By Dave Hirschman
Upholding standards requires meaningful penalties for transgressors—and the FAA’s temporary certificate actions for even the most egregious pilot violations is weak sauce.
When former Olympian Trevor Jacob parachuted out of a vintage Taylorcraft he was flying solo and crashed it for YouTube clicks, the FAA rightly revoked his private pilot certificate.
But while video game manufacturers and social media platforms issue lifetime “permabans” for violators of their community standards, FAA certificate revocations typically last just one year. After that, in Jacob’s case, he was free to retake the tests for a new FAA private pilot certificate—and he happily did just that.
I’m confident Jacob will never attempt another malicious stunt like his viral 2021 crash video, but the damage he caused from that one infamous event deserved a far stiffer FAA penalty.
Likewise, pilots who smuggle drugs, knowingly take part in human trafficking, or willfully endanger others demonstrate that they fundamentally lack the basic character and judgment that aviation demands from its community. Aviation is a complex, interdependent network that relies on the skill, cooperation, and truthfulness of people who do the right thing when no one is watching.
The federal Department of Trans-portation has shown it has an elephantine memory. In the 1990s, it effectively banned former airline CEO Frank Lorenzo from the industry for his track record of reckless cost cutting and shady deals that bankrupted formerly profitable carriers and voided longstanding contracts.
In the sports world, Major League Baseball took tough and lasting action against both Pete Rose and the 1919 Chicago White Sox by banning each from the Hall of Fame on separate suspected gambling violations. The sport’s steroid era added its own cast of miscreants. Whether you ultimately agree with MLB’s findings or not, the stiff sanctions are meant to preserve the “integrity of the game”—and integrity matters even more in flying. Lance Armstrong was banned for life from competitive cycling, and Tonya Harding received a similar penalty from ice skating.
Our aviation system has few backstops to guard against bad actors—and the price of failing to perform in the air is permanent. Penalties for pilots who knowingly forsake the trust placed in them should be similarly long-lasting.
By Ian Wilder
We all make mistakes. A slam-and-go here, a bad radio call there. It’s inevitable that some pilots will have significantly greater lapses in judgment and aeronautical decision making and draw FAA scrutiny. An even smaller number of those people will face just about every pilot’s worst nightmare: an emergency order of revocation.
YouTube stunts, flying under a bridge; you name it; people have done it. And if the FAA deems an infraction severe enough, a pilot will lose every certificate they’ve earned and, if they desire to fly again, they need to go back all the way to working on their private pilot knowledge test. To me, that’s punishment enough.
The FAA’s number one concern in terms of certification should be putting safe and qualified pilots in the sky. One major kerfuffle is certainly worthy of some action, but to say that pilot can never fly again doesn’t track. They’re still the same pilot they were before they made that fateful decision, and so the question becomes how to retrain that pilot to keep the good (they’ve made it that far) while discouraging the bad.
Putting someone through the checkride circuit is the perfect punishment.
You’ll be hard-pressed to find a pilot who’s enjoyed the written, oral, and flight examinations that are required to become a pilot. Now imagine having to do it all again. There is no shortcut because you were “once” a certificated pilot. Your private pilot steep turns will have to be within 100 feet, you’ll once again have to choose the correct hold entry for your instrument ticket. Above having to prove their skills again, it’ll be an opportunity for these pilots to reflect on their misdoings and come out better for it.
Let’s be honest. After a revocation, we’re likely not talking about someone going back to commercial flying. That sticks to a record in a way that—even having regained the appropriate ratings—makes someone difficult to employ.
I’d have no shame or trepidation in sharing the pattern with some of these pilots, especially since they’ve taken every checkride I have not once but twice, and certainly more recently than me. Above all, it’s not a power we want to give to the FAA. The agency’s “big brother” energy is a regular punchline; now, imagine giving them another tool to keep pilots out of the sky.
I’m good to give others a second chance. 