The Story We Want Isn’t Always The Story We Need
- Mike Mason
- Jul 6
- 5 min read
On 12 June 2025, Air India Flight AI171 began what should have been a routine departure from Ahmedabad bound for London.
The Boeing 787 accelerated normally, rotated at the correct speed and took off. Three seconds later, something highly unusual happened: The fuel control switches for both engines moved from RUN to CUTOFF, cutting fuel to both engines almost simultaneously. Jet engine 101: Jet engines need fuel to keep producing thrust. Therefore, the fuel control switch ‘cutoff‘ selection meant the aircraft immediately began losing thrust. The crew attempted to restart both engines, but there simply wasn’t enough time. Thirty-two seconds after becoming airborne, the aircraft crashed into buildings beyond the airport, killing 260 people. It remains one of the deadliest aviation accidents in recent history.
Almost immediately, the standard follow up to an aviation accident began unfolding and this one wasn’t in the air (or even on the ground), it was online. Within hours, people had already decided what had happened. Some blamed Boeing. Others blamed Air India. Others concluded the captain had deliberately shut the engines down. Every new piece of information was quickly absorbed into one narrative or another, depending on which conclusion people had already reached (a form of confirmation bias - where we seek information that reinforces the narrative we wish to purport).
As per ICAO rules the preliminary report was released within 30 days of the accident. The report confirmed that the switches had moved. It also confirmed the conversation between the pilots. Unsurprisingly, it confirmed the engines lost fuel.
But it didn’t explain why.
Unfortunately, that hasn’t stopped thousands of people filling in the gaps themselves and trying to explain why with very little information.
The First Story
One of the concepts we often discuss at On Target is the difference between the first story and the second story. The first story arrives quickly. It feels satisfying. It provides us certainty. It usually identifies somebody to blame.
In this case, the first stories (using very certain language) included:
“The captain did it.”
“It was clearly a mechanical failure.”
“It must have been Boeing.”
“It had to be sabotage.”
The problem with first stories isn’t that they’re always wrong. Or at least they are nowhere near ‘right’ enough to provide us anything useful.
Humans don’t particularly enjoy uncertainty. Our brains are remarkably good at taking incomplete information and constructing a story that feels coherent. Once that story takes hold, every new piece of information is unconsciously filtered through it. This is a more textbook example of confirmation bias.
Rarely are stories of accidents coherent and they are never linear. Complex systems don’t work in linear ways. There are an infinite number of relationships and associated interactions that constantly come together and move apart. Picking this apart and being able to interpret in a useful way is one of the reasons investigations take months or even years.
The Second Story Might Be “We Don’t Know Yet”
The preliminary report generated endless debate, largely because it contains one extraordinary fact without explaining why it occurred.
Both fuel switches were moved.
Why?
Nobody knows.
The investigators don’t know yet. The internet certainly doesn’t know. This should probably make us all a little more cautious.
One of the things I admire most about good investigators is their willingness to sit with uncertainty. They resist the temptation to fill gaps with assumptions simply because doing so feels uncomfortable. They understand that saying, “We don’t know yet,” is not a weakness. It’s often the most honest answer available.
That sort of normalised discipline is surprisingly rare outside professional investigations.
In organisations, we often feel pressure to explain incidents immediately. Senior leaders want answers. The media wants answers. Staff want answers. Customers want answers.
Sometimes there aren’t any. At least not straight away.
Certainty Can Become Its Own Risk
One of the dangers of rushing to certainty is that it narrows our thinking. Once we’ve decided what happened, we stop looking. The famous Nobel prize winner, Daniel Kahneman described this as ‘what you see is all there is’.
If we’ve already concluded the captain deliberately moved the switches, we naturally spend less time exploring other possibilities.
If we’ve already decided it was a design fault, human performance starts to fade into the background as something to consider.
If we’ve already decided it was sabotage, organisational learning almost disappears completely.
The investigation hasn’t reached those conclusions. As such, neither should we.
The previous few blogs I’ve written recently have all explored a similar theme. The Maldives diving accident wasn’t simply about people breaking the rules. The MV Dali bridge collision wasn’t simply about a loose electrical wire. The tug collision on the Mississippi wasn’t simply about a captain using his mobile phone. Each investigation becomes more useful when we look beyond the first explanation.
This accident is a little different in that at the moment, there isn’t a second story. There are simply a lot of unanswered questions. Perhaps that’s exactly where our attention should remain.
Good Organisations Become Comfortable Saying “We Don’t Know”
One of the hardest things for leaders to do after an incident is resist the pressure to provide immediate explanations.
People naturally look to leaders for certainty.
Good leaders provide something slightly different.
They provide confidence that the organisation will discover the answer without pretending to already know it.
I’ve seen organisations reach conclusions within hours of an event, only to spend the following months quietly walking those conclusions back as more evidence emerged. Unfortunately, by then the damage has often already been done. Individuals have been blamed. Relationships have been damaged. Learning opportunities have been lost.
Curiosity is difficult to recover once certainty has taken hold.
Final Thoughts
The Air India investigation will eventually reach its conclusions. Those conclusions may support today’s theories. Or they may overturn them completely.
History suggests both outcomes are possible. For me, a more interesting outcome isn’t hidden inside the flight data recorder, it’s hidden inside our own reactions.
How comfortable are we admitting we don’t yet know?
How quickly do we begin constructing explanations from incomplete information?
How often do we mistake confidence for evidence?
Beyond professional accident investigators, these are questions for every leader, every safety professional and every organisation trying to learn from failure.
Sometimes, or perhaps usually, the most professional answer isn’t the most satisfying one.
Sometimes it’s simply:
“We don’t know yet.”
And that’s perfectly okay.
Full disclosure, this blog was drafted by me and then tweaked with AI to make it more readable. AI does a much better job of this than I can.
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Mike Mason and Sam Gladman are the co-founders of On Target, a leadership and team development company that brings elite fighter pilot expertise into the corporate world. With decades of combined experience in high-performance aviation, they specialise in translating critical skills such as communication, decision-making, and teamwork into practical tools for business. Through immersive training and cutting-edge simulation, Mike and Sam help teams build trust, improve performance, and thrive under pressure—just like the best flight crews in the world.
If you'd like to learn more about how On Target can help your team, contact Mike and Sam at info@ontargetteaming.com.
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