The freedom to fly

Years ago, while testifying before Congress, I had the opportunity to meet Mark Baker, then president of AOPA. As is often the case when pilots meet, the conversation quickly moved to airplanes. We spoke less about policy and more about flying—the kind of conversation that reminds you that, regardless of where you come from in aviation, there is a shared language that connects us all.

At the time, I told Baker that owning a general aviation aircraft had always been on my bucket list. Like many things in life, it had taken a back seat to family priorities and the responsibilities of a career. He listened, smiled, and said: When you’re ready, I’ll help you through it. Then he added that he thought he already knew the airplane that would fit me. He was right.

Today, I am the proud owner of a capable, turbocharged, pressurized Cessna 340A—an aircraft that has opened a new chapter in my flying life. It has also given me something I didn’t fully appreciate during my years in the airline world: a deeper understanding of the personal nature of general aviation, and how much it depends on the choices we make as a community.

As the former president of the Air Line Pilots Association, I saw the importance of organized advocacy—how it ensures that pilots have a voice in decisions that affect safety, security, and the future of aviation. That voice matters. Without it, decisions are made about pilots, rather than with them. But stepping into GA brought a new perspective. Here, the connection is more personal. The freedom to fly, to own and operate an aircraft, to take to the skies on your own terms, is something we often take for granted. It is sustained if we remain engaged in the institutions that represent us.

I’ve had the privilege of working alongside leaders from across aviation—commercial, business, and GA alike. Those distinctions fade when the conversation turns to flight. Whether you are flying a wide-body across oceans, operating a business jet, or taking off from a local field in your own aircraft, you are part of the same ecosystem. That reality became clear during the global pandemic. I saw aviation come together in ways I had never experienced before. The differences that often define our respective roles didn’t disappear, but they became more manageable in the face of what was at stake. Leaders and organizations from across the industry worked side by side, focused on sustaining an industry and protecting the people behind it. It was a powerful reminder that when aviation aligns around a shared purpose, it is capable of extraordinary things—and, at its best, brings out the very best in all of us.

If there is one lesson I have returned to, it is this: Nearly everything we value in aviation today is the result of collaboration.

The evolution of safety is a good example. We have moved from a largely forensic approach—understanding accidents after they occur—to a far more predictive model, identifying risk before it manifests. That shift was the product of sustained collaboration across industry, labor, and government—through data-driven programs and meaningful improvements in pilot training shaped by both experience and legislation. These initiatives are the reason aviation has achieved the level of safety it enjoys today.

What most people never see is that when an aircraft takes off, a carefully coordinated system is at work behind the scenes—pilots, air traffic controllers, engineers, manufacturers, regulators, and countless others, each playing a role in a quiet ballet. It only works because it is built on collaboration. The same principle extends into the broader aviation community. Whether in times of stability or in moments of strain, our ability to work together has always been our greatest strength.

Retired FedEx Capt. Joseph G. DePete is the former president of the Air Line Pilots Association, International. He is an active GA pilot based in Louisville, Kentucky.

GA is a part of that ecosystem. It has long been the entry point for pilots, a source of innovation, and a reflection of the purest form of flight—taking to the air not because it is required, but because it is possible. But that freedom, like any other, is not self-sustaining. It requires participation. It requires engagement. And it requires a willingness to support the institutions that ensure our collective voice is heard—organizations, like AOPA, that advocate on behalf of those who fly as a passion and a pursuit of freedom.

No organization is static. Members will agree, disagree, and at times step away. That is part of any healthy and evolving community. But stepping away from the conversation is not the same as strengthening it. Aviation is a small community. And in that closeness lies both its strength and its responsibility.

My career was about protecting a profession. Today, my mission is about protecting something even more fundamental—the freedom to fly.