This video was made possible by Backblaze. Download it, forget about it, but then, if
something goes wrong, be super glad it has a full cloud backup of your data. Get 15-days free at backblaze.com/HAI. This is Tokyo Narita Airport—known worldwide
for being one of those places where the big metal things go nnneeaoowww. This airport is home to many things, such
as Blue Sky Convenience Store Gate 82, Blue Sky Convenience Store Gate 94, and Blue Sky
Convenience Store Gate 98, but one thing that you might not expect inside an airport is
a farm, and yet here one is, right in between this taxiway and Blue Sky Convenience Store
Gate 82. Now, many airports have unique amenities to
try and help them stand apart—Singapore Changi Airport has a slide down to a gate,
Denver International Airport has an open-air ice rink, and Newark International Airport
has a casino where you don’t gamble money but rather your possessions on whether your
baggage will arrive in a single piece. Tokyo Narita’s farm, however, is not some
bougie airport amenity, it’s not decoration, it’s a real, working farm owned by someone
named this guy. This is Takao Shito and Takao Shito is the
son of Toichi Shito, the father of Takao Shito, but also the owner of this farm back in the
1960s. This area, however, had been farmland since
the year 700-ish when the emperor was like, “yo, make this farmland.” A couple years later Japan sort of took the
“L” in World War Two so the Americans came around and were like, “yo, don’t
do the monarchy thing any more, or at least make it low-key.” So, as part of the low-key-afying of the whole
monarchy thing, they sold off a lot of the emperor’s farmland around here to mostly
poor people who then did the farming thing. Such they did happily until the 1960s-ish
when the government was like, “yo, we need this land to do the airport thing.” You see, Japan was doing the economic development
thing which meant more travelers coming in which meant more airplanes which meant that
this, the original Haneda Airport, was not big enough. Also, it was in the middle of the city…
and ocean… which meant it wasn’t really possible to make it much bigger. Therefore, the government had the genius idea
to make a new airport here… no, a little further… little further… yeah, more…
yeah, there. They had the genius idea to make a new airport
a full hour’s drive outside of the city. Now, we all love a nice, sexy slab of asphalt,
of course… that is, unless it goes over your family’s farm because, if I know anything
about farming, it’s that crop yield is inversely proportional to whether there’s a slab of
asphalt over your fields. Of course, it turned out that this sexy slab
of asphalt would, in fact, go over Takao Shito’s farm, along with a bunch of others’ too,
and the locals didn’t like that, so naturally, they went full Les Miserables. I mean, look at this, he’s got a spear,
and this guy too, they’ve all got spears, and they built a barricade—I mean, say what
you want about Japanese obedience and manners, but these protesters go hard. Now, of course, the airport wasn’t going
to be big enough to cover all these protestors farms, that would be impressive, but rather,
the protests got so large because they kind of struck a nerve with the some of the increasingly
prominent socialist opposition political parties in Japan who were particularly concerned with
the rise in capitalism and the increasing US military presence in the country. They were so hardcore, in fact, that they
built and defended huge towers physically blocking the approach path for the runways,
delaying the airport’s opening for years, but with time, the land was acquired, and
the airport was built. Except, there was just one bit that the government
could never get. You see, after the opposition got so, you
know, Do-You-Hear-the-People-Sing-Y, the government picked a new site close by on what was left
of the Goryō Farm—the Emperor’s property since the year 700 when he went, “yo, make
this farmland.” Except, since monarchy became so passé, it
was much smaller, and not quite big enough to put the airport on, so they still had to
buy land from other farmers who had bought it originally from when the land was sold
off to make the monarchy more low-key. The government had little ability to seize
the land due to Japan’s strong legal protections for farmers, but they did manage to strong-arm
most owners into selling, except for Toichi Shito. He and his son were offered up to the equivalent
of $1.7 million for his farm, but never gave in, especially with the strong support they
got from the anti-airport movement. Therefore, Shito and his family stayed there,
the airport was constructed around him, and tunnels were built under the taxi-ways to
allow for access, undoubtably at huge cost. With the enormous delays due to the protesters
continued oppositions, which included highlights such as the throwing of raw sewage onto the
riot police, the airport wasn’t opened for a number of years after Shito’s encircling. When it finally was, few airlines really wanted
to switch their flights over to it from Haneda because, after all, it was super, super far
from the city. So, the government made Haneda airport domestic-only,
forcing airlines to switch over, and suddenly Shito’s neighbors got a lot more noisy. That was of no worry to him, though, and he
continued farming there until his death in 1999 when his son, Takao, took over. To this day, Takao kinda just lives his life,
despite being in the middle of an international airport, growing carrots, onions, garlic,
and more that he sells at nearby markets, helped in part by those who carry on the anti-airport
movement, only with fewer bamboo spears. Reportedly, the pandemic and ensuing drop
in air travel has, at least, let him enjoy a slightly less noisy backyard. Now, guess what, it’s sponsorship time,
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