1 Matthew F. Rech Children, young people and the everyday geopolitics of British military recruitment Introduction In the wake of the War on Terror and amidst growing public disenchantment with war and foreign interventionism, Anglo-American military institutions have worked hard to reshape perceptions of military culture. As part of a Report of Inquiry into the National Recognition of the Armed Forces issued by the Labour government in 2009, for example, forty recommendations were tabled for ‘‘increasing visibility’, ‘improving contact’, ‘building understanding’ and ‘encouraging support’ of the [British] Armed Forces’ (Sangster 2013: 86; Davies et al. 2009). These would include a new national Armed Forces Day (gov.uk 2014a), greater support for homecoming parades, and a ‘wider use of uniforms’, amongst other things. Later government policies have included the Armed Forces Community Covenant – a scheme modelled on small-town civic militarism in the US – designed to enable local authorities, private companies, charities and individuals to regularly pledge their support to the ‘Armed Forces family’ in the UK (Strachan et al. 2010). Though contemporary scholars of militarisation have roundly critiqued these initiatives (e.g. Ware 2012), few have done so from a critical geographical perspective, and infrequently in a manner which reveals one of their primary objectives – the exposure of children and young people to the military and to military values and ideals. Alongside the National Recognition report and the Covenant, November 2012 saw the release of the Department for Education’s Military Skills and Ethos programme (gov.uk 2014b). This initiative seeks to ‘create a military ethos’ in state-funded schools in England via a ‘Troops to Teachers’ scheme (see Stanfield and Cremin 2013), government support for fledgling military academies and free schools, and an £11 million expansion of military cadet forces.
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Matthew F. Rech
Children, young people and the everyday geopolitics of British military recruitment
Introduction
In the wake of the War on Terror and amidst growing public disenchantment with war
and foreign interventionism, Anglo-American military institutions have worked hard to
reshape perceptions of military culture. As part of a Report of Inquiry into the National
Recognition of the Armed Forces issued by the Labour government in 2009, for example,
forty recommendations were tabled for ‘‘increasing visibility’, ‘improving contact’, ‘building
understanding’ and ‘encouraging support’ of the [British] Armed Forces’ (Sangster 2013: 86;
Davies et al. 2009). These would include a new national Armed Forces Day (gov.uk 2014a),
greater support for homecoming parades, and a ‘wider use of uniforms’, amongst other
things. Later government policies have included the Armed Forces Community Covenant – a
scheme modelled on small-town civic militarism in the US – designed to enable local
authorities, private companies, charities and individuals to regularly pledge their support to
the ‘Armed Forces family’ in the UK (Strachan et al. 2010).
Though contemporary scholars of militarisation have roundly critiqued these
initiatives (e.g. Ware 2012), few have done so from a critical geographical perspective, and
infrequently in a manner which reveals one of their primary objectives – the exposure of
children and young people to the military and to military values and ideals. Alongside the
National Recognition report and the Covenant, November 2012 saw the release of the
Department for Education’s Military Skills and Ethos programme (gov.uk 2014b). This
initiative seeks to ‘create a military ethos’ in state-funded schools in England via a ‘Troops to
Teachers’ scheme (see Stanfield and Cremin 2013), government support for fledgling
military academies and free schools, and an £11 million expansion of military cadet forces.
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The British military’s ‘Youth Engagement’, which costs £250 million annually (Plastow
2011; ForcesWatch 2012a), goes much beyond the ethos programme, and includes military
presentation teams in school assemblies, careers talks and fairs, mock interviews, work
experience, education bursaries, away days to bases, and the provision of lesson plans and
teaching resources (ForcesWatch 2012b). Not counting exposures to military publicity
outside of schools, ‘around 900,000 young people came into contact with the armed forces
within the [British] education system’ through ‘11,000 visits to state and independent
secondary schools and colleges…in 2011-12’ (ForcesWatch 2013).
Though not explicitly badged as ‘recruitment’ (indeed ‘youth engagement’ is often
said to have a different rationale altogether), the above initiatives can scarcely be uncoupled
from it. As Ministry of Defence (MoD) policy reveals, the access given via military outreach
enables the military to:
encourage good citizenship, provide an environment which raises awareness of the MoD and
Armed Forces among young people, provide positive information to influence future opinion
formers, and to enable recruiters access to school environments. (MoD 2008: ev167; see also
Sangster 2013)
Set in a context of the structured integration of militaries into state and federal education
systems and proven upturns in enlistment (Armstrong, 2007; Lutz and Bartlet 1995), there
should be little doubt that children and young people in the UK currently inhabit a world
where the solicitations of organised militaries “permeate…daily lives” (Solomon and Denov
2009: 165).
Military recruitment is geopolitical because it relies upon the popularisation of
specific geographical knowledges including ‘elusive spatial principles, such as the perception
that the world is a composite of hostile environments’ (Farish 2010: xviii). It entails the
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violent designation of people and places, and is ‘a social and political [consequence] of both
the preparation for and the actual use of military force’ (Dalby 1996: 656). As a topic for
critical geopolitical analysis, military recruitment is an opportunity to understand the ‘state’s
obligation to account for itself and its role…[just as it is an opportunity] to try to understand
the often violent visions, metaphors and templates [which are integral] to state-centric
narrative of global politics’ (Rech 2014a: 11).
In aiming to take the critical geopolitics of military recruitment further, this chapter
moves beyond an analysis of representational materials (e.g. Power 2007), and will
demonstrate that recruitment is geopolitical also because it happens in place, and specifically,
places inhabited by children and young people. Recent conceptualisations of critical
geopolitics, ones echoed in cognate areas of International Relations, have begun to see
violence and militarisation as ‘not only fixed at the scale of international hierarchies, but also
rooted in embodied place-making practices’ (Dowler 2012: 492; see also Sylvester 2011;
McSorley 2013; Katz 2007; Nicley 2009). Though the essence of this polemic can be found
in work on geopolitics and visual culture (e.g. MacDonald et al 2010), geopolitics and peace
(Megoran 2011), and terrains of resistance (Routledge 1996), it is perhaps best captured by
feminist geopolitics. Namely, inquiring as to the geopolitics of everyday militarism – and this
is particularly the case with recruitment considering its everydayness– necessitates the:
traversing [of] scales from the macro security states to the microsecurity of people and their
homes; from the disembodied space of neorealist geopolitics to a field of live human subjects
with names, families and hometowns. (Hyndman 2007: 36)
In what follows, such efforts to ‘populate’ geopolitics will be rooted in a further
exploration of contemporary military recruitment practices in Britain, particularly as it is
targeted at children and young people. This enterprise is all the more important since, much
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like some of the world’s most oppressive regimes, the UK allows the recruitment of 16 year-
olds (with enrolment from the age of fifteen years, nine months for some positions) (Owen
2014). What this chapter also aims to do, building upon the geographies of young people and
military cadet forces (Hörschelmann 2008; Solomon and Denov 2009; Wells 2014), is to be
explicit about the geographies of military recruitment, outlining in turn how a critical
geopolitics of everyday militarism can speak directly to the aspirations of a critical
geopolitics of children and young people.
The chapter builds upon a Doctoral project (Rech 2012) which included archival work
in the film and sound collection at the RAF museum in Hendon, London; a critical analysis of
contemporary recruiting materials; and ethnographic studies at a number of the UK’s military
airshows. It turns firstly to a discussion of how recruitment is scaled, and to how it is targeted
at intersections of ‘risk’. Secondly, drawing upon a reading of campaign materials and
reportage, the chapter will outline efforts to resist military recruitment in that of counter-
recruitment activism.
Scaling recruitment for the at risk
A central theme in literatures around the geographies of children and young people is
risk. ‘Seen as both risky and at risk, young people’s bodies become markers of the state and
the social body now and in the future’ (Hörschelmann and Colls 2009: 4). Taking issue first
with the scripting and interpolation of young people as at risk and vulnerable, this opening
discussion explores how military recruitment does more than to script risk at the global scale
(e.g. Rech 2014a), and shows that it exploits this discourse at a more intimate level. Risk, fear
and vulnerability, Alexander (2008) argues, are crucial moments in the scaling of young
people’s experiences of the political, and when understood as intimate and everyday
encounters, illustrate how the global and local are linked (see also Pain et al. 2010). Through
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Hopkins’ (2010) notion of ‘placing young people’, the following account will explore how –
in an effort to ‘populate’ a geopolitics of militarism – British military recruitment is placed at
the intersection of the body and the nation.
Body-Nation
Being fundamentally about bodies – their acquisition, training, use, destruction and
loss – militaries place a marked emphasis on the body in recruitment. As a précis to basic
training, recruitment is the main ‘procedure by which civilian bodies are transformed…[and]
incorporated into military service and the principles of militarism’ (Armitage 2003: 3).
Insofar as the young military body is emblematic of the nation’s future (Adey 2010),
recruitment is tied to institutionalised practices of discipline and to the production of
‘physically strong and healthy youthful bodies, able to ‘defend’ or reproduce the nation’
(Hörschelmann and Colls 2009: 11). Disciplinary practices in recruitment materials can be
seen in the British archive from the late 1930s onwards. In the Royal Air Force (RAF)
recruiting film Raising Air Fighters (COI c.1938-9), for example, we are told that all new
RAF hopefuls needs to pass a ‘rigorous medical examination’ prior to acceptance: posture,
breathing and heart rate is checked by men in white coats; hand-eye-coordination is
monitored by means of a blindfolded link trainer exercise. Youthfulness and virility,
however, are clearly essential prerequisites: whereas we’re only shown medical assessment of
older men, the film concludes by profiling the successful (and young) recruit ‘Cadet Coburn’,
who, we’re told by the narrator, ‘isn’t a bad looking chap either – not all his conquests will be
in the air’.
In Raising Air Fighters we’re given an indication of a broader tendency of British
military recruitment to render the prospective recruit’s body docile and analysable in the face
of sovereign authority and a medicalised gaze. We also see nascent military bodies marked,
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inscribed and forced to carry out tasks in ways that classify them as ‘bad’, ‘good’, ‘better’
and ‘best’. Youthfulness, here, is a crucial metric, one which signifies the ideal ‘subject-
citizen’ ‘whose destiny it [is] to secure and defend the nation’ (Adey 2010: 26). The
classification of bodies by the military, both as part of the recruitment process and during
training, serves the basic purpose of marking out which bodies are fit for which roles: a
pilot’s body must be of a certain height and must be capable of seeing without glasses; the
RAF Regiment body must be male and capable of lifting a load of a particular weight. It
works to preclude bodies which are unable to do a certain number of press-ups, pull-ups;
those which are unable to run a certain distance, or which are marked in certain places by
tattoos (RAF 2014a, 2014b). However, the classification of the body through recruitment also
serves to mark particular bodies out as being at risk and emblematic of societal concerns
around body size.
Age
Male and
Female
minimum
Male and
Female
maximum
Male maximum
with additional
assessment
Female
maximum with
additional
assessment
18+ 18 28 32 30
16 to < 18 17 27 27 27
Table 1. Body Mass Index prerequisites for the RAF (taken from RAF 2014a)
The table above represents the absolute prerequisites for entry into the RAF, as
indicated by Body Mass Index (BMI). As the RAF suggests, ‘those who fail to meet the
minimum and maximum BMI criteria will not be accepted into the service’ (RAF 2014a).
‘The dominant means of defining and diagnosing obesity in national and international public
health policy’ (Evans and Colls 2009: 1015), the use of BMI by the British military points to
a distinct medicalization of bodies of particular sizes (this table appears in the ‘Health’
section of the RAF careers site rather than in ‘Fitness’). More starkly, recruitment practices
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perpetuate risk, and in this case, the ‘seemingly unquestionable truth about the dangers’ of
bodies that are too large, or too small (Colls and Evans 2009: 1011).
Where the risky body comes to matter for children and young people, however, is
where it is willed to perform as part of recruiting practices. Alongside the recent Cadet Force
expansion, which is synergistic with the government’s ‘Health and Wellbeing’ policy for
young people (gov.uk 2014c), potential recruits are faced with a range of strategies designed
to reveal the dangers of risky (unhealthy, not optimally-shaped) bodies. First amongst these
are health and fitness initiatives designed to find their way into daily routines such as the
RAF’s ‘Fitness Challenge’ (RAF 2014c). As we’re told here, ‘RAF personnel are required to
reach and maintain a good level of fitness throughout their career, and by following our
advice, you can do the same’. Such advice comes, partly, in the form of a ‘fitness widget’ – a
computer-based tool which allows the prospective recruit to design their own 24-week
training programme around the rigours faced by Officers, NC Aircrew and Gunners. Other
assistance comes in the form of the health and fitness ‘Progress Tracker’ (RAF 2014d)
through which users receive daily text messages from a virtual PT instructor. Messages might
include reminders about ‘healthy living’ – so as not to ‘destroy your efforts’ in exercising,
one is reminded to stop eating takeaways, to drink plenty of water, and to get rid of certain
things from your fridge.
If, as Adey (2010: 26) suggests, a connection is made between body and nation
‘through a host of different ways of doing’, then performing the healthy RAF body points to
two crucial arguments. First, the ‘Fitness Challenge’ and other initiatives reveal the
commensurability of the ideal civilian and ideal military body. Just as with the use of BMI by
the RAF, recruiting materials which focus on the body tend to offer a vision of healthy
military bodies, and healthy bodily techniques as broadly applicable to civilian life. Being ‘fit
for ops’, as one promotional tagline has it, is the same as being ‘fit for health’ and ‘fit for
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life’. Moreover, recruiting is gendered, and insofar as it discriminates between male and
female bodies and their supposed capacities, is but one facet of a broader discourse of the
gendering of military service and citizenship (e.g. Dowler 2002; Sasson-Levy 2003).
Secondly, these initiatives point to the deliberate placing of a military body-politics in
fora in which children and young people are likely to be engaged. The decision, made in
2014, to use Echo Customer Contact Services to extend and manage the RAF’s social media
presence – including the development of a mobile version of the careers site, a Facebook
careers page and @RAFReserves and @RAFCareers Twitter feeds – is a direct attempt to
‘match recruit expectations – especially as social media channels are an increasingly popular
choice for the younger generations…[a] key target demographic for recruits is the 16-24 age
groups’ (Heggie-Collins 2014: no pagination). In that these strategies are an attempt to
engage the young body directly they represent:
an anticipatory, bio-political strategy of military recruitment – one that is in line with wider
pacific, neo-liberal discourses of health and body image…it is a form of recruitment but
recruitment as a generalized, embodied condition. (Burridge and McSorley 2013: 74).
It is clear that social media is an increasingly important facet of military public relations (and
much more besides) in the UK and beyond (e.g. Maltby, 2010; DUN Project 2014). However,
where social media can indeed act to reinforce (rather than only to reconfigure) dominant
geopolitical and state narratives (Pinkerton and Benwell 2014), the placing of recruitment as
part of social media engagements is key. As “affective technologies, the use of which
predisposes the user to a variety of particular engagements with the geopolitical” (Dittmer
and Gray 2011), the social media of recruitment is only an indication of a broader geopolitics
of everyday militarism which works in various spaces at intimate scales.
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Figure 1. Body Composition Assessment. Waddington Airshow, 2009. Author
The final way the body of the recruit is put to work, and where risky, unhealthy
bodies are identified in recruitment, is through a host of practices of ‘doing’ at public events
such as military airshows. Airshows are an important space for the engagement of young
people who, at some events, make up over 20% of the visitors (Bournemouthair.co.uk 2014).
Shows like Farnborough often explicitly target youth and school groups through initiatives
like ‘Futures Day’, a scheme allowing free entry to 11-21 year-olds who are interested in the
careers in the defence and aerospace sectors (Farnborough.com 2014). Airshows, vitally,
enable all branches of the British military to engage the body directly through things like ‘Fit
for life’ cook-offs (Sunderland airshow 2010), where Royal Marines demonstrate in real-time
the sorts of culinary skills required to keep the body combat-ready. The prospective and
nearly always younger recruit is often encouraged to scale climbing walls, and at Waddington
airshow in 2009, to compete in the Body Composition Assessment (BCA) (figure 1). The
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BCA allowed young people to compete against each other at timed shuttle runs. Flanking the
Assessment was a series of posters which encouraged competitors (before they were to
compete) to locate their bodies on a BMI scale. In suggesting that ‘from 1st Oct 07, all RAF
personnel will have a BMI and WC [waist circumference] measurement taken at the
beginning of their fitness test’, the RAF here were clear to connect the requisite standards of
the military body to the medicalised discourse of the BMI. Indeed, as the posters read, ‘Body
Mass Index…measurement offers a simple, but very effective way of determining your body
composition and identifying your level of risk’. ‘Risk’, here, is that of cardiovascular disease,
diabetes, ‘various cancers’ and Alzheimer’s – all of which are a potential product of obesity.
The BCA, then, is but one example where young bodies are willed to perform in lieu
of a preference – both of the RAF and wider society – of bodies of particular shapes and
sizes. Central to the perception of these bodies is risk, and specifically, the risk to the self of
an unhealthy body, one which would be as unsuited to combat as it is to a civilian life. But
equally important here is the youthful body, both as a paragon of the militarily ideal, and
where it is worked upon though various practices of ‘doing’. Recruitment, therefore, provides
a vital instance whereby the bodies of military youth learn ‘mastery and awareness of
themselves, before [they] can be extended out toward their troop, their squadron, and
eventually the nation’ (Adey 2010: 41).
Recruitment at intersections of the risky
Whilst military recruitment readily scripts children and young people as at risk at a
range of geographical scales, it also interpolates them as risky. As Valentine (2009: 24)
argues, a Dionysian understanding of children’s bodies ‘constructs children as dangerous,
unruly and potentially out of control in adultist public space’. Managing the transition from
childhood to adulthood thus becomes about ‘the management and discipline of children’s
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bodies both to…discipline them in order to ensure they learn to behave in controlled, what
are perceived to be adult-like ways’ (Valentine, 2009: 24). Present in many youth-focussed
recruitment initiatives is this unruly child who, without the remedying influence of the
military, is scripted as disadvantaged, lacking in self-discipline, poorly behaved and often as
dangerous. The ‘risky’ young person has been a staple of RAF recruitment since at least the
1950s. However, a closer look at contemporary youth engagement reveals how unruly
tendencies are currently remedied in practice. It also indicates how a range of imagined and
real intersections (unruliness, bad-discipline, disadvantage, class, race) are exploited by
military recruiters.
At the root of the British government’s Military Skills and Ethos programme, outlined
above, was a letter sent to the Telegraph newspaper titled Why the Military should Invade our
Schools, written by shadow secretaries Stephen Twigg (education) and Jim Murphy (defence)
(Twigg and Murphy 2012). In it, Twigg and Murphy suggest that:
We are all incredibly proud of the work our Armed Forces do in keeping us safe at home and
abroad. They are central to our national character, just as they are to our national security. The
ethos and values of the Services can be significant not just on the battlefield but across our
society.
What the shadow ministers had in mind was for ‘a cadre of Armed Services mentors, mainly
veterans and reservists, to work with those in need of guidance and support’ (Twigg and
Murphy 2012: my emphasis) in a range of educational contexts. One of these contexts was to
be the new Military Academies (state-funded schools with service specialisms).
Having since been instituted as part of the wider Ethos programme, key to the support
for the academies (currently being trialled by the coalition government) was a green paper by
Blond and Kaszynska (2012) at the ResPublica think tank. As they note, the summer riots of
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August 2011 (violent civil unrest following student and anti-austerity protests in London and
other major cities) indicated:
the danger of losing many of our most vulnerable children and young adults to criminality or
self-destructive behaviour. [They also recognised that] tens of thousands of our young people
are becoming hopelessly trapped by lack of opportunity and education and many lack the
sufficient skills to access the job market, let alone the discipline to hold down any position
they might obtain (Blond and Kaszynska 2012: 5).
What Blond and Kaszynska (2012) argue is the cause of the ‘hopelessness and cynicism’ of
‘troubled youths’ is the loss ‘from our most disadvantaged areas of the foundational moral
institutions which can build the resilience, discipline and confidence that our children need’
(5). And their suggested fix: ‘a whole chain of Military Academies officially backed by the
Armed Services and delivered by the Cadet Associations to be constituted in our most
troubled communities’ (5). As a start, Blond and Kaszynska call for the setting up of
academies in the UK’s youth NEET (not in employment, education or training) ‘blackspots’,
where up to 25% of 16-24 year olds are NEET, until, they suggest, there is a Military
Academy in ‘every Local Educational Authority area’ in the UK. To reiterate, the links
between military academies and recruitment is clear and should not be downplayed: the
overarching vision for military academies is not only to ‘rescue the young’, and to ‘help
society’, but also to simultaneously ‘revitalise the reserves’.
What is clear in the ResPubilca paper and the wider Ethos programme is a consistent
scripting of young people as delinquent, potentially dangerous, as perpetrators of crime, and
as a risk to an otherwise moral, adult society. But whilst the scripting of risk in recruitment
can be debated, what is indisputable is that recruitment and military education policy targets
key intersections of ‘risk’ and inequality. Along with focussing the first round of military
academies in NEET blackspots, the British military’s broader recruiting policy targets
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‘schools with students from a more disadvantaged demographic’ with the end result being
that ‘the average reading age of a 16 year old signing up to the [British] army is 11’
(ForcesWatch 2012b). Moreover, a disproportionate number of recruitment visits are made
every year to state, as opposed to privately-funded, schools. For the period between 2010 and
2012, 85% of all state schools in Scotland were visited an average of four times, with one
secondary school being visited 22 times (this is compared to visits to only 50% of private
institutions). Similarly, in Wales, 74% of 219 state schools were visited by the Army alone,
whereas only 29% of private schools were visited (see ForcesWatch 2013). Mirroring an
trends in the US, whereby recruitment is targeted indiscriminately at poor and minority
communities (Wyant 2012), the young occupy but one intersection on a spectrum of
inequality and disadvantage. Thus, overall, what should be of key importance here is critique
of how economic and social disadvantage is compounded by a rhetoric of risk, along with an
understanding of how the British military both benefit from, and catalyse, this situation
though their recruiting strategies.
Engaging in politics, resisting recruitment
Beyond the at risk and the risky, a final thematic in the geographies of children and
young people useful for populating a notion of geopolitics is political engagement. Young
people, as Philo and Smith (2003) note, are often assumed to have little influence over the
workings of states, nations and geopolitics, having not the right to vote or to otherwise
contribute to the political process (though see O’Toole 2003; Skelton 2007, 2010; Kallio and
Häkli 2011). Young people’s exposure to military recruitment and the low age of possible
enlistment in the UK is, of course, clear evidence that this is not the case. First, negotiating
the solicitations of military recruiters should be considered a (geo)political practice in and of
itself. Second, tasked with orchestrating state-legitimised violence means that young people
who’ve enlisted, not least because they will often be still too young to vote, have significant
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geopolitical agency. But thirdly, young people’s engagement with the political is illustrated
through their involvement in and exposure to the burgeoning practice of counter-recruitment
– a theme which forms the chapter’s penultimate discussion.
Having grown over the past ten years in a climate of ‘heightened
militarism…[consequent of the US and UK’s]…involvement in long-term wars in Iraq and
Afghanistan’ (Harding and Kershner 2011: 79), the counter-military recruitment movement
has emerged as a ‘way not only to contest but to interfere directly with the execution of
war…by disrupting the flow of bodies into the military’ (Brissette 2013: 1). Confined
predominantly to North America (though with some notable exceptions in the UK), the
counter-recruitment movement takes a largely cultural approach, whereby the task of counter-
recruiters is to ‘alter the common sense around war and militarism’ (Brisette 2013: 377).
Vitally, it engages and involves children and young people directly.
Counter-recruiters take a trans-scalar approach (Rech 2014b) and use the immediate
spaces of contemporary militarism (most often schools) to mount challenges to the efforts of
recruiters which, as discussed above, manifest themselves across scales from the body to
global imaginative spaces. The predominant tactics employed by the movement, therefore,
are situated efforts to counter and disrupt the message promoted by recruiters. This might
take the form of flyering outside school property, ‘tabling’ on campuses at lunchtimes and at
sporting or careers events, or counterpropaganda and the defacement of recruiting materials.
The aim of these tactics, as Allison and Solnit (2007: xv-xvi) suggest, is to inform students as
to ‘what military recruits are used for in the world, understanding war, and creating viable
alternatives to…the deadlock of militarism’. It is also about challenging, Tannock (2005)
notes, the assumption that militaries provide a healthy environment in which to live, work
and learn, with counter-presences at military careers fairs offering alternative careers advice
especially in communities most susceptible to the ‘vocational visions’ offered by recruiters
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(Harding and Kershner 2011). Thus, the counter-recruiting narrative is one which targets a
range of the key emphases in recruitment – the global reach of militaries, nation and
patriotism, and personal achievement. It is also a narrative which is influenced by the spaces
occupied by counter-recruiters: for good or ill (see Friesen 2014) this kind of activism is
intimately connected to educational spaces, indicating that the place of counter-recruitment is
one among a ‘terrain of resistance’ (Routledge 1996).
A useful example in the UK is Forces Watch, an activist and pressure group which has
had some success in advocacy around the conditions of military service (ForcesWatch
2014a). Central to the work of Forces Watch, however, is the involvement of children and
young people in the resisting of recruitment and militarisation. Chief among their initiatives
in this area is the recent film Engage: the Military and Young People (see ForcesWatch
2014b) which was crowd funded and produced by young people in tandem with a charity
working to empower young people through journalism (Headliners.org 2014). Engage charts
military activities in UK schools, and explores a range of young people’s exposure to, and
opinions of, the military’s youth engagement strategy. Characteristically, the film offers a
range of first-hand perspectives, and rather than presenting only a critique of militarising
influences, offers an insight into the perceived benefits gained by young people who attend a
military cadet organisation, or who welcome military influence in educational spaces.
Providing an outlet for opposing views is taken forward as part of a broader strategy for the
Engage film, which forms the basis for a workshop for use in schools and youth groups
aiming to encourage critical reflection and debate around (rather than merely an outright
rejection of) the government’s military engagement strategy. Mirroring a broader effort by a
coalition of activist groups under the banner of the Peace Education Network (Peace-
education.org 2014), Engage points to the key importance of educational spaces for
envisioning alternatives to militarism. This is especially the case where a wide range of anti-
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militarist organisations, not just those associated with the Peace Education Network, plan a
range of interventions throughout the period of the WWI centenary (e.g. the Martin Luther
King Peace Committee (2014) teacher’s recourse pack).
Conclusion
What this chapter has done is to briefly outline how a critical geopolitics of children
and young people might be applied to the practice of military recruitment. Recruitment
reflects and compounds many of the problematics in the geographies of children and young
people. Inherently, recruitment scripts risk at the scale of global imagined space. But the
practice of recruitment also places risk at different and more intimate scales, whereby the
youthful body is seen as emblematic whilst at the same time at risk if it is not of the
militarily-required size. The ‘risk’, here, is not only that of unhealthiness, but of not
conforming to more broadly-held beliefs about young (and gendered) bodies. Military
recruitment also scripts (and benefits from the perception of) young people as risky: much of
the current policy around youth engagement in the UK is based on the assumption that
delinquent and perhaps dangerous young people might well benefit from the remedying and
moralising influence of the military.
However, military recruitment also points to the crucial fact that young people are
fundamentally part of and complicit in (geo)politics. This is clearly the case where, in the
UK, people who are officially ‘children’ are able to serve in the military as agents of
geopolitics. But it is also the case where children currently negotiate a landscape of
geopolitical persuasion (i.e. recruitment) denoting the ‘complex entanglement of young
people’s lives with international politics’ (Hörschelmann and El Rafaie 2014: 444). The
practice of counter-recruitment demonstrates, moreover, that children and young people do
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not passively accept the solicitations of military recruiters, and are often active in the
contestation of geopolitics.
A critical geopolitics of children and young people should involve, following the
potential of a young-person-centred counter-recruitment effort, listening to children and
young people (after Pain 2008). But it should also involve thinking seriously about what
young people’s engagement with the everyday geopolitics of militarism says about
‘geopolitics’ and the ‘geopolitical’. What an everyday geopolitics of militarism requires is the
placing of children and young people (after Hopkins 2010), and an understanding of how
children’s experiences of the geopolitical are ‘materialised…within spaces’ (Colls and Evans
2009: 1016). Young people’s engagement with military recruiting does not just happen in
imagined spaces of globalised fear (though this is a vitally important space). Rather, for
recruitment (and counter-recruitment) to work, these practices must be located in place;
around the body, in neighbourhoods, and in schools – spaces which might easily be
overlooked if we accept a normative definition of ‘geopolitics’. Thus, in line with scholarship
which has begun to rethink the epistemology of critical military studies, a critical geopolitics
of children and young people is an imperative which demands we ‘populate’ geopolitics. The
changed and expanded notion of the ‘geopolitical’ which this argument implies is essential if
critical geopolitics is to usefully inform activism, anti-militarism and a vision of peace.
References
Adey, P. 2010. Aerial Life: Spaces, mobilities, affects. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell.
Armitage, J. 2003. Militarized bodies: an introduction. Body & Society. 9. 4, 1-12