Many may die in the course of one’s lifetime, but few deaths like his, mark the passing of an era.
Today, as we stand shoulder to shoulder with those who seek to defend Ukraine in the face of the naked aggression on her border, we still find it hard to fill the deep cavity that Roman’s passing left behind in our ranks.
The daily reports of losses in the war serve to remind at least some of us how much his contribution to Ukraine’s welfare really meant.
That contribution was aptly described in the Edward Lucas obituary published in the Economist in 2010. ((http://www.edwardlucas.com/2010/02/11/europe-view-…)
However, I thought that a more personal reflection on Roman’s life, and the values that he fought for back then, might help strengthen our resolve today to meet the upcoming challenges on the eastern front in the months ahead.
I first heard about Kupchinsky in the summer of 1967. I was hitchhiking through New York en route to Miami and called Michael Savchak, Roman’s brother and someone I had befriended up in Canada previously, to ask him if I could stay at his house while passing through. It was there that I met Roman’s mother for the first time and where I slept in Roman’s bed while he was serving in the U.S. Army in Vietnam. I did not know then that later Roman would become one of my closest friends.
Roman’s mother was very curious about me. She asked pointed questions about why I was hitchhiking by myself from Canada down to Florida and who were my parents. Being cautious about revealing too much about my youthful indiscretion, I tried to deflect her questions. But she was not one easily discouraged and soon she discovered that she knew who my mother was and all there was to know about me and my family, since, like her, my mother had fled Ukraine as a refugee at the end of World War II. Not long afterwards her kitchen was full of ladies who knew my mother and were asking me about our life since my mother left Lviv in western Ukraine on one of the last trains headed westward fleeing from the invading Red Army. I in turn learned about what a decent, intelligent and cultured lady Roman’s mother really was. I realized then, even at my tender age of 18, that this was a woman of great character and good will. I would later see these same qualities inherited from her by her son Roman.
It seems odd to me now that the more distant I grew from Roman’s brother Michael, the closer I grew to Roman. It was odd because unlike his brother, Roman was five years older than me. What was more, unlike me, Roman was born overseas in Vienna and I perceived a great divide between foreign born and North American born Ukrainians. The foreign born tended to exhibit an immigrant mentality that was not really present in Roman’s case. He seemed to be more American than the others, even if he was not born on U.S. soil.
I met Roman in person for the first time when U.S. and Canadian committees dedicated to the defense of Ukrainian political prisoners met jointly in Toronto in the late 1960s.
Later, we met again in New York and I had a chance to tell him about my earlier visit to his home while he was overseas fighting for America.
It was then that our first bonds of friendship were formed. Like Roman I also was taken by Ivan Dziuba’s book Internationalism or Russification, which I sensed was significant but could not completely follow. I later learned from Zenia Franko, a Ukrainian dissident and granddaughter of Ivan Franko, that Dziuba wrote the book with the help of dissidents in Ukraine who scoured Marxist-Leninist texts in search of any and all quotes that could be collected into a socialist manuscript supporting the right of Ukraine to its own independence. Like Roman I was also impressed by Vycheslav Chornovil’s book The Chornovil’s Papers and the earlier book Ferment in Ukraine. Our respective committees in support of Soviet Ukrainian political prisoners undertook to broadly circulate books like these in the diaspora.
There were tensions between Canadian and American committees. Canadian defense committees focused only on defending Soviet Ukrainian dissidents.
The most prominent one was the Committee for the Defense of Valentyn Moroz, of which I was a member.
Kupchinsky’s committee became known as the Committee for the Defense of Soviet Political Prisoners, not isolated to only supporting Ukrainians but working also to defend Russian, Jewish and other dissidents.
While I worked primarily within the Canadian confines, unlike some other members of my committee, I was not hostile to supporting non-Ukrainian dissidents. This is something Roman noted and later became a reason why I was recruited into his American committee once I moved down to New York.
I moved from Toronto to New York in the summer of 1975 at the behest of the World Congress of Free Ukrainians that hired me to set up their U.N. Human Rights Bureau. As a journalist and a lawyer I was tapped to join the U.N. Correspondents Association where I could attend news conferences and write about international issues and at the same time seek U.N. accreditation for the WCFU as an NGO. By then Kupchinsky had been working for Prolog for a number of years.
Later published memoirs of people who worked at Prolog confirmed that the U.S.government funded the organization to support Ukraine and Ukrainian dissidents in the Soviet Union. I suspected as much back when I first met Roman, but never really confronted him on the American connection directly. For his part, he never denied or hid this affiliation from me. In fact at least on one occasion he asked me to help him deal with it in the context of his relationship to the Ukrainian community about which I will share more shortly.
It was Roman who helped me set up the WCFU Human Rights Bureau in New York near the U.N. coming down to check out the facility I chose as well helping me find staff to man it. While the cautionary thought that through Roman the American government might have an in on my work crossed my mind, not once at this time or at any other time that I worked with him, did I ever doubt his fidelity to the Ukrainian cause or think that he would ever betray me or the cause to an outside interest. He was first and foremost always completely devoted to the best interests of the Ukrainian cause and community. This is why later I would find it so strange that he would want to be buried at Arlington cemetery, although I did not begrudge him that desire.
Probably the fondest memory I have of Roman and his mother was an event that took place in December 1975. My mother had come to visit me from Canada. It was Christmas time. Surprisingly, I got a call from Roman, who insisted that my mother and I come to his mother’s house for Christmas dinner. We really did not want to impose but he insisted. He went out of his way to pick us up and drive us over to their place.
I remember the evening as a solemn occasion but one that was also warm and tender with emotion. The two mothers had only to look into each other’s eyes to share their unspoken memories of their suffering and hardships of the war, their flight from the oncoming Red Army, the uncertainty and insecurity of refugee camps and their fateful migration to North America.
There was just so much shared in one unbroken look into each other’s eyes. What a poignant moment it was to be sitting at that table – two sons raised by their respective loving mothers who did everything they could for their children. I was struck by the pure nobility of the evening – the sheer good will Roman and his mother extended to us with that dinner and their kindness of not letting us mark Christmas alone.
One day Roman called and asked me to go to South Bound Brook, New Jersey, with him where he was scheduled to meet Archbishop Mstyslav Skrypnyk,head of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church in the United States at that time. The purpose of the meeting was to plan out a strategy for how the Ukrainian community in America could best greet the arrival of Leonid Plyushch, the first Soviet Ukrainian dissident to be released to the West by the Soviet Union. It was not a pleasant visit.
The Archbishop greeted Roman with derision and scorn and flat-out refused to work with Roman. Roman took the blows to his dignity and credibility with grace and refused to return the punches. As it turned out later, the Archbishop ended up working closely with Roman and his defense committee since there was no real alternative and Plyushch naturally sensed a stronger bond to Roman than to the Archbishop. Even in face of open hostility, Roman exhibited his signature human quality – his conciliatory approach in all situations.
In two words his “conciliatory approach” to all things sums up his life as far as I am concerned.
Plyushch’s arrival came and went. While I was the one who greeted him in the name of the World Ukrainian community at the New York airport on his arrival, Plyushch was buffeted from me and others who sought access to him from the Ukrainian community and who had campaigned for his release by those who seemed to take over his scheduling and evidently were more trusted by him. Roman was in the circle of those people.
It was a source of dismay for me that I never had the chance to really speak to Plyushch, who passed away recently, even though I traveled to several places where he appeared as a spokesperson for human rights in Ukraine, such as, for example, the Vancouver Habitat – International Conference on Human Settlements. I do not blame Roman for this – in hindsight I realize that it was natural for Plyushch to seek to limit who would gain access to him to those he perceived to be of value. Still I envied Roman’s capacity to make his way into the inner circle on occasions like these, even if he well deserved to be there.
In the months that followed members of the Committee for the Defense of Soviet Political Prisoners often met at the Orchideja bar on Second Avenue in Manhattan on Friday nights. I was one of them and more often than not Roman wasthere.
Others included Adrian Karatnytsky, Myroslaw Smorodsky, Victor Rud, Alex Motyl, Stefan Welhasch, Marusia Proskurenko, Lyalya Demchyshyn, Mylasia Chajkivska, Ludmyla Thorn, and many others. These were momentous times when Soviet dissidents were making great inroads in loosening up the grip the U.S.S.R. had on them heretofore.
The views of Alexander Solzhenitsyn and Andrei Sakharov were published and we greeted them with great enthusiasm. A steady stream of released Soviet dissidents came flowing through New York – Pavel Litvinov, Valery Chalidze and others.
Prominent Americans like former Kennedy Attorney General Ramsey Clark and Attorney Melvin Wolfe joined in our efforts to help others behind the Iron Curtain. The Jewish and Ukrainian communities actually began working together on human rights issues.
By 1978 my work at the U.N. as a journalist and WCFU representative was coming to an end. I decided to return to Toronto and as a result my ties to Roman grew weaker. It was natural that when I then moved to Edmonton in 1979, we hardly ever spoke to each other. However, we both continued our work on Ukrainian matters.
I am certain that, like me, Roman was also disappointed with the conduct of Valentyn Moroz, a Ukrainian historian whose staunch support for Ukraine while in Soviet jails had earlier won our admiration.
Following his arrival in the West, Moroz turned out to be a pompous boor who, because of his bad attitude and refusal to work with us, missed a great opportunity to help other dissidents still in the Soviet Union.
Again I found myself buffeted away from meeting him but this time by the more traditional Ukrainian community leadership. I don’t know to what extent Roman had a chance to deal with Moroz but I have no doubt it led to his disenchantment as well.
Later releases of Ukrainian dissidents, such as Nadia Svitlychna and Danylo Shumuk for example, led to greater successes. I know Roman was in the midst of all the action surrounding the release of such Soviet Ukrainian dissidents back then.
In the early 1980s our paths crossed again.
I remember sharing an evening dinner with Roman, his wife Oksana and my wife Hanya in New York while we were visiting.
As President of Prolog, Roman had a lot on the go. Shortly thereafter a new interest drew us together again. While working as a lawyer in Edmonton I met Wladimir Talanczuk, a Ukrainian immigrant who was active in the ultralight airplane community. Talanczuk was a former Polish MIG jet pilot and a notedairplane designer with several designs included in Jane’ syearly reference book of airplane designs.
Talanczuk talked me into forming a company to build his airplanes. He designed the WT 12, an advanced form of ultralight aircraft. We spoke about where we could find interest for it and I suggested we could contact China using Roman’s contacts and working with his colleague Myroslaw Smorodsky.
This led to a New York meeting with some Chinese officials and latersome high level trips to China where we were able to reach a deal tobuild the WT12 for sale in the world marketplace. All this was facilitated through Roman’s high level diplomatic contacts in New York. Roman and Myroslaw even traveled to Edmonton to meet Talanczuk and check out the aircraft and to China to facilitate the transaction.
When we started this process I turned to Talanczuk and asked him if he was ready to move to China to lead this effort if we were successful. He unconditionally answered yes. That was the premise on which all our efforts were based. But as we reached agreement on a joint venture, fears and doubts started tormenting Talanczuk who, after all, had escaped a communist Poland to come to Canada and was familiar with communist production practices. He started bucking the assignment and then simply declared he would not go. He would not budge despite my repeated appeals to relent.
We were doomed.
This put tremendous pressure on Roman and Myroslaw as well as myself who now needed to find a way out of an awful diplomatic and PR mess. We spent weeks softening the blow with the Chinese forewarning them of growing difficulties before leveling the boom. In the end the stress was so great that Talanczuk died of a heart attack and that, if not his refusal to go, pretty much brought the project to a conclusion.
Despite the disappointment, neither Roman nor Myroslaw allowed the fiasco to impede our friendship. We continued working for the good of the Ukrainian cause and whenever our paths crossed we always greeted eachother warmly and sincerely.
Shortly before his death I had a few exchanges with Roman in successful business matters and in community affairs. In one telephone exchange Roman shared a memorable story about his earlier life in Kyiv as Director of Radio Free Europe and taking his son Marko to McDonald’s for a “Beeh Mak” that the boy just loved. In another telephone conversation I warned Roman of the danger that his articles on graft and corruption in Ukraine could provoke. He knew he was taking a risk but felt compelled to reveal what was going on. In my last telephone conversation with him he shared the fact he was ill with cancer and acknowledged that death was likely. I shared a draft of a family memoir I was writing with him in which I related some of the stories included here.
Stefan Welhasch informed me of Roman’s death, advising me that the funeral would take place at Arlington Cemetery.
When he told me that I was reminded of a conversation I had with Roman many years earlier when I related how I slept in his bed while he was in Vietnam. I asked him then if he had ever killed any enemy soldiers. He answered that he remembered at least one occasion when he had, and maybe two or three others. It was an intimate revelation for him and a disturbing memory. I suppose fighting in a war is one of life’s most trying experiences and it draws you to the others who were there sharing it with you. Roman was a decorated Vietnam war veteran. He had served two tours with the 1st Cavalry Air Mobile, winning the BronzeStar Medal with Valor Device and Oak Leaf Cluster, Purple Heart, and Airman’s Medal. He was also a graduate of the US Army Special Forces School. He deserved to be buried at Arlington.
His headstone at Arlington National Cemetery is an eternal reminder of the sacrifices that Ukrainians have made for America and for freedom everywhere. His funeral procession was quite an event.
As an only bugler played out taps for him, five soldiers shot out a three-volley salute of gunfire from their rifles into the crisp cold winter air. We huddled around the casket, maybe 50 of us, while a Ukrainian priest led us in prayer. Then a soldier folded the Stars and Stripes taken from his coffin, handing the wrapped flag to his now orphaned son Marko. Some of us began to sob gently to ourselves as we observed this moment and reflected on Roman’s life. We then slowly dispersed making our way to a memorial dinner in Roman’s honor where shared memories like the ones in this article before leaving for home.
Kupchinsky’s work on this earth is now done. But the values he stood for and the ideals he fought for remain. Today, like never before, those values and ideals, such as a better and more humane America and a freer and more democratic Ukraine, are under attack. While he can no longer come to their defense, we can. In my case, I proudly rededicate myself to those same values and ideals – picking up the torch where he left it.
Вічнайому память.
Andriy J. Semotiuk is a U.S. and Canadian immigration lawyer with offices in Toronto and New York. He is a published author and a former United Nations correspondent. Learn more at My Work Visa.
