The so-called “black box” is not black at all: it is usually bright orange or yellow with reflective markings so it can be found after an accident. In modern transport aircraft the term refers to crash-protected flight recorders—typically a Cockpit Voice Recorder (CVR) and a Flight Data Recorder (FDR) (sometimes combined). Together they capture the two things investigators most need: what the aircraft was doing (data) and what the humans perceived, said, and decided (voice and cockpit sounds). This pairing is exactly why the device transformed aviation safety: it turns post-crash speculation into evidence, allowing learning about systems and human factors—attention, workload, startle, fixation, and team coordination.

The conceptual leap is strongly associated with Dr David Warren of Australia’s Aeronautical Research Laboratories, who in the 1950s argued that a record of flight conditions and pilot reactions in the moments before impact is of “inestimable value.” The mid-century Comet disasters highlighted the core problem: when aircraft break up at altitude with no survivors, investigators can be left with too little information. Warren’s solution was a rugged recorder that could survive a crash and preserve the story.

FAA/modern design intent: make it record, make it survive, make it findable

From the FAA perspective, requirements come in layers: the operating rules determine which aircraft must carry recorders, while the airworthiness rules and minimum performance standards ensure the equipment is installed to survive and is qualified to withstand crash and post-crash environments. Installation rules in transport-category design (e.g., Part 25) emphasize recorder location and mounting that minimize rupture from impact and damage from fire, along with conspicuity markings and, where required, an underwater locating device. (CVR: 14 CFR §25.1457; FDR: 14 CFR §25.1459.)

For crash-protected recorder qualification, modern FAA approvals for recorders manufactured after December 2013 align with standards such as EUROCAE ED-112A through FAA TSOs (for example, TSO-C124c for FDR) and related guidance for CVRs.

Quantitative survivability requirements (g, temperature/time, depth/pressure, crush)

Under the widely used ED-112A crash-protected recorder baseline, crash-survivable memory is qualified against extreme conditions. A widely cited public summary of ED-112A survivability targets includes: 3,400 g impact shock; 5,000 lb static crush; 1,100°C for 1 hour (high-temperature fire); 260°C for 10 hours (low-temperature, long-duration fire/heat soak); and deep-sea pressure equivalent to 20,000 ft for 30 days.

Many manufacturer and test-house summaries also express the shock as a short, severe pulse (commonly described as 3,400 g for ~6.5 ms, half-sine) and include a penetration test to ensure the memory unit resists sharp structural intrusion.

How hot is “burning jet fuel,” and why the recorder fire tests look the way they do

When people say “fuel explosion temperature,” they often mix together different concepts: real-world fire temperature, ignition/flash behavior, and theoretical combustion maxima. For recorder survivability, what matters is post-crash fire exposure—not just a brief flash, but sustained heating while surrounded by wreckage.

A hydrocarbon jet/pool fire is commonly characterized around ~1,100°C, which matches the recorder’s 1,100°C for 1 hour qualification intent: survive an intense, sustained fuel-fed fire long enough to preserve data.
But accidents also produce long-duration lower-temperature heating—smouldering materials, debris piles, insulated compartments, and wreckage that “bakes” components. That is why ED-112A also requires survivability at 260°C for 10 hours: it represents the slow, persistent heat soak that can destroy electronics even without dramatic flames.

For comparison, there is also a theoretical upper bound: the adiabatic flame temperature of jet fuel/air mixtures (perfect mixing, no heat losses) can be on the order of ~2280–2300 K (about ~2000°C). This is not a typical accident-site condition, but it explains why “maximum flame temperature” figures can sound much higher than the ~1100°C used in practical qualification testing.
Fire references also note that ordinary combustibles can reach ~1000°C to 2000°C depending on conditions—again highlighting why standards use representative, repeatable test exposures rather than chasing a single “explosion temperature” number.

The safety payoff

In safety terms, the black box is a disciplined way of practicing what aviation claims to value: learning over blame. It preserves the evidence needed to see where humans and systems drifted into trouble—mode confusion, unstable approach continuation, checklist breakdown, cognitive lock-up, fatigue effects, or weak monitoring—and it enables changes in training, SOPs, design, and regulation. For deeper reflection on these human-factor mechanisms (especially fixation and “cognitive lock-up”), Capt. Amit Singh’s mindFly: Follies, Realities and Human Factors is an excellent companion text.

There is a simple truth about aviation safety: the investigation mechanism is part of the safety outcome. Not because “bigger committees” magically produce better findings, but because the chosen mechanism decides three things that matter in every catastrophic crash:

1. Depth (how much evidence is gathered and analysed),
2. Credibility (whether the public believes the process is competent and independent), and
3. Prevention value (whether the final report becomes a genuine safety catalyst, or a blame narrative wrapped in procedure).

This is why most mature systems—and ICAO’s investigation doctrine—operate on proportionality: the more catastrophic the accident, the more formal and fully resourced the investigation must be.

You’ve highlighted something even more powerful than general ICAO theory: AAIB’s own Procedures Manual matrix reportedly states that major catastrophic accidents involving fatalities fall under the Rule-12 track (formal investigation / Court of Inquiry architecture). That matters because it collapses the usual bureaucratic escape routes. If the authority’s own internal manual already classifies catastrophic fatal accidents for Rule-12, then requiring citizens to litigate to obtain Rule-12 is not a “policy disagreement”—it becomes a proportionality failure and, frankly, a governance embarrassment.

1) The matrix point: “classification → mechanism” is supposed to be automatic

The matrix you shared does something that administrative systems rarely do clearly: it ties occurrence type to investigation type. In essence:

• Major catastrophic + fatalities → Formal Investigation / CoI / Rule-12 tier
• Less complex or limited-scope occurrences → lower-tier inquiry mechanisms

This is the correct safety logic. Catastrophic accidents are where hidden systemic hazards live: regulatory seams, fleet-wide technical vulnerabilities, training doctrine gaps, oversight failures, maintenance drift, procurement shortcuts, operational pressures, and organizational normalization of deviance. A limited-scope approach may produce a quick narrative; it rarely produces a durable safety learning product.

So the question becomes painfully direct:

If AAIB’s own matrix classifies catastrophic fatal accidents for Rule-12, why is Rule-12 not the default posture for AI171?

If the answer is “resources,” ICAO’s own manuals anticipate that and say authorities should plan for supplementary funding and expertise when a large accident exceeds normal capacity. 9aba5db5-e404-4142-b68a-0431d4f…
If the answer is “speed,” ICAO also anticipates that: you can respond immediately, preserve evidence, and run parallel workstreams—but you still scale the mechanism to the accident. 9aba5db5-e404-4142-b68a-0431d4f…
If the answer is “public order / reputational sensitivity,” that is precisely when a formal mechanism is needed most—because credibility is the currency that prevents speculation from becoming “truth by repetition.”

2) Patna VT-EGD is a textbook domestic precedent: limited start, then upgraded

India does not need to reinvent the wheel to justify escalation. The VT-EGD Patna crash record shows the exact pattern a competent system uses: start immediately on the lower track, then up-scope into a formal Court of Inquiry once the seriousness and requirements are assessed.

The report records that an Inspector of Accidents was appointed under Rule 71 on the day of the accident. VT-EGD
It then records that the Government appointed a Court of Inquiry under Rule 75 by formal notification. VT-EGD

That is not a footnote—it is the governance principle in action:

Triage is not the final classification.
A State can begin on a rapid-response pathway and then upgrade into a formal architecture when the accident demands it.

Even the mechanics of credibility are there: the Court held public hearings and released material facts through a public website. VT-EGD
In today’s language, that is precisely what people mean when they demand a Rule-12 posture: formal structure, visible process, and evidence-handling that can withstand intense scrutiny.

3) ICAO’s proportionality doctrine: major accident = major investigation

The ICAO definition is blunt: a “Major Accident Investigation” is an investigation into an accident involving a large aircraft and usually involving fatalities. 9aba5db5-e404-4142-b68a-0431d4f…

And ICAO is equally explicit about what drives the scope and complexity of an investigation. It lists factors including:

• injuries, deaths, and damage,
• underlying safety issues,
• likelihood of recurrence and severity,
• accident/incident history related to aircraft/operator/manufacturer/regulator, and
• deviations from safety and operational standards.

That list is essentially the “why Rule-12 exists” list.

ICAO also acknowledges the reality of capacity: even one large accident can exceed an authority’s routine resources, and the authority should have provisions for supplementary funding and filling expertise gaps.
So “we are stretched” is not a reason to downscope; it is a reason to activate the major investigation posture.

4) Sanjay Gandhi precedent (as you frame it): even downgrades prove the rule

You’ve described the Sanjay Gandhi accident as a case where the higher-tier mechanism was ordered and then reverted within weeks to the lower mechanism, citing “small aircraft accident” logic.

Even without litigating the history here, the governance lesson is still powerful:

The State itself has treated the investigation tier as a classification outcome, not a fixed ritual.

In other words, if “small aircraft” was treated as a valid basis to revert to a lower tier, then transport-category catastrophic accidents logically demand the opposite: remain at (or escalate to) the highest tier. That is proportionality.

5) Why this matters specifically for AI171: the cost of under-scoping is not “delay,” it’s distortion

The real danger of keeping a catastrophic crash on a lower-tier posture is not merely that fewer experts are involved. The danger is what happens in the information vacuum:

• selective leaks become “facts,”
• anonymous “sources” become quasi-official narrative,
• blame becomes a substitute for evidence, and
• the final report arrives with public trust already destroyed.

This is precisely why investigation frameworks must be designed to out-run speculation with structured disclosure, and why communications guidance exists (you’ve repeatedly raised ICAO’s media guidance in your broader work). A formal mechanism is not only about engineering depth; it is about information governance—preventing reputational harm while the technical truth is still being built.

And it is here that the contrast becomes stark:

• In VT-EGD, the formal Court process included public hearings and proactive release of material facts. VT-EGD
• In a modern catastrophic accident, if stakeholders feel compelled to approach the Supreme Court of India simply to secure a Rule-12 posture, the system is signalling that it is not following its own proportionality logic.

6) What Rule-12 actually adds in practical safety terms

People sometimes discuss Rule-12 as if it is “just a label.” It is not. For a major accident, a higher-tier mechanism typically changes the investigation in at least six concrete ways:

1. Team architecture: disciplined group structure (ops, maintenance/records, structures, systems, powerplants, recorders, human factors, ATC/airport, survivability, etc.). ICAO explicitly describes group structuring as standard in major investigations. 9aba5db5-e404-4142-b68a-0431d4f…
2. Evidence capture discipline: more robust site control, records collection, witness statement management, and transitory evidence preservation. 9aba5db5-e404-4142-b68a-0431d4f…
3. Expertise acquisition: formal identification of expertise gaps and a plan to fill them—without pretending the authority already has every specialist needed. 9aba5db5-e404-4142-b68a-0431d4f…
4. Resource posture: explicit justification for supplementary funding and capacity. 9aba5db5-e404-4142-b68a-0431d4f…
5. Reporting quality: the final report must establish in detail what happened, how, and why; it becomes “the catalyst” for prevention. 9aba5db5-e404-4142-b68a-0431d4f…
6. Public confidence instruments: formal hearings, structured release of material facts, and a process that looks like a major investigation because it is one.

If AI171 is truly catastrophic, then these are not luxuries—they are safety requirements.

7) The governance contradiction in one sentence

Here is the contradiction you are pointing to, stated cleanly:

AAIB’s own manual matrix reportedly places major catastrophic fatal accidents in the Rule-12 bucket; Patna shows India can upgrade into the formal tier; ICAO defines major accidents as large-aircraft fatal accidents requiring major investigation posture; yet for AI171, stakeholders must litigate to obtain Rule-12.

That should never happen in a system that is functioning as designed.

8) A direct call for administrative hygiene (not theatrics)

This is not about attacking investigators or “demanding drama.” The corrective action is boring—but essential:

• Apply AAIB’s matrix as written (major catastrophic + fatalities → Rule-12).
• Publish a brief, reasoned classification note: why the accident is classified as major, what groups are constituted, what the disclosure posture is, and what protections exist against premature attribution of blame.
• If Rule-12 is not invoked, publish the written reasons—because proportionality decisions must be reviewable, especially when public confidence is at stake.

In a mature safety system, a catastrophic crash triggers Rule-12 the way a fire alarm triggers sprinklers. You do not ask the public to file writ petitions to turn on sprinklers.

9) The closing point (the one that stings, because it’s true)

When a small-aircraft case can be cited to justify reverting to a lower tier, but a catastrophic airliner crash does not automatically rise to the highest tier, the system broadcasts a message nobody in safety can afford:

that investigation tier is being treated as a discretionary privilege, not a safety obligation.

And that is exactly why Rule-12 must be restored to what it was designed to be: the default posture for catastrophe, not the prize after litigation.

In the hours after an aviation accident, the world wants answers immediately. Families want clarity. Newsrooms want a storyline. Social media wants someone to hold responsible. But accident investigation is not built for speed—it is built for truth. That mismatch between public urgency and technical reality creates an information vacuum. And in aviation, vacuums get filled fast.

Too often, what fills the space is not evidence but certainty theatre: confident talk, selective “sources,” dramatic cockpit narratives, and premature conclusions—frequently culminating in the most convenient headline of all: pilot error.

ICAO’s Doc 10053 acknowledges this reality directly. It recognises that interaction between media and the accident investigation authority is not a “nice-to-have.” It is a safety-critical function, because poor communication can trigger misinformation, distort public understanding, harm trust, and, in the worst cases, pressure the system toward scapegoating rather than learning.

This article examines how speculation and false media narratives—especially pilot-blame narratives—could have been significantly reduced if an AAIB-style authority applied Doc 10053’s guidance with discipline in a case like AI171. This is not a comment on accident causation. It is a comment on communication as a safety barrier.

The first 48 hours: when truth is slow and narrative is instant

Doc 10053’s media section highlights that accident investigations attract intense media attention and that public interest peaks early. The implication is simple: if the official system does not provide a steady stream of verified, factual information, others will provide something else.

In practice, the first 12 to 48 hours after an event are where narratives are formed and emotionally “locked in.” The pattern is predictable:

• A small set of unverified details circulates.
• Commentators turn details into interpretations.
• Interpretations turn into certainty.
• Certainty turns into blame.
• Blame becomes the story that everything else must fit.

Once an early story forms—especially a “pilot did X” story—it becomes an anchor. Later evidence may arrive, but the correction is fighting an uphill cognitive battle. Humans remember first impressions. We defend the first narrative we emotionally accepted. We share the dramatic version, not the accurate version.

That is why Doc 10053 places responsibility on investigation authorities to be robust enough to withstand media pressure—and organised enough to prevent the media cycle from turning into a parallel “rapid investigation.”

Why pilot-blame becomes the default

To understand why Doc 10053 matters, we must understand why pilot-blame is so attractive in the public arena.

Aviation accidents are rarely the result of a single failure. They involve complex interactions between machine, environment, training, procedures, maintenance, regulation, organisational pressures, and human performance under stress. But complexity is not comforting. Complexity is not television-friendly. Complexity doesn’t produce instant moral closure.

A single human culprit does.

Pilot-blame narratives are powered by familiar cognitive biases:

• Single-cause hunger: “Tell me the one reason.”
• Hindsight bias: “It was obvious what they should have done.”
• Outcome bias: “If the outcome was bad, the decision must have been bad.”
• Fundamental attribution error: “It happened because of who they are, not what they faced.”
• Story bias: we prefer a neat plot with a protagonist and a mistake.

None of these biases care about recorder downloads, metallurgy, flight data correlation, or systems analysis. They care about emotional resolution. And that is precisely why an investigation authority must protect the learning space—before the blame space consumes it.

Doc 10053’s central insight: don’t let the media do “rapid analysis” in a vacuum

The Doc 10053 guidance you shared essentially warns of two things:

1. Media will report quickly, often with incomplete facts.
2. Incompleteness creates error—and error becomes narrative.

It also suggests a remedy: the accident investigation authority should be capable of ensuring accurate reporting by disclosing as much information as possible, consistent with protecting the investigation—supported by a policy that encourages correct reporting.

This is not about “controlling” the press. It is about preventing misinformation from becoming a public verdict.

The Doc 10053 playbook: communication as a safety barrier

Below is a practical, Doc 10053-aligned strategy that can dramatically reduce speculation and pilot-blame.

1) Fill the vacuum early—without speculating

The first public statement is not meant to solve the accident. It is meant to stabilise the information environment.

A Doc 10053-style first statement (ideally within hours) should include:

• confirmed basics (time, location, aircraft/operator as appropriate, response actions),
• what is being done (site security, evidence protection, coordination with stakeholders),
• a firm boundary: no cause conclusions at this stage,
• a commitment to cadence: “Next update at ___ local time.”

This does a powerful thing: it tells the public that the investigation is real, organised, and progressing—and it reduces the perceived need for rumor.

2) One spokesperson: technically competent, trained, and consistent

Doc 10053 supports the idea that interaction with the media should be handled by a designated spokesperson—ideally part of or closely linked to the investigation authority—technically competent and trained.

Why does this matter?

Because multiple voices create contradictions. Contradictions are interpreted as incompetence or deception. And once the public suspects deception, they become even more susceptible to dramatic theories.

A calm, consistent spokesperson with a fixed update schedule reduces anxiety and prevents the press from hunting “alternative sources.”

3) Use the structure: “What we know / What we don’t know / What we are doing next”

This simple template prevents accidental overreach.

• What we know: verified facts only.
• What we don’t know: openly acknowledged unknowns.
• What we are doing next: visible steps—recorder download, lab analysis, interviews, data correlation.

This structure helps media report responsibly because it gives them clean, publishable content without inventing interpretation.

4) Protect sensitive evidence—especially CVR

Doc 10053 emphasises protection of sensitive records such as cockpit voice recordings. This is critical.

A CVR is not a public entertainment product. It is not a “truth clip.” Without context, it is easily misunderstood and weaponised. A single phrase—misheard, mistranslated, or stripped of timing—can become a character assassination tool.

Once that happens, pilot-blame becomes unstoppable because the public thinks they have “heard the truth.”

A Doc 10053 approach is clear: protect such data, avoid partial disclosure, and resist the temptation to “clarify” rumors by confirming fragments. You don’t correct rumor with partial evidence; you correct it with disciplined process and verified releases.

5) Rumor-control without debate

A practical extension of Doc 10053 is a “rumor control” page or section:

• “We are aware of claims circulating about X.”
• “This is not verified.”
• “Please rely on official updates.”
• “We will confirm when evidence supports it.”

This is calm, factual, and non-combative. It does not amplify rumor by arguing; it simply marks boundaries.

The AI171 lesson: how pilot-blame narratives gain traction—and how to slow them

Again, without commenting on causation, here is how pilot-blame narratives usually form:

• Minimal early information from the authority.
• Long gaps between official updates.
• Inconsistent or multi-source messaging.
• “Leaks” or anonymous claims about cockpit actions or conversations.
• Commentators filling airtime with confident theories.
• The public adopting a villain-based explanation.

A Doc 10053-aligned strategy would reduce the space for all of that. Not by defending pilots. By defending the investigation process.

And that matters because investigation is not just technical work—it is also trust work. If the public sees the authority as credible and steady, speculative narratives struggle to survive.

Safety culture: premature blame damages learning

Aviation safety depends on reporting, openness, and psychological safety. When accidents become public blame spectacles:

• individuals become defensive,
• organisations become legalistic,
• witnesses become cautious,
• reporting declines,
• learning becomes performative.

Just culture is not softness. It is an engineering requirement for truth: without it, you don’t get honest data.

Doc 10053’s media guidance is, in effect, just culture’s external shield: it prevents the public arena from turning the investigation into a trial before facts exist.

An Indian lens: rajas and tamas in the media storm, sattva in the investigation

Indian wisdom adds a deeper layer to why this matters.

The breaking-news ecosystem amplifies rajas (agitation, urgency, emotional churn) and tamas (simplification, inertia, scapegoating). Together they create the perfect environment for blame.

A credible investigation must cultivate sattva—clarity, steadiness, truthfulness.

Doc 10053 is a sattvic discipline in institutional form:

• measured speech,
• verified facts,
• patient process,
• ethical protection of sensitive evidence,
• non-attachment to public pressure.

This is also karma-yoga: do the duty of truth-seeking without attachment to applause, outrage, or immediate closure.

What investigation authorities can implement immediately (Doc 10053 aligned)

Within 0–6 hours

• single factual statement,
• purpose: prevention, not blame,
• what’s being done now,
• next update time.

First week

• daily fixed-time updates,
• same spokesperson,
• “know / don’t know / next steps” structure,
• rumor-control section.

Evidence protection

• no CVR fragments,
• no interpretive language,
• no anonymous “technical hints.”

Language discipline
Avoid early phrases that imply culpability (“crew failed,” “pilot error,” “wrong action”).
Use process language (“investigation ongoing,” “facts will be released when verified,” “no conclusions at this stage”).

Closing thought: silence is not neutral

Silence after an accident is not neutrality. It is a vacuum. And vacuums don’t stay empty.

Doc 10053 exists because aviation learned—repeatedly—that misinformation is not just reputational harm. It is a safety hazard. It damages trust, discourages reporting, and pushes the system toward blame instead of learning.

If we want safer skies, we must protect investigations from becoming public entertainment—and protect pilots from becoming convenient villains before evidence is even assembled.

India wants to be an aviation superpower. Bigger fleets, busier skies, more airports, more pride. But here is the uncomfortable truth: you can’t build a superpower on temporary safety.

And yet, that is exactly what we are signalling when core aviation safety functions—especially accident investigation—are treated like roles that can be filled “for now,” by whoever is available, on short-term arrangements, rotating doors, and borrowed time.

Aviation safety does not collapse in one dramatic moment. It decays. Quietly. Administratively. Systemically. Then it shows up as a headline.

The question is not whether India is growing. The question is: where are we headed if our institutions are not growing with the same seriousness as our traffic?

The Illusion of “Implementation”

We have a national habit: when a tragedy happens, we respond with a flurry of circulars, meetings, audits, and “action taken” notes. Then we declare victory. We say: recommendations implemented, lessons learned, systems improved.

But here is what policy makers must confront:

Recommendations are not outcomes.

Outcomes are:

• trained and retained investigators,
• inspectors who understand human factors and systems thinking,
• a regulator capable of detecting organisational drift,
• an investigation process protected from blame-driven misuse,
• a pipeline that continuously produces competence.

If we cannot point to those outcomes, then “implemented” often means just one thing: papered over.

The White Paper That Should Have Shaken the System

Days before the AI171 accident, Safety Matters Foundation submitted a white paper that reads like a warning flare. Not a philosophical essay. A blunt institutional diagnosis.

It begins with a line that should alarm any serious government:

“There is no central institution responsible for producing certified, world-class aviation educators, safety analysts, or inspectors.”

Let that sink in.

No central institution producing educators, safety analysts, or inspectors.

In a sector that markets itself as “world-class,” this is the equivalent of saying:
we are scaling the sky, but not scaling the spine.

The white paper also calls out a culture of diluted expertise:

“Anyone with a CPL and a short course is labeled an ‘SME’ (Subject Matter Expert).”

This is not a personal insult. It is a structural critique: safety-critical competence is being declared rather than cultivated.

And then comes the line that should end all complacency:

“Aviation’s disregard for structured teacher training is leading to inconsistent outcomes and, in some cases, fatal errors.”

This is not “one more recommendation.” This is the blueprint of systemic risk: weak pipelines produce weak outcomes.

The 10–14 Day Instructor Factory

The white paper points out that:

“Flight instructor training typically lasts only 10–14 days.”
And:
“There is no mandatory pedagogy, human factors, or psychology training.”

Now compare that with NEP 2020, where even school teachers undergo structured training and certification. The white paper makes that contrast explicitly.

So India expects more training discipline for classroom teachers than for aviation instructors who shape cockpit behaviour under stress.

That should embarrass the system into reform. Instead, we keep pretending it’s a minor detail.

It isn’t. Instructor quality is not a “training department issue.”
It is the first domino in the safety chain.

Audits That Exist to “Resume Operations”

The white paper delivers an indictment of oversight culture that many insiders recognise but few will say aloud:

“Flight school audits in India are reactionary and often superficial.”

Then it cites an accident summary line that is almost unbelievable:

“Audit of the flight school was conducted to enable it to resume operations.”

That sentence is not just bad optics. It reveals the purpose of the audit: not diagnosis, not risk reduction—permissioning.

When audits become “restart certificates,” oversight turns into a ritual. And rituals don’t prevent accidents. Systems do.

And then comes the capability gap inside the regulator:

“many DGCA inspectors lack training in human factors, organizational behavior, or system safety analysis.”

This is how institutional drift becomes normal. The system starts focusing on what is easy to check—documents, signatures, tick-box compliance—while missing what actually kills: fatigue, cognitive lock-up, training scars, normalisation of deviance, authority gradients, organisational pressure.

The Most Dangerous Boundary: When Safety Investigation Becomes a Weapon

There is another part of the white paper that is critical for policy:
It argues that accident investigation outcomes are being treated as prosecutorial verdicts, and that police action often begins automatically, with AAIB (Aircraft Accident Investigation Bureau) reports treated as “final evidence.”

When this happens, a Just Culture dies. Quietly. Completely.

Because once people believe that honest disclosure will become evidence against them, they do what humans always do under threat: they protect themselves first. They report less. They speak less. They admit less. They hide more.

Safety becomes blind.

A supporting letter to the Law Secretary underscores this clearly: AAIB reports are meant for prevention, not blame, and premature use in criminal or civil proceedings risks diverting them from their purpose.

This is not a “legal nuance.” It is the oxygen of learning.

Now Connect It to the Vacancy Circulars

This is where the official vacancy notices matter—not because staffing is sexy, but because staffing is destiny. The circulars for key investigator positions in the AAIB are not mere administrative documents; they are a confession of institutional strategy.

Exhibit A – The Verbatim Evidence:

A recent circular for an “Investigator (Operations)” post states:

“Appointment will be on deputation (including short-term contract)… for an initial period of three years extendable as per requirement.”

Another for a “Senior Investigator (Airworthiness)” echoes:

“The post is to be filled by deputation… period of deputation shall be three years.”

If core investigation capacity is repeatedly built on deputation and short-term contracts, the message is:

• investigation is a posting, not a profession;
• continuity is optional;
• institutional memory is expendable;
• independence can be compromised by dual loyalties;
• capability will be rebuilt from scratch every few years.

And that is fatal because the system’s greatest safety advantage is cumulative learning over time.
You cannot do cumulative learning with a revolving door.
Aviation does not forgive revolving doors.

Where Are We Headed If We Keep Doing This?

If we continue on this path—rapid growth, weak pipelines, superficial audits, and short-term staffing of safety institutions—we are headed toward a future where:

1. Competence becomes uneven at scale.
   We will have brilliant professionals and fragile ones—mixed into the same system.
2. Regulation becomes a paperwork enterprise.
   Compliance will improve. Real safety will not keep pace.
3. Investigation becomes less trusted.
   People will fear it. And what people fear, they don’t feed with truth.
4. The same lessons will be relearned at the cost of lives.
   Not because we didn’t know. Because we refused to institutionalise what we knew.

That is what institutional negligence looks like: not ignorance—refusal to build.

What Must Change (In Plain Policy Language)

If India wants aviation greatness without gambling with lives, it must do three hard things:

1) Build Permanent Pipelines, Not Temporary Staffing

Create career cadres for investigators, inspectors, safety analysts, and educators. Deputation can supplement. It cannot be the model. The circulars must shift from “deputation for three years” to “permanent specialist cadre.”

2) Professionalise Aviation Instruction

Instructor training cannot remain a short-course tick-box. The white paper’s call for pedagogy + human factors + facilitation is not optional; it is overdue. Align it with the NEP 2020 philosophy: teaching is a profession.

3) Firewall Safety Investigation From Blame-Driven Misuse

If safety outputs are treated as prosecutorial evidence, reporting culture collapses. This boundary must be clarified, codified, and enforced, as the white paper urges. The AAIB’s independence must be sacrosanct.

Conclusion: A Nation Cannot Outsource Its Safety Backbone

India can buy aircraft. It can build terminals. It can announce growth.
But it cannot buy trust in safety institutions.
Trust is earned through:

• permanence,
• competence,
• independence,
• and the courage to learn without fear.

If we keep staffing safety like it is temporary—as the vacancy circulars prove we do—then risk becomes permanent.

And one day, when the alignment of small institutional weaknesses becomes a big event, we will again say: “We will implement recommendations.”

No.

This time, we must say something harder:

We will build institutions.

Because only institutions outlive accidents. Only institutions prevent recurrence. Only institutions convert tragedy into lasting safety.

Anything else is theatre.