“Artur Deska: A Missionary Whose Calling Was to Serve People” — under this title, memorial book about Artur Deska (1964–2024) was published by the Drohobych-based Koło publishing house. The book commemorates a remarkable Pole who left a lasting and profound mark on the consciousness of many. An intellectual with a generous and noble heart, a fighter for goodness and justice, and a role model both for Poles and Ukrainians. He was also one of the contributors to Kurier Galicyjski.
On 18 October, the book was presented at the Crimean Tatar Cultural Centre in Drohobych, bringing together Poles, Ukrainians, Crimean Tatars, and Jews.
Who was this man? Where did he come from, and how did he come to be in Drohobych?
“Artur was born on 17 October 1960 in Kutno and was my elder brother,” wrote Anna Jarocka. “Our parents were idealists, committed to the development of Poland in the 1960s. Our mother was a philologist and our father a chemist. From childhood, my brother was considered an extraordinary child, thanks to his ingenuity, immense sense of humour, temperament, ability to connect facts, and his ease in forming relationships.”
As a teenager, Artur was active in the scouting movement. He initially planned to become a doctor, but he abandoned medicine and began studying philosophy, which he also eventually left. He was trying to find his place in the rapidly changing reality of Poland at the time. Artur established a company engaged in coal distribution and sales, becoming a businessman.
“The economic ups and downs of the early 1990s were very much his experience,” recalls Anna Jarocka. “He grew wealthy, and then quickly lost it all. Still searching for his path, Artur moved to Ukraine. He arrived as a businessman, but ultimately became both an entrepreneur and a social activist. As he later recounted, he found his purpose in life. He realised that helping people in difficult situations was both his calling and his joy.”
In Drohobych, Artur Deska found a kindred spirit in Hose Turczyk, a former professional footballer and social activist, who came from a family of post-war Ukrainian repatriates from Argentina.
“We became close friends, and for all twenty years we walked side by side,” Hose said. “Our first conversations revolved around Artur’s views on social and political developments in Ukraine. At first, he tried to apply the Polish path of development to the Ukrainian context. I remember his exclamations: ‘How is this possible? They wear embroidered shirts yet behave so disgracefully!’ Eventually, he understood that Ukraine, with all its challenges, was not Poland and required the nurturing of a new generation. From the very beginning, Artur decided to establish an institution dedicated to volunteerism. Incidentally, he was the one who popularised the word ‘volunteer’ in Ukraine back in 2003. It was an enormous effort: summer camps in Ukraine — hundreds of children travelling to the best recreation centres in Poland. Artur personally sought support from the Polish Consulate General in Lviv.”
The book of memories about Artur Deska was compiled by Hose Turczyk and Olga Pavlovska, president of the St. Anthony Foundation in Drohobych.
“Among other things, it was Artur Deska who showed me how crucial it is to care for young people seeking role models,” recalls Olga Pavlovska. “That is why, after finishing my work at the Red Cross, I established a community centre for children at the St. Anthony Foundation, which over time developed into a Polish language school. I think I am just one of many people inspired by Artur through his life: his charisma, his simplicity, and his worldview. The doors of his home were always open, no matter who you were — young or old, rich or poor, someone important or a simple person, Pole, Ukrainian, Tatar, or Jew. He was there for everyone, and everyone knew it. He listened with care, and he spoke from the heart. Even though he himself was unwell and lived in very modest conditions, he tried to help anyone in need. He would give of himself, or ask for help for someone else. He attracted and gathered around him people of value. He connected those in need with those willing to help. He built bridges and sought what united people rather than divided them. He was an intellectual in search of truth. Back then, it seemed to me that only Poles living abroad understood how important it is not to be afraid and to demonstrate through their own lives who they are and what they stand for in difficult times — poverty, systemic change, unemployment — in order to fulfil their calling here. He was deeply interested in history and knew it well. He was not afraid of difficult, often painful answers, for both Ukrainians and Poles. He believed that we must know history well, understand it, and be able to apologise to each other in order to live together and create a new history founded on dialogue, understanding, and mutual respect. He believed that each of us, in every place, is first and foremost simply Human. I was deeply impressed by his approach.”
Mirosław Lech, parish priest of St. Bartholomew’s Church in Drohobych, also shared his thoughts.
“Whenever I visited Artur, our conversations usually revolved around history,” said the priest. “Sometimes I would ask him emotional questions about events between Poles and Ukrainians, and he would always remain neutral — neither on one side nor the other. Once he called me and said, ‘Mirek, come to me, I’ll give you a book. Read it, and then we’ll talk.’ It was Professor Bohdan Hud’s book, Ukrainians and Poles in the Dnieper, Volhynia, and Eastern Galicia in the 19th and early 20th centuries. It was Artur who opened up to me all aspects of Ukrainian and Polish life — religious, political, economic, and national. And he would say: ‘History must teach us something. You are a priest, and your duty is to teach people that history should teach something good, not something bad.’”
Professor Bohdan Hud’ himself attended the book presentation from Lviv. He spoke of his fruitful collaboration with Artur Deska in popularising scholarly work. The historian emphasised that Artur had been indispensable in editing and translating numerous “Polish” texts of the Ukrainian historian.
“He often intervened quite candidly, surprisingly being more critical than I was regarding Polish-Ukrainian relations, usually siding with the wronged, that is, the Ukrainians,” Bohdan Hud’ recalled. “Yet Artur remained exceptionally fair when it came to injustices suffered by the Polish nation. That is why my books — “Ukrainians and Poles in the Dnieper, Volhynia, and Eastern Galicia…”, “From the Union of Lublin to the Volhynian Massacres”, and especially the bilingual Ukrainian-Polish edition of Ivan Franko’s article ‘On Our — Not Their Land’ — bear the mark of Artur’s extraordinary intellect. At the same time, he forbade me from speaking about his influence on my work, insisting that he was merely refining it.”
The presentation was also attended by Taras Kuchma, mayor of Drohobych.
“I also visited him as a doctor, to offer some help or advice, and I could not comprehend, knowing all his ailments, just how strong he was,” recalled Taras Kuczma. “I never understood where Artur found the strength to travel, to sit somewhere, to stand somewhere, when his physical condition would not allow it. He was a man of spirit, sustained by his spirit, doing everything to support others. I remember one detail when he spoke about Polish-Ukrainian relations: ‘There are black ants and red ants. Conduct an experiment: put them in the same jar. You’ll see that they live peacefully, moving, eating. But then shake the jar for a few seconds, and you’ll see them start biting each other. It’s the same with our nations. In this mutual biting, we never notice who shakes the jar and who wants the two closest nations to fight each other.’”
“I told him about the tragedy of my family, and he told me about other tragedies. His heart, his philosophy, his intellect, allowed me to understand that among simple, good, God-fearing people, there should be no disputes. There is always a third force, sowing hatred and lack of love through that shaking. And he lived precisely to teach us to love one another.”
Speaking on behalf of the Crimean Tatars was Jamal Jamkhirov.
“Artur was like a brother to me,” he emphasised. “He was a man of great spiritual strength and patience. We would often sit together, talk, argue, and joke. He would serve me the most delicious pasta, which he prepared with joy. I will always be grateful to the Almighty for sending someone like him into my life — someone who supported my family while I was at the front. He helped the front line and everyone in need until his last breath.”
The Consulate General of the Republic of Poland in Lviv was represented by Consul Sebastian Delura.
Joining online from Amsterdam was Cees van der Rhee, who, through Artur Deska, supported those in need in Ukraine — collecting and delivering vast amounts of humanitarian aid.
Volunteers and community activists from Poland, with whom Artur Deska had collaborated and forged friendships over the years, also came to honour his memory. Bartosz Kramek, who was present at the event, wrote about him:
“He kept an open house. Comforts didn’t matter to him, but I envied the historical library he had carefully built up over the years. A sharp critic — principled yet understanding. Together with his adopted brother Hose, they formed an inimitable, remarkable civic duo. A layman of the Church — and the Church should have the face of people like him. A modern Franciscan. A friend. He cared for everyone but himself…”
Priests of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church confirmed that Artur Deska had worked for the local branch of Caritas without receiving any remuneration.
“He regarded public affairs and politics as tools for building the common good,” recalled Witold Horowski. “In Polish-Ukrainian relations, it was obvious to him that the common good was not a utopia. From the vantage point of Drohobych, it was easier for him to separate what truly mattered from petty quarrels. His independence as a Pole gave him the right to voice uncompromising and often difficult opinions on Ukrainian politics — both national and local. Those interested can find them in his columns in Kurier Galicyjski, the largest Polish-language newspaper in contemporary Ukraine, founded by the late Mirosław Rowicki — a great friend of Artur’s.”
I first met Artur Deska shortly after his arrival in Drohobych. At that time, I was working with Vatican Radio and the Catholic Information Agency (KAI). I was somewhat surprised to discover that a Pole from Poland was working in the local Greek Catholic branch of Caritas, as relations between Catholics of the two rites in the Lviv region were not always free from tension.
He was a conscious Pole, yet someone who rose above national and religious divisions. Over the years, we shared similar — often identical — views on many real and pressing issues around us. I invited him to collaborate with Kurier Galicyjski. We were looking for interesting authors. I proposed his name to the late Mirosław Rowicki, the editor-in-chief at the time. “But I talk too much,” Artur noted with a smile. “Just write — we’ll take care of the rest in the newsroom,” I told him.
Artur Deska’s articles were always extensive, engaging, and timely. The editorial team had gained a true columnist in him. He was never afraid to address difficult and sensitive topics in Polish-Ukrainian relations — because he argued his views with clarity, reason, and depth.
Two years ago, in early September 2023, during the celebration of his twenty years of volunteer work in Drohobych, Artur Deska reflected:
“At first, still in Poland, I fell ill after many years in marketing. In hospital, I had time to think about what I wanted to do next. I looked back on my life and realised that what I truly wanted was to work for others — not for money. So I decided to go and do something good in Ukraine. Since I already had contacts with the Greek Catholic Caritas of the Sambir-Drohobych Diocese, I chose to work there. Firstly, because I wanted to do something good. Secondly, because I wanted to do something not connected with money. Thirdly, because I wanted to work in a Ukrainian environment. And fourthly, in a Greek Catholic environment — to show that, long before what we see today, cooperation between a Polish Roman Catholic and Ukrainian Greek Catholics was possible. And somehow, twenty years have passed.”
I asked Artur how many children his volunteer work had reached, and how it had changed their lives.
“More than five hundred,” he replied. “That’s the number of young people I’ve helped to grow and guide. Of course, some were closer, others more distant, but most have gone on to succeed. They’ve completed their studies, they work. They know languages, they have jobs across the world — in Europe, the United States, Canada, Poland, and Ukraine. Of course, there are a few difficult cases, but only a few. The vast majority are people worthy of respect. And I believe that is my greatest success.”
For twenty years, a Pole and Roman Catholic, Artur Deska, worked with the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Caritas.
“Did you manage, in some way, to help improve relations between Ukrainians and Poles?” I asked Artur.
“Certainly, to some extent, yes — but I’m no genius or luminary,” he said. “I often say I’m Artur — the ‘porridge-and-pants’ man: the one who takes care of the small stuff, yet somehow it changes how people see Poles and Poland. Take the children who worked with me, who came to the Caritas Volunteer Centre. They travelled to Poland, met Poles, and learned what goodness, truth, and friendship mean. And today, they are friends of Poland. Not the unthinking kind who believe everything Polish is perfect — no. But they hold no anger, hatred or resentment. They look at things logically, sensibly, through the lens of decency. I think I managed to change what I could.”
“But again,” he added, “I don’t want it to sound as if things were bad, and then Artur came along and everything became good. That’s not how it is. Many, many people have contributed to this — those who worked here, who helped. What could I do alone? Nothing. Without Caritas Polska, without the Caritas in Gdańsk, without friends from Warsaw, Poznań, Katowice, Wrocław, Muszyna — none of this would have happened. These are people guided by the idea of helping Ukraine, and of improving Polish–Ukrainian relations — not at the cost of flattery or falsehood. No. The point is to do it honestly, truthfully, and with a certain kindness, a certain goodwill. And the local people feel it. They value it.”
Artur Deska also helped internally displaced persons and Crimean Tatars, often in cooperation with the Brothers Hospitallers.
“I’m involved in that too,” he said. “Though in truth, it’s our friends — from Poland, Canada, the Netherlands — who are helping them. I’m just the postman, as I call myself. The go-between. The place where the cables that send energy and the cables that receive it come together. I’m the link between those who organise aid and those who receive it. It so happened that at the start of the war in Ukraine — in 2014, because this war has been going on for years now, though many forget that — a group of Crimean Tatars persecuted in Crimea, to avoid arrest or long imprisonment, came to Drohobych. And somehow, I managed to gather them around me, around Caritas, and to help them. There were about a hundred people at first, now a bit fewer. It comes in waves — some arrive, others leave, then more come again, and they all need care. Most are large families. Imagine arriving with four children and a single small suitcase. They need everything. But after a while, things change — because they have a precious quality: they don’t sit and wait for someone to give them something. They act. They work, find ways to earn a living. Many times, when we managed to organise some aid for Drohobych — and I count them as Drohobych residents too — and I wanted to give them something, they’d tell me: ‘Perhaps someone else needs it more?’ They conquered my heart. It’s something truly beautiful in our times.”
We often returned to memories of the Maidan.
“Did you sense then that such a terrible war was coming?” I asked.
“No,” Artur replied. “I never imagined I’d live to see a time when there would be war again. I thought war was history. I was naïve. Even during the Maidan. I desperately wanted the Maidan to win, for Ukraine to become a normal state, but I wasn’t a hundred per cent sure. I realised they might crush us. It was an interesting story, because I had taken part in the Orange Revolution earlier, which eventually brought President Yushchenko to power. And then, when he decided to hand the post of prime minister to Yanukovych, I was bitterly disappointed and said to myself: ‘Artur, you fool, you let yourself be deceived again.’ And I swore — never again politics. But when my foster children, whom I had raised in the spirit of patriotism, honesty, and truth, were beaten under the Independence Monument on the Maidan, I said to myself: ‘Well, great, you’re like a coach who throws the kids into the deep end while standing safely on the shore.’ That’s when I got involved.”
He could always have gone back to Poland.
“I’m staying here till the end,” he would say. “That’s my choice, my decision. This is my service. I serve here. I’m convinced this is where I’m meant to be, until the end. To do what I do. Even though I’m ill now, have trouble moving, walk with a cane — I still see that I’m needed. In different spheres, in different ways. I’m still needed. I have only one homeland. I always tell people that in a real man’s life there are two women he should love. The first is his mother — and for me, that mother is Poland. She gave birth to me, raised me, shaped me. The second is the one you choose — your wife. And my wife is Ukraine. That is the choice of my heart.”
He remained forever in Drohobych. We visited his grave at the old Polish cemetery on Truskavetska Street, where a monument was recently consecrated.
Source: kuriergalicyjski.com
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