The headlines are predictable, moralizing, and entirely useless. WestJet recently agreed to settle a class action lawsuit brought by flight attendants alleging systemic sexual harassment. The media response is a synchronized chorus of outrage, treating a financial settlement as a profound moral victory for corporate accountability.
It is nothing of the sort.
I have watched corporate boardrooms react to high-profile litigation for over a decade. I have seen companies blow millions on legal defense only to pivot the moment public relations damage threatens share value. They write a check, issue a scripted apology drafted by high-priced crisis management firms, and pretend the underlying rot has been excised. The lazy consensus is that throwing money at a systemic failure solves the problem. It does not. Settlements are simply the cost of doing business, a line item on a ledger, and corporate leadership knows it.
The Economics of Corporate Settlements
Let us look at the mechanics of what actually happens when a major Canadian airline faces a multi-million-dollar class action. The conventional narrative suggests that financial penalties force cultural evolution. The data says otherwise.
For a carrier of WestJet’s scale, a settlement is not a punishment. It is a calculated risk mitigation strategy. Litigation drags on for years, drains internal resources, and keeps negative media cycles alive. A settlement clears the docket, caps financial exposure, and allows the executive team to sweep the operational dysfunction back under the rug.
Corporate culture does not change because lawyers negotiate a payout behind closed doors. Culture changes only when the individuals who enabled or ignored toxic behavior face personal professional ruin. Until executives and middle managers are held individually accountable—financially, legally, and professionally—settlements remain a tax on bad behavior rather than a deterrent.
Why Mandatory Training Is a Compliance Shield, Not a Cure
Whenever a workplace harassment scandal breaks, the immediate administrative reflex is always the same: mandatory training modules. Human resources departments scramble to update slide decks, require every employee to click through a thirty-minute video, and check a compliance box.
This is security theater of the most cynical order.
Imagine a scenario where a supervisor holds absolute authority over scheduling, promotions, and base assignments. No amount of online compliance modules will protect a junior flight attendant from a predator who controls their livelihood. Power imbalances breed abuse. When structural hierarchies allow individuals to act with impunity, educational seminars are nothing more than legal armor for the corporation. They exist so the legal department can point to a certificate of completion and claim the company did everything possible to educate its workforce.
True safety requires structural decentralization. It requires anonymous reporting channels that bypass internal HR entirely—channels managed by independent third parties with the power to suspend managers immediately pending investigation. As long as HR reports to the executives whose primary incentive is protecting the brand, internal reporting systems remain fundamentally compromised.
The Myth of the Clean Slate
The most insidious part of these high-profile settlements is the illusion of closure. The press moves on. The public forgets. The company issues a statement about moving forward with renewed dedication to inclusivity.
Nothing has changed in the cabin at thirty thousand feet. The operational realities of aviation remain uniquely vulnerable to misconduct. Confined spaces, long layovers, hierarchical crew structures, and alcohol consumption create an environment where traditional corporate oversight fails entirely. When a flight crew is stranded in a foreign city for a mandatory rest period, corporate HR policies are thousands of miles away.
Fixing this requires acknowledging that aviation is not a standard office environment. Standard corporate policies applied to mobile, isolated workforces are doomed to fail. We need industry-specific labor regulations that recognize the unique vulnerabilities of mobile workforces, backed by heavy criminal penalties for executive negligence when systemic complaints are ignored.
Stop celebrating the payout. Start auditing the power structures that made the payout necessary in the first place.
