The aviation industry thrives on a carefully cultivated illusion of control. Every year, airlines, manufacturers, and regulators pat themselves on the back for making air travel statistically safer than crossing the street. That self congratulatory narrative shattered last month when an Air India Boeing 787 careened into a crowded neighborhood, killing 260 people. The preliminary report, dripping with troubling ambiguity, suggests someone in the cockpit cut the fuel supply seconds after takeoff. Not during an emergency. Not due to mechanical failure. Someone, deliberately or otherwise, flipped the switches to cutoff. And that should terrify anyone who has ever set foot on a plane.

Let’s start with the obvious. Cutting fuel mid flight is not a standard operating procedure. It is not something pilots do absent a catastrophic engine fire or similarly dire circumstance. The report explicitly states there was no such emergency. So what happened? The possibilities are disturbing in equal measure. Either one of two experienced pilots made an incomprehensible error, an act so reckless it borders on criminal negligence, or this was intentional. Neither scenario reflects well on Air India, Boeing, or the broader aviation ecosystem that enabled it.

Consider the context. Air India, long plagued by financial instability, was privatized less than two years ago. The acquisition by Tata Group was supposed to herald a new era of professionalism. Yet insiders whisper about cost cutting measures, including rushed pilot training and deferred maintenance. Meanwhile, Boeing, still recovering from the 737 Max debacle, has faced repeated scrutiny over its Dreamliner quality control. Lest we forget, this is the company that prioritized shareholder returns over engineering rigor, with lethal consequences. Now, history threatens to repeat itself.

The report’s vagueness is telling. It refuses to specify which pilot initiated the cutoff, hiding behind procedural neutrality. This is not transparency. It is corporate ass covering disguised as due process. Investigators note there were no mechanical failures, no bird strikes, no external factors to blame. The responsibility, by default, falls on human judgment or malfeasance. And yet, the official stance is that no corrective actions are necessary for Boeing or its engine supplier. Really? Hundreds dead, and the best response is a collective shrug?

Pilot training deserves particular scrutiny. The Dreamliner is a fly by wire aircraft, heavily reliant on automation. There is growing evidence that over dependence on such systems erodes basic airmanship skills. Pilots become systems managers rather than aviators, conditioned to trust computers over instinct. When things go wrong, as they did here, the results are tragic. Yet airlines continue to push for reduced hands on training, prioritizing cost efficiency over competence. Air India’s recent push to expand its Dreamliner fleet, while cutting simulator hours, looks especially reckless in hindsight.

The financialization of aviation exacerbates these risks. Private equity firms and conglomerates treat airlines as balance sheet entries, squeezing margins wherever possible. Maintenance budgets shrink. Training programs get streamlined. Experienced crews retire early, replaced by cheaper, less seasoned pilots. None of this would matter if flying were as fail safe as the industry claims. But when disaster strikes, the facade crumbles. The Air India crash is not an outlier. It is the inevitable consequence of an industry that prioritizes profits over people.

Regulators share the blame. India’s Aircraft Accident Investigation Bureau operates with minimal independence, often deferring to political and corporate interests. Contrast this with the NTSB’s no holds barred approach to crashes on U.S. soil. The difference is stark. One system demands accountability. The other obfuscates. Until regulators grow spines, airlines and manufacturers will continue cutting corners, secure in the knowledge that consequences are negotiable.

Aviation is not magic. It is a high stakes industry where complacency kills. The Air India crash underscores a brutal truth. No amount of automation can compensate for human error or corporate negligence. Pretending otherwise is not just dishonest. It is deadly.