A response to "Pilots Misbehaving – Are You a Fit and Proper Person?"
It is fair to say that our last article got a mixed response. We expected this. What we didn’t expect was how widely read it was. We learnt, after the fact, that by using the word ‘controversial’, Facebook sprayed the article far and wide. More than 2300 people read the article.
Analysing the response, we found that emoji reactions were 3:1 in the positive but the comments section was the reverse. We clearly touched a nerve.
Our guest writer today offers a response to the article ‘Are you a Fit and Proper Person’. Solange Bason is the wife of a New Zealand airline pilot. She wrote this piece because she has seen firsthand what good looks like and believes the men in this industry have both the platform and the character to lead the way.
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The recent article on the Pauwels Flying Scholarship website makes for uncomfortable reading, and that was the intent. It highlights a range of behaviour, including sexual predation, coercive control, arrogance, misogyny, and domestic harm, that is committed by a minority of men in one of New Zealand's most privileged professions.
When I first read it and heard about its reception within the industry, it came as no surprise that many reacted defensively or dismissed it as an attack piece.
But I hope they can also see the opportunity here.
A wake-up call
What this article really exposes is a pattern of male behaviour that uses privilege, status, and social capital as both a shield and a weapon - and the flight deck is just one place it shows up. The same dynamics play out in boardrooms, in bars and in homes across the country. We see this on the news every other week, and if you’ve missed it, just ask any woman to tell you one story of unwanted or disrespectful behaviour. (How much time have you got? Because we all have plenty to pick from.)
Defensive readers of this article will assure themselves that they’re “not like that.” But that’s not enough. New Zealand men are capable of far more than merely "not being like that.”
What does ‘good’ look like?
New Zealand men don't need to be lectured about how bad some men are. What we need is a clear picture of what ‘good’ actually looks like - and the willingness to pursue it actively.
It starts small. It starts with not laughing at the joke that demeans women. It starts with taking seriously the stories women tell, rather than immediately wondering what they might have done to cause it. It starts with realising that every interaction you have can make a difference.
To the pilots specifically:
You are among the most respected professionals in this country. You are trusted with hundreds of lives every time you strap in. The article is correct in saying that this is a privilege, not a right. And privilege, unchecked by character, can indeed transform over time into entitlement.
But here is what the article also makes abundantly clear: the overwhelming majority of you are good men. Decent, funny, considerate people who take your responsibilities seriously. You know who the bad actors are, you hear the stories. The question is: how do you respond to those stories?
You have real power. Naming poor behaviour is not disloyalty - it is leadership. It is the exemplary upholding of standards, and the very thing that ‘fit and proper’ should stand for.
Here are some honest questions worth sitting with.
Audit your laugh
Laughter is one of the most honest indicators of values. What do you find funny? Before forwarding a message, laughing at a joke, or posting something, pause and ask who it's at the expense of. Humour that punches down at flight attendants, women pilots, or junior crew isn't harmless banter. It signals what you think the hierarchy is, and it reinforces it. Notice what gets a laugh in the crew room or in the group chat and ask yourself whether you'd want it on the record.
Map your inner circle
Look at the five or six people whose opinions you really care about. Are they all men who share your background and status? That's an echo chamber, not a reality check. Actively cultivate relationships, including professional ones, with people who are not like you. They'll open your eyes to perspectives your inner circle cannot.
Notice your reaction to being corrected
This is perhaps the sharpest test of ego. When a female colleague, a junior crew member, or your partner pushes back on something you've said or done, what's your first instinct? Defensiveness, dismissal, and irritation are the ego talking. Curiosity and genuine consideration are the signs of someone who's secure, collaborative and acknowledges that there is always room to grow.
Take coercive control seriously as a concept
Most men who engage in controlling behaviour don't think of themselves as abusers. They think they're just strong-willed or firm. Learning what coercive control actually looks like is important. It happens slowly and doesn’t feel dramatic from the inside.
Seek bold feedback
Ask your partner, your adult children, or a trusted colleague this specific question: "Is there anything I do that makes you feel smaller or less free?" Then - and this is the hard part - don't explain, defend, or qualify. Just listen.
Consider what you celebrate
When a colleague does something questionable and everyone laughs, joining in is a vote of confidence. Staying silent is a lesser vote. Not endorsing it - or better still, naming it for what it is - is leadership. What you celebrate tells others what the culture is and what it permits.
What will your legacy be?
Picture it: it’s your final flight. Your career has come to an end, you’ve ironed your uniform shirt for the last time. What do you hope people will say at your retirement celebration? You’ll want to be known as the pilot who always treated women as equals. The husband who sees his partner’s career as just as important as his own. The colleague who always checked in on the crew after a rough flight. The kind of man who, when he holds power over others - whether as a captain, a manager, an instructor, or simply the higher earner in a household - uses that power to lift, not diminish.
The common thread through all of this is that ego isn't vanquished by a single moment of clarity. It's managed, daily, through small choices about what you laugh at, what you stay silent through, and what you're willing to hear about yourself. That is what fit and proper looks like - not just on paper, but in the crew room, at home, and everywhere in between.
The men who get this right are also the ones who are genuinely trusted, respected and admired – whether they are in uniform at 35,000 feet, or not.
