Causal mechanisms

To elucidate how legal mobilization can facilitate social movements' efforts to build expertise and influence public knowledge, we theorize several causal mechanisms that are activated by specific features of “the process of legal mobilization” (Reference ArringtonArrington, 2019b, p. 333). Causal mechanisms are “relatively abstract [and portable] concepts or patterns of action … that explain how a hypothesized cause creates a particular outcome in a given context” (Reference Falleti and LynchFalleti & Lynch, 2009, p. 1145). Mechanisms do not always produce the same outcomes because they “play out differently depending on their sequence, combination, and context” (Reference McAdam, Tarrow and TillyMcAdam et al., 2001, p. 306). But analytically clarifying mechanisms enriches our understanding of why social movements might adopt institutional tactics such as litigation and how doing so facilitates knowledge production. The mechanisms discussed below relate to court-recognized standing, the articulation of grievances as legal claims, recruiting plaintiffs, the official receipt and examination of documentary evidence, expert testimony, the schedule and performance of court dates, and court rulings. Table 1 summarizes the five mechanisms.

TABLE 1

Summary of causal mechanisms.

First, social movements gain official certification when courts recognize their standing (locus standi) to file lawsuits. McAdam, Tarrow, and (Reference McAdam, Tarrow and TillyTilly 2001, pp. 145–146) define certification as the validation of a group and its right to make claims by external authorities—in our case the courts. A court's acknowledgment of claimants' standing bolsters the movement's credibility (Reference HandlerHandler, 1978, pp. 217–218; Reference HolzmeyerHolzmeyer, 2009, p. 293). For movements' target audiences, such external validation lowers the costs of discerning the credibility of the movement and its claims (Reference Allen and SaratAllen, 2010; Reference McPhersonMcPherson, 2016). Scholarship on social movements and environmental litigation has focused on increasing claims-making, as courts in the United States and Europe have expanded rules on standing to permit NGOs to sue (Evans Reference Evans Case and GivensCase, 2010; Reference VanhalaVanhala, 2012, pp. 536–539; Cichowski & Stone Reference Cichowski, Stone Sweet, Cain, Dalton and ScarrowSweet, 2003, p. 208–216). But they have paid less attention to the other benefits social movements can reap by gaining standing. Being plaintiffs makes social movement actors more readily identifiable, credible sources for journalists, who can publish or broadcast personalized accounts of what the lawsuits are about. It also gives them a new shared collective identity from which to build solidarity and recruit other plaintiffs.

Making legal claims thus catalyzes a second mechanism: attribution of similarity to recruit plaintiffs. Articulating individuals' past experiences in terms of discrete legal categories highlights commonalities among disparate aggrieved individuals and frequently encourages mobilization as other affected people label their injurious experience and realize the potential for collective action through the courts (Reference Galanter, Boyum and MatherGalanter, 1983, p. 123; Reference ScheingoldScheingold, 2004, p. 132). This process is akin to framing and has the potential to also shift public perceptions of the problem by naming the justiciable rights violations or illegal actions. Recruiting more plaintiffs to file additional collective lawsuits (shūdan soshō in Japanese and jipdan sosong in Korean) is a common tactic for building pressure and momentum in legal mobilization campaigns in the absence of U.S.-style class action (Reference ArringtonArrington, 2019b). As more people bring similar claims, the movement's numbers and thus also its credibility increase; Charles (Reference TillyTilly 2008, p. 120) posited that bystander audiences evaluate a movement's “worthiness, unity, numbers, and commitment (WUNC).”

Third, courts officially accept, examine, and assess evidence and expert testimony, which increases publicly available information about a problem. Indeed, litigation entails a process of investigation and information disclosure that is empowering but understudied in sociolegal scholarship. Long before a ruling, plaintiffs collect and submit documents and engage in “citizen research” to muster “facts that vividly illustrate [U.S. military and host] governmental wrongdoing” in order to make their case and reshape public perceptions (Reference Marshall, Sarat and ScheingoldMarshall, 2006, p. 173). Although Japanese and Korean courts lack U.S.-style discovery powers, judges can still order defendants to release documents that the plaintiffs know exist and can specifically name (Reference PardieckPardieck, 2021). In addition, information disclosure requests and related lawsuits, by forcing the authorities to release official documents, supplement activists' research and contribute to public knowledge. Furthermore, court cases may involve expert witnesses, who are “capable of endowing claims with credibility as they are transported across different cultures of production and interpretation” from science to the courtroom (Reference Jasanoff and JasanoffJasanoff, 2004, p. 5). Expert witnesses do not just convey knowledge but package and frame it in ways that make it relevant to the dispute being adjudicated (Reference HayesHayes, 2013, p. 214). Once accepted by the court, evidence and testimony have heightened visibility and an imprimatur of official validity (Reference WebsterWebster, 2018). Thus, fact-finding and witness testimony offer social movements opportunities for uncovering new information, vindicating claims, and capturing media attention.

Fourth, the schedule and performative dimensions of court dates create focal events that attract media attention (Reference McCannMcCann, 1994, pp. 58–59; Reference MatherMather, 1998, pp. 913–918). In Korea and Japan, courts hear cases only sporadically, about once every 4 to 6 weeks. Dating back at least to the environmental pollution cases of the late 1960s and 1970s, Japanese lawyers have experience organizing press conferences and rallies on court dates to sustain commitment among movement participants, recruit new supporters, and broadcast their interpretation of the unfolding court drama (Reference Kidder and MiyazawaKidder & Miyazawa, 1993, pp. 618–619). Korean plaintiffs and lawyers similarly organize press conferences and rallies for movement adherents on court dates (Reference ArringtonArrington, 2019b). Beyond the rhythm of court proceedings, the drama of courtroom disputes and plaintiffs' personalized stories appeal to news outlets' bottom line (Reference GitlinGitlin, 1980). For instance, in post-war compensation litigation, the defendants' repeated denials of liability substantiated claimants' narratives of Japanese injustice for the Korean media and public (Reference WebsterWebster, 2018, pp. 195–199). Plaintiffs and their lawyers also capitalize on the media's interest in personalizing issues by giving interviews that supply dramatic details of their suffering or courtroom impressions (Reference ArringtonArrington, 2019a).

Fifth, rulings in the plaintiffs' favor signal official support and turn judiciary into an “elite ally” for social movements vis-à-vis other branches of government (Reference McAdam, McCarthy and ZaldMcAdam et al., 1996, p. 55; Reference SchaafSchaaf, 2021, pp. 150–151). The conclusions contained in rulings can transform societal understandings of an issue. As Marc (Reference Galanter, Boyum and MatherGalanter 1983, p. 126) observed, “courts produce not only decisions but messages… [which] parties use in envisioning, devising, pursuing, negotiating, and vindicating claims.” Moreover, favorable rulings “signal… responsiveness” on the part of those in power and “create a pattern of potential [institutional] responses to challengers,” thereby incentivizing others to adopt similar tactics (Reference Meyer and BoutcherMeyer & Boutcher, 2007, pp. 81–84). Court rulings can pressure other branches of government to conduct investigations, implement programs, or design new legislation to address an issue (Reference Herrera and MaykaHerrera & Mayka, 2020, p. 1440).

Usually, legal mobilization is just one part of a multipronged strategy of seeking publicity and broader public and elite support for a movement's cause. Multiple interrelated lawsuits create sustained pressure on the authorities and cultivate publicity. Consequently, litigants leverage the legal mobilization process for broader effects, rather than merely to secure judicial victories. By theorizing mechanisms linking legal mobilization to social movement knowledge production, we illuminate “the creative and generative processes” through which law is leveraged to tackle environmental challenges (Reference VanhalaVanhala, 2022, p. 1).

Standing as certification

When agreeing to hear noise pollution lawsuits without dismissing them outright, courts officially recognize the right of activists and local residents to bring legal claims—their standing. While external validation is not readily measurable, our qualitative evidence shows that courts' external validation provided a tactical breakthrough, publicity, and legitimacy for claimants. It helped different audiences evaluate their credibility and supplied a new and official forum for expressing longstanding grievances.

Activists describe how gaining standing from courts came as a major breakthrough in their decades-long efforts to be heard and considered legitimate voices in policy discussions related to U.S. military bases. For example, residents opposing NAF Atsugi in Japan established the Alliance for the Prevention of Explosive Noise at Atsugi Base (Atsugi kichi bakuon bōshi kiseidōmei, hereafter Atsugi Alliance) as early as 1960. Initially, they spent years pleading with the authorities about noise pollution, and then spent more years protesting, before they finally turned to lawsuits in 1976 (Interview with Kaneko Tokio, October 10, 2016). The association describes the first 15 years of activism as a test of patience. “We petitioned, we complained, and we made requests,” the group recalled. “But in the end, we were tossed out while still waiting [for a response] … we were treated like dirt” (Atsugi Alliance, 2010, p. 40). After a period of “direct action struggle” (jitsuryoku tōsō), with confrontational tactics like burning tires to ground flights, did little to stop the ear-splitting noise, activists turned to the courts (Interview with Ōnami Shūji, October 14, 2016). Gaining standing, and thus embarking on what some called the “trial struggle” (saiban tōsō), revitalized the movement. “Lawsuits were chosen as a strategy … designed to surmount the situation where we couldn't fathom how to solve our problem” (Atsugi Alliance, 2010, p. 41). Though litigation was a “last resort,” plaintiffs demanded that their rights be “recovered, guaranteed, and fulfilled through legal procedures” (Atsugi Alliance, 2021b, p. 47). By having their standing to bring lawsuits recognized by the court, activists strove to establish “the meaning and legitimacy (shusi to seitōsei) of their claims” (Atsugi Alliance, 2021b, p. 47).

A parallel case from Korea's Kooni Firing Range likewise highlights how gaining courts' recognition of standing heralded a breakthrough after repeated failures to be heard. For years, the movement had similarly relied on disruptive action—breaking into the firing range, throwing Molotov cocktails, and wielding sickles—to no avail. After the Pollution Expulsion Coalition Movement (Gonghaechubang undongyeonhap), a national environmental coalition, joined the anti-Kooni campaign, a “change in tactics” toward information-reliant institutional contestation ensued. Recognizing that “litigation requires evidence,” the alliance with environmental activists gave them ready access to lawyers, medical experts, and scientists who helped gather such information, which ultimately led to two rounds of successful noise pollution lawsuits in 1998 and 2001 (Weekly Kyunghyang, 2006). “We were [previously] ignorant about the law… We never imagined we'd win a lawsuit,” Chun Man-kyu, an anti-Kooni activist who later embraced litigation, told the media (Pressian, 2005). Chun added, “We thought publicizing our situation to the outside world through litigation would be a big achievement on its own” (Pressian, 2005). Indeed, courts' recognition of plaintiffs' standing certified movement activists as credible sources for journalists, increasing activists' access to media channels through which to bring new evidence to light and close knowledge gaps. “Foreign correspondents would chase after me, even following me to the bathroom,” says Chun, who also repeatedly appeared on local television news (Interview, August 5, 2016).

Furthermore, gaining standing from courts enabled activists to forge a new and less radical collective identity as plaintiffs, which helped bolster their credibility and the relevance of their claims for local publics, as discussed in the next subsection. The de-radicalizing effect of framing grievances as legal claims and using institutional channels is particularly useful for anti-base activists, whose cause against the U.S. military is often considered radical in the domestic contexts of Japan and Korea. Demanding “environmental rights” and “the right to live as human beings” (Atsugi Alliance, 2021b, p. 47), for example, are less controversial than chanting “Yankee go home.” Chun Man-kyu recalls that his neighbors saw him as a reckless radical—a “commie” (ppalgaengi). Most local residents, he says, were opposed to the lawsuit until an “unexpected win” the lower court resulted in compensation (Interview, August 5, 2016). Similarly, anti-base movements in Japan strategically emphasize their identity as plaintiffs to bolster their credibility and downplay their radical roots. Anti-noise lawsuits that began in the 1970s in Japan were “decisively different” from other anti-base movements at the time in that they “derived their legitimacy from … actual damage, rather than ideology” (Reference HayashiHayashi, 2009, p. 27). Even as many activists maintain their radical, distant goal of eventually shutting down U.S. bases (Interviews with Fukumoto Michio, October 11, 2016; Taira Shinchi, September 21, 2016), they consistently frame their activities as educational and informational in nature. Plaintiffs often hold “study sessions” (gakushūkai), “monitoring” sessions, and “field inspections” of noise levels (Atsugi Alliance, 2021a).

Recruiting plaintiffs

Litigation turned aggrieved individuals into plaintiffs as they articulated their longstanding grievances in the language of legal rights. Such legal categorization or labeling facilitated the attribution of similarity among other affected people and helped recruit additional claimants, as can be seen in the generally increasing numbers of plaintiffs over time in Table 2 above. Strategically, movements aimed to recruit more plaintiffs because greater numbers enhanced the empirical credibility and perceived relevance of the movement's claims.

Activists saw recruiting more plaintiffs as a means to build up their movement and raise awareness of the issue. Initially, in 1976, the aforementioned Atsugi Alliance only allowed its members to join the lawsuit. To “broaden the movement base,” however, activists lowered the hurdle to becoming a plaintiff by expanding both the geographical area and the social network from which they recruited. One no longer had to be a labor unionist or affiliated with any other progressive NGOs, for example, to be allowed to join the anti-Atsugi lawsuits. Anyone living in the affected municipalities could become a plaintiff and thus spread local awareness of the noise pollution issue via word of mouth (Atsugi Alliance, 2010, pp. 40–51). Local bystander publics also came to perceive the movement less as radicals and more as neighbors. One Japanese activist noted that the “lawsuits have become something any ordinary citizen can join … Any family member, from a baby to a grandfather, can join them” (Interview with Kaneko Tokio, October 10, 2016).

Early lawsuits that involve at least a partial victory, most typically monetary compensation in our cases, provide especially credible information about the legitimacy of plaintiffs' claims and incentivize bystanders to become plaintiffs. For example, in the anti-Kooni lawsuit discussed above, which began in 1998 with just 14 plaintiffs, a partially favorable ruling resulted in a follow-on lawsuit involving 2222 plaintiffs, or almost the entire population of the rural village that hosted the live-fire range. “Chun [who was branded as a “commie”] fought alone for a long time,” activist Kim Yong-han recalls, but the court victory helped win over the entire community, and locals “apologized for doubting Chun” (Interview, July 3, 2016). Newly emboldened, the amount of compensation sought also doubled to 20 million won ($18,000) per plaintiff. Activists in Japan similarly note that their proven track record of winning compensation has been a major draw for many plaintiffs, including those who are otherwise politically inactive (Interviews with Taira Shinchi, September 21, 2016; Takahashi Toshio, September 3, 2016). Broadening the base of the movement with more plaintiffs and expanding the types of people involved in litigation enhances the credibility of activists, making it more likely that the information they share is accepted as believable and unbiased by the public.

Recruiting additional batches of plaintiffs also signaled the movement's worthiness and helped build pressure on the target authorities. Anti-Atsugi activists said that the Japanese government often pointed out the fact that the number of plaintiffs paled in comparison to the number of residents living in the affected areas. The message was clear, according to Kaneko Tokio, a Sagamihara city councilman who also led lawsuits: “You are the only ones complaining” (Interview, October 10, 2016). Takahashi Toshio, who led similar lawsuits against MCAS Futenma, recalled that activists were once derided for the small number of lawsuit participants (Interview, September 3, 2016). They proudly pointed to a steadily increasing number of plaintiffs: from 92 in 1976 to 8879 in 2017 for NAF Atsugi, and 404 in 2002 and 5846 in 2020 for MCAS Futenma. Litigation targeting Kadena Air Base in Japan, which began in 1982 with 907 residents, now boasts a record number of plaintiffs: 35,566. For elected officials, such burgeoning numbers translate into votes, which put political pressure on the authorities to respond to the movements.

Official disclosure and examination of evidence and expert testimony

In civil litigation, the judges typically collect and examine evidence from the parties and hear testimony by “neutral experts” (McReference McAdam and BoudetAdam & Boudet, 2012, p. 178), who sometimes bring evidence to light or introduce new data that reinforce the movement's claims. This process of official investigation creates opportunities for movements to participate in knowledge production. Movement actors' formal information disclosure requests further enable them to enrich public knowledge.

Anti-base litigants leverage scientific data and experts to back up their claims and supply evidence for adjudication. For example, the Liaison Council for Military Base Noise Pollution Lawsuit Plaintiffs (Zenkoku kichi bakuon soshō genkokudan renraku kaigi), a coalition of Japanese plaintiff groups, regularly invites outside experts to discuss ways to incorporate scientific evidence in their legal claims. An invited lecture given by an environmental engineering professor in 2019 sums up the nature of this fact-finding mission: “how to use scientific knowledge in noise pollution lawsuits” (Kanagawa Shimbun, 2019). Activists and sympathetic scientists, in both Japan and Korea, also collected noise level data and reported findings to journalists, using WECPNL (Weighted Equivalent Continuous Perceived Noise Level) and Ldn (Day Night Average Sound Level) values because they are objective and internationally recognized measures of noise. For example, anti-Kooni activists recruited an environmental engineering professor to measure noise levels and used the numbers in their first-ever lawsuit against a U.S. military base in Korea. By accepting such measures as evidence, the courts gave the indicators a degree of official recognition. The court then further validated the evidence by appointing another professor, an expert on environmental pollution and preventive medicine, as a third-party examiner. The lower court verdict in 2001, which ordered compensation to residents, confirmed activists' claims by citing the figures from his investigation. Such scientific data and expertise not only help persuade judges but can also shift public understandings about U.S. military bases' local impacts because the data discussed in court are more likely to receive media coverage.

In addition, judges can validate plaintiffs' claims through their actions and words during the trial, making plaintiffs more influential in knowledge production processes. Anti-Atsugi lawsuits, for example, involved “on-site verification” (genchi kenshō) by judges, who visited two Japanese cities jointly hosting the naval air base and observed American and Japanese aircraft taking off and landing (Kanagawa Shimbun, 2022). Activists amusingly recall a moment when a judge, upon hearing the noise from fighter jets on-site, said “this is terrible”—a moment of vindication for the activists, which they say made for a nice “contrast” with a “glum-faced” Japanese bureaucrat who also attended the inspection (Atsugi Alliance, 2021b, p. 51). Korean courts have conducted similar inspections. A Seoul court ruled on the Kunsan Air Base case in 2004: “This court, based on its on-site inspection results, can verify findings from a [separate] noise examination,” which the plaintiffs cited in their lawsuit (Seoul Central District Court Decision: 2002 Gahap 33132, 2004).

In addition to scientific data, anti-base activists aim to uncover documentary evidence about wrongdoing, coverups, or negligence by the base authorities and host governments. While litigants in the United States have access to courts' discovery procedures, Japanese and Korean courts have limited evidence-production powers. Hence, Japanese and Korean activists have turned to FOIA requests in the United States, as well as official information disclosure requests in Japan and Korea. In Japan, longstanding anti-base groups and individual pioneers have incorporated the use of FOIA requests in the United States in their activism since the late 1980s. Some of the earliest efforts came from groups like Rimpeace, a civic group whose stated mission is to trace the movements of U.S. Forces Japan. In the city of Sagamihara, where residents once staged a sit-in to physically block the American tanks used in Vietnam, Rimpeace activists have taken an institutional turn with their FOIA requests regarding environmental contamination at U.S. military facilities in the town (Reference KanekoKaneko, 2000). More recently, Jon Mitchell, a Japan-based investigative journalist, has spearheaded a series of FOIA requests. According to him (Reference MitchellMitchell, 2020a, p. 128), the U.S. military “works hard to conceal information related to its contamination,” but FOIA “offers one way to cleave through such secrecy.” Korean activists behind the first-ever FOIA request on U.S. base contamination in 2017 similarly describe the power of information disclosure procedures. “We are going to use [FOIA] as our new weapon (mugi),” said Kim Eun-hee, who leads a community group in Yongsan, a Seoul district that was, until recently, home to the U.S. army's Yongsan Garrison. (The base was relocated south of Seoul.) Based on documents obtained via FOIA, activists formulated new demands that (1) all U.S. bases be investigated for contamination, and (2) local governments officially confirm whether they were informed of environmental accidents at base sites (Interview, July 27, 2016). Most FOIA requests filed in the United States by Japanese and Korean activists have succeeded in obtaining inside documents.

The tactic has thus produced new knowledge, most of which is embarrassing to the U.S. military and the host states, credible because it was obtained officially through FOIA processes, and therefore likely to gain media attention. In Japan, FOIA requests have revealed numerous cases of environmental accidents and contamination at U.S. military bases. After Sagami General Depot, a U.S. army installation in the city of Sagamihara, was revealed to have stored materials tainted with hazardous PCBs (polychlorinated biphenyls), local activists used FOIA to obtain extensive records on PCBs and other toxic chemicals found at the installation (Reference KanekoKaneko, 1999). The episode ultimately made international news after Canada, and then ironically the United States, refused the entry of a cargo ship carrying the PCB-contaminated waste from Sagamihara. More recently, Mitchell's FOIA requests led to new revelations (Reference MitchellMitchell, 2020b): Agent Orange dioxin at Camp Kinser; 270 environmental accidents at MCAS Futenma, Camp Hansen, and Camp Schwab between 2002 and 2016; and harmful chemical spills at Yokota Air Base, MCAS Futenma, NAF Atsugi, Misawa Air Base, and MCAS Iwakuni. The list goes on. Exemplifying nontransparency surrounding the environmental conduct of the U.S. military and testifying to the ability of social movement actors to uncover hidden information, the Japanese government was aware of only 6 of the 270 aforementioned accidents (Reference MitchellMitchell, 2020b, p. 131). Thus, the disclosure of information can give movement actors leverage over U.S. authorities and their own governments.

A parallel case from Korea has revealed equally incriminating evidence against the U.S. military. In 2017, the very first FOIA request by activists revealed 84 cases of oil leaks at Yongsan Garrison between 1990 and 2015. The 84 cases, including seven that involved the spill of more than 3.7 tons of oil each time, far exceeded the total of five oil leaks that the Korean government was already aware of (Green Korea United, 2017). “To obtain information, civil society organizations had no choice but to resort to the American FOIA, rather than go through the Korean government or the U.S. military,” activists explained (Green Korea United, 2017).

Activists also target their own governments in their information disclosure requests, which contribute to public knowledge about the host government's lax oversight of U.S. bases. An Okinawan NGO called the Informed-Public Project, which researches toxic chemicals—particularly PFOS (perfluorooctane sulfonate) and PFOA (perfluorooctanoic acid)—at U.S. bases in Okinawa, uses even Japan's weaker information disclosure procedures (The Informed-Public Project Okinawa, 2019). “Our new strategy is more investigative … We [gradually] gather documents, analyze and then compile them into reports,” the group says (Reference MitchellMitchell, 2016). In this way, anti-base movements compile and make publicly available evidence of environmental degradation.

When the host state government withholds information, which is frequently the case in Korea when it comes to allegations of environmental contamination at U.S. military bases, activists proceed to sue the government. Korean activists filed the first suit against the Ministry of Environment in 2006 over its refusal to disclose information on environmental contamination at Camp Page, a U.S. base that closed in 2005. Other environmentalists followed suit in Busan (Camp Hialeah), Incheon (Camp Market), and Seoul (Yongsan Garrison). Then, in 2017, facing government stonewalling even after a court decision, Korean activists at Green Incheon (Incheon noksaegyeonhap) used an additional legal process known as ganjeop gangje sincheong (roughly translated as compulsory enforcement request)—through which the ministry is ordered to pay 3 million won ($2700) for each day past 30 days that it fails to comply with the request (Segye Ilbo, 2019). That finally did the trick. One lawyer's explanation reflects how effective the tactic is: “we never lose these [information disclosure] lawsuits” concerning U.S. base contamination… “the government knows it will always lose, although they appeal anyway” (Interview with Kweon Jung-ho, August 3, 2016). The uncovered information combined with evidence from lawsuits to gradually reshape public perceptions about the U.S. military bases. In a 2006 poll, for example, 92.7 percent of the respondents said the U.S. military should disclose information contamination at returned base sites, and 79.1 percent believed the U.S. military should also pay for remediation (Kyunghyang Sinmun, 2006).

Activists also note that the new knowledge they create through legal mobilization forever remains in the public record, especially recognizing harm and blame. In 2011, for example, they celebrated a court verdict that found that noise from Kunsan Air Base caused the deaths in 2008 of some 400 rabbits. “We feel proud that our case left a legal precedent,” says an activist who supported the lawsuit. “Even if we were to receive just one cent in compensation, we wanted to have it in writing that the rabbits died because of the noise” (Interview with Goo Joong-suh, June 13, 2016). Likewise, successful information disclosure requests move previously restricted government and military documents into the public realm. In Korea, newspaper editorials have repeatedly pointed to the contamination at Yongsan Garrison, uncovered via FOIA requests, in expressing concerns over the longstanding government plan to turn the site into a park (Hankook Ilbo, 2017; Kukmin Ilbo, 2017). Similarly, in Okinawa, local newspaper editorials have highlighted environmental contamination at U.S. military bases citing information obtained via FOIA requests—including ones that the newspapers themselves filed (Ryukyu Shimpo, 2021; Okinawa Times, 2020).

Focal events and the timeline of court proceedings

Periodic court dates provide a timeline with scheduled moments of interaction, and court proceedings offer a form of “public performance and institutionalized ritual” that helps keep the issue alive (Reference MatherMather, 1998, p. 932; Reference ArringtonArrington, 2019a, p. 25). As activists, lawyers, and journalists gather to celebrate, condemn, and publicize court proceedings, trial dates create focal events for emphasizing facets of the unfolding legal drama to capture media attention and strategically release information.

Lawyers in Japan and Korea design performative and informative events around court dates to gain media coverage. Japanese plaintiffs and their lawyers typically march into the courthouse for photo-ops and hold kekki shūkai—literally, a rally designed to demonstrate their resolve. In addition, press conferences, by definition, seek media coverage, which in turn helps sustain issue salience in the eyes of the public. But they need to be justified by “new” news or events; the timeline of court proceedings provides such scheduled events. Even before rulings, the plaintiffs' lawyers can convey information about judges' examinations of evidence or tone in trial proceedings to sway public perceptions (Reference BennettBennett, 1993; Reference EdelmanEdelman, 1988). Plaintiffs' testimonies and emotional appeals in the courtroom and at related press conferences also make headlines because the media are attracted by the personal drama of the legal process. For example, Stars and Stripes, a U.S. military newspaper, took an interest in how one Okinawan plaintiff described the noise: “For someone like me who had a narrow escape from the war, it makes me feel that the aircraft is coming to attack me” (Reference SumidaSumida, 2003). Moreover, Japanese lawyers customarily summarize and publicly announce court rulings—“noise condemned as illegal” (bakuon ihō to danzai), for example—on big, white banners they dramatically unfurl in front of cameras. The rhythm and ritual of trial dates give observers, including journalists, signals from which to infer whether the court is leaning in the plaintiffs' favor or not.

Plaintiffs and their lawyers may strategically link other events with legal mobilization to attract publicity, as well. For instance, in the aforementioned case of contamination at Yongsan Garrison, the stark gap between the real number of oil leaks and the number of previously acknowledged cases attracted widespread media attention in 2017. Major news outlets, including Korea's public broadcaster KBS, produced dozens of reports on the press conference by the anti-Yongsan activists. When President Yoon Suk-yeol announced the relocation of his office to Yongsan in 2022, activists again capitalized on media coverage of the relocation to renew awareness of the contamination cases at the former U.S. base. In Japan, similarly, Mitchell's FOIA-driven journalism won him the Foreign Correspondents' Club of Japan's lifetime achievement award for press freedom in 2015. This created opportunities for the anti-base activists to highlight how his research relates to ongoing legal mobilization regarding environmental pollution in and around U.S. bases. Okinawan activists regularly invite Mitchell to their events—lectures, conferences, and “study sessions”—on U.S. base contamination. Their latest event, focused on PFAS contamination at MCAS Futenma, attracted a crowd of 400 Okinawans (Ryukyu Shimpo, 2022). As with key dates in the litigation process, such events help keep the issue alive.

Elite ally

Finally, legal mobilization helps activists win elite allies, including the courts. Support from a branch of government bolsters activists' credibility and access to decision-makers, as well as creates pressure for more government fact-finding.

Favorable court rulings have turned the judiciary into an ally with consequences for public knowledge and policy outcomes. In 2015, for instance, Korea's Ministry of Environment had an extremely rare opportunity to conduct on-site inspections into groundwater contamination at Yongsan Garrison. When the ministry acquiesced to the U.S. military's request that it withhold findings, activists responded by suing the ministry. The legal standoff over Yongsan Garrison lasted for 2 years, as the government continued to cite diplomatic concerns and refused to make the information public. During this process, courts became an ally of the activists. The Seoul Administrative Court, for example, noted in its 2016 decision: “The inspection results are nothing more than an objective indicator of groundwater contamination levels and do not contain any value judgment” (Seoul Administrative Court Decision: 2015 Guhap 72610, 2016). The Supreme Court went on to dismiss the government's appeal in 2017. President Moon Jae-in even sided with the activists who won against the government. In the future, when the government loses court cases despite its “absolute information advantage,” he said in 2017, it should refrain from appealing (Yonhap News Agency, 2017). Anti-Atsugi activists, for their part, believe that decades of “trial struggle” contributed to the decision by the United States and Japan to relocate Carrier Air Wing 5 from NAF Atsugi to MCAS Iwakuni, as part of their noise reduction efforts (Atsugi Alliance, 2021b, p. 65).

Even when judges do not embrace all of activists' claims, they sometimes recommend new investigations, creating further opportunities to bring new findings to light. Japan's High Court, for example, recommended in 2019 that the government conduct a “large-scale investigation” into noise complaints over U.S. military aircraft newly introduced at Yokota Air Base and release the findings (Reference KusumotoKusumoto, 2019). Similarly, although Korean activists lost their lawsuit in 2010 against the construction of a second runway at Osan Air Base, which they saw as an additional source of noise pollution, the court did concur with the activists that the U.S. military should have conducted an environmental assessment (Yonhap News Agency, 2011).

In ordering compensation, courts have also officially established that noise levels exceeding domestic legal thresholds constitute legitimate grievances that require redress and thus raised the profile of medical knowledge about the health consequences of noise. “Court rulings have helped raise awareness of noise pollution problems—that this explosive noise is actually illegal,” says Ōnami Shūji, a Yamato city councilman leading anti-Atsugi lawsuits. He describes the “trial struggle” as a process that helps “legally clarify” the health effects of noise pollution and “make them known” to the public (Interview, October 14, 2016). Indeed, a typical court ruling includes technical details that vindicate activists' scientific claims. As the court verdict on a case against Kunsan Air Base in Korea notes: “Noise levels above 80 WECPNL exceed the generally accepted limit and therefore constitute an illegality” (Seoul Central District Court Decision: 2002 Gahap 33132, 2004). Such rulings consolidate perceptions that the courts are sympathetic to the claimants.

Favorable court rulings and the embarrassing evidence that activists uncover put pressure on other branches of government to address base-related grievances, and some even become elite allies for anti-base activists. In a recent development that reflects longstanding demands of the activists, Korea's National Assembly enacted a new domestic law on noise pollution at military bases (both Korean and American) in 2019.Footnote ³ As a result, those living near Osan Air Base and Kunsan Air Base, among others, can now get compensated without having to resort to lawsuits. Local governments long demanded such legislation, citing how local residents, including those in Gunsan and Pyeongtaek, were forced to “repeat lawsuits every three years” (Governors Association of Korea, 2012). Similarly, in Okinawa, Japanese governors have issued statements in support of the plaintiffs (Reference OnagaOnaga, 2015). Japanese activists, for their part, make annual trips to Tokyo for “negotiations with the government” (seifu kōshō). Plaintiff groups and their lawyers hold meetings with officials from the government ministries that they believe are responsible for redressing their grievances: the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Ministry of Defense, the Ministry of the Environment, and the Ministry of Land, Infrastructure, Transport and Tourism. Conducted “in the shadow of the law” (Reference Mnookin and KornhauserMnookin & Kornhauser, 1979), these meetings serve as a venue to air grievances and press government officials into making additional pledges to improve the situation (Participant observation, June 7, 2017). Details from the meetings are also made public and often leveraged to draw media attention to the government's failure to address environmental concerns, which contributes to public knowledge of the issue and broadens the range of policy options. This evidence-based, institutionalized activism also goes beyond domestic borders. Kadena and Futenma plaintiffs, along with the Informed-Public Project, jointly submitted a report to the United Nations for consideration for its Universal Periodic Review. Their report, which includes information on noise pollution and contamination at U.S. bases in Okinawa, makes such information publicly available in English and puts additional pressure on the government to act (Okinawa Environmental Network et al., 2017). Thus, the process of legal mobilization facilitates social movement knowledge production.