Predictably, politicians arrived on scene and with scant information called for further restrictions on aviation. Such calls have become commonplace after an aviation accident, but since they stem from incomplete, sometimes inaccurate information, the demands are often misguided.
Our elected officials are in a tough spot. As representatives of a public used to quick answers, politicians must rapidly demonstrate they are informed and engaged. They are expected to provide immediate response to assure public safety. To an extent, the smooth order of our society depends on such assurances from our elected leaders during a crisis.
The demands of the public—prodding politicians to move quickly, sometimes ahead of the facts—don’t synchronize with the methodical and comprehensive investigations the NTSB and FAA undertake to determine cause, and to provide recommendations that mitigate risks and recurrence of a similar accident. That demanding and painstaking work takes far longer than the public is willing to wait for reassurance.
Aviation accidents are typically dramatic events. They don’t occur very often as compared to automobile, boating, bicycling, or other transportation and recreation modes. They also rouse a suppressed skepticism many have of aviation and a fear of airplanes falling from the sky—even though, on average, fewer than two people a year on the ground are harmed from an aircraft accident. Compare that to some 5,000 pedestrians killed by automobiles each year.
Still, aviation accidents are juicy items for media outlets. They gain attention, which helps sell papers or gain viewership. The drama stimulates public curiosity, but quick news cycles run counter to deep and informed understanding of the accident and meaningful remediations. By the time the NTSB report is released, usually some 18 months after the accident, the public has long since accepted initial reactions and moved on, with an adjusted perception of aviation.
Meanwhile, aviation, and specifically general aviation, quietly continues advancing an impressive safety record. The 630,000 registered pilots in the United States produce some 25 million GA flight hours per year with less than one fatal accident per 100,000 hours. In 2008, the FAA set an ambitious 10-year goal of reducing fatal GA accidents by 10 percent over 10 years. Industry, associations, government, and individual pilots worked together and exceeded the goal.
The attitude among leaders in GA is that even one fatal accident is too many. Thus, after every NTSB investigation, we analyze the causes and factors that contributed to the accident in order to focus reforms in training, equipment, procedures, and culture. These analyses can be brutally candid. Such candor and transparency are part of why GA has been so successful in reducing the fatal accident rate by more than 50 percent since the mid-1990s.
Early reporting from the June 10 New York City crash alleges potentially troubling decisions on the part of the pilot, who was not certified to fly IFR. Pressed for time, after delaying for weather and reportedly making statements about only needing a few minutes to go a short distance, he departed in low, ragged ceilings with visibility just over a mile. Pressure to go, known as “get-there-itis,” is often present in fatal GA accidents. Flying in instrument meteorological conditions with only a VFR qualification is too often an ingredient in GA fatalities. The NTSB will eventually determine if these high-risk elements contributed to the New York City accident.
The June 10 crash became newsworthy in part because of its rarity. The hundreds of thousands of safe GA operations over New York City every year don’t make the news. The 34th Street heliport alone, where the mishap pilot departed, has an average of 50 operations a day.
Every aspect of that tragic flight will be analyzed to determine how to prevent similar accidents in the future. In the meantime, industry leaders must arm politicians and regulators with information that establishes context and helps them resist pressure for quick, placating remedies that may not meaningfully affect public safety—which could damage a $2 billion industry that’s a cherished part of our national identity.
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