Lieutenant Courageous

WHEN A SOVIET sailor jumped into the Mississippi River last October, a bizarre sequence of events followed. One mistake compounded another, until the United States completely bungled what could have been the successful defection of a dissatisfied Soviet citizen.

There is, however, one American hero in this disappointing saga.

And he was reprimanded for his behavior.

On October 24, 1985, Miroslaw Medved jumped into the Mississippi River from a Soviet freighter and swam frantically, seeking asylum. For screw up number one, enter the Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS). The INS, at its bureaucratic best, returned Medved, who was kicking and screaming, to his ship, clearly against his will.

But the story gets more interesting. A State Department official asked to interview Medved to see whether he wanted to return to the Soviet Union or remain in the United States. He took the potential defector to an American ship for questioning. Only the man the Soviets turned over was lighter and shorter than the original Medved. And this person couldn't speak Ukranian as fluently as the original.

Of course, this Medved loved the Soviet Union. Not only the Mississippi River was smelling fishy.

But rather than raising a stink, the State Department released "Medved" when he asked to return to the Soviet Union. This is where our hero, Lieutenant James Geltz of the U.S. Navy, comes in. Geltz took pictures of the second Medved, without permission, for what he later called "historical documentation purposes."

It was these pictures which aroused the Navy's ire. The Navy and the State Department had decided the case was closed. Then Lieutenant Geltz came forward. Although not conclusive, his pictures did raise questions. But instead of thanking him for his diligence, the navy angrily ordered him to turn over his pictures; he refused, wanting assurances that they would not be destroyed. Geltz was subsequently arrested, reprimanded, and forced to resign from the Navy (without a pension).

ISN'T IT IRONIC that the one man who behaves scrupulously is the one punished by the military's not-so-benevolent bureaucracy? Were it not for Geltz, this whole affair would have been conveniently forgotten, and the State Department's possible negligence would have gone unnoticed.

When the system malfunctions, a thoughtful individual, Geltz shows, can put it back on the right track. And that's what's so threatening to the Navy: that an individual can make a more prudent decision than the entire chain of command and can prevent the military and State Department from getting away with whatever they choose.

The Navy believed that by firing Lieutenant Geltz, it would solve its problem, making an example of someone who thought for himself and challenged the wisdom of his superiors. There couldn't be a clearer case of the military taking its passion for order to Orwellian extremes. The Navy responded to Geltz's challenge by declaring that the government is always right. If it says that two plus two equals five, let Lieutenant Geltz's dismissal serve as an example to those who object.

By making a scapegoat out of Geltz, the military has revealed that it values obedience far more than justice. It will not shrink from sacrificing individuals on the altar of pedagogic expediency. Lieutenant Geltz's mistreatment underscores the need for close civilian scrutiny of the military and strengthens the argument against giving the Pentagon free reign.

Sixty senators have asked to have the Miroslaw Medved defection case reopened. While they're at it, why not reinstate Lieutenant Geltz. And give him a medal.