Leading the airport advocacy portfolio at the National Business Aviation Association (NBAA) headquarters in Washington, D.C., can feel a bit like being called upon to serve as an aviation superhero. We frequently receive calls from pilots, aircraft operators and airport managers to help protect their airport from villains looking to implement restrictions or to shutter the valuable aviation infrastructure forever. Our superpowers are rooted in the federal statutes such as the Airport Noise and Capacity Act of 1990 (ANCA), the Surplus Property Act of 1944 and the obligations (also known as “assurances”) that become applicable when airports accept federal funds.
|
The majority of these obligations last for 20 years; however there are some that are perpetual, such as when federal funds are used to purchase land. This is a barrier protecting Boulder Municipal Airport (BDU) in Colorado from closing even after 16 years that currently remain on its grant obligation clock.
In response to these calls for help, we usually can quickly don our capes and goggles and simply remind and educate those locally in charge about the rules and regulations, federal preemption and their limited ability to dictate how the airport may operate; an airport may be named after a city or county, but is part of a federal system of infrastructure. At times, we also rely on the FAA through the Part 13 or Part 16 process, enlisting the Agency’s support to enforce these obligations. Finally, there are times when we must turn to the men and women wearing black robes sitting behind a bench, leveraging the court system to adjudicate and enforce the laws when all other avenues fail.
These attacks are often centered around circumstances unique to each airport, stemming from local politics and the result of regional and geographic environments. However, most are not isolated to a particular airport and have the precedent-setting potential to harm our entire federal system of airports.
The lawsuit recently filed by the city of Boulder against the FAA, seeking to be released from perpetual obligations attributed to land acquisition, falls in that national precedent-setting category and should be of concern to all of us. It is the kryptonite to one of our superpowers to protect our infrastructure and is a reason many airports have not started on the path to run out their 20-year clock and are still operational today. Unfortunately, in today’s politically charged environment—where a handful of households file the majority of noise complaints and a small vocal minority holds the cards to reelection for those governing over their airport—there are a number of communities closely watching these embattled airports, standing at the ready to adopt their tactics should these beacons of hope fall.
While we at the aviation associations inside the beltway have our airport advocacy capes hanging on the back of our office doors at the ready, at the end of the day, all of us in the industry are superheroes. It’s up to all of us to protect what’s at the core of our ability to take to the skies—aviation infrastructure.
Our airports and heliports enable us to learn how to fly and to keep those perishable skills current; they connect communities and serve as their economic engines; they help save lives when organs are flown in, cancer patients are transported to treatment centers, or when they provide for the ability to bring in critical supplies and to airlift those in need when natural disasters strike. All of us have the responsibility to learn from the battles of the past, assist those fighting for survival today and to engage with the neighboring communities, educate elected officials and to advocate to secure the future of our airports and aviation infrastructure.
