The crash of Air New Zealand Flight 901 in Antarctica would exert a powerful hold on the largest of nations. This was the most extraordinary of tragedies.
First, there was the location, one of the most beautiful, if fearsome and inhospitable, of places. Then there was the immediate aftermath, and the kind of furtiveness and freneticism commonly found in paperback thrillers. And, finally, there were the questions about why the 257 passengers and crew on Flight 901 perished.
In a country in which virtually even person seemed to have a tie of some sort to someone who, on November 28, 1979, failed to return from what was billed as "the ultimate day trip", those questions continue to echo.
The hold of the Erebus tragedy has ensured a high level of interest in the series of memorial services this weekend, most notably that involving Sir Edmund Hillary at Scott Base. And 25 years on, it is timely not only to commemorate those who died but to consider their legacy. To ponder, for example, that if such a crash were to happen today, would there be the same unseemly scramble to cover up failings and protect public image?
An obvious reference point is the death last year of eight people in the crash of an Air Adventures plane near Christchurch Airport. Coincidentally, the circumstances of the accident are being publicly aired in a Coroner's Court. Few, if any, punches are being pulled. Society's demand for greater transparency and accountability has grown. And air accidents have, quite rightly, become a part of that process, no matter how great the potential for embarrassment.
Part of the ongoing hold of Erebus relates to the differing findings of two investigations. The chief air accidents inspector, Ron Chippindale, blamed the "probable cause" on an error by the pilot, Captain Jim Collins, saying the DC-10 would have flown well clear of Mt Erebus if it had kept above approved levels.
A royal commission of inquiry, headed by Justice Peter Mahon, found the co-ordinates of the DC-10's navigation computer had been changed incorrectly, and without ensuring the crew knew of the alterations, so the aircraft was programmed to fly into the mountain. And that the airline had briefed its pilots to fly low, weather permitting.
There is much of the chicken and the egg in these apparently conflicting verdicts. In terms of untangling the web of contributory factors, both have elements of validity. The issue is one of emphasis.
What can be said with certainty is that Justice Mahon's report has had an enduring impact. Since then, air accident investigations have looked closely at airline systems, rather than dwell almost exclusively on crew behaviour. That change was illustrated last year when Air NZ won an Airline Pilots Association safety award, created in memory of Captain Collins, for its investigation of a near-crash in Samoa.
The airline is loath to revisit, or to criticise, those who guided its fortunes in the dark days of 1979. That, to a degree, is understandable. What could not be countenanced would be its failure, or the unwillingness of others, to have learned from the Erebus tragedy.
If some solace is to be found in this weekend's poignant commemorations, it lies in the recognition that that appears not to have been the case.
<EM>Editorial:</EM> It helps that we learned from Erebus
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