For a minute, let’s go back to the summer of 2018. In the heat of the pilot shortage that kept your local airport busy, the FAA, having been pressured by purveyors of flight training, took comments and criticisms from students, instructors, the flight schools themselves, as well as some aviation organizations, and amended the requirements for pilots seeking their commercial pilot certificate. Having previously been required to gain experience in what are called “complex airplanes,” the FAA changed the rules and ushered in the 21st century by allowing flight schools to substitute what they called Technologically Advanced Aircraft (TAA) in place of these aging complex aircraft. And for many pilots, instructors, and certainly flight schools, they welcomed the change.
Complex airplanes are defined as aircraft that have retractable landing gear, flaps, and a controllable pitch propellor. While most training aircraft already have flaps, the addition of the other two items is rarely seen in training aircraft. Cessna, the manufacturer of the 172 Skyhawk that is the most produced aircraft of all times (and continues to grow in numbers), took this prolific training aircraft and added the necessary complexities and called it the 172RG Cutlass RG. Having only been built for five years in the 1980s, of those over 1,000 produced, less than a third remain registered with the FAA, and certainly less are likely in any airworthy state. Others such as the Piper PA-28 Arrow and the Cessna 182RG Skylane RG were built in significantly less numbers than their fixed gear, non controllable prop versions.
Why were so few built? One could see the label “complex” and understand the obvious complexities they bring to the design, manufacture, and more important, maintenance side of the equation. Combing through NTSB accident data on these complex aircraft, over half of the accident and incident data stems from landing gear issues, whether mechanically or procedurally. And by procedurally, I’m talking about pilots flying these aircraft and attempting to land them without extending the landing gear. Even with the requisite regulatory requirements for required training, warning horns, and other safety systems designed to tell pilots “hey buddy put the gear down,” these gear up accidents happened nearly weekly across the US. So perhaps their lack of production comes from an insurance, or liability, side as well.
Either way, much to the chagrin of some organizations (such as the Lancair Owners and Builders Organization (LOBO)), the FAA said (probably) “Complex aircraft? Commercial pilot students don’t need no stinkin’ complex aircraft.” Even with many, like LOBO, sharing pleas for their continued requirement, the FAA said “It may be true that there are older less expensive complex airplanes available, but again, the limited availability, difficulty of obtaining parts and the cost associated with maintenance and refurbishing these older aircraft, makes their use cost prohibitive.” So now, more than seven years later, in the pilot puppy mill world that to this day thrives on this supposed pilot shortage, students start their training in non-complex but now TAA Cessna 172s and finish in them as well.
So what are TAA? They are airplanes that take the flight instruments that have existed since before that of the Curtiss Jenny pictured above (from 1915, by the way), and replace them with flat panel displays. TAA are those with advanced avionics that mirror those airplanes that flight school graduates will likely find themselves flying in their future careers (albeit, they will be complex as well).
Why am I talking about this shift? Well, let me tell you a story.
On Wednesday, December 11th, 2024, in beautiful Pearland, Texas, a pilot flying a Grumman AA-5 Traveler (N5450L) collided with a Cessna 182T Skylark (N127SL) while landing due to an electrical emergency in the Grumman. The electrical emergency? The radios went out. From the description on the still-posted YouTube video filmed from the passenger seat perspective, the pilot lost their radios and navigation equipment, and determined that they needed to get on the ground immediately. Citing 20+ years of experience, the passenger commented that they were proud of the pilot for what they did, even commenting on how close they were to more serious or fatal injuries stemming from the pilot’s decision to plow right throw the airplane ahead of them on the runway. But why did the pilot decide to land so close to the traffic ahead of them?
One might say “maybe they didn’t see them.” I implore you to watch the footage for yourself ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0d01GulPi0Q ) and in the first ten seconds, focus your eyes on the landing runway. Soon, you’ll make out the familiar shape of the Cessna and note that it is quite closer than usual. Additionally, at 0:24 you’ll note the pilot had on his leg an iPad that was running the popular navigation app ForeFlight, and at 0:42, you’ll see a Sentry ADS-B receiver mounted to the window via a suction cup. This device interfaces with the ForeFlight application and places aircraft position, direction, and velocity information on the moving map, allowing the pilot to see exactly where they are, as well as where other traffic is.
Certainly, the loss of two-way radio communication is a threat here, and likely added stress to the pilot workload. One might even think it’s impossible to fly these days without the ability to communicate your position and intentions to others readily. One would likely be surprised to know that less than 10% of the airports in the USA are serviced by Air Traffic Controllers, meaning pilots sequence themselves with one another in standard flight tracks we call traffic patterns, making flight without radios not only possible, but safe as well. One would also be surprised to hear there are over 300 deaf pilots that fly regularly in the USA. Pun intended.
But what drives a pilot to be empowered with such traffic information, on such a beautiful day for flying, to make such a dumb decision that could have had fatal consequences for not only them, but innocent bystanders? I don’t know. It blows my mind that while we’re in a new millennium of flight, that perhaps the pendulum of pilot capabilities (and competency) has swung too far the opposite direction.
Those not familiar with how airplanes work, you can see in the video that the engine continued to run just fine. Airplanes are not dependent on electrical power to maintain an engine running. In fact, the same technologies used in the OX-5 engine that powered that Jenny pictured above are in use on modern airplanes today. Self-contained electrical generators with built-in timing systems handle the ignition component of the engine independent of electrical power from the airplane. Even the modern airliner I’m sitting in while writing this has similar systems that power the engine’s electrical control systems in the event of a full electrical failure. But electricity is not necessary for flight. How do I know? My 1949 Piper PA-11 Cub Special has no electrical system whatsoever.
Additionally, the flight controls on the Grumman are purely mechanical. Forces transferred from human hands through the flight control yoke are transferred via cables, pulleys, and bell cranks to the actual flight controls of the aircraft. Sure, the Grumman features electrically-controlled and actuated flaps, but flaps are not necessary for flight. How do I know? Again, my 1949 Piper PA-11 Cub Special does not have flaps at all.
Perhaps the folks at LOBO were right. In their comments submitted to the FAA on the shift away from complex aircraft, they cited “that current requirements provide valuable experience in cockpit management procedures and complex systems operations, not provided by TAA.” Perhaps as the pendulum has shifted in how we gain competency as pilots, we have put an emphasis on these advanced avionics at a detriment to the stick and rudder skills of yore. The pilot in this situation had quite an uncanny ability to see nearly every airplane in the traffic pattern at Pearland, and maneuver their aircraft to join the traffic pattern without causing any issue at all, yet they chose to “set down” and plow into the back of an innocent Cessna 182, nearly killing all of those involved.
So are advancements in avionics the problem here, or the symptom?
In 2015, the Experimental Aircraft Association, with support from various industry leaders, came up with the EAA Founders Innovation Prize, which encouraged individuals to develop cost-effective solutions to reduce loss of control inflight accidents in general aviation aircraft. Awarding tens of thousands of dollars, hundreds submitted their ideas and solutions, and for five years, the panel chose a winning solution based on potential effectiveness. In 2016, a device called an “airball” was selected. In 2017, the winner was the “Remora System”. 2018, the FlyONSPEED system. 2019, Buzzball, and again in 2021, the FlyONSPEED system won.
Try searching for those devices on Sporty’s or Aircraft Spruce and you’ll see none of them exist.
One of the recurring entries to the contest was a system of maneuvers and exercises developed by Dr. Ed Wischmeyer. These maneuvers, which were designed to be completed safely in all types of training aircraft, give the pilot an opportunity to experience what he calls “Expanded Envelope Exercises” in all phases of flight. Having spent a lifetime working in aviation, whether as a pilot, a writer, a professor, or an engineer, Wischmeyer made his case yearly at the EAA Founders Innovation Prize presentations, adamant that the application of these other systems (in my words) does not address the reality that the pilot is the one who is losing control of the aircraft, not because of avionics but solely because of a lack of airmanship skills. Surely he could say it more profound than I.
As much as he plead his case, and had others (such as the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association, the International Aerobatics Club, various aviation universities and flight schools, and the FAA themselves) on his side, the further development (and propagation) of these maneuvers played second fiddle to the myriad of doodads listed above. Those with the loudest voices and the largest audiences favored the regulators and the industry with their quick fixes, which through the tens of thousands of dollars of “prizes” and support have yet to materialize into anything that ultimately moves the needle one iota with regards to the problem needing a real solution, the continued loss of control in aircraft accidents.
When we talk about this shift in the experience gained by commercial pilot students, rarely does the complexity of aircraft seem to matter these days. Regardless of the immense pressures from the flight schools to push regulators to simplify their operations, Wischmeyer and I both agree in the reality that any commercial pilot applicant would be best served by a logbook not chocked full of cross country hours alone, but in a diverse range of aircraft types. Various power plants and propulsion systems, flight control characteristics, wing loading, and system complexities empowers these future commercial pilots to understand more about the art of airmanship that is lost in these nuanced discussions on the mechanics of flight.
And if complexities alone were the culprit for the near loss of a few pilots and passengers in Pearland, the reality that the accident pilot had directly within his field of view the most accurate depictions of nearby traffic, terrain, airspace, and weather, and none of that mattered because they were all neglected to be considered in the supposed electrical emergency. One wonders if an airball or FlyONSPEED system would have at least enabled the pilot to crash into the other with the ball centered directly in line with the longitudinal axis of the innocent Skylane.
Interestingly enough, Wischmeyer recently penned some remarks on this very issue (Visual Angle of Attack Indicators and Systems Engineering Theory). Addressing the incessant demands for angle of attack indicators to be installed in general aviation aircraft, Wischmeyer relates the arguments to the lack of a systems engineering approach, saying “we like to think that we consider topics based solely on their merits because our thought processes are rational and logical. However, our society loves to promote the concept that something is wrong and must be remedied by change, not by addressing the underlying problem itself.”
Looking back at this change in how commercial pilot applicants gain experience stemming from a supposed pilot (and complex airplane) shortage, I wonder if this shift in technology’s inclusion into the cockpits of general aviation aircraft came without a similar systems engineering approach. We’ve added these amazingly accurate position reporting systems and applications and avionics that give us one second refresh rates with position accuracies that even the latest FAA Air Traffic Controller radar tracking systems can’t match, yet we’ve never truly considered 1) how the best implement these systems from a training perspective and 2) what other fundamental airmanship skills we have either intentionally or unintentionally attempted to replace with technology.
This isn’t merely about not having to raise a gear lever, or manually controlling a piston engine’s propellor. It’s about what drives these changes to airmanship, the ships in which we exhibit airmanship, and those that regulate and dictate said airmanship. When we look back at those days in 2018 when flight schools kissed their tried, true, (and tired) complex aircraft goodbye, the added weight of responsibilities that commanding these flying machines required was lost and never accounted for. We stopped joking about landing gear up, and hardly communicated what “flying square” meant. We in turn ushered in various doodads and displays and not once did we discuss any discipline required to avoid falling prey to the screen suck, where eyes once planted outside the aircraft now seek these crutches all under the false pretense of safety.
Perhaps (and I promise, this is the last time I use that word, and the following phrase) we have let the pendulum swing too far, caving into the demands of flight schools much to the chagrin of the advocates for stick and rudder skills. LOBO’s lobbying for the continued use of complex aircraft surely comes from an organization that has determined that a major cause of accidents in their type of aircraft is pilots failing to follow procedures (as a note, Lancair have a five fold increase in the fatal accident statistics in experimental amateur-built world). However, unlike the FAA, LOBO has made significant progress in addressing the statistics with a regimented safety culture, safety programs, and a community that takes tackles their problems head-on exceeding the requirements the FAA set forth for certifying pilots in complex aircraft.
What the accident in Pearland taught me is that regardless of the complexities of the aircraft that we fly, there’s nothing that gets in the way of us falling back to our training. As the Navy Seals have popularized, “under pressure, you do not rise to the occasion, you sink to the level of your training.” Certainly, understanding how to manage aircraft in various degradations of systems and components in various levels of severity could have empowered the accident pilot to understand that the airplane can continue to fly without working radios, and with all the technology they had in front of them, the lack of radios wouldn’t have kept them in the blind on the close proximity to the traffic ahead (hell, even my ForeFlight yells at me when I’m too close in formation to my buddy Josh). Or, even better, a clear view out the front of the aircraft could have kept these two planes from meeting quite abruptly.
Rarely are we in a rush, yet, in 2018, it appeared the FAA was in one to help curry favor with the flight training world. And here we are, encroaching on a decade of flying later, wondering if the pivotal shift in burgeoning commercial pilot applicants was worth it. And even if we’ve moved away from the true definition of complex aircraft, a quick glance at the G1000 User Manual would lead one to believe complexities haven’t been lost, albeit redefined, in over 500 pages of instructions. Perhaps recognizing that the government-mandated requirements for commercial pilot applicants should be recognized as the bare minimum, and an innate desire to exceed these should somehow be instilled in all student and professional pilots.