By Dipak Kurmi
When Air India Flight 171, a Boeing 787 Dreamliner en route from Ahmedabad to London Gatwick, crashed just moments after takeoff on Thursday afternoon, the tragedy unfolded with chilling familiarity. All 242 passengers and crew aboard perished as the aircraft plummeted into the densely populated Meghani Nagar locality, just outside the perimeter of Ahmedabad’s Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel International Airport. Columns of thick black smoke darkened the city skyline, drawing emergency responders and anguished families, but offering few clues as to what went fatally wrong in those first crucial moments of flight.
As investigators sift through the debris, the broader aviation community understands one grim certainty: if an aircraft is going to crash, it is statistically most likely to do so either at the beginning or end of its journey. Decades of global data confirm this pattern. The ongoing investigation into the Air India crash may take months to reach definitive conclusions, but its timing—shortly after takeoff—fits a tragically common profile.
Patterns in the Sky: What the Data Reveal
International Air Transport Association (IATA), the global trade body representing airlines, has amassed accident data from 2005 to 2023 showing that more than half—53%—of all aviation accidents occurred during the landing phase. The takeoff phase followed with 8.5%, while the initial climb (immediately after takeoff) and final approach (just before landing) contributed 6.1% and 8.5% respectively. Rejected takeoffs, when a pilot aborts liftoff on the runway, made up 1.8% of accidents.
Boeing’s own internal analysis of fatal commercial jet accidents from 2015 to 2024 corroborates these findings. Though the takeoff and initial climb phases represent only 2% of total flight time exposure, they account for 20% of fatal accidents and 20% of fatalities. The subsequent climb phase—though more stable—was responsible for 10% of fatal incidents and a staggering 35% of deaths, despite occupying just 14% of exposure.
By contrast, the cruise phase, where the aircraft flies at steady speed and altitude, accounted for only 10% of fatal crashes and less than 0.5% of fatalities, even though it represents 57% of total flight time on an average 1.5-hour journey. For longer flights, cruise time increases, yet the accident rate remains proportionally lower. This data convergence is clear: aviation’s deadliest moments occur not while flying steadily at 36,000 feet, but when closest to the ground.
The Physics of Danger: Low and Slow
Aviation professionals use the term “low and slow” to describe an aircraft during takeoff and landing. It is a phrase that encapsulates the inherent vulnerability of these flight phases. At cruising altitude, pilots have space and time—two luxuries denied to them during ascent or descent. If a twin-engine airliner loses both engines mid-cruise, it won’t fall from the sky; it will glide. At that altitude, a jet loses approximately one mile in altitude for every 10 miles of horizontal travel, giving the crew upwards of eight minutes to respond and prepare for an emergency landing.
However, if the same failure occurs during takeoff, there may be mere seconds before the aircraft becomes unrecoverable. Pilots have no altitude cushion to work with, limited speed, and minimal room for error. In such moments, even a textbook-trained crew can find itself overwhelmed.
Environmental and mechanical stressors compound the danger. Aircraft engines operate under maximum stress during takeoff, working against gravity to lift several hundred tonnes into the air. A minor fault in the engine or any misreading of indicators can turn catastrophic in an instant. In contrast, engine performance mid-flight is usually stable, with considerably less strain.
Similarly, aerodynamic stalls—conditions in which an aircraft loses lift due to the wings exceeding their critical angle of attack—are far more perilous at low altitude. During takeoff, if a pilot pulls the nose too high too soon, the aircraft can enter a stall from which recovery is unlikely. Ironically, the counterintuitive solution is to pitch the nose downward, something only possible with adequate altitude.
Bird strikes, turbulence, and inclement weather are also statistically more likely at lower altitudes. A bird sucked into a jet engine during takeoff—such as in the case of US Airways Flight 1549, which landed in the Hudson River in 2009—can cripple propulsion systems. While Captain Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger’s glider-like maneuver became legendary, not all pilots have rivers nearby or the fortune of daytime visibility.
The Human Factor: Stress and Error
Human error, particularly during landings, remains a major cause of aviation accidents. Landing is arguably the most technically demanding segment of flight. A pilot must constantly adjust for shifting winds, assess aircraft weight, check altitude and speed, and precisely align the aircraft with the runway. All these actions must be performed in real-time, with little room for delay or deviation.
Pilot fatigue, miscommunication with air traffic control, and sensory disorientation in poor visibility can all contribute to misjudgments. Indeed, most landing-related crashes are attributed to pilot error rather than mechanical failure. Automation and advanced avionics have reduced such risks significantly, but no system is infallible, especially under intense stress.
An Improving Safety Record
Despite these risks, air travel remains the safest mode of transportation. The raw numbers are reassuring. According to the International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO), the number of accidents per million commercial flight departures dropped from 4.9 in 2005 to 1.9 in 2023. This is a remarkable decline, especially when considering the global spike in air travel during this period.
Importantly, ICAO’s broad definition of an accident includes even non-lethal incidents, such as minor structural damage or temporary disappearance of aircraft from radar. While accident numbers have declined, fatality trends show more variability, often due to a few rare but catastrophic crashes. In 2014, for instance, two major accidents accounted for nearly 60% of the year’s 911 fatalities. These statistical outliers reveal that while aviation accidents have become rarer, when they do occur, the stakes remain tragically high.
What has driven this improvement in safety? Several factors. Modern aircraft are engineered with redundant systems and fail-safe mechanisms, reducing the likelihood of catastrophic failure. Engines today are more reliable than ever. Pilot training has undergone a revolution, with advanced simulators replicating complex emergency scenarios to prepare crews for the worst. Weather forecasting tools, collision avoidance systems, and satellite-based navigation have significantly enhanced situational awareness.
Aviation safety culture itself has evolved. Smoking on planes—once routine until the 1990s—is now unthinkable. Cockpit resource management, black box analysis, and global accident databases now drive a continuous learning process across the industry.
Air India 171: The Latest Tragedy in Context
The crash of Air India Flight 171 is the latest reminder that despite all progress, takeoff remains a critical vulnerability. The aircraft, a Boeing 787 Dreamliner—a model known for its fuel efficiency and composite materials—was equipped with the latest in avionics and flight systems. Yet even the most advanced machine is not immune to the hazards posed by low altitude, dense airspace, and the rigors of immediate climb.
In the weeks and months to come, investigators will examine every detail: flight data recorders, engine diagnostics, pilot communication logs, and eyewitness accounts. They will ask whether there was mechanical failure, pilot misjudgment, or an external factor like a bird strike. But they will do so within the framework of existing knowledge—knowledge that overwhelmingly tells us that takeoff and landing are the most dangerous moments in flight.
Understanding this helps contextualize the crash, not just as a freak occurrence, but as part of a broader, data-backed pattern. Each accident, while deeply personal in its human toll, becomes a case study in an industry that never stops learning. Lessons from Ahmedabad will likely inform aviation safety far beyond India’s borders—perhaps helping to prevent another tragedy in another city.
Even in grief, this is the paradoxical triumph of aviation: its safety record is built on the debris of its disasters, each crash making the skies just a bit safer for those who follow.
(The writer can be reached at dipakkurmiglpltd@gmail.com)
