Pretoria, South Africa: There is something deeply unsettling about incidents that unfold not because of mechanical failure, nor weather, nor some unforeseeable act of God – but because the system itself begins to fray at the human level. The recent fatal collision at LaGuardia Airport in the US, involving an Air Canada regional jet – a Bombardier CRJ900 – and an emergency vehicle on an active runway 04, is one such moment.
Two pilots lost their lives. And what sits at the centre of this tragedy is not simply an error, but a signal – a warning flare about the growing strain on one of aviation’s most critical human systems: air traffic control.
Let us be clear. Air traffic control is not a routine desk job. It is a high-stakes, high-pressure environment where cognitive sharpness, situational awareness, and emotional regulation must align with near perfection. Fatigue, in such a space, is not just discomfort – it is risk materialised. When a controller clears an aircraft to land and, moments later, authorises a ground vehicle to cross that same runway, we are not merely observing a lapse. We are witnessing what fatigue does: it erodes attentional capacity, slows reaction times, and fractures situational awareness. And once that awareness is compromised, recovery becomes a race against physics.
The controller’s desperate attempt to stop the vehicle – issuing repeated instructions in rapid succession – speaks to a moment of realisation. A moment where the mind catches up with the mistake, but the system has already moved too far forward. Aviation is unforgiving in that way. There is very little margin between recovery and catastrophe.
But to isolate this as an individual failure would be to miss the point entirely. This is a systemic story.
Across the globe, we are seeing a staffing crisis in air traffic control that is beginning to stretch the system beyond comfortable limits. In South Africa, we have long been aware of the quiet but persistent migration of highly skilled controllers to the Middle East and other jurisdictions. It is, in one sense, a compliment to the robustness of the South African licensing regime. Our controllers are globally competitive. But that recognition comes at a cost. We are exporting scarce skills faster than we are replenishing them. And replenishment is not immediate.
Training a competent air traffic controller is a long and technically demanding process. One does not simply step into a control tower after a short course. Depending on the complexity of the operational environment, it may take anywhere between 10 to 27 months to train a controller to operational readiness. In busy airspace, even longer when one factors in on-the-job consolidation. This creates a structural lag: when experienced controllers leave, the system cannot quickly regenerate capacity.
The result is predictable – fewer controllers, longer shifts, more overtime, and ultimately, fatigue.
This is not unique to South Africa. Nav Canada has, in recent years, publicly acknowledged resource constraints affecting its operations. In the United States, similar concerns have been raised about staffing levels and operational pressures. The tragic collision involving a military Black Hawk helicopter and a commercial aircraft operated by American Airlines is another stark reminder that the margin for error narrows when systems are stretched.
Even at the level of global governance, the alarm bells have been ringing for some time. The International Civil Aviation Organization, through its Next Generation of Aviation Professionals (NGAP) Programme, has consistently pointed to the looming workforce gap in aviation. This is not limited to pilots. It spans engineers, technicians, regulators, and crucially, air traffic controllers.
What we are dealing with, then, is not an isolated operational error, but a convergence of systemic pressures: staffing shortages, long training pipelines, high cognitive demands, and the creeping normalisation of fatigue. And fatigue, if left unaddressed, becomes embedded.
The LaGuardia incident forces us to confront an uncomfortable question: are we asking too much of too few, for too long?
Because when a single controller is managing both ground movements and arriving traffic in a busy airport environment – while also dealing with residual stress from a prior emergency – we are stacking risk layers. Each layer, on its own, may be manageable. Together, they create conditions where a single lapse can cascade into tragedy.
This is precisely why conversations around workforce development cannot remain abstract or aspirational. At platforms such as the Aviation Indaba, we have consistently emphasised that the sustainability of the aviation sector is inseparable from the sustainability of its human capital. You cannot grow traffic, expand routes, and modernise infrastructure without a parallel investment in the people who hold the system together.
There is a tendency, particularly in policy spaces, to focus on infrastructure – runways, terminals, aircraft acquisitions. These are visible, tangible markers of growth. But aviation is, at its core, a human system. Its safety is only as strong as the people who operate it.
What this tragedy demands is a recalibration.
We must treat controller fatigue not as an individual weakness, but as a systemic risk factor. We must invest, deliberately and urgently, in training pipelines, retention strategies, and working conditions that preserve cognitive performance. We must recognise that exporting talent without replenishment is not sustainable. And we must be honest about the operational pressures we are placing on those who sit behind the radar screens.
Because at 35,000 feet, and on the runway below, there is no room for a tired mind.
About the Author:
At the intersection of cockpit, courtroom, and classroom, Prof Angelo Dube brings a rare, lived perspective to aviation. A commercial pilot and Chief Executive Officer of Flying Jurist, he is also the driving force behind the Aviation Indaba – an influential platform shaping high-level industry dialogue across the continent.
In the global legal arena, he serves as President of the Society for International Aviation Law, while in academia he holds the position of Professor of International Law and Acting Director of the School of Law at UNISA. There, he leads the Aviation Law Working Group – a dynamic collective of pilots, regulators, researchers, and legal minds pushing the boundaries of aviation law and policy.
He writes here not from a single vantage point, but from the confluence of them all – and in his personal capacity.
