Safety wouldn't change much. For the ops question the rules are written by people that can't imagine the rules not being followed, so everything in their minds works perfect.
. . . .
That's true of many, many acts of government. Because they overwhelmingly suffer from delusions of grandeur, legislators labor under the irrational belief that they can eliminate a problem simply by passing a law against it. This delusional belief is made manifest when politicians repeatedly promise that whatever new legislation they're sponsoring will insure that [insert bad thing here] will "never happen again," tacitly implying that they have an almost God-like ability to bring about Utopia.
On a macro level, this sort of grandiose, delusional thinking on the parts of politicians has led to a more generalized mass delusion that we can bring about a perfect world, where everyone is happy, and bad **** never happens, if only we enact enough laws. When bad **** continues to happen despite those laws being enacted, we enact new, "tougher" laws, being unwilling to accept that no amount of legislation will ever be able to repeal one of the truest, most universal laws in the universe, namely, "**** happens."
And that's really the root of the problem. We've become a society with zero tolerance for risk, and zero acceptance of the fact that we can't eliminate risk -- no matter how many laws we enact. There is no longer any such thing as risk-benefit analysis because there is no longer any such thing as acceptable risk. We're all on a forced march to Utopia.
The public's devotion to this quest to achieve that imaginary world where bad **** never happens inspires bureaucrats. Specifically, it inspires them to spend a grossly inordinate percentage of their time trying to assure that they'll not be in the line of fire when the **** hits the fan.
Consequently, it really doesn't matter very much that a more relaxed approach to the medical might actually enhance aviation safety. What matters is how any proposed changes would appear to a moron. And so aviators with illnesses that modern medicine has made easily treatable go untreated -- all in the name of public safety.
From a practical perspective, it might make more sense require only self-certification and an annual physical from a PCP for low-risk, non-commercial flight, in order to actually encourage airmen to take care of their health, rather than the opposite.
Or it might make more sense to allow a CDL medical card. The actual examination is pretty much identical, anyway, but the examiner is allowed more discretion when issuing.
And I'm sure there are other ideas that people who are smarter than I am could come up with that would make more sense than a system that discourages airmen from seeing their doctors for fear that they may actually be found to be less-than-perfect specimens of humanity.
But in the end, whether a proposal makes sense to people who know about aviation and medicine doesn't make a bit of difference, and never will. What matters, and what will always matter, is whether that proposal makes sense to people who know nothing at all about aviation or medicine -- and especially to those who are eagerly marching toward Utopia, idiotic grins on their faces, having been promised by politicians that that we can legislate a perfect world where **** never happens into existence, and who are now insisting that the politicians make good on their promises.
The more I really look at this whole issue, and the better I understand it, the more bizarre and macabre it gets.
Luckily for me, as someone who flies SP and part 103, it's all of little more than academic interest to me. At this stage of my life I have no place I need to get to quickly, nor any need to carry more than one passenger, nor any desire to fly in bad weather. Being able to legally fly at night would be kind of cool, though; and that's the only reason I sometimes consider going through the rigmarole to get a medical.
But then I drop in at this neck of the POA woods, and suddenly the urge passes.
Truth be told, my flying interests keep moving toward ever lighter and simpler flying machines, anyway. It's gotten to the point that even the lighthearted banter coming over the handheld seems an intrusion at times. There's plenty of time for hangar talk when we're in the hangar. When I'm in the sky, I'd rather dance with the raptors.
-Rich