Sorry, I made a mistake the KAL story is in Malcolm Gladwell's book Outliers
- here is the relevant text:

Of all of Hofstede's Dimensions, though, perhaps the most interesting is
what he called the "Power Distance Index" (PDI). Power distance is concerned
with attitudes toward hierarchy, specifically with how much a particular
culture values and respects authority. To measure it, Hofstede asked
questions like "How frequently, in your experience, does the following
problem occur: employees being afraid to express disagreement with their
managers?" To what extent do the "less powerful members of organizations and
institutions accept and expect that power is distributed unequally?" How
much are older people respected and feared? Are power holders entitled to
special privileges? 

 

"In low-power distance index countries," Hofstede wrote in his classic text
Culture's Consequences: power is something of which power holders are almost
ashamed and they will try to underplay. I once heard a Swedish (low PDI)
university official state that in order to exercise power he tried not to
look powerful. Leaders may enhance their informal status by renouncing
formal symbols. In (low PDI) Austria, Prime Minister Bruno Kreisky was known
to sometimes take the streetcar to work. In 1974, I actually saw the Dutch
(low PDI) prime minister, Joop den Uyl, on vacation with his motor home at a
camping site in Portugal. Such behavior of the powerful would be very
unlikely in high-PDI Belgium or France."

 

 

CHAPTER SEVEN OF OUTLIERS - The Ethnic Theory of Plane Crashes - "CAPTAIN,
THE WEATHER RADAR HAS HELPED US A LOT."

 

On the morning of August 5, 1997, the captain of Korean Air flight 801 woke
at six. His family would later tell investigators that he went to the gym
for an hour, then came home and studied the flight plan for that evening's
journey to Guam. He napped and ate lunch. At three in the afternoon, he left
for Seoul, departing early enough, his wife said, to continue his
preparations at Kimpo International Airport. He had been a pilot with Korean
Air for almost four years after coming over from the Korean Air Force. He
had eighty-nine hundred hours of flight time, including thirty-two hundred
hours of experience in jumbo jets. A few months earlier, he had been given a
flight safety award by his airline for successfully handling a jumbo-jet
engine failure at low altitude. He was forty-two years old and in excellent
health, with the exception of a bout of bronchitis that had been diagnosed
ten days before. 

 

At seven p.m., the captain, his first officer, and the flight engineer met
and collected the trip's paperwork. They would be flying a Boeing 747.the
model known in the aviation world as the "classic." The aircraft was in
perfect working order. It had once been the Korean presidential plane.
Flight 801 departed the gate at ten-thirty in the evening and was airborne
twenty minutes later. Takeoff was without incident. Just before one-thirty
in the morning, the plane broke out of the clouds, and the flight crew
glimpsed lights off in the distance. 

 

"Is it Guam?" the flight engineer asked. Then, after a pause, he said, "It's
Guam, Guam." 

 

The captain chuckled. "Good!" 

 

The first officer reported to Air Traffic Control (ATC) that the airplane
was "clear of Charlie Bravo [cumulonimbus clouds]" and requested "radar
vectors for runway six left." 

 

The plane began its descent toward Guam airport. They would make a visual
approach, the captain said. He had flown into Guam airport from Kimpo eight
times previously, most recently a month ago, and he knew the airport and the
surrounding terrain well. The landing gear went down. The flaps were
extended ten degrees. At 01:41 and 48 seconds, the captain said, "Wiper on,"
and the flight engineer turned them on. It was raining. The first officer
then said, "Not in sight?" He was looking for the runway. He couldn't see
it. One second later, the Ground Proximity Warning System called out in its
electronic voice: "Five hundred [feet]." The plane was five hundred feet off
the ground. But how could that be if they couldn't see the runway? Two
seconds passed. The flight engineer said, "Eh?" in an astonished tone of
voice. 

 

At 01:42 and 19 seconds, the first officer said, "Let's make a missed
approach," meaning, Let's pull up and make a large circle and try the
landing again.

 

One second later, the flight engineer said, "Not in sight." The first
officer added, "Not in sight, missed approach." At 01:42 and 22 seconds, the
flight engineer said again, "Go around." 

 

At 01:42 and 23 seconds, the captain repeated, "Go around," but he was slow
to pull the plane out of its descent. 

 

At 01:42 and 26 seconds, the plane hit the side of Nimitz Hill, a densely
vegetated mountain three miles southwest of the airport-$60 million and
212,000 kilograms of steel slamming into rocky ground at one hundred miles
per hour. The plane skidded for two thousand feet, severing an oil pipeline
and snapping pine trees, before falling into a ravine and bursting into
flames. By the time rescue workers reached the crash site, 228 of the 254
people on board were dead.

Regards

Michael

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