Many rules in the federal aviation regulations make pilots scratch their heads, but which FAR is the worst? In this month’s “Dogfight,” AOPA Pilot Editor Ian J. Twombly and contributor Chip Wright debate the good, the bad, and the ugly.
An immoral regulation
‘Good moral character’
By Ian J. Twombly
Let’s begin with one ground rule. Esoteric or non-general-aviation regulations are out of the discussion. I’m focusing here mainly on parts 61 and 91. With that in mind, FAR 61.153(2)(c) is the most useless FAR. It says simply that to be eligible for an ATP certificate, the applicant must “be of good moral character.”
There are myriad problems with this rule, starting with the certificate to which it applies. Any certificated pilot is allowed to carry passengers, so one could argue that we should all be of good moral character. With the ability to charge for their services, commercial pilots absolutely should be held to that standard.
It also comes across as vaguely biblical (eleventh commandment, anyone?), and it is terribly worded. What is a good moral character? Does that mean someone who’s never been convicted of a crime? Never had a traffic ticket? Says his prayers and calls his mom every week? It’s ambiguous, which is no doubt exactly how the FAA likes it. It’s not unlike my runner-up choice of “careless or reckless.”
Then there’s the issue of applying the nonexistent standard. There’s no mention of the rule in the examiner’s handbook, nor in the practical test standards. I suppose some of the medical application questions could speak to it, but that isn’t the same as a prerequisite for the pilot certificate.
This could mean only one thing: The FAA uses the regulation post-incident. It’s entirely punitive. Unlike regulations that exist to keep us safe, keep our airplanes in a reasonable condition, or protect the public, this regulation seems to exist only to punish the pilot after he or she screws up something unrelated.
Indeed, the case law—which is rife with juicy gossip—bears that out. There are a handful of pilots out there who falsify documents (who knew?), and even one who tried to extort money as a result. Then there are two cases that almost made me press Delete on this entire argument: An ATP lost his certificate after he was caught trying to solicit a 14-year-old girl in the world’s oldest profession, and another filmed a woman in a bathroom. Let’s hope losing their ATP certificates wasn’t the worst that happened to those unsavory pilots. And both are arguments for the moral character regulation.
Yet even in one of those cases, the FAA found it based on the falsification of a medical certificate question—a violation in its own right. Which raises the question: Don’t most regulations hold us to a type of moral standard?
Email [email protected]
Measuring magic
VFR cloud clearances
By Chip Wright
We learn a lot of rules in aviation. Many are good, such as the requirement that a student pilot be able to navigate from A to B. Many are borne of good intentions, such as the requirement that we perform three landings every 90 days. And many—too many—are written in blood.
But a few FARs are just bad. The worst one, for my money, fits the good intention category but is clearly a reach in application: FAR 91.155, which discusses the VFR cloud clearance requirements. The intent is to keep VFR aircraft far enough from the clouds that an airplane operating IFR coming out of said clouds doesn’t collide with a VFR aircraft. The problem is this: The FAR requires that the pilot determine if the cloud is 1,000 feet/500 feet/2,000 feet away. This rule was probably promoted by Cessna as another marketing gimmick for the 152.
Last I looked, clouds don’t often have very defined edges. If they do, you probably want to be either on the ground or much farther from them than the distances listed in the FAR. Furthermore, clouds almost never stay still. They break apart and re-form. No pilot is good enough to look at a cloud and determine his or her distance from it. If we were to put this to the test (with a grant of immunity for the violations certain to occur), I’d be willing to bet that no pilot would even come close.
The numbers also make no sense. You can be within 500 feet of the cloud on the bottom side of it. Have you seen how fast a jet or a turboprop can descend? Even at 3,000 fpm, 500 feet will be covered in 10 seconds. Chances are that if an airplane comes out of a cloud and sees a VFR target in the way, the options will be limited. The rate of descent probably can’t be increased or decreased fast enough, which leaves a left or right turn with little time to think.
A golfer can buy a tool that accurately measures the distance to the flag. We don’t have such a gizmo readily available in aviation. We’re left with the eyeball test, one bound to fail because of speed, limits of depth perception, and a need to spend time actually navigating. In Class B airspace, the requirement is to remain clear of clouds. Hopefully, as Automatic Dependent Surveillance-Broadcast comes into play, consideration will be given to changing this rule to clear of clouds in all airspace above Class G. It would be much more logical, easier to understand, and more practical.
Chip Wright is an airline pilot and frequent contributor to AOPA publications.
