Worry Intelligently

We have two systems that try to keep us safe.

The Nonconscious System

The nonconscious system slaps a code on every experience. The next time we encounter the experience, its assigned code gives us positive feelings that lead us to repeat it or negative feelings that make us avoid it.

The Conscious System

The conscious system tries to keep us ahead of danger by predicting what could go wrong. It figures out what could happen, and what we should do about it. If our conscious system looks toward the future with bias, its ability to protect us is impaired.

Our conscious system develops bias based on what happened during our formative years. Its scope is limited to our family. When things went wrong, did they usually work out all right? If yes, the system’s bias is positive. If no, the system’s bias is negative. The bias produced in our family - originally our whole world - gets applied to our new whole world when we get out of our original environment.

If our system has a positive bias, the predictions our conscious system makes don’t worry us a lot. If our conscious system has a negative bias, we may worry about everything it comes up with. We live in a world of worry.

I, for one, am not in favor of never worrying. I learned as a fighter pilot that I needed to worry about things that could go wrong intelligently enough to develop solutions. If I didn’t, I might not be around next year.

During F-100 training at Luke Air Force base in Arizona, when I got home at night, I spent time reading the F-100 manual and figuring out what I would do if different things went wrong. My best friend didn’t do that. When he got home, he turned on the TV and watched Yogi Bear. My friend often said, “I’m smarter than the average bear!”

The problem was, my friend was not smarter than the average bear. When we finished training, my extra work put me at number one in my class, and I got to choose where I wanted to be stationed. I chose an Air Force base in Germany. My friend was at the bottom of the class. He didn’t get a choice. He got an assignment no one wanted: towing targets for other pilots to practice shooting at.

So whenever I got sent to the air base where we practiced shooting at targets, I got to see him. He told me about a close call. His cockpit air conditioning system malfunctioned, and went to full hot. It got so hot in the cockpit that he passed out. By sheer luck, he came back to and avoided crashing. I was really annoyed with him that he didn’t jettison the canopy. When you pull the canopy jettison handle, an explosive charge blasts the canopy off. You instantly turn your jet fighter into a convertible. It was stupid of him to risk passing out, and I gave him a hard time about that. It costs the government a lot of money to replace a canopy. This video says up to $300,000.00. But, whatever the cost, it is less than the cost of a crashed airplane or getting killed.

He didn’t seem to take what I had said seriously. Then a few months later, when towing a target out over the Mediterranean, his engine flamed out. Since the F-100 has only one engine, he had to bail out. When he landed in the water, he got tangled up in his chute. If he had inflated his life preserver, it would have kept his head out of the water and given him time to cut away his parachute. But he didn’t. He drowned.

Now, what I am about to say will sound strange. But remember. We were a bunch of young men doing the stuff you see in movies like Top Gun. We knew it is dangerous. We knew some of us would get killed. For a while, we were lucky. When we finished F-100 training, we had a graduation ceremony. Before giving out diplomas, our commander said to us, “Congratulations. You are the first group of pilots to go through training here and have no one get killed.” But a year and a half later, out of the thirteen of us in my group, only nine of us were still alive. When risking your life every day is like another day at the office, something changes psychologically. When I heard my friend had been killed, normal feelings were just not there. I wasn’t sad; I was angry. I was angry with him for being stupid. Looking back at it, I must have been dealing with the danger by believing I was too good and too smart to be killed. If you ask any fighter pilot, “Who is the best fighter pilot in the world?” The answer you will get it, “You’re looking at him.” That crazy belief in yourself lets you do life-threatening stuff as a routine.

On one of my last flights in Germany, I was flying a two-seat version of the F-105. I was in the front seat. My squadron-mate Bob Beckel was in the back seat. Bob had been an All-American basketball player at the Air Force Academy. He later became commandant of the Air Force Academy, flew with the Thunderbirds, commanded the 15th Air Force, and retired a Lieutenant General. As we flew along, I noticed it was getting hot in the cockpit. I turned the temperature control down. It got hotter. I turned the control full cold. Superheated air continued flowing into the cockpit. I don’t remember thinking about it at all. I do remember my hand on the canopy jettison handle. I do remember the feel of putting it up. The canopy came off the airplane and vanished. It was so noisy that it was hard to tell Bob why I had jettisoned the canopy. I should have told him before I did it. But, with the history of what happened to my friend, I just did it without thinking about what a shock it would be for Bob in the back seat to see the canopy come off the plane.

Our conscious system learns by experience. It uses what it learns to predict what will happen. My system had learned that a temperature malfunction in a jet fighter can quickly cause unconsciousness. When the temperature on my plane malfunctioned, I didn’t think twice. I knew what had happened to my friend. I did the opposite of what he did. I popped the canopy before there was any chance of passing out.

But what about bias? When it comes to airplanes, do pilots have a positive bias?. We expect the plane to do what it is supposed to do. We expect the pilots we fly with to do what they are supposed to do. Same with the mechanics who work on the plane and the air traffic controllers who keep track of us.

But, passengers have a negative bias. They expect something to go wrong with the plane. They expect the pilots to screw up. They expect the mechanics to take short cuts. They expect the air traffic controllers to make mistakes.

Whose view is more accurate? Is the positive way pilots look at flying due to bias or due to experience? Is the negative way passengers look at flying due to bias or experience?

My vote is, pilots have the view they have because of experience, and passengers have the view they have because, during their formative years, too many of the people in their lives let them down in really important ways.

Pilots can’t let you down as others have. They have skin in the game. They can’t get themselves back on the ground without getting all the passengers - that includes you - back on the ground.

As to worry, sure. Go ahead. But worry intelligently. Worry based on solid evidence. If there is no solid evidence for worry, don’t worry. Worry based on fantasy is not for grown-ups.

That is another way of saying worry based on the internet is just another way of worrying based on fantasy. Ninety percent of what you find on the web about aviation is junk. A pilot can separate the ten percent fact from the ninety percent junk. The public at large can’t. And anxious fliers are even less equipped - because of bias - to tell which is which.

So, as a rule of thumb, if something on the web or on TV or in print seems worth worrying about, ignore it. Trust flying the way pilots do. Pilots trust flying for good reason.

At the course offered years ago by Pan Am, a woman drove all the way up from Virginia to Newark airport to participate. During a lunch break, she cornered me. Since I grew up in the South, she considered me her own private instructor. As we had lunch, she said, “Tommy, I don’t want to worry unintelligently. When should I worry?”

I said, “Well, Sara Lee, let me see. It’s pretty obvious that when the plane is just starting to roll down the runway for takeoff, if anything goes wrong, you can just stop the plane. So that is not a good time to worry. Actually, you can stop the plane at any time during takeoff, unless you have reached V-1 speed. Pilots figure that speed out before they take off. It is usually around one-hundred twenty. It takes about 20 to 30 seconds to get to that speed. So before you get to that speed is not a good time to worry. And once you get to V-1 speed, you can keep going and take off with just one engine. So if an engine quits after V-1, you are still alright. So there is no reason to worry there. And then once you are in the air, you have it made. No reason to worry then either.

So, Sara Lee, as far as I can see, there is no time to worry intelligently.”