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Al-Ahram Weekly 3 - 9 August 2000 Issue No. 493 
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Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Al-Ahram Weekly 3 - 9 August 2000 Issue No. 493
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Features Travel Living Sports Profile People Time Out Chronicles Cartoons The mythical bird
By Marc Munro
In the aftermath of the Concorde disaster on 25 July, a poignant feeling that more than mere lives had been lost heightened the outpouring of grief. All aircraft disasters are horrific, but after a half century of transatlantic commercial air travel, the occasional tragedy has lost its power to truly shock. Aeroplanes fall to the earth from time to time. The crash of the Concorde, however, has struck deeper than normal emotional empathy and rational concern. It has generated an odd sense of pathos with the machine itself.
In the immediate aftermath of the tragedy, a column in Liberation lamented that, "this accident has a more sombre resonance because it concerns a plane which is not like any other. A beautiful dream was tragically shattered." This eulogy then took solace in the hope that the "myth of the beautiful white bird will remain." That same day, French Transport Minister Jean-Claude Gayssot resolved that the dream would not be abandoned. "Supersonic technology," he declared, "is still the technology of the future." The following day, Le Monde reminded its readers that the Franco-British alliance that created the Concorde in 1969 was the first manifest evidence of the potential greatness contained within the idea of a single Europe. The venture, Le Monde argued, "taught the English and French that together they could take the lead in grand technological projects. It symbolises an era of revolution." A Chunnel ride away, the Times lamented, "When Concorde went down, it was as if the future had failed us."
The future, however, had failed long ago. The Concorde today is more a myth than reality. It is yesterday's vision of tomorrow. This unrealised dream has continued to exist solely on the energy of cultural symbolism. The sleek elegant supersonic lines were a proclamation that the greatness of lost empires would be regained in technology. Yet, the message was unconvincing from the beginning. Concorde made its first test flight on March 1969. Four months before, an American flag had been planted on the moon. That was an achievement. The Concorde was merely an aeroplane. It also had a rival that consistently stole its thunder. The Soviet TU144 supersonic airliner looked almost identical to the Concorde and beat it to the supersonic punch. Dubbed the "Concordsky," in the West, the aeroplane was declared the "Hero of the Soviet Union." The glory, however, was fleeting. In 1973, the TU144 crashed at the Bourget air show in Paris, in the midst of demonstrating Soviet technological prowess. Thereafter, the humbled aeroplane disappeared into the annals of aviation oddities. The Concorde was left without a rival.
Despite the technological triumph, Concorde was an anachronism from the moment of its conception. The dream failed because it was aristocratic to the core. It is state-of-the-art for art's sake. When the 100 seat supersonic jetliner was first conceived, air travel was the preserve of a privileged few. Volume was low and costs very high. In 1952, the first commercial jet, the de Havilland Comet, had a capacity of no more than 36 people. These individuals sat in the lap of luxury. Tragically, however, the technology had not been perfected. Due to structural design flaws, two of the British built Comets fell out of the sky within weeks of each other. A catastrophe for the British was a golden opportunity for the Americans. Boeing quickly displaced de Havilland as the industry leader. The Concorde was an attempt to reclaim what had been lost.
Yet, the allure of Concorde was more poetic than practical. Technology needs to do more than inspire. It needs to make money. Men on the moon and supersonic travel quickly lost appeal once the costs overwhelmed the awe. In actuality, the most radical innovation of 1969 was not the Concorde, but the Boeing 747. This bloated bird revolutionised air travel. A single Concorde carried a price tag of $65 million. A 747 sold for a mere $21 million. The Concorde engines gulp four times the fuel, but carry less than a quarter of the 400-plus passengers airlines like to pack into the Boeing jumbo-jet. Furthermore, the suburban masses truly resented being disturbed by the sonic boom of the Champagne-and caviar-laden rocket.
In the end, only 20 Concorde were built and none were ever sold. Although 16 airlines ordered a total of 74 Concorde, all orders were cancelled. The roughly $4 billion development costs of Concorde became a gift of British and French taxpayers to Air France and British Airways. High-powered movers and shakers as well as the beautiful people of celebrity are the principal beneficiaries of the dream. Outside of its normal New York, London and Paris destinations, the Concorde has become a vehicle for fantasy fulfillment.
Back in the formative days of aviation flying circuses dazzled people with the awe and magic of aviation. Without a practical use, flying machines were principally objects of wonder. The cutting-edge technology of the Concorde is a throw-back to this earlier time. Air France 4590 was a charter flight of thrill seekers. A German tour group booked the plane to New York as part of a 15-day cruise down into the Caribbean and through the Panama Canal to Ecuador. It was a fantasy adventure. The deaths of these 100 holiday-makers, the nine Concorde crew members and five people on the ground -- in the wrong place at the wrong time -- has brought an ugly reality to the sublime myth of the beautiful bird.
The only virtue of the Concorde is its ability to inspire. The amateur video of white-hot flames consuming its swept-wings will be a difficult image to shake. Nevertheless, both Air France and British Airways have affirmed their commitment to the Concorde. The seven British Concorde resumed regular flights the day after the disaster. Air France has grounded its remaining five aircraft pending the results of the crash investigation. Despite promises to keep the faith, the Concorde, like the Soviet TU144, is destined to be nothing more than an oddity. In 2005, the Concorde will reach the end of its usable life span and there is nothing on the drawing boards to replace it.
As the reign of the Concorde ends, the pride of Europe will rest on the wings of the Airbus A3XX. This monstrous beast will have the capacity to hold anywhere from 550 to 800 passengers. Gross economy of scale has erased the poetic vision of an aristocratic future. The day before Flight 4590 crashed, Emirates Airlines and Air France placed the first orders for the Airbus superjumbo-jet. In another tragic irony well befitting its mythical status, the crippled Concorde was apparently attempting to reach safety at Bourget airfield -- the very same airport that saw the fiery end of the TU144.
