The Peculiar Story Of The Yodogo Hijacking

A photo of the Japan Airlines aircraft involved in the hijacking.

Aircraft hijackings surged in the 1960s and 1970s, not merely because they were more “practical” and easier to carry out for long-distance flights. Instead, they symbolized just how far terrorist organizations could reach. On March 31, 1970, Japan Airlines flight 351, en route from Tokyo to Fukuoka, was seized by nine university students whose purpose was to start a revolution.

The hijackers were members of Kyōsan Dōmei Sekigun-ha (the Red Army Faction), a terrorist organization that sought to unify the world, starting with Japan, based on Marxist-Leninist ideology. Drawing inspiration from terrorist groups like the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), the hijackers planned to use a commercial aircraft as their vessel to advance their political objectives.

Up until 1973, Japanese airports had little to no security screening for passengers, and the hijackers used this to their advantage. They boarded the plane and sat separately to eliminate suspicion from passengers and crew members alike. Shortly after takeoff from Tokyo’s Haneda Airport, a man named Takamaro Tamiya stood up from his seat and brandished a katana, shouting “We are Ashita no Joe!”, a reference to the Japanese manga Ashita no Joe: Fighting for Tomorrow. The others revealed their weapons, which included knives, pistols, and pipe bombs, while Tamiya stated their intent to hijack the plane. Tamiya commanded the pilots to divert their course to Cuba, a country many communists viewed as a socialist utopia. There was one issue, however: Boeing 727s could only fly roughly 2,700 miles without refueling, but Cuba was over 7,000 miles away.

Once the pilots informed them of this dilemma, the hijackers went silent, having to think of a different, closer country to land in. Their choice? North Korea, a heavily-militarized, communist dictatorship that had an extremely tense relationship with Japan. So, the captain agreed under the condition that he could stop in Fukuoka, Japan, to refuel first. Before the plane landed in Fukuoka, the pilots notified air traffic controllers that the plane had been hijacked, they had been threatened with bombs, and that the hijackers wanted to land in North Korea. Once the plane reached Itazuke Airport, refueling personnel opened the tank and realized that it was nearly full. This was the beginning of a coordinated effort by Japanese authorities and airline staff to deceive the hijackers, buying time for negotiations.

A map of the Korean Peninsula and its neighbors, including China, Russia, and Japan.

Refueling a Boeing 727 takes about twenty minutes to an hour, so the hijackers were starting to become suspicious when over two hours had passed and they still hadn’t departed. In the meantime, Captain Ishida convinced the hijackers to release 23 of the 129 hostages. They mainly consisted of women, children, and individuals who needed their medications. In exchange for those hostages, Japanese authorities provided the hijackers with a crudely drawn map of the Korean Peninsula, emphasizing Pyongyang, North Korea. Now, here’s where the deception comes into play.

While the hijackers were waiting on the plane to be “refueled,” Japanese authorities contacted the South Korean government, alerting them of the situation. Together, they concocted an idea: air traffic controllers and fighter jets would guide the pilots to Seoul, South Korea, just south of the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), a fortified barrier between North and South Korea. While the pilots were flying to their destination, workers and officials at Gimpo Airport in Seoul were busy transforming the runway and surrounding areas to mimic those of North Korea. Their efforts were shockingly extensive, despite Seoul being less than a two-hour flight away from Fukuoka. 

Japan Airlines flight 351 entered the airspace of the Gimpo Airport, guided by officials to land in a quiet corner of the airfield, far from heavy traffic so the hijackers would see as little as possible of the runway. Traces of South Korea were stripped away, including flags, uniform insignia, and decorations. Captain Ishida told the hijackers they had arrived in Pyongyang and school children sang traditional songs to welcome them. Only a few personnel were permitted to approach the plane, and those who did, presented themselves as North Korean authorities, speaking carefully and keeping interactions brief. Even though the setting appeared convincing, cracks would start to form in the ruse.

One key giveaway of deception was the blaring of American jazz music through airport speakers in the distance. This was completely inconsistent with Kim Il Sung’s tightly regulated policies, which banned all foreign music, instead requiring citizens to listen to “patriotic” songs. Shortly after this realization, the hijackers noticed the absence of both North Korean flags and portraits of Kim Il-Sung. Some sources claim that the hijackers saw American airliners, cars, and even a Black soldier, but these accounts cannot be verified. What is known is that the hijackers did not disembark the plane. Rather, they engaged in a standoff with South Korean and Japanese officials.

A photo of passengers on board Japan Airlines flight 351 hurriedly exiting the aircraft in Seoul, South Korea.

The Japanese government contacted the authorities in North Korea, who promised they would allow flight 351 to cross the DMZ and send the hostages on a plane back to Tokyo. South Korean President Park Chung-hee was distrustful of North Korea due to its assassination attempts against him, so he refused to agree to their resolution. Instead, he demanded the hostages be released immediately, and it was the Red Army Faction’s turn to refuse. Eventually, a compromise was achieved, where the hostages would be released in Seoul, and Japan’s Vice Minister for Transport would take their place. After the switch was made, the plane left Seoul and headed north to Pyongyang, North Korea.

The plane reached Mirim Airport on April 3 at 7:21 P.M., and after the hijackers surrendered to North Korean authorities, the crew and Transport Minister Yamamura Shinjiro flew back to Japan. The hijackers spent a brief period in the Pyongyang Hotel, formulating their plans to use North Korea as a base to start communist revolutions across East Asia. Unbeknownst to them, Kim Il Sung had no intention of supporting their ambitions. Instead, he would use the incident as propaganda, showcasing North Korea as a sanctuary for revolutionaries while keeping the hijackers under strict surveillance. Over the following months, they were indoctrinated with Juche ideology, and while some of them remained contentedly in North Korea, others would escape, expressing regret decades later.