‘Training to be Selected’: Establishing the Case for a
New Crew Resource Management Pedagogy
Amy L.
Fraher, EdD
Amy L. Fraher, EdD is
Chief Pilot of the Aviation Operations Program at
In Flying the Friendly Skies: Why
U.S. Commercial Airline Pilots Want to Carry Guns (Fraher, 2004a), I
examined new dilemmas that confronted U.S. commercial airlines in the weeks and
months following the events of September 11, 2001 (9/11). Citing previous
studies of social systems (Jacques, 1955; Menzies, 1959; Rice, 1958, 1963,
1965; Miller and Rice, 1967) which explored how organizations develop
mechanisms to defend against anxiety inherent in the system, I used a systems psychodynamics[1]
perspective to analyze the debate surrounding arming pilots with handguns at
work. I deduced that many pilots’ desire to be armed resulted from a
combination of individual, group and systemic factors such as personal
valencies, changes in the airport security system, the influence of the social
history of guns in
Proposing possible ways to proceed, I suggested that we needed more
research about how the airline, as a system, and its leaders could better contain pilots’ anxieties and reduce
some pilots’ urge to take matters into their own hands and carry a weapon at
work. I concluded that aircrew training programs could undergo further
development and noted that “pilots could be trained using experiential learning
techniques to understand better group dynamics and their collusion within the
system” (Fraher, 2004a, p. 592).
This article takes up the challenge, exploring ways that systems psychodynamics can provide a
fresh approach to team training and error management in high-risk industries
such as aviation. Typically called Crew
Resource Management (CRM), aviation team training has deep roots in the
sensitivity training and T-group movement in the
Today, CRM training programs are in place at all commercial airlines in
the
Pettitt and Dunlap (1994) claimed “that the traditional sources of
airline pilots—the military and general aviation—are in a period of decline”
(p. 21) positioning college and university programs to take the lead in
aviation training. Since 95% of pilots employed at major airlines have at least
a four-year degree, “the university aviation community should take the lead in
proposing new regulations and training approaches” (p. 26) that more closely
match industry requirements.
Reporting the results of extensive industry interviews, these authors
noted “without exception, the experts described a new operating environment
that makes demands beyond the technical knowledge and skills traditionally
taught in collegiate flight programs” (p. 24).
Urging a shift away from curricula with heavy emphasis on the
acquisition of requisite technical skills and knowledge dictated by FAA
licensing examinations, Pettitt and Dunlap called for a more broad-based
interdisciplinary education driven by industry needs instead of FAA
certification requirements.
Similar to the premise I used to design my new program at
Initially termed Cockpit
Resource Management, CRM emerged largely as a bi-product of the Jet Age. As jet aircraft became the mainstay of
commercial air travel in the 1960s, the safety and reliability of jet engines
drastically reduced both maintenance problems and the number of aviation
accidents, illuminating the fact that human errors played a part in 70-80% of
aircraft mishaps. “The conclusion drawn from theses investigations was that
‘pilot error’ in documented accidents and incidents was more likely to reflect
failures in team communication and coordination than deficiencies in
‘stick-and-rudder’ proficiency” (Helmreich and Foushee, 1993, p. 7) or
mechanical failures. In other words, misunderstandings and miscommunication
between crew inside the aircraft, often compounded by the those with others
outside the aircraft, were a factor in nearly
all aircraft accidents.
One early example which drew the attention of industry leaders occurred
in 1972 when an Eastern Airline L-1011 crashed after an experienced aircrew
became distracted by a burnt out landing gear light. Inadvertently
disconnecting the autopilot during their trouble-shooting, the airplane began a
slow descent unbeknownst to the crew, and crashed in the Florida Everglades,
fatally injuring ninety-nine passengers and five crewmembers. Air Traffic
Controllers (ATC) had recognized that the aircraft was on a steady descent yet
controllers only vaguely inquired “How’s it goin’ out there, Eastern?”
An enigma emerged: How did a highly trained, professional aircrew team
in a modern, well-equipped jet, crash their airplane over a “59-cent” light
bulb? And why did controllers not inquire more specifically about the
airplane’s descent, in particular, challenge the crew’s violation of Federal
Aviation Regulations by its departure from assigned altitude without ATC
clearance?
By the mid-1970s many research studies, including several conducted by
NASA, examined the human factors behind aviation accidents. Between 1968 and
1976, George Cooper and Maury White conducted a detailed analysis of commercial
jet accidents worldwide, concluding that most incidents were correlated with
“various failures of command, communication, and crew coordination” (Weiner,
Kanki, and Helmreich, 1993, p. xvii). H.P. Ruffell Smith’s (1979) research was
even more specific, citing a need for increased awareness about the role of
management skills in cockpit operations. Although these studies heightened
awareness of the issues, it was perhaps an incident in the
On
As
Chief Training Captain for the 747 fleet, the KLM captain was very experienced
and routinely featured in company advertisements. His copilot was also
experienced—as a pilot—but brand new to the 747. In fact, the captain had
recently given him his 747 checkride.
The Spanish
air traffic controllers had difficulty communicating in English and,
exacerbated by the Dutch copilots’ non-standard phraseology, there were
numerous misunderstandings. After a lengthy delay,
KLM
taxied down the runway first, turning 180-degrees into position for takeoff.
Unbeknownst to the eager Dutch captain, Pan Am was taxiing immediately up the
runway behind them. As the KLM Captain began the takeoff roll the copilot
exclaimed “Wait a minute, we don’t have an ATC clearance.” The captain braked,
responding “No…I know that. Go ahead and ask.” Dutifully, the copilot asked for
takeoff clearance and was told to “standby for takeoff.”
Nevertheless,
the KLM captain said “Let’s go” and initiated his takeoff again. The copilot,
clearly alarmed, exclaimed meaninglessly over the radio “we are now at
takeoff!” further confusing matters between Pan Am and ATC.
The fog
was so thick, neither ATC nor the taxiing Pan Am crew could see the end of the
runway or KLM accelerating down it. Seconds later the Pan Am crew identified
KLM’s lights coming out of the fog and frantically attempted to clear the
runway as the KLM captain rotated, forcing the jet into flight. Although KLM’s
nose gear passed over the other 747, the main landing gear sheered off Pan Am’s
upper deck and both aircraft were destroyed by fire.
Accident investigators determined that poor communication and use of
non-standard terminology were the main causes of the collision and resultant
five hundred and eighty-three deaths.
Perhaps even more importantly, analysts wondered why such an experienced
KLM crew could make such a basic, yet catastrophic, mistake. Why was the KLM
captain so reluctant to accept input and why did the copilot, who clearly knew
they had not been issued takeoff clearance, not speak up more assertively to
prevent this accident?
In a novel break with aviation tradition for 1977, “safety analysts
believed it was possible that the first officer, who had only 95 hours in the
747, and who was flying with the KLM chief 747 instructor, may have been intimidated by the captain’s legendary status”
(Krause, 2003, p. 210; emphasis added.) In other words, it was an authority issue: The combination of the
captain’s impressive persona and the copilot’s lack of confidence flying a new
airplane resulted in an experienced copilot becoming confused and questioning
his sense-making capabilities. Was this example of the powerful influence of
authority dynamics over human behavior an anomaly? History proves otherwise.
Perhaps influenced by the bravado of war fighting and barnstorming in
the early twentieth-century, aviation culture has historically celebrated the
courageous young dare-devil pilot and his individual flying acumen; rarely, if
ever, has it lauded teamwork. Pilot training, whether conducted in military,
commercial or general aviation arenas, often was accomplished one-on-one in
boot camp fashion where flight instructors demonstrated and students
unquestioningly mimicked both behavior and technical maneuvers under a barrage
of verbal direction. There was no standardized method of instruction and
“communication between the instructor and student was woefully inadequate,
consisting mostly of shouting above the wind and engine noise” (Brady, 2000, p.
22). The goal—and first major achievement in any pilot’s career—was to fly solo.
Even at major commercial airlines, until very recently, a pilot was deemed
competent when he or she could demonstrate proficiency flying a standard set of
maneuvers. Although pilots usually fly
in crews, competence had little to do with teamwork or error management in the
cockpit. It is “only within the last decade” that we have “begun to consider
this issue of crews and groups…in the training of teams that fly commercial
aircraft” (Ginnett, 1993, p. 72).
As airlines expanded in the Jet Age, quickly surpassing trains and ocean
liners as the most popular, safe and reliable means of long-range travel, the
vast majority of airline pilots were military trained. In addition, most of the
Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) inspectors who, in coordination with
airline leaders, developed the training, checking, and standard operating
practices were also from a military background. A homogenous group, these
ex-military pilots created a culture which they were accustomed to: A culture
that respected rank and authority, valuing captains who took charge and acted
decisively and subordinates who followed orders, rarely questioning authority
or the decisions of superiors.
As a reflection of these values, industry leaders developed a training
environment that measured “individual proficiency” by requiring “each captain
to demonstrate the ability to handle” without assistance “nearly every
conceivable situation that might be encountered in flight” (Birnbach and
Longridge, 1993, p. 265). Copilots’, called first
officers, individual proficiency was measured by how well they assisted the
captain. In fact, Helmreich and Foushee, (1993) note “in 1952 the guidelines
for proficiency checks at one major airline categorically stated that the first officer should not correct errors made
by the captain” (p. 5, emphasis added). As a result, the individualistic
norms we now find in the aviation culture reflect this early acculturation
process. Changing such deep seeded ethos remains a daunting challenge.
Prompted by the industry’s increased awareness of the complex human
factors involved in aircraft accidents, the first CRM workshop was held in
1979, sponsored by NASA, and entitled Resource
Management on the Flightdeck.
Workshop discussants agreed that failures of “interpersonal
communications, decisionmaking, and leadership,” (Helmreich, Merritt, and
Wilhelm, 1999, p. 19) in particular, were underlying factors in the majority of
air crashes to date. As a direct result
of this workshop and the crash United Flight 173, a DC-8 which ran out of fuel
in Portland, United Airlines developed the first comprehensive CRM program in
1981 (Cook, 1995).
Heavily influenced by the thinking of Robert Blake, an early NTL
enthusiast[3],
and his cofounder of Scientific Methods Inc. Jane Mouton, United’s training was
based on popular management efficiency programs which had been implemented
successfully in a number of major
Cook (1995) noted that “although the developers of the United CRM
program deny it, elements of T-group and sensitivity training are certainly
involved” (p. 30). Clearly not a supporter of this perspective, Cook recounts
how “during a sales presentation of the course” a representative from
Scientific Methods “explained with apparent satisfaction how he had witnessed
captains and, in one instance, a chief pilot, break down and cry before the
group during the final evaluation” (p. 31). Appalled by this “personality
shredding,” Cook observed that the “difficulty stems from an emphasis on
attitudes and motivations rather than behavior” (p. 31).
By providing one of the first CRM training programs as a model, based on
NTL’s sensitivity training and their own personality measurements, Blake and
Mouton fundamentally shaped the early years of CRM training. Their influence
continues to be felt through out the resource management field. The centerpiece of Blake and Mouton’s (1964)
training approach was the now famous Managerial
Grid in which participants were asked to respond to a series of survey
questions designed to elicit attitudes towards task and people. For
instance, a person with low concern for task accomplishment but high concern
for people had a country club
leadership style. A person with high concern for task accomplishment but low
concern for people was considered to have an authoritarian leadership style.
The training was intended to provide participants an opportunity to
reflect on their personal managerial styles and how others may perceive their
individual behavior in groups.
Since they are easily reproduced, statistically valid and reliable, and
satisfy fantasies that if the right personalities have been identified and
grouped together, the team will be effective, personality measures remain a
popular part of many CRM training programs. Yet, such approaches ignore the
fact that people behave differently in different groups and team dynamics often
move in unpredictably complex—not reliably linear—ways. As a result, I believe increasing people’s
awareness of these complex group phenomenons rather than providing an
artificial snapshot of one’s personal managerial style is more helpful.
Although United’s C/L/R program was an overall success, becoming a model
for other airlines to emulate, some pilots denounced the individually focused
training as “psycho-babble” and “charm school” attempts to “manipulate their
personalities” (Helmreich et al, p. 20-21).
It became clear that some pilots were too resistant to be trained in the
CRM perspective. Helmreich, et al noted “any chief pilot can identify these individuals,
who have come to be known by a variety of names—Boomerangs, Cowboys, and Drongos
to mention a few” (p. 22). The term Drongo
originated from the name of a small Australian bird which flies around
defecating on the heads of unsuspecting passersby.
Regardless of some pilots’ resistance, CRM proved durable as the
aviation industry began to shift employee hiring practices away from
prioritizing the technically proficient Top
Gun-types toward selecting pilots with strong team skills. For example, some major US airlines starting
crewing their commercial jets with
experienced military helicopter pilots,
known to have strong teambuilding experience, rather than the single-seat
combat jet pilots previously given preferential hiring. In addition, Helmreich,
Wiener and Kanki, (1993) noted airline management recognized that increased
cockpit automation in modern airliners required a shift away “from an emphasis
on ‘stick-and-rudder’ skills to interpersonal programming and monitoring
capabilities—in short, management skills” (p. 488).
In 1986, NASA and the U.S. Air Force’s Military Airlift Command jointly
sponsored the first CRM workshop to
examine developments in the field. As evidence of the growing support for the
burgeoning field, contributions were made from United Airlines, Continental
Airlines, Pan American Airlines, Japan Airlines, Trans Australia Airlines and
People’s Express as well as military, corporate and regional air carriers.
A “two-pronged approach” to
addressing the human factors components of flight safety began to emerge in the
early 1990s focusing on “selection
and training as the avenues for
optimizing safe behavior on the flight deck” (Sexton, Wilhelm, Helmreich,
Merritt, and Klinect, 2001, p. 2; emphasis added). Selection research tended to focus on measurement of the relatively
stable and unchanging characteristics of an individual’s personality as
determined through interviews and personality inventories. Because aspects of
people’s personality were believed largely to be fixed and resistant to change,
airlines thought that selecting pilots with a predisposition to accept CRM
philosophies, weeding out those who lacked it, would improve training success
and teamwork on the flight deck.
In addition to selecting pilots with a new kind of right stuff, researchers continued to hone CRM training to meet
better the needs of their audience. For example, they eliminated confusing
psychological jargon and unrelated teambuilding exercises, more appropriate for
the management training they were originally developed for. They also determined
that CRM training needed to be an ongoing effort, not a one time training
vaccination, and that the entire organization needed to be supportive. Chief
pilots, check airman and instructor pilots were tasked to lead the cultural
change by role-modeling good CRM skills.
After an extensive literature review and participation in five different
CRM-like programs in my twenty year aviation career,[4]
I have observed that although many programs adequately address the first
challenge illuminated by the Florida Everglades, Tenerife, and Portland
aircraft accidents by improving communication and emphasizing the dangers of
non-standard behaviors, few programs adequately address the second—how to negotiate the dynamics of authority relationships.
Yet, because most CRM training programs have roots in the early model
developed in the
In contrast to the NTL’s individualistic perspective, the Tavistock
approach refocuses the level of analysis on covert group processes—the often
unspoken dynamics of authority with the group—and consider these not as
individual distinctions, but in terms of the group-as-a-whole. Rather than focusing on NTL-feedback
exercises which may lead to “personality shredding,” it aims to expose people
to the realities of the messy, conflict-ridden complexity of group life. This
approach provides no easy measures or finite steps to team-building success.
Assuming that groups work in cyclic, not linear, ways oscillating from anxiety
modes to work modes and back again, this perspective focuses on heightening the
group’s awareness of individual psychology, group dynamics and systemic factors
in a manner allowing teams to operate effectively in a wide range of areas.
One might ask: NTL—individual; Tavistock—group-as-a-whole; why does it
matter which perspective is employed in CRM training? The answer lies in where
responsibility is placed—in other words, who
is authorized—to make changes within the system. Are individuals made to feel personally responsible or, as Majors
Wilfred Bion and John Rickman (1943) proposed during their group study at
Northfield Hospital during World War II, are team failures seen as a disability
of the community-as-a-whole, not the failure of individual members within it
(Fraher, 2004c)?
Although both the NTL and Tavistock models are based on similar experiential pedagogy, such as
investigating the group as a microcosm of society, studying behavior as it
occurs in the here-and-now, and providing opportunities for individuals to
interpret their own learning experience, the different models emphasize
distinctly different areas of group behavior (Fraher, 2004c; Miller, 1993;
Neumann, Holvino and Braxton, 2000). For example, the pedagogy employed at most
current CRM training events is one in which participants are helped to diagnose
and experiment with their own behavior and relationships during group learning
activities. More specifically, these NTL-influenced models focus on modifying
an individual’s directly observable behaviors and attitudes through a variety
of feedback exercises (Fraher, 2004c).
In contrast, the Tavistock model’s group relations events provide
opportunities to examine covert, unconscious group behaviors, especially in
relation to authority figures, within a temporary social institution (Fraher,
2004c; Klein and Astrachan, 1971; Neumann, Holvino and Braxton, 2000). This study of authority, and the obvious and
not-so-obvious dynamics which influence the success and failure of leadership
efforts, directly addresses the glaring deficiencies illuminated by the
previously discussed aviation mishaps. I believe understanding authority and
how it influences people’s behavior in groups must become a central concept in
CRM programs. History has proven its necessity.
As a pilot at a major commercial airline, I was involved in a two day
CRM-like training workshop[5]
where senior captains and experienced copilots were asked to participate in a
role-playing event. The task my group was assigned was to determine the best
course of action given the following scenario:
In Flight Operations[6],
a male Captain and female First Officer were flight-planning. At a table next
to them a couple of fellow pilots loudly made several derogatory comments about
women pilots. The First Officer was the only female in Flight Ops.
The solution to this problem seemed obvious to me, a female first
officer. Although all eyes immediately turned to me, the only women in the
group, I initially restrained from engaging in the group’s discussion. The men
in the group quickly and unanimously agreed that the male pilots’ “derogatory
comments about women pilots” was inappropriate.
Yet, just as we were taught in the individualistically oriented training
earlier that day, they believed that, although the female first officer in the
scenario was “the only female in Flight Ops,” she should be the person to
correct the inappropriate behavior. “If she’s offended,” one captain noted “she
should say something,” as if there were no other covert group dynamics present.
I tried to explain how the female first officer was in many ways the
least authorized—and most vulnerable
to be scapegoated—should she collude with the group and take up this
challenge. Yet the male pilots present
could not understand. Although many admitted they would be offended if they
heard the inappropriate comments themselves, they did not feel any
responsibility to intervene because they could not comprehend group-as-a-whole
dynamics or their collusion within the system. One senior male Line Check
Captain candidly reasoned “I don’t want to become the hall monitor for the
entire pilot population.” Just as in the KLM Tenerife accident, the majority
group was essentially demanding that members of the least authorized group, and
therefore most powerless, challenge the system with no awareness of systemic
interdependence.
In contrast to this individualistic focus, heightening CRM trainees’
awareness of covert processes at the group-as-a-whole level would enable them
to understand the systemic influences better and therefore prepare them better
to take responsibility for their behavior as a group. This awareness will allow
them to manage themselves in the multiple roles necessary for contemporary
leadership and think critically about the covert processes which may be
influencing the success or failure of leadership efforts.
Although Cook (1995) argued “until research results are available, CRM training should de-emphasize the study
of leadership,” (p. 32; emphasis added) I disagree. I believe the time is
ripe for pioneering new leadership training practices and conducting research
on their effectiveness.
Recent scholarship in the field of resource management documents a shift
away from thinking about CRM training with its original emphasis on cognitive
knowledge and attitude training toward more directly measurable
skill-assessment training as the core activities (Helmreich, et. al. 1999;
Seamster and Kaempf, 2001, p. 11). For
instance, in their search for a “universal rationale” for CRM training that
could be “endorsed by pilots of all nations—including the Drongos,” Helmreich,
et. al. (p. 25) urge a swing away from the hard to quantify cognitive training
toward what they claim was CRM’s original goal: Error management.
Calling current changes the “fifth generation CRM,” Helmreich, et. al.
call for an industry wide paradigm shift which supports “that human error is
ubiquitous and inevitable” (p. 25). Through this perspective, CRM can then be
seen as a set of “error countermeasures” with three lines of directly
observable “defenses”: 1.) avoiding
error, 2.) trapping errors before
they are committed and 3.) mitigating
the consequences of committed errors. Since much aviation training is
procedurally based with strict checklists to guide performance, producing a
list of observable behaviors is seen as a way to gain wider acceptance within
the industry and avoid “charm school” labels.
Yet my aviation experience has shown me that in most aviation careers
today it is assumed that when one possesses FAA certificates one has sufficient
mastery of the technical skills and knowledge required by the job. What differentiates excellent pilots and
aviation managers from average ones is their leadership, ability to communicate
and perform in a team under often highly stressful situations not often
dictated by behaviors on a checklist.
As the experts in Pettitt and Dunlap’s (1994) study attest, the aviation
operating environment today has grown so complex leaders within it must possess
sophisticated communication skills, the ability to tolerate ambiguity, analyze
authority relations and think critically about multiple realities at once. Merely possessing the skills to pass the FAA
certification—still a challenge, but once a milestone—is only the beginning; a
license to fly but not to lead.
It has become clear that the two-pronged
approach, discussed previously,
focusing on selecting pilots to be trained to meet minimum error management
standards is important. Yet, I wonder
whether pilots can be trained to be
selected. Are we throwing the proverbial “baby out with the bath water”
by abandoning the knowledge and attitude training that was originally a
mainstay of CRM training in favor of more easily measured signs of training
success?
I propose that we can do both: Build cognitive knowledge and influence
attitudes early in a young pilot’s career through an interdisciplinary college
aviation program, like the program I direct, as well as focus on error
management strategies as a more observable measure of CRM skills in the
cockpit. We do not have to accept the
stereotype that some pilots are incorrigible Drongos, as some research
has suggested. I believe if we intervene
early enough, we can mold most students’ perceptions in a way that builds a
positive correlation to leadership, communication, teamwork, and CRM-like
values, training them to be selected for aviation careers.
Although recent CRM research has called for reduced emphasis on “the
study of leadership” (Cook, 1995, p. 32) and a renewed focus on study of the
underlying causes of, and better ways to avoid, trap and mitigate human error
(Dismukes, 2001; Helmreich et al, 1999), the dynamics of authority so apparent
in the case studies discussed here have yet to be fully explored. Can a
paradigm shift be imparted that supports that errors and conflict within
teams are inevitable and that the real challenge is for aircrews to understand
the influence of authority on human behavior?
This new, more present leadership model would support
leaders who can communicate across many different boundaries, manage themselves
in multiple roles, and hone reflective capabilities, using emotional intelligence to inform actions, understand and manage
resistance to change in themselves and others, and to understand dynamics
affecting formal and informal leadership roles.
Research has shown that “in leadership positions, almost 90 percent of
the competencies necessary for success are social and emotional in nature”
(Cherniss, 2000, p. 434). Key
characteristics become central when under stress such as the ability to
“motivate oneself and persist in the face of frustrations; to control impulse
and delay gratification; to regulate one’s moods and keep distress from
swamping the ability to think; to empathize and to hope” (Goleman, 1995, p.
34).
In fact, Goleman (1995, 1998) claims that emotional
intelligence “can be as powerful, and at times more powerful, than IQ” as a
determinant of success (p. 34). Yet,
emotional intelligence has been largely overlooked in leadership training. Once “considered an oxymoron by some, it was
said, because emotions convey the idea of unreasonableness,” (Mayer, Salovey,
and Caruso, 2000, p. 93) new brain research reveals the emotional and cognitive
centers of the brain are far more integrated than previously thought.
Citing “dozens of different experts” from a wide range of
fields worldwide, Goleman (1998) observes “IQ takes second position to
emotional intelligence in determining outstanding job performance”(p. 5).
Cherniss (2000) agrees, observing that the emotional intelligence of a group’s
leader has “a powerful impact on the group’s climate and effectiveness” (p.
450). Although the leader and group
share this powerfully interdependent relationship, “the emotionally intelligent
leader is aware of these influences,” understands “group, intergroup and
organizational dynamics, particularly as they affect emotional functioning, and
[is] skillful in working with those dynamics for the benefit of individuals and
their organization” (p. 450).
As a result, even leaders in highly specialized and
technical fields such as aviation should increase their emotional literacy and
develop reflective skills to problem solve with and about emotions. Leaders must learn to understand and manage
emotions, develop the confidence to take action on the basis of this
understanding and tolerate uncertainty while managing the consequences. And, important for development of our new CRM
pedagogy, Goleman (1995) notes these “crucial emotional competencies can indeed
be learned” (p. 34.).
Many recent studies (Fin, 1995; Fraher, 2004a; Kern
2001; Krause, 2003; Mearns, Flin and O’Connor, 2001; Weiner, Kanki, and
Helmreich, 1993) provide evidence from “a number of
high-hazard, high-reliability industries showing how failures of communication,
poor teamwork and poor leadership are common human factors precursors to
accidents” (Mearns et al, p. 378). Out of
necessity, a new definition of leadership emerged in the field of aviation over
the past two decades called Crew Resource
Management and “has been adopted by a number of other professions including
anesthetists, air traffic control, the merchant navy, the nuclear power
industry, aviation maintenance, and teams on offshore oil and gas
installations” (Mearns et al, p. 382).
Recent developments in the field indicate a shift
away CRM training focused on cognitive knowledge and leadership training toward
more clearly observable, and therefore measurable, error management behaviors
which will no doubt increase receptivity of CRM concepts within the field of
aviation and other technical, high-risk industries it could serve. Yet, I contend that CRM should not be thought
of simply as a formulaic error management strategy, but as an emotional intelligence philosophy that
includes both leadership training and error management strategies equipping
pilots to understand the dynamics of authority in order to think critically,
offering important—in some cases life saving—information in useful ways. Research that deepens our understanding of
the impact of individual psychology, group dynamics, and systemic influences on
team behavior in high-hazard, high-reliability
industries is warranted.
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[1] Systems psychodynamics is an interdisciplinary field
which amalgamates a triad of influences: The practice of psychoanalysis, the
theories and methods of the field of group relations, and the task and boundary
awareness of open systems perspectives (Fraher, 2004b, p. 65).
[2] The Federal Aviation Administration Advisory
Circular (AC No: 120-51E) entitled Crew
Resource Management Training presents guidelines for part 121 commercial
air carriers “who are required by regulation to provide CRM training for pilots
and flight attendants, and dispatch resource management (DRM) training for
aircraft dispatchers” (p. 1).
[3] Interestingly, Blake attended one of the NTL’s first
human laboratories held in
[4] Two in the US Navy and three at commercial airlines.
[5] Called Navigating
Change, the goal of the training was “to provide pilots in leadership
positions with useful information that may help them assist others who have
concerns or problems with gender/minority issues” (United Airlines, personal
correspondence,
[6] Flight Operations is the office where airline pilots
review weather, flight and airplane information and brief, in preparation for
departure.