Czech Cardinal Dominik Duka, a towering figure in the country’s religious and political life for decades, died in the early hours of November 4, 2025, at the age of 82, according to the Prague Archbishopric. His passing marks the end of an era for the Czech Catholic Church, which now finds itself without a cardinal—a situation that has occurred several times since the foundation of Czechoslovakia.
Duka’s death was announced on Facebook by the archbishopric, following a tumultuous final month of health struggles. He underwent acute surgery at the Prague Military Hospital on October 6 and, after a brief discharge, was readmitted on Saturday, November 2. In his final days, Duka confided that he had come “close to death at several points,” a sentiment that underscored the gravity of his condition, as reported by the Prague Archbishopric.
Plans for Duka’s farewell are set with meticulous care, befitting his stature. A requiem mass will be held on November 15 at St. Vitus Cathedral at Prague Castle—the historic heart of Czech Catholicism—where he will be laid to rest in the archbishops’ tomb. Members of the public are invited to pay their respects at All Saints Church at Prague Castle on November 13 and 14. For those wishing to express their condolences, a book is available at the Archbishop’s Palace from November 5.
The death of Cardinal Duka leaves the Czech Catholic Church without a cardinal, a gap not unfamiliar in the nation’s history. After the death of Karel Kaspar in 1941, his successor Josef Beran did not become a cardinal until 1965, and after Cardinal František Tomášek’s death in 1992, Miloslav Vlk was not named cardinal until two years later. These intervals often mirrored the church’s marginalized status during periods of communist rule and the country’s ongoing secularization.
Duka’s journey began as Jaroslav Duka, born on April 26, 1943. He adopted the name Dominik upon entering the Dominican Order in 1968. Ordained as a priest in 1970, Duka’s ministry soon collided with the realities of communist Czechoslovakia. After only five years, he lost the state’s approval to serve as a priest—a fate that forced him into the industrial workforce at Škoda Plzeň for the next 15 years. Yet, he continued his religious ministry in secret, risking arrest and persecution.
That risk became reality in 1981, when Duka was imprisoned in Plzeň-Bory prison. It was there that he met fellow dissident Václav Havel, who would later become president and award Duka a medal of merit in 2001. Despite the hardships, Duka’s dedication remained unshaken. He rose to head the Dominican Order in 1986 and, after communism’s collapse, became bishop of Hradec Králové in 1998. His ascent continued: in April 2010, he was appointed Archbishop of Prague, and in 2012, Pope Benedict XVI elevated him to cardinal.
As archbishop, Duka led the Catholic Church in one of Europe’s most secular countries. According to the 2021 census, just 9.3 percent of Czechs identified as Catholic, while nearly half (47.8 percent) declared no religious belief. This stands in stark contrast to neighboring Poland, where 71 percent identified as Catholic in the same census. Navigating this landscape, Duka faced the challenge of guiding a minority faith in a largely non-religious nation.
One of Duka’s most consequential roles came after the fall of communism, when he negotiated the restitution of church property seized by the former regime. Under the 2012 settlement law, the Roman Catholic Church received real estate worth billions of crowns, as well as a gradual payment of CZK 47.2 billion (about EUR 2.2 billion) to compensate for property that could not be returned. According to Czech media, this settlement was controversial in a country where the church’s influence is often viewed with skepticism. Critics questioned whether such significant compensation was warranted, while supporters saw it as long-overdue justice for decades of persecution.
Duka’s legacy is complicated. While he is celebrated by many for his anti-communist resistance and his role in restoring the church’s position after 1989, he became an increasingly polarizing figure in later years. In 2019, he faced a criminal investigation after being accused of covering up sexual abuse within the Dominican Order during the 1990s. A victim alleged that Duka failed to act when the abuse was reported to him. Duka also drew criticism from abuse survivors for stating that “only 10 percent of abuse accusations against priests are proven to be true.”
Prominent Czech Catholic theologian Tomáš Halík publicly criticized Duka, particularly for his close ties to controversial politicians, including President Miloš Zeman. In 2018, a group of Czech Catholic laymen wrote to Pope Francis, expressing concerns about Duka’s political relationships. Duka’s statements about Muslim immigration also sparked controversy. He argued that Muslims could only be considered a “safe presence” if they made up less than five percent of the population and asserted that the pope could not fully grasp the refugee crisis because “he is not from Europe.”
Despite the controversies, Duka was recognized for his service and courage. He received the Order of the White Lion, the Czech Republic’s highest state honor, from President Zeman in 2016. The medal of merit awarded by President Havel in 2001 added to his collection of accolades. Through these honors, the state acknowledged both his resistance to communist oppression and his contributions to the church and society.
Duka’s life story is inseparable from the turbulent history of the Czech Republic itself. From clandestine ministry under communism to the highest echelons of the Catholic hierarchy, his journey reflected the struggles and hopes of a nation wrestling with faith, freedom, and identity. His death, announced quietly on social media, closes a chapter that spanned from the iron grip of totalitarianism to the complexities of modern democracy.
As Czechs prepare to say their final goodbyes at Prague Castle, the questions Duka grappled with—about faith, justice, and the church’s place in society—remain as relevant as ever. His legacy, marked by both courage and controversy, will continue to shape the conversation for years to come.
