So, what's to become of us?
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
“It was the best of times,” - and so it is in many ways. There has never been a better time to tear down the mountain of cumbersome, legally dangerous, operationally inutile, internationally embarrassing regulation and associated restrictions. While the wretched virus holds sway, aviation activity is in a holding pattern and running low on fuel. Money always helps to refuel – but, to expect a rapid recovery under the current regulations and regime, is simply wishful thinking. Adoption of 'world class' rules and a change of regulatory attitude would be a perfect stimulus and allow industry to flourish, on its own initiative; as it has for decades despite lousy regulation and administration.
“It was the worst of times”: not only has industry had a pasting through the virus outbreak; it was in dire straits before that. There is a long list of reasons for this – development of airports; increased administrative costs for operations; an almost insane bunch of regulation; manic regulators, an administration system which, at best could only be described as 'unhelpful' and etc. To add to the existing woes, there is the appointment of a new director of aviation. If Ms Spence is fully backed by heavy duty mandarins and serious changes are to come, then 'hope' may be rekindled. If not then doubt and uncertainty will quickly blossom and all hope of recovery will vanish as fast as investors can find the keys to the Range Rover.
“in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only."
The muted response to the announcement of a new director and chair reflects that. For there is no tangible evidence that anything will change. We have had a series of hamstrung ministers who happily take shelter behind 'the authority'. We have an 'authority which has taken full advantage of never being checked or questioned. The most risible rule set on the planet, ever increasing in size, dominating an industry which dare not call bollocks for fear of decimation through the outlandish legal chicanery those rules allow. This not new – there is a thirty year history of 'fact' to support concern that nothing material will change.
“...but everything in our intercourse did give me pain. Whatever her tone with me happened to be, I could put no trust in it, and build no hope on it; and yet I went on against trust and against hope. Why repeat it a thousand times? So it always was.”
Now, we must all, once again, sit and wait to see which way the coin will land. More time wasted waiting to see which way the hammer will fall. This industry desperately needs positive reassurance that 'change' for the better is not some mythical thing for some time in the future. The need is now and it is urgent.
McDonald could get her finger out – there is a mountain of damning evidence before her, why the delay in taking direct positive, reassuring action? Spence has the job; why is her jacket not hanging on the DAS door, sleeves rolled up swinging the metaphorical axe of real change, in real time? All well and good being cocooned within the bubble, safe salary and protection, remote from the real world – but those in aviation have no such luxuries.
Aye well; back in my box I go; but as we know the wheels of the gods are supposed to grind slow; but I wonder if the gods knocked off and shut down the mill; slow ain't even close, moribund perhaps would be a better descriptor of the Canberra output. There, patience exhausted – Click.............
“So new to him," she muttered, "so old to me; so strange to him, so familiar to me; so melancholy to both of us!...”
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
“It was the best of times,” - and so it is in many ways. There has never been a better time to tear down the mountain of cumbersome, legally dangerous, operationally inutile, internationally embarrassing regulation and associated restrictions. While the wretched virus holds sway, aviation activity is in a holding pattern and running low on fuel. Money always helps to refuel – but, to expect a rapid recovery under the current regulations and regime, is simply wishful thinking. Adoption of 'world class' rules and a change of regulatory attitude would be a perfect stimulus and allow industry to flourish, on its own initiative; as it has for decades despite lousy regulation and administration.
“It was the worst of times”: not only has industry had a pasting through the virus outbreak; it was in dire straits before that. There is a long list of reasons for this – development of airports; increased administrative costs for operations; an almost insane bunch of regulation; manic regulators, an administration system which, at best could only be described as 'unhelpful' and etc. To add to the existing woes, there is the appointment of a new director of aviation. If Ms Spence is fully backed by heavy duty mandarins and serious changes are to come, then 'hope' may be rekindled. If not then doubt and uncertainty will quickly blossom and all hope of recovery will vanish as fast as investors can find the keys to the Range Rover.
“in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only."
The muted response to the announcement of a new director and chair reflects that. For there is no tangible evidence that anything will change. We have had a series of hamstrung ministers who happily take shelter behind 'the authority'. We have an 'authority which has taken full advantage of never being checked or questioned. The most risible rule set on the planet, ever increasing in size, dominating an industry which dare not call bollocks for fear of decimation through the outlandish legal chicanery those rules allow. This not new – there is a thirty year history of 'fact' to support concern that nothing material will change.
“...but everything in our intercourse did give me pain. Whatever her tone with me happened to be, I could put no trust in it, and build no hope on it; and yet I went on against trust and against hope. Why repeat it a thousand times? So it always was.”
Now, we must all, once again, sit and wait to see which way the coin will land. More time wasted waiting to see which way the hammer will fall. This industry desperately needs positive reassurance that 'change' for the better is not some mythical thing for some time in the future. The need is now and it is urgent.
McDonald could get her finger out – there is a mountain of damning evidence before her, why the delay in taking direct positive, reassuring action? Spence has the job; why is her jacket not hanging on the DAS door, sleeves rolled up swinging the metaphorical axe of real change, in real time? All well and good being cocooned within the bubble, safe salary and protection, remote from the real world – but those in aviation have no such luxuries.
Aye well; back in my box I go; but as we know the wheels of the gods are supposed to grind slow; but I wonder if the gods knocked off and shut down the mill; slow ain't even close, moribund perhaps would be a better descriptor of the Canberra output. There, patience exhausted – Click.............
“So new to him," she muttered, "so old to me; so strange to him, so familiar to me; so melancholy to both of us!...”