Editor’s note: This guest essay was originally written in the immediate aftermath of the Germanwings Flight 9525 disaster in March 2015. It reflects Nathan Chard’s response to the British press coverage at that moment. We have retained his first-person perspective while adding later context from the completed aviation investigation.
After waking up to the disturbing headlines concerning the tragic Germanwings air disaster, and in particular the reporting surrounding the aeroplane’s co-pilot, Andreas Lubitz, there was no way I could not make this the subject of my second piece.
When Reporting Mental Health Becomes Part of the Problem
Some of the British newspaper front pages published after the crash struck me as deeply irresponsible.
I consciously use the word “irresponsible” because I believe the mainstream media has a duty of care towards its readership. Its reach, authority and ubiquity give it enormous influence over the formation of public opinion. What we repeatedly read, watch and hear does not exist in a vacuum. It helps shape how we understand other people.
That influence can, of course, be extraordinarily positive, and freedom of the press should never be taken for granted. Occasionally, however, that power can also cause damage. I believed that was happening in the reporting surrounding Germanwings Flight 9525, and I felt obliged to add my voice to those questioning it.
Writing in The Guardian at the time, psychologist Masuma Rahim similarly criticised the rush to connect depression with the disaster and warned about the stigma such reporting could reinforce.
Depression Is Not a Synonym for Violence
In the days after the crash, reports emerged concerning Lubitz’s history of mental ill health. Before my own diagnosis, I too tried to keep what I was feeling and thinking secret from not only colleagues but friends and family.
That is why I found some of the coverage so contradictory. Newspapers were questioning why someone might conceal mental health difficulties while simultaneously publishing language capable of making disclosure feel frightening.
Terms such as “crazed” and “madman” do not encourage an intelligent conversation about depression. They collapse a complicated human and medical subject into a frightening stereotype. For millions of people living ordinary lives with mental health conditions, that language carries consequences far beyond a newspaper front page.
The distinction matters: having depression does not make somebody inherently dangerous to other people. Contemporary reporting at the time also challenged attempts to treat a history of depression as a sufficient explanation for what happened.
What the Later Germanwings Investigation Established
More information became available after this essay was originally written. The final investigation by France’s Bureau d’Enquêtes et d’Analyses pour la sécurité de l’aviation civile classified the event as a deliberate collision with terrain. All 150 people aboard the Airbus A320 travelling from Barcelona to Düsseldorf were killed.
The investigation documented that Lubitz had previously experienced a severe depressive episode without psychotic symptoms between 2008 and 2009 and that his medical certification subsequently carried a waiver. The BEA also found that, beginning in December 2014, he developed symptoms that could be consistent with a psychotic depressive episode.
Yet the safety lessons were considerably more complex than the idea that “depression caused the crash.” The BEA examined medical assessment, confidentiality, fear of losing professional flying status, potential financial consequences of losing a licence, antidepressant medication, and pilot-support programmes. Its final report resulted in multiple safety recommendations.
That later evidence makes careful language more important, not less. It is possible to discuss the specific medical circumstances identified by investigators while refusing to turn one person’s condition and actions into a stereotype about everybody living with depression.
Why Stigma Makes Speaking Harder
For people who are struggling, being able to discuss their inner thoughts and feelings can be vital. I believe verbalising the state of one’s mental health can be one of the first, and hardest, steps towards getting support.
Since I began discussing my experiences of living with depression and anxiety on social media, the point I continually find myself making is the importance of making one’s mental health tangible. When something that feels immaterial, vague and fluid can finally be put into words, it can begin to be confronted.
Recovery is possible with appropriate support. But language that equates mental illness with being dangerous, unstable or monstrous can encourage exactly the silence we should be trying to break. It breeds shame and embarrassment. Worst of all, it reinforces stigma.
Conversation Is Key
For somebody to begin a conversation about their mental health, they need to feel reasonably confident that disclosure will not automatically lead to ridicule, fear or vilification.
That was the concern behind this essay when I wrote it in 2015, and it remains the point I want to preserve. Responsible reporting does not mean avoiding difficult facts. It means reporting those facts precisely, resisting sensational generalisations, and remembering the countless people who may recognise their own diagnosis in the language being used.
A tragedy involving one individual should not become an indictment of everyone living with mental illness.
Conclusion: Words Carry Consequences
The Germanwings disaster demanded rigorous investigation, and the completed inquiry ultimately produced important aviation safety recommendations. It also demonstrated why discussions of mental health require precision.
Journalism can investigate individual actions without presenting depression itself as shorthand for violence. For people already frightened of speaking about their mental health, that distinction can matter enormously. Conversation is key, but conversation becomes much harder when stigma is waiting on the other side.
FAQ: Germanwings, Depression and Mental Health Reporting
What happened to Germanwings Flight 9525?
Germanwings Flight 9525 crashed in the French Alps on March 24, 2015, while flying from Barcelona to Düsseldorf. The BEA’s completed safety investigation classified the crash as a deliberate collision with terrain. All 150 people aboard were killed.
Did Andreas Lubitz have a history of depression?
Yes. The final BEA investigation documented a severe depressive episode without psychotic symptoms between 2008 and 2009. It also reported that Lubitz began showing symptoms in late 2014 that could be consistent with a psychotic depressive episode. Those specific findings should not be generalised to people with depression as a group.
Why was the UK press criticised after the Germanwings crash?
Critics argued that sensational descriptions of Lubitz and attempts to frame depression as a straightforward explanation for mass violence reinforced harmful stereotypes about mental illness at a time when the investigation was still developing.
Why does language around mental health matter?
Stigmatising language can make people fear judgement or discrimination when considering whether to disclose mental health difficulties or seek support. Accurate reporting can discuss risk and individual circumstances without portraying everyone with the same diagnosis as dangerous.
Originally published at Nathan Chard’s blog. Guest post by Nathan Chard. This edition has been updated with context from the final Germanwings Flight 9525 safety investigation while retaining the contributor’s first-person perspective.