Air Sick

On a typical day, there are 32,000 commercial flights in the U.S. With more than 3 million people in the air, the American sky is like a 51st state--only it's governed by a single agency with a record of unimaginable negligence. Since the Federal Aviation Administration came into existence in 1958, it has been torn between two mandates: to promote air travel and the fiscal health of airlines while ensuring passenger safety. For years, the FAA has played a central role in the government's unwillingness to protect its citizens.

A suitable analogy for the FAA would be a cop who never makes an arrest, a district attorney who never prosecutes a case, a judge who never passes sentence. Ask the man on the street whose responsibility it is to keep air travel safe, and he'll tell you it's the FAA's. But the agency is really just a straw man, a puppet doing the bidding of Congress and the aviation industry. Although the FAA is supposed to protect the flying public, managers and administrators are told their primary focus is to keep planes in the air. "It's a sick organization and you survive in that environment by not making waves," says Billie Vincent, former FAA chief of security. "The mediocre survive. They go along to get along. Leadership is weak. You rise in that organization through the art of compromise, and compromise is not a salient feature for a safe system. We need to start dealing honestly with our aviation problems and make sure the influence peddlers in the airline industry have no say."

A look at four recent U.S. airline crashes--Valujet flight 592, TWA flight 800, American Airlines flight 1420 and Alaska Airlines flight 261--shows how the FAA has failed the public. Since the September 11 attacks on the Pentagon and World Trade Center, the FAA has been charged with revamping its security system. But the record demonstrates the agency has approached the security issue with the same foot-dragging it used during the aftermaths of past disasters.

The FAA's recent pattern of neglect starts with Valujet. By 1996, Valujet was one of the fastest-growing--and most troubled--airlines in operation. As early as 1994, FAA inspectors in charge of Valujet's flight standards were alarmed at how quickly the airline trained and certified pilots. According to testimony at a National Transportation Safety Board hearing, inspections in 1994 and 1995 revealed "problems" with the carrier. The airline was warned about its practices in a 1996 report: "It is apparent that Valujet does not have the structure in place to handle your rapid growth and that you may have an organizational culture in conflict with operating with the highest possible degree of safety." These accusations were not unsupported; in fact, they were soft. A midlevel manager later testified he had written a comprehensive report on Valujet months before the crash of flight 592 in which he called for increased surveillance of the airline. He told the NTSB his findings were not sent to the FAA Valujet supervisors. In his testimony he also stated that the hierarchy at the FAA routinely stifled subordinates' recommendations. Another inspector alarmed at Valujet's flight practices (prior to flight 592, three planes had slid off runways) called for extra inspectors to be added to the team, and was denied.

In May 1996, flight 592 experienced a fire in its cargo hold and crashed into the Everglades. One hundred and ten people died. The fire was blamed on old oxygen canisters, improperly packaged and illegally stowed in the plane's cargo hold. That's when the FAA again stiffed the public. Logistically it's impossible to inspect all materials that (continued on page 153) air sick (continued from page 78) enter cargo holds. "What this incident shows is that no matter what regulations are passed, the threat of inadvertent placement of hazardous materials on aircraft will always be with us," said James Hall, chairman of the National Transportation Safety Board. The board then made an emergency recommendation that cargo holds be retrofitted with smoke detectors and fire-suppression systems. It would have been a reassuring move--if it had been carried out.

Five months into 1997, Hall was furious that nothing had been done. "We are unaware of any aircraft that have been retrofitted, and I understand that the airlines are waiting for FAA rule making," Hall wrote. Delta Airlines had rigged one 737 with the equipment and was waiting for FAA approval to do the same on 391 more aircraft. It took until March 2001 for the FAA to require airlines to install fire-detection and -suppression systems in cargo holds. A once-aggressive attempt by state prosecutors in Florida to press criminal charges against Valujet's maintenance contractor Sabretech was resolved at the end of last year, when Sabretech pledged to donate $500,000 to aviation safety causes. What became of Valujet? It merged with AirTran.

Since 1989, there have been four fatal fuel-tank explosions on commercial jets. None of them was more horrifying than TWA flight 800 in July 1996. The center fuel-tank explosion on that flight ripped the aircraft in two and killed all 230 aboard. Little has been done since 1996 to eliminate tank explosions, and there is every likelihood that they will happen again. At the time of the crash, the public's attention was focused on sinister scenarios: A Navy missile or a terrorist's bomb were leading theories for the crash. However, the NTSB proved the Boeing 747 was destroyed by mechanical failure. Research into the volatility of vapors in jumbo-jet fuel tanks showed that dangerous conditions exist far more frequently than previously thought. Jet fuel is more volatile than it seemed in decades-old lab experiments. And fuel tanks reach much higher temperatures than they were originally designed for. (Most center tanks sit above air-conditioning units, which give off great heat.) This was news to the FAA, but not to the lawyers who built lucrative practices representing families of crash victims. Kreindler and Kreindler, a law firm that handled many families in the flight 800 case, knew what downed the plane. "Based on our intensive hands-on investigation," reads a statement by Kreindler, "the firm quickly determined that the likely cause of the disaster was a mechanical malfunction leading to an explosion in the center fuel cell." Three months after the crash, the firm had filed the first suit against TWA Boeing.

Shortly after the disaster, there were numerous proposals on how to avoid future explosions. Since the fuel vapors were ignited by a spark from copper wiring around a fuel pump, aviation engineers proposed using fiber-optic cables in 747s. That would decrease weight and allow the remaining copper to be insulated better. (Engineers have known for decades that copper wiring--which also triggered the Apollo 13 disaster--degrades.) Another proposal endorsed by the FAA's director of aircraft certification called for a switch to a jet fuel that vaporizes at a higher temperature. The fuel mix, currently used by the Navy and fully compatible with commercial engines, would dramatically reduce the risk of tank explosions. By December 1996 the NTSB had strongly recommended that pilots switch off pumps when.fuel was low and pump an inert gas such as nitrogen into the tanks to eliminate flammable vapors.

Enter the moneymen. Thanks to a congressional mandate--heartily supported by the airline lobby--all changes to FAA regulations must be cost effective. Do you know what your life is worth? The FAA does. The agency appointed a task force to produce a risk-assessment study. The group determined that fuel-tank explosions occur once every four years. It set a price (based on payments to the families of the deceased) of $2.7 million for each person killed in such an accident, and factored in the value of lost aircraft. The task force then examined the cost of upgrading fuel tanks, and determined it was 50 times cheaper to live with fatal explosions than it was to fix the problem. In other words, they weren't about to force the airline industry to spend $21 billion to save $400 million. "I am disappointed that the cost-benefit analysis leads the FAA not to recommend inserting systems," said NTSB acting chairman Carol Carmody. "We question the factual basis for the cost-benefit analysis in the report." In March 2001, a Thai Airways Boeing 737 blew up on a Bangkok runway, due to an explosion in the center fuel tank, killing one crew member and injuring seven others. It turns out the FAA was right--fuel-tank explosions take place every four years.

It makes you want to close your eyes and not think about this stuff. And that's exactly what pilots do. Studies conducted by the FAA and NASA suggest that one in seven pilots nods off in the cockpit, particularly during overnight international flights. NASA and a nonprofit group concluded that pilots should not be on duty for longer than 12 hours. Pilot unions naturally agree, but the main airline lobbying group, the Air Transport Association, is against it (because it would add unnecessary costs--one way to reduce fatigue is to hire more pilots). FAA regulations mandate at least eight hours of rest and no more than eight hours' flying time during any 24-hour period. But the toll of pilot fatigue under current standards is undeniable. Tired pilots often aren't aware of what's going on, don't comply with procedures and miss radio calls. One worn-out Delta crew almost crashed into the Atlanta skyline. An America West crew undershot the runway at Dallas-Fort Worth and dug a new ditch in the ground with their landing gear. Near the end of a 12-hour stint, one pilot says he forgot he was landing at a runway that had been shortened by 3000 feet. "This, coupled with a slight tail wind, bad judgment and poor landing technique from being so tired, required that I use maximum braking and reverse to stop the airplane. We stopped about 10 feet short of the end of the runway."

Fatigue had fatal consequences in June 1999. The crew of American Airlines flight 1420 reported to work in Chicago at 10:15 a.m. After trips to Salt Lake City and Dallas and a two-hour weather delay, the crew took off for Little Rock. Around midnight, the pilot tried to land in stormy conditions. The plane skidded off a runway and slammed into a light standard. The crash killed 11 people. The performance of the crew was attributed to fatigue. FAA Administrator Jane Garvey immediately called for rigorous enforcement of FAA rules that prevent exhausted crews from flying. A year later, American was still not in compliance and still had not been subjected to punishment. (The airline's lobbyists have done a good job selling the notion that American is indispensable to the national economy.) "It's a safety issue that needs attention," said Thomas McSweeney, the FAA's director of aircraft certification, "but it's not a safety problem that needs urgent attention." That's reassuring.

The FAA's instinct is to defend the airlines. Look at the relationship between the agency and Alaska Airlines before the crash of flight 261. When inspectors recommended that Alaska Airlines be fined up to $400,000 for failing to provide proper documentation on the flying ability of 35 pilots, FAA managers sent an apologetic letter for the hassle to Alaska once the airline acknowledged the error. One inspector, who was transferred to Alaska's headquarters in Seattle after having worked with People's Express and Pan Am, was disturbed by the camaraderie between FAA administrators and their counterparts at Alaska. Other inspectors at the flight standards section claimed publicly they were either punished or transferred when they tried to enforce regulations. Over in the maintenance division at Alaska (which was once fined by the FAA $338,000 for infractions on Boeing 737s), there were problems that would end in tragedy.

In January 2000 88 lives were lost when flight 261 plunged into the Pacific Ocean. The crash was attributed by investigators for the NTSB to a defective jackscrew that controlled the horizontal stabilizer in the tail. By the time of the crash, the maintenance division of Alaska had been the subject of a criminal investigation for more than a year. DOT and FBI agents had seized records at a maintenance shop in Oakland and were looking into allegations that mechanics had signed off on repairs they may not have completed. After the crash The Seattle Post-Intelligencer reported that one mechanic told the FBI, "The most I know about the FAA is they don't come around very much." Months after the accident, distraught mechanics--64 of them--wrote an open letter to their bosses saying they had been "pressured, threatened and intimidated" to get planes out of maintenance hangars. Crash investigators discovered that the jackscrew on flight 261 failed a routine test in 1997 and was slated for replacement, but was put back in the plane when it passed more tests the following day. The mechanics wrote their letter when another plane requiring repair to the jackscrew and horizontal stabilizer rolled into their shop. Debate broke out until the mechanics' supervisor agreed the proper repairs should take place. The mechanics complained of the supervisor's "persistent demand that we put unserviceable parts back on the aircraft." Weeks later, former Alaska mechanic John Liotine told Dateline he had wanted to replace the jackscrew in 1997 but had been overruled. Liotine told a grand jury that airline officials falsified documents and sent out planes that were not airworthy. In response to the open letter by mechanics, the FAA announced it would conduct a special inspection of the airline--years after its own people had complained of irregularities, almost a year and a half into a federal criminal investigation, and three months after the deaths of 88 people.

Prior to the World Trade Center disaster, the FAA issued fines to airlines for a quarter of all airport security breaches. Many fines were subsequently reduced after the airlines complained. Other cases were settled with written warnings. Between 1990 and 2000, the total amount of fines sought by the FAA was $28.5 million. That's less than what a major airline spends in a week, on average, on jet fuel. Meanwhile, the failure rates (weapons that get past security) by baggage screeners hired by the airlines ranged from 10 to 20 percent (government statistics) or 80 to 90 percent (according to former FAA undercover agent Steve Elson). When these revelations were made public, FAA spokesman Jerry Snyder went into spin mode. "The bottom line is that we're more interested in strengthening security than we are in punishing screeners," Snyder told the San Francisco Chronicle. "So if there are opportunities to better educate and train them, we would rather see the airlines' funds go to that than fines for government coffers." We all know how well that worked. With no threat of punishment, why would an airline sacrifice money for safety? Early this year, the Transportation Department was ordered by the Office of the Special Counsel (the agency that reviews federal workers' accusations against the government) to investigate claims by Bogdan Dzakovic, security investigator for the FAA. Dzakovic belongs to the FAA's red team, a group formed after the Pan Am 103 disaster to test the civil aviation security system. He claims frightened managers ignored the team's security findings. "In 1998 we were successful in getting major weapons--guns and bombs--through screening checkpoints with relative ease at least 85 percent of the time in most cases," he said in a statement.

Some people within the agency saw it coming. Billie Vincent, FAA security chief from 1982 to 1986, says internal security memos warned of many possible security breaches during the past two years. The FAA even released a 2000 security report that had plenty of warning signs--including the thwarted attempt by Algerian hijackers to ram a jetliner into the Eiffel Tower. Although Jane Garvey, the head of FAA, went on record to say the September 11 attacks "couldn't be foreseen," Vincent says they were. "The attacks on these planes were lowtech. The attacks were foreseen as a possibility and the FAA failed miserably in stopping them. It has always been beholden to the airlines. So has the Department of Transportation. It wants streamlined security measures, and doesn't want to waste the time and money it would take to provide real security. The airline industry has fought every regulation and every rule. We have to satisfy ourselves with the appearance of safety, and for years the FAA has gone along with it."

According to a study of FAA documents by USA Today, in the 10 years prior to 2000, unruly passengers managed to break through or damage flimsy cockpit doors more than a dozen times. After one incident involving a knife-wielding man on Alaska Airlines flight 259 in 2000, a flight attendant wrote a letter to the FAA and Congress alerting them to the ease with which passengers could gain access to the cockpit. The FAA's response? More paper. Federal regulators sent the attendant a letter reiterating the FAA's policy. It left the banning of knives up to the airlines, and said strengthening cockpit doors was "under consideration." But when Alaska Airlines approached the FAA with a plan to put a bar across the door, regulators said it didn't meet requirements and nixed it. Despite the escalating number of assaults by passengers during the era of air rage, the FAA did little more than issue small fines and warning letters. Public Citizen, an industry watchdog group, published a study last fall that showed how the FAA's inherent conflict of interest renders it ineffective. "The FAA has been commandeered by the very industry it is supposed to regulate," says Joan Claybrook, president of Public Citizen, a not-for-profit public-interest organization. "As a consequence, aviation security has become dangerously lax. The report shows that the FAA should have little if any future role in aviation security."

Too bad Congress didn't see it that way. Thanks to the new Aviation Security Bill passed in November, the FAA will be much involved in security. The bill enacted a $2.50-per-flight-segment surcharge to fund the new Transportation Security Administration, a new agency in the Department of Transportation that will employ 30,000 baggage screeners. According to the bill, screeners will be American citizens who have high school diplomas and will earn up to $35,000 (an improvement over the time when screeners earned less than their buddies at the airport food courts). Congress also mandated the strengthening of cockpit doors within 60 days, the screening of all checked bags within 60 days (even in the days after September 11, only 10 percent of all checked luggage was examined), and the screening of all bags for explosives by the end of 2002. It sounds good, but such measures are easier to legislate than to implement. Less than a month after the bill had passed, Department of Transportation head Norman Mineta warned that the FAA probably wouldn't make the first deadline. But his announcement certainly didn't get as much attention as the Aviation Security Bill did. Neither did the FAA's next move, two months after the bill's passage. The agency softened the requirement that screeners have high school diplomas. Now, anyone with a year's experience as a baggage screener can also apply.

Perhaps if this were any other agency dealing with any other problem, some concessions could be made. But can we ever trust these bureaucrats again? Five years ago Congress demanded certification for all baggage screeners. The FAA never implemented the rules. When the inspector general of the DOT discovered in 2000 that FAA regulations governing background checks of all airport workers were weak and consistently ignored, the FAA required criminal checks--but gave airports until the end of 2003 to comply. And a 2001 audit found that oversight of cargo in passenger planes was still lax, despite regulations passed since the Valujet crash.

In a way, people like shoe bomber Richard Reid and Subash Gurung (the unemployed man from Nepal who slipped past a security checkpoint in Chicago with five knives, a stun gun and a can of pepper spray before airline employees found his weapons at the gate) keep Americans from developing a false sense of security. They demonstrate how porous our defenses continue to be, despite the assurances of people like FAA spokesperson Bill Schuman. "Early on, the FAA took a pivotal role in promoting the airlines, but that changed from 1994 through 1996," says Schuman. "Now we are clearly about safety and regulation. We are not saddled with any new responsibilities, but we have been inundated since September 11. How we operate has changed, but we can handle it. I feel perfectly safe in a commercial airliner today. It's probably safer than at any other time in our history."

We will never be safe as long as the FAA answers to Congress, and Congress continues to accept huge campaign contributions from airlines. Apologists point to the low fatality rate per millions of travelers as evidence that the system is safe. American air travel is among the safest in the world. But it would be even better if airlines weren't allowed to put people at risk by making safety a line item. After the Sabretech settlement was announced last December, a mother of one of Valujet's crash victims concluded, "For things to be safe you have to have accountability, and I don't see accountability at all." The mother of Valujet pilot Captain Candalyn Kubeck added: "The big money and corporations talk and literally get away with murder. The blood of the 110 says something should have happened, but the expensive lawyers wear the system down and out. They will continue putting whatever they want in the bellies of passenger planes. The chances of being caught are minuscule. And even if they are caught, it's a slap on the wrist."

Despite it all, Congress continues to do the airlines' bidding--witness the recent $15 billion bailout that benefited airline executives and investors, but not the 80,000 laid-off airline workers. The air transportation industry has fueled political campaigns with millions of dollars in contributions. In the interim, the airline lobby squashed a passenger's bill of rights. Now American taxpayers are, in effect, paying the airlines twice for the privilege of traveling on them--once in the form of the bailout, and again with higher ticket prices. For all that, you'd think they'd treat us nicer. But when time came to cut the check, customer satisfaction, performance and fiscal viability took a rear-row seat to political influence. American Airlines--bothered by reams of safety violations, and six fatal accidents since 1994 (excluding September 11 and after)--received $583 million in cash (never to be paid back) as part of its almost $1 billion deal. Northwest also received loan guarantees and cash grants of nearly $1 billion. Interestingly, American and Northwest were represented by lobbyist Linda Daschle, wife of Senate Majority Leader Tom Daschle. (Northwest was the second-largest campaign contributor to Tom Daschle in 1998.) L-3 International, a manufacturer of luggage scanners, was another of Linda Daschle's clients. In the 2000 transportation budget, L-3 had a sweetheart deal with the FAA. The administration was required to buy an L-3 machine--which the Dot's inspector general has deemed substandard--every time that it bought another type of scanner. Many L-3 machines were so bad they were not used. The arrangement is partly to blame for the Dot's failure to install bomb-scanning devices for many years.

Linda Daschle was hardly alone. When the airlines descended into Washington for a quick fix--and limitation of liability for September 11--their lobbyists included ex-White House aides, retired senators and representatives, a former chairman of the Republican National Committee, and Rebecca Cox, wife of Representative Christopher Cox (R-Cal.). While some financial analysts pointed out that the bailout mostly helped shareholders and would prop up sickly, inefficient companies, politicians called for a return to business as usual. "They're a cash-flow industry," said Speaker of the House Dennis Hastert. "We have to make sure America keeps flying."

You first, Mr. Hastert.

Do you know what your life is worth? The FAA has pegged the going rate at $2.7 million.