in the 1960s and befriended them. In short, Mr. Kolasky transformed himself into a champion of Ukraine's centuries-old dream of independence and freedom.

After the KGB discovered what he'd done, Mr. Kolasky was arrested, interrogated and marshaled out of Ukraine. On his return to Canada he wrote his first book, "Education in Soviet Ukraine." Mr. Kolasky was looking for outlets to share his newfound insights into the political realities of Ukraine and to help those he befriended back there. I agreed to organize a meeting of the Ukrainian Students Club at UBC where he could speak.

On reflection, I have to admit that we faced a daunting task back then. Few people were politically aware enough to understand what Mr. Kolasky was talking about. To make a difference in the life of Soviet Ukraine, Mr. Kolasky had to raise the political consciousness of an entire generation of young people.

The Ukrainian club meeting went well. Soon Mr. Kolasky was visiting other communities in Canada and speaking at similar meetings.

In the meantime, we maintained our friendship and worked together to promote Ukraine's freedom. I attended law school, while Mr. Kolasky wrote other books in Vancouver. As time passed, each of us remained active in different aspects of Ukrainian affairs. But in the early 1970s came an event that drew us together again.

Soviet Premier Aleksei Kosygin was invited to visit Canada, and Vancouver was one of the cities he would visit. Mr. Kolasky and I were drawn into helping to organize a demonstration protesting Mr. Kosygin's visit. Part of our efforts included appearing on open-line radio shows to explain our opposition to Mr. Kosygin.

Not everyone shared our animosity to this man's iron rule of the Soviet Union. In particular, pro-Soviet Ukrainian Canadians and members of the Canadian Communist Party phoned into these radio programs to voice their contempt for our "fascist" and "backward" mentality. Mr. Kolasky was a master at rebuffing these critics. As if by instinct, Mr. Kolasky often identified the callers by name and tore their arguments to shreds.

I remember the evening that Mr. Kosygin was in Vancouver. He was lodged at the Hotel Vancouver, while we participated in huge demonstrations next door, in front of the old courthouse along with thousands of other Canadians of various ethnic origins. Mr. Kolasky was the featured speaker that night. Drawing on the image of a cowboy in a western movie on television, Mr. Kolasky described the Soviet interloper's visit as "Mr. Kosygin has come to town." The remark was very effective and summarized our feelings on that day.

Shortly after these events I moved to Toronto to become involved in SUSK, the Ukrainian Students Union of Canada. Mr. Kolasky also made his way out east since he was writing another book for Peter Martin, his publisher. Thus, in the early 1970s we met from time to time for dinner and discussed the current state of Ukrainian affairs and other matters.

Our paths crossed again at the Habitat Conference on Human Settlements in Vancouver in summer 1976. Again our efforts were directed at the Soviet Union and its failure to respect the rights of Ukraine and other East European nations.

Again we appeared on open-line radio shows. And once again Mr. Kolasky was masterful in rebuking Canadian pro-Soviet callers who challenged our criticisms of the USSR. In one instance a caller was commenting on how wonderful life was under Soviet rule. Mr. Kolasky blurted out "tell it to the Czechs," referring to the Prague spring and its aftermath, when Czech opposition to Soviet domination was crushed by Soviet tanks. With one comment Mr. Kolasky shot down the caller's argument in flames.

Later in the 1970s we again met in Vancouver to help Leonid Plyushch, the first Ukrainian dissident released to the West by Soviet authorities. Mr. Plyushch had come to Vancouver to attend an international meeting of psychiatrists where he wanted to raise the issue of Soviet abuse of psychiatry for political purposes. While Mr. Plyushch was in Vancouver the Ukrainian community held a banquet in his honor. It was there that Mr. Kolasky exhibited his talent for fund-raising and organization.

Mr. Kolasky gave a speech appealing to all those present to donate to a fund we were creating for Mr. Plyushch. Mr. Kolasky then had us fan out to each banquet table like ushers covering pews in a church. At each table we passed out lists on which each person was to write his or her name, address and the amount he or she was donating. Since we ensured that every person signed on the list we missed nobody. We collected over $5,000 that night from the 300 people who attended.

It was some time during this period that Mr. Kolasky once asked me whether I felt in any circumstances that the end could justify the means. Posing the problem in Ukrainian, he asked: "Chy mozhna zlom zrobyty dobro?" With a gleam in his eye, he then explained to me that the means you choose determine the end you achieve.

Obviously, Mr. Kolasky spoke Ukrainian. Yet it was not, strictly speaking, his native language since he was born and raised in Canada. Still, he exhibited an infectious love for the language - probably in part because people who spoke it in Ukraine were persecuted for doing so. He made it a point to speak to me in Ukrainian even though both of us were more fluent in English.

Mr. Kolasky was instrumental in virtually all activities the Ukrainian diaspora undertook regarding Ukraine. For example, he played a role in the publication of the book "Report from the Beria Reserve" by Valentyn Moroz. He shared our disappointment with Mr. Moroz following the Soviet political prisoner's release to the West. Frankly, like the rest of us, Mr. Kolasky hoped Mr. Moroz would play a more inspiring role in the campaign to gain the release of other Ukrainian dissidents still incarcerated in the Soviet Union.

Although I was not with Mr. Kolasky during the final stages of the demise of the USSR, I know how big an impact this had on his life. For him, as for all of us, the collapse of the Soviet Union and the establishment of a free Ukraine was a dream come true. While all of us projected that the Soviet Union would one day collapse, none of us - not even Mr. Kolasky - could predict exactly how it would occur. I remember many occasions when the passion of events or ideas was reflected in Mr. Kolasky's eyes and in his smile. But I doubt there was any event in Mr. Kolasky's lifetime that meant more to him than the declaration of the independence of Ukraine on August 24, 1991. For Mr. Kolasky, Ukraine's independence was a manifestation of a lifelong aspiration.

As fortunate as Mr. Kolasky and his generation of Ukrainians were to live to see their dream come true, it soon became evident that new challenges faced Ukraine as a nation in the international community. Mr. Kolasky rose to help Ukraine face these new challenges. He frequently traveled to Ukraine, despite his declining health. Indeed, I often wondered in those years how this gentle, elderly man with a delicate constitution could continue all his activities.

Mr. Kolasky made two important contributions to independent Ukraine's future. He initiated a scholarship fund to bring Ukrainian students to Canada to learn first-hand about democracy, freedom and free enterprise. He employed his considerable fund-raising skills, traveling across Canada to visit his friends and acquaintances to convince them with his powerful logic of the value of such a student fund. More than once I remember Mr. Kolasky asserting that what he needed most to help Ukraine was "dolary" - U.S. dollars (he pronounced it with a flat "a" not the "ya" sound).

Also significant was Mr. Kolasky's work in support of the Ukrainian Republican Party. Having carefully surveyed the political landscape in Ukraine, Mr. Kolasky became convinced that the best hope for the future of Ukraine rested in supporting the URP, which was made up of former Ukrainian dissidents, primarily members of the Ukrainian Helsinki Group. These individuals, like Levko Lukianenko, had helped Ukraine in its darkest hour and, therefore, could now be trusted to lead the struggle to free Ukraine from its colonial past.

Mr. Kolasky supported the Ukrainian Republican Party by raising money in North America to buy computers that were shipped to Ukraine and donated to the party. These computers were then strategically distributed throughout Ukraine to help the democratic press advance the cause of freedom. While transporting these computers into Ukraine, Mr. Kolasky traveled extensively throughout the country, speaking at a wide variety of gatherings as a Ukrainian Canadian looking at events from the outside. He would often employ the posture of speaking on behalf of Ukrainians in the West, wondering why events were unfolding in the way they were. Always tactful and diplomatic, he never hesitated to expose banalities whenever he encountered them during these tours.

* * *

I was surprised to learn that Mr. Kolasky was buried in the village of Khotiv, near Kyiv. After all, for Mr. Kolasky, Ukraine was his adopted homeland. Yet in view of his lifelong commitment to that country, perhaps I shouldn't have been taken aback. His burial there is a sympolic culmination of his life's dedication.

In the end, Ukraine's rich "chornozem" soil has become a suitable resting place for his weary bones. While Mr. Kolasky has now concluded his life, the work he started remains for us to complete. While Mr. Kolasky has fallen, the torch of freedom that he carried so faithfully for so long must now be picked up and carried forward. There is work to be done and a dream to be fulfilled.

Andrij J. Semotiuk is president of the Canada Ukraine Foundation and practices law with the law firm of Hansma and Associates in Edmonton. He is a former United Nations correspondent and Canadian Human Rights Commission tribunal panel member.

Copyright © The Ukrainian Weekly, August 23, 1998, No. 34, Vol. LXVI

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