TRAVEL

Ryanair, the self-styled “low-cost champion” of Europe, has just had one of those moments – and it will take a lot more than slick marketing and jaunty social media quips to wash off the stain.

Stephen Crean, a 61-year-old football fan returning home following a match, was stabbed seven times on a train as he tried to protect his fellow passengers from an armed attacker. He fought with nothing but his fists. He was stabbed in the hand, in the back, even in the head. His courage saved lives. He was lucky to escape with his own.

Due to the injuries he sustained in that act of heroism, Mr Crean was forced to cancel a flight to Austria this week, where he hoped to see his beloved Nottingham Forest face Sturm Graz in the Europa League. Ryanair — ever the stickler for its own rules, and rarely for compassion — refused to refund the ticket.

It is difficult to overstate how shameful this decision is. Here is a man who risked his life to protect others, who bears physical and emotional scars for having done what few would dare — and Ryanair could not bring itself to forgo the price of a budget flight.

Stephen Crean, Image: Leeds Live, via Facebook.

This is not about money. It is about morality. And Ryanair has chosen, once again, to side with the balance sheet over basic human decency.

This is not an isolated lapse. Ryanair has built its empire on a culture of penny-pinching so notorious it has become part of its brand identity. From charging passengers for printing boarding passes to its long history of disputes with regulators and staff, the airline has made a habit of squeezing every cent from every situation. In an age when customer service is often hollowly proclaimed as “our top priority,” Ryanair has elevated indifference into an art form.

Yet this episode marks a new low. Refusing to refund a man who cannot travel because he was stabbed while defending strangers is not simply poor customer service — it is moral bankruptcy.

What makes this all the more grotesque is that Ryanair could have done the right thing at virtually no cost. A gesture of goodwill, an apology, even the simplest refund would have earned the company praise and gratitude from millions who admire Mr Crean’s courage. It could have been a rare chance for Ryanair to show a human face. Instead, it chose to be the faceless bureaucracy that too many of its customers already believe it to be.

Let us be clear: Ryanair’s rules do allow discretion. Airlines routinely offer refunds or credits in exceptional circumstances. Illness, bereavement, and emergencies are not unknown to the travel industry. The problem is that Ryanair seems to view compassion as a loophole to be closed, not a value to be upheld.

For all its bluster about “democratising travel,” Ryanair’s success has been built on a transactional cynicism — one that treats passengers less as people and more as obstacles to be processed. Its customer service lines are a labyrinth, its complaint procedures deliberately obtuse, its so-called “policies” enforced with robotic indifference. That a company of its size and profitability could not find a way to refund a hero’s ticket tells you everything about the culture at its core.

Ryanair’s defenders will mutter about “policy” and “precedent,” as if empathy were a contagion that must be quarantined. But decency requires no rulebook. It is not weakness to show humanity; it is strength. And when a business fails to recognise that, it forfeits any claim to respect.

Michael O’Leary, Ryanair’s famously combative chief executive, has long delighted in provocation — boasting about cost-cutting, mocking competitors, even joking about charging passengers to use the toilet. But there is nothing witty or shrewd about this. This is not ruthless efficiency; it is moral failure.

Mr Crean’s story should have been one of quiet admiration — a tale of a brave man, healing, finding joy again through football and travel. Instead, it has become a symbol of corporate callousness.

Ryanair could still make amends. It could apologise, refund the ticket, and perhaps — if it wished to show even a shred of the decency its passenger showed on that train — donate the fare to a victims’ charity. But don’t hold your breath.

The tragedy is that this episode will not surprise many. Ryanair has long been the airline people love to hate — and it has earned that reputation. It thrives on a business model that treats outrage as free publicity. Yet some lines should never be crossed. When a man who risked his life to save others is denied the smallest act of kindness, it ceases to be a PR issue. It becomes a moral indictment.

Ryanair may pride itself on being Europe’s cheapest airline. But there are some things you cannot afford to lose — decency, compassion, honour. In refusing Stephen Crean a refund, Ryanair has shown that its true poverty lies not in its fares, but in its soul.

Main Image: Door Adrian Pingstone – transferred from English Wikipedia, Publiek domein, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1473726

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