In a modern European country, the operation of public infrastructure should be governed by fundamental principles: transparency, equality before the law, and equal access. When these principles erode, the result is not merely dysfunction—it is a distortion that gradually becomes entrenched.
Something along these lines appears to have been unfolding for years at the Tatoi Airfield, which is located just north of Athens proper. This is a public military installation of historical and operational significance, where, alongside its primary mission, general aviation and air sports activities have been permitted.
A relevant decision, published in the Government Gazette under the title “Use of Dekelia Airfield for the Needs of General Aviation,” authorized the use of the facility by the Hellenic Aeronautical Federation (ELAO). The wording is crucial: it grants a right of use, without providing for exclusive management or control of the airfield.
In practice, however, a different reality seems to have taken shape. Access to and use of the infrastructure do not appear to be governed by a clear, objective, and transparent framework. Instead, the ability to operate from the airfield seems to depend on the stance of an entity that is neither an administrative nor a regulatory authority—such as the Civil Aviation Authority.
Thus, a provision originally intended to facilitate the development of general aviation appears to have evolved into a closed operating system, where access is neither self-evident nor equitable.
The question that arises is simple yet fundamental: how does a non-exclusive right of use lead, in practice, to restricted access?
Similar patterns can be observed in other areas of public life: spaces intended for common use gradually transform into peculiar regimes where access is no longer based on clear and objective rules, but on limited and non-transparent processes.
This logic is not unfamiliar in everyday life. A kiosk licensed to occupy a few square meters of sidewalk gradually expands, taking over a much larger area and effectively obstructing pedestrian passage. The issue becomes even more complex when the same entity operating within a space also assumes the role of determining its terms of use. In such cases, the line between management and control becomes blurred. The law itself does not change—but its application in practice does. And as long as public administration does not intervene, the exception becomes the rule.
The case of Tatoi appears to fall squarely within this pattern. Oversight of the airfield lies with the Hellenic Air Force General Staff, which bears responsibility for ensuring its proper operation. The critical question, therefore, is not who uses the airfield, but whether such use is conducted under conditions of transparency, equal treatment, and a clearly defined institutional framework.
This issue extends beyond the aviation community. It concerns the way the state functions in relation to its citizens. When a public facility operates without clear rules of access, when the implementation of decisions diverges from their original intent, and when oversight is inactive, an environment emerges that undermines the public sense of fairness.
Restoring balance does not require confrontation. It requires something simpler—and at the same time more demanding: a reassessment of existing arrangements, guided by transparency, equality before the law, and the public interest. Tatoi is not a marginal issue. It is a characteristic case that raises a broader question: how do we ensure that public spaces remain truly public?
The answer to that question concerns not only aviation, but the quality of public life itself.
Kostas Kapakas is a film director and amateur pilot.
