Issue:
July 2024 | Japan Media Review
Tokyo’s breakneck redevelopment is attracting negative media attention
Former House of Councilors lawmaker Renho appeared at the Foreign Correspondents’ Club of Japan on June 14 to answer questions about her candidacy in the upcoming Tokyo governor's election. At the time, she had yet to announce a formal platform, but during her opening remarks said that if she won, she would “rethink” the Meiji Jingu Gaien redevelopment project. Ever since the details of the project were revealed, citizens groups have protested, mainly due to its environmental impact. Renho said that the parties carrying out the project had never explained their plans satisfactorily or responded properly to the public's concerns. Moreover, Tokyo subsidizes such redevelopment without transparency. “My intention is to open that black box,” she said.
Renho's opponent, incumbent governor Yuriko Koike, has asserted that the project is the responsibility of the owners of the land being redeveloped – meaning Meiji Shrine – but she responded to protests by ordering another environmental impact assessment that won't be ready until after the election.
The Tokyo prefectural government says it will not interfere with the operations of a private entity, but such a position ignores the history of the shrine and its surrounding park. According to an editorial that appeared in the Tokyo Shimbun on July 31, 2023, the land occupied by Meiji Shrine and the park once belonged to the nation, and after the Pacific War the government granted the land beneath the shrine to the shrine. The park and the sports facilities it contained remained in the possession of the nation, but the shrine insisted that it be given the titles to the land as well as the right to operate the facilities. Meiji Shrine was at the pinnacle of state Shintoism, which was dismantled after the war because of its close relationship to the military, but the shrine's connection to many bureaucratic functions remained. In January 1952, a year after the San Francisco Treaty was signed, formally ending hostilities between Japan and the Allied Powers, the education ministry allowed Meiji Shrine to manage the gardens on four conditions: that the public could use the facilities freely, that fees be set low so as to promote amateur sports, that the shrine ensure the grounds were maintained properly, and that operations be carried out in a democratic manner. The shrine accepted these conditions, and the government sold the grounds to it at half its market value at the time. As the Tokyo Shimbun points out, this history is recorded in the shrine's own literature. The grounds of the shrine are there to benefit the public.
The redevelopment project, which is being carried out by Meiji Shrine and several developers headed by Mitsui Fudosan, was announced in December 2010, but details of the plan didn’t emerge until December 2021, after which the public had two weeks to “view” it. The Tokyo Shimbun says that there was no public discussion of the project, a claim the developers have disputed. Two stadiums on the grounds will be rebuilt, several other sports facilities will close, about 700 trees will be cut down (some estimates say more), and two skyscrapers nearly 200 meters tall will be erected. The newspaper asks rhetorically if the project doesn't violate the conditions set forth by the education ministry. Apparently, quite a few citizens think so, because a petition with 210,000 signatures to halt the project was submitted to the prefectural government, which has said that private developers have no obligation to reflect the public's concerns and ideas in their projects, so, as the Tokyo Shimbun puts it, any talk from the authorities about “citizen participation” in urban development is mere lip service. In Europe, the newspaper points out, citizen participation in urban development is common.
In a special report published in its January 1 edition, the Tokyo Shimbun elaborated on the myriad large-scale redevelopment projects currently underway in Tokyo, the purpose of which is to make the Japanese capital a magnet for people and investment from the wider world. The manager of the Edo Tokyo Museum tells the newspaper that, due to the “patchwork” character of Tokyo, it is difficult to expect much coherence from its city planning, but there is a certain integrity to the redevelopment projects, even if they don't always turn out as envisioned. The bulk of redevelopment is meant to replace the buildings, facilities, and infrastructure that were built quickly after the destruction wrought by the Pacific War, and which had become superannuated by the turn of the millennium. But the article makes clear the problems inherent in such ambitious projects, the most immediate one being the progressive loss of green spaces in Tokyo, which may make the city less inviting to foreign companies that have concerns about the environment. Tokyo residents also worry about the loss of green spaces.
Another characteristic is the top-down methodology of the redevelopment, which, as in the case of Meiji Jingu Gaien, sees the authorities and developers deciding the contours and scope of a project and then “forcing it on the public, according to Makoto Yokohari, a project professor specializing in landscaping at the University of Tokyo. Affected residents tend to see such redevelopment plans as being beneficial to the developer and incoming tenants at the expense of existing businesses in the area, thus making that area less “distinctive” as a neighborhood. Yokohari says Tokyo's style of redevelopment has no real effect on long-term regional stimulation since city planning is not carried out in a comprehensive manner. In a sense, this kind of approach comes naturally to Tokyo, whose history has been a continuing cycle of destruction and renewal. But even if Tokyo chooses not to retain tangible assets like old buildings, it needs to carry on “the systems and culture that define Japan”, Yokohari says. But it is difficult to see such attention to intangible assets in the helter-skelter redevelopment process now being carried out in the capital.
This process was first discussed during the administration of Tokyo Governor Shintaro Ishihara in 1999. Several years later, the newly installed prime minister Junichiro Koizumi pledged to work with Ishihara to promote urban renewal to boost Tokyo's global competitiveness. It's here where the top-down character was established, with the prime minister endeavoring to revise zoning laws to encourage redevelopment. The cornerstone of this policy was the easing of capacity rates that would allow for much taller buildings throughout the city, since it would attract developers who could realize bigger profits. An article in the March 10-17 issue of Tokyo Minpo, the organ of Japanese Communist Party (JCP) members of the Tokyo metropolitan assembly, described how when the capacity rate for a given piece of land is doubled, the developer can basically produce the equivalent of an additional building on the same land. In central Tokyo, a square meter of land can cost as much as ¥10 million, so if a project uses two hectares of land, profits can be as high as ¥200 billion, which is why most of the skyscrapers in Tokyo are concentrated in the three central wards of Minato, Chuo, and Chiyoda, where major companies want to put their offices.
But now many redevelopment projects are being carried out in other, more residential-oriented wards, including Katsushika on Tokyo's eastern edge. Last August, the Tokyo Shimbun reported on a contentious redevelopment project taking place around Keisei Tateishi Station. The station environs are famous for its small bars and restaurants, most of which had to close for the project, which would include two high-rise buildings with offices on the lower floors and 1,900 residential units. One of these buildings will contain the new Katsushika ward offices. The residential area surrounding the station is packed with old wooden buildings, which are considered a class 5 fire hazard by the Tokyo Fire Department. Class 5 is the most dangerous rating. In 1997, local landowners formed a group to study rebuilding the area for the purpose of disaster mitigation. Ten years later, another citizens group demanded the ward offices move closer to the station, and it was found that such a move would cost ¥24 billion. The ward later decided it would be easier to rebuild the residential zone and cheaper to move the ward offices if they just redeveloped the area around the station with the help of a major developer.
After plans for the project started in earnest in 2021, many local residents voiced reservations, saying that large-scale redevelopment would destroy the atmosphere of Tateishi. They circulated a petition to that effect but none of their suggestions or desires were reflected in the final plan, which was passed by the ward government in 2022. There was also doubt as to the actual effectiveness of the plan, since many people doubted it would stimulate the area. A professor told the Nikkei Keizai Shinbun that present redevelopment projects centered on high-rise condominiums “lack long-term vision” since they don't take into consideration the falling birth rate and aging of the local population, not to mention the “special appeal of a neighborhood”. Once that appeal is lost, it can never be regained.
More specifically, entrusting such a big project to a profit-making entity like a major developer rarely results in direct benefits to the local government. The Tokyo Minpo reports that the residents of Tateishi eventually filed a lawsuit against the ward, saying it paid for the right to use 11 floors in one of the high-rises to house its offices at rates that were twice what they should have been, resulting in a loss for the ward of ¥700 million. Lawyers for the plaintiffs said that the ward still owned the land under its present offices and already provided subsidies for the redevelopment, so why was it necessary to spend so much money to relocate? As it turns out, the ward secured rights to more floor area than it really needed because the developer had to ensure that it had enough funds to complete the project and make a profit, so it demanded that the ward buy the rights at a price that was almost double the market rate. Having approved the plan, the Katsushika Ward office saw no alternative but to do what the developer asked on top of providing subsidies to guarantee completion. The court rejected the initial lawsuit.
The Nihon Keizai Shimbun says that this kind of process, premised on the idea that local governments pay for portions of new construction for public facilities, is common in redevelopment projects throughout Japan. The construction ministry justifies the practice by saying that when owners of land needed for redevelopment are persuaded to sell that land, they are often given rights to use parts of the new buildings, which then have to be taller so as to make them profitable for the developer, but somebody has to eventually pay for those floors, and in this case, it was Katsushika Ward.
Tateishi exemplifies the kind of redevelopment that ignores the wants and needs of local residents. But probably the most blatant example of a project where the interested party's benefits clash with that of the business community is the National Theater in Hanzomon. In this case, the owner is the Japanese government, which maintains the theater to preserve Japan's traditional theatrical arts such as kabuki and bunraku (puppetry). The theater structure was completed in 1966, so it is ripe for renovation, but the central government decided to redevelop the area around the theater to attract developers. The project subsequently stalled.
In a June 14 article, the Asahi Shimbun interviewed architect Koh Kitayama, who said that the government could have easily renovated the existing structure, but preferred to turn it into a redevelopment project, thinking it could become a “tourist draw” if it included a hotel and retail outlets. Moreover, management of the entire enterprise would be entrusted to a private company, whose agenda, Kitayama believes, will not necessarily be the same as the theater's. But, apparently, these imagined benefits to the real estate and construction industries are not as obvious as the government thinks they are, because after two attempts the project received absolutely no bids, meaning no private company thought the project was worth it. The theater closed last October, and the earliest it could reopen would be 2029. That is a huge problem for artists employed by the theater, since they now have to get by with makeshift performances in other venues that aren't necessarily suited to the theatrical forms they specialize in. And since the National Theater is also a place that educates young practitioners of traditional theater arts, there is less of a future for those art forms, which the government has pledged to support and maintain.
Despite the central involvement of the private sector, urban redevelopment has also become a burden on taxpayers. Nikkei's investigation found that over the last five years, 30% of the cost of Tokyo's redevelopment projects are being paid for with subsidies from the central government and local governments, and since commercial demand for the properties being built is not guaranteed, these government entities increasingly have to spend more to invest in the buildings in order to ensure their completion, as in the case of Tateishi. According to the JCP Tokyo newsletter, Minato Ward has paid for 22% of a huge redevelopment project around Shinagawa Station that has effectively evicted some 3,000 residents who can't afford the luxury apartments being built. So far, ¥152 billion in ward funds has been spent on the project, the most that any Tokyo ward has spent on redevelopment. At the same time, the money spent on building public welfare facilities is the lowest of any ward.
The issue seems to be one of priorities. A June 20 Asahi Shimbun report on the weak yen said that the reason developers are not interested in redeveloping the National Theater is because of the skyrocketing costs of construction materials and labor, which begs the question: how important is it to Japan to preserve traditional art forms? Obviously, the private sector doesn't see anything in it for them, so should the government just forget about it? The same article mentions Hokutopia, the community complex run by Tokyo's Kita Ward, which contains an auditorium and other public facilities and offices. It's old and in bad shape, but the ward has cancelled plans to renovate it due to the high cost. Should it invite the private sector, and, if it does do, would the private sector even be interested? No one denies that Tokyo needs urban renewal, but there must be an alternative to the current policy. So far no one in public service has demonstrated the wherewithal to figure out what that is.
Philip Brasor is a Tokyo-based writer who covers entertainment, the Japanese media, and money issues. He writes the Japan Media Watch column for The Number 1 Shimbun.
Sources
https://www.tokyominpo.com/2024/03/13/葛飾区役所%E3%80%80床価格で7億円損害%E3%80%80区民が監査請求/
