BEFORE a single girder has been raised, the stadium for Tokyo’s 2020 Olympic games is unloved. The city is at odds with the central government over the estimated cost of ¥169 billion ($13.6 billion). A local architect likened the design, by the Iraqi-British architect, Zaha Hadid, to a giant turtle “waiting for Japan to sink so that it can swim away”. Protesters vow to block the start of construction next month, before the site, which encroaches on the outer gardens of the historic Meiji shrine, is ruined and elderly local residents are evicted.

Spiralling budgets and architectural vandalism are an Olympic staple. Much of old Tokyo was razed to make way for the 1964 games. Still, the plans for the 2020 games are a mess, says Toyo Ito, a contestant in the competition to design the stadium. The company meant to build the stadium’s retractable roof only learned that the idea had been scrapped after Hakubun Shimomura, Japan’s sports minister, let it slip on television.

To cut costs, Mr Shimomura has ordered the stadium lowered by 5 metres (16 feet) and a fifth of its 80,000 seats removed. But his demand that Tokyo fork out ¥50 billion toward its construction has led to a face-off with the city’s governor, Yoichi Masuzoe. Despite no agreement on who will foot the bill, the Japan Sport Council, the government body overseeing the stadium, this week reportedly hired a contractor to build it. The council is worried that the project will not be finished in time for the rugby world cup, which Japan will host in 2019.

Mr Masuzoe may in the end be presented with the city’s share of the final cost—likely to be much higher than original estimates—and have no choice but to cough up. Yet he grumbles that even the new plan is too grandiose. He resents the city having to pay for its upkeep after the games. The government’s reassurances that the project is still on course, he says, are like Japan’s imperial army insisting it was winning the second world war.