Black Day at Narita Airport
Farmers and students thwart an embarrassed government
Everything was set for the long-delayed opening--five years late--of Japan's sparkling $2.4 billion New Tokyo International Airport at Narita, 40 miles northeast of the capital. The 114 shops and restaurants and nine banks in the terminal complex were polished and ready for business. The 32 airlines that would use the new facility prepared to switch 150 flights a day from older, overtaxed Haneda airport across Tokyo Bay. In a nation where tradition and superstition still count as much as technology, a taian, or auspicious day, had even been determined for the dedication last week.
Unfortunately for Narita, a butsumetsu, or really unlucky day, hit the airport last week before the ceremonies could be held. A demonstration by 8,000 radical students and farmers who have agitated against Narita ever since construction began in 1967 erupted into an orgy of destruction. The 14,000 police spread across the terminal were caught by surprise as helmeted students in steel-plated trucks battered down the terminal gates. Tossing fire bombs and swinging metal rods, demonstrators swarmed wildly through the sprawling airport complex.
The central battle took place in the administration building. There, a band of 20 radicals emerged from the storm-drain sewer and attacked the nerve center of the airport. In a running skirmish with security forces, ten of the radicals made it to the elevators leading to the control tower 16 floors above. They disembarked at the 14th floor, climbed up a huge parabolic antenna, beating it with hammers as they went, and smashed the slanted windows of the tower. Six rioters shinnied through the broken windows and proceeded to batter radar and communications consoles. Five frightened technicians who had been in the tower fled to the roof, from which they were evacuated by a police helicopter. The swift demonstration paralyzed Narita. Casualties numbered 34 police and 20 demonstrators injured, including one youth who was severely burned when a fire bomb exploded prematurely in his hand.
The most humiliating injury was suffered by Prime Minister Takeo Fukuda and his government. "I didn't sleep very well last night," admitted Fukuda after the disturbance. Irritated by the continuing demonstrations that have kept the completed airport idle since 1973--at a cost of $100,000 a day in maintenance and interest payments on construction loans --the Prime Minister had flatly declared that "Japan's prestige is at stake" and insisted that Narita would open for business in April. Now it could take months to repair the damage.
Why was it that a modern and commonplace facility like an airport drove so many people to such maniacal extremes? The trouble began in 1966, when government planners searching for a site for a jet-age airport chose Narita, which lies in a rolling truck-farm belt. Ignoring the consensus system, which is considered a cardinal virtue in Japanese society, the planners never bothered to consult with the residents of the region, whose families have farmed the same tracts for generations. To the dismay and fury of the farmers, the government began to expropriate the land. Thus was organized the Anti-Airport League, an odd amalgam of angry farmers and environmentalists since dominated by an assortment of radical students, who saw Narita as an outlet for their extremist zeal. The group built a series of "protest towers" at the end of the first runway, staged marches and harassed operations wherever it could. Altogether, since 1967 there have been 56 separate major incidents at Narita; four policemen and one demonstrator were killed, 3,100 cops and 5,000 protesters injured and 1,900 people arrested.
The relentless protests compounded what had been bad airport planning in the first place. Few airports in the world are as distant from the city they serve as Narita. The designers envisioned a 125 m.p.h. bullet train and a freeway to link the airport with Tokyo. But protests halted the necessary land acquisition, and neither system was built. As a result, when the airport finally opens, travelers will be forced to take a two-hour, $50 taxi ride (or two-hour, $8.50 airport bus) to the city; and because of heavy traffic, they will be required to check in at least four hours ahead of flight departures.
To make matters worse, airlines are resentful because they must pay airport fees that are 30% higher than those at Haneda. They also worry about flight safety. Narita has only one 13,000-foot runway, which is periodically subjected to severe crosswinds. Even the jet-fuel handling system has been complicated by the disorders. Unable to acquire land for an underground pipeline, airport managers must transport fuel by railroad tank car. Because the protestors have tried to blow up at least one train, shipments move under heavy police guard.
No one is happy about Narita's costs and security problems except the people who have caused them. Issaku Tomura, the 69-year-old leader of the demonstrators, crowed that last week's disorder constituted "a great victory. We have prevented the opening of the airport and will fight on until it is abandoned altogether." The government is not likely to abandon Narita easily, and the end--or the beginning--of the world's most troubled airport is still not in sight.
This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.