Another air disaster, another round of finger pointing. The Air India crash has claimed its first fatality not on the tarmac but in the court of public opinion: the pilot’s reputation. His father, a former airline employee, has now stepped forward to defend his son’s honour.
British aviation regulators, meanwhile, are demanding cockpit data. All very predictable. But beneath the headlines lies a more uncomfortable truth.
We are witnessing the modern cult of the fallen pilot, a hagiography that obscures the real questions about systemic failure. In any other industry, a catastrophic error would be met with cold scrutiny. But not here.
Not when the deceased can be romanticised as a martyr of the skies. The father’s plea is understandable: grief demands a narrative. But the public’s willingness to suspend disbelief is dangerous.
We now treat pilots as infallible demigods, their mistakes airbrushed by tragedy. The regulators are correct to seek data. But will they have the courage to publish it if it shows pilot error?
History suggests not. The Victorian era gave us the cult of the gentleman explorer who died nobly. Today we give it to the airline pilot.
It is sentimental rot. The crash investigation must be scrupulous, transparent, and ruthless. Anything less is an insult to the dead and a risk to the living.
