So, if these companies have one thing in common, it's that most of them are new. In some cases very new. That certainly got the attention of Tom Bunn, who views an airline's lack of experience as a serious red flag. In a mass mailing to his nervous subscribers, Bunn wrote as follows:
"Helios is a budget airline founded in 1999. I believe this accident will be shown the result of outrageous neglect of basic maintenance. West Caribbean was founded in December 1998. Again I believe this will be another poor maintenance situation, and pilot training and experience may also be a factor. These three crashes demonstrate the results of changes -- not for the better -- in the airline industry. These changes involve the formation of new airlines where costs are cut to the point that risk is increased dramatically."
Bunn and I see eye to eye on a host of matters, but here we part company as he decides to play judge, jury and executioner all in one swoop. True, his assertions are qualified with the likes of "I believe" and "may also," but clearly he's taken enormous liberties with conjecture and personal hunch. There is, to this point, no convincing evidence that any of the crashes were the result of negligence, be it shoddy maintenance, substandard training or anything else. And although ongoing investigations may reveal otherwise in time, that alone should not be indicative of some pathological incompetence among a certain type of carrier, be it new, small, or lacking aircraft bearing American registrations.
Bunn calls the Helios and West Caribbean crashes "cost-cutting accidents" and advises that flyers patronize only "an established airline." He goes on to cite past instances of upstart carrier neglect right here at home, recalling Air Florida's plunge into the icy Potomac in 1982, and the 1996 ValuJet disaster outside Miami. "Do not fly these new, cut-rate airlines," he warns, "unless cost is more important to you than safety."
Bunn's argument hinges on large-versus-small/new-versus-old, rather than the slipperier American-versus-foreign, and panders to the long-standing suspicion that young, competitively aggressive airlines are apt to play fast and loose with safety. It's an assertion that appears on the surface to make sense, but it isn't bolstered by the record. In the United States, a 25-year look back, encompassing every upstart carrier since the industry was deregulated in 1979, from People Express to JetBlue, reveals only a handful of crashes subscribing to Bunn's template -- an accident rate roughly in proportion to overall market share. Globally, it's not much different.
As for "cost-cutting accidents," find me an airline anywhere, of any size and history, that is not working hard to reduce costs. And to conclude that a "cut-rate" airline increases anybody's risk "dramatically" is dishonest. And what is a "cut-rate" airline anyway? Southwest would probably fit that bill by most folks' definition, yet it's also the only U.S. major not to have a suffered a fatality over the past three decades.
The tendency here is to make distinctions in an abstract, purely statistical sense rather than a practical one. For instance, go to AirSafe.com and have a look at AirTran, the low-cost newcomer formerly known as ValuJet. The airline has suffered only a single crash, but that metes out to a comparatively awful, dare we call it dramatic, fatal event rate (see AirSafe for the rate calculation method) of 5.88, because it's based on mere 170,000 departures. Take American Airlines on the other hand, with some 17 million flights and a score of 0.59. Without a meatier body of work, AirTran's numbers are relatively meaningless. Until then, however, the lack of a positive does not prove a negative. In a practical analysis, which is all the consumer really needs, we have plenty to work with: Here's AirTran with a hundred planes, making thousands of weekly flights, and only a single blemish marring its record. Would a careful audit of training, maintenance, and day-to-day operations determine that AirTran is, when hashed out to the third decimal place, a riskier bet than American, Delta or United? Possibly, but for reasonable intents and purposes they're all up to par.
None of this is meant to suggest that we rest on our laurels. Air safety is, and will remain, an evolving process. We learn, we improve. Meanwhile there are, and always have been, newer and smaller airlines that run highly professional, button-down operations up to the highest possible standards, both here and abroad. At the same time, some of the world's eldest and most respected carriers are occasionally guilty of deadly malpractice. Averaged out, it's essentially a level playing field, and asking which is the safest airline to fly is a bit like asking which is the best lottery to play. If you're wondering which criteria to employ, whether you're headed for Madison or Madagascar, stick with price, schedule and service.
Many people are more anxious about flying than ever. What they need at a time like this is rational and useful information, not rumor mongering, cavalier accusations and hyperbole. Recommending the avoidance of an entire league of airlines is a drastic and wrong course. In the end, the realities of air safety are no more indebted to maintenance budgets or corporate culture than to luck and human nature.
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