- 1 I use the acronym SMA to generally refer to the program; RSMA in reference to a specific regiment; (...)
- 2 Although French Polynesia is the official designation, the naming of the territory remains politica (...)
- 3 Article 74 of the French Constitution defines Collectivés d’Outre-mer (COM) as overseas entities en (...)
1Since its establishment in 1961, the Service Militaire Adapté (SMA), governed by the French Ministry of Overseas, has been presented as a policy instrument intended to support the social and professional integration of Indigenous youth facing unemployment in restricted overseas job markets (Ministère des Outre-mer 2021)1. In Mā’ohi Nui/French Polynesia2, a French overseas collectivity in Oceania3, the SMA has progressively gained prominence as a second-chance school, operating at the intersection of vocational training and broader strategies of governance (Ledderucci 2024). As a military-educational apparatus, it combines disciplinary structures with opportunities for training and mobility (both social and geographical), contributing to the rise of social and political subjectivities among young Indigenous participants in ways that are neither uniform nor univocal.
2This paper explores the practices of (in)visibility through which the lives of young Polynesians enrolled in the Régiment du Service Militaire Adapté (RSMA) are governed. Within this military framework, young Polynesians become highly visible as subjects of public intervention, as they are institutionally framed – primarily in socio-economic terms – within welfare and military discourses that identify certain segments of youth as struggling. These discourses, produced and circulated by a range of actors within both civilian and military institutions, present discipline, bodily regulation, and compliance as key conditions for employability and social inclusion.
3At the same time, this heightened visibility tends to obscure the plurality and complex positionality of social actors, their aspirations and constraints – a paradox that many recruits explicitly recognize and reflect upon. The resulting dynamic of visibility and invisibility contributes to forms of bodily regulation commonly associated with biopolitical governance, while leaving largely unaddressed the broader historical and colonial conditions that shape socio-economic precarity in Mā’ohi Nui/French Polynesia.
- 4 Similar situations are observable in Micronesia, more specifically in the Federated States of Micro (...)
4In this context, as in other overseas territories, unemployment has been addressed through an explicit partnership between local political actors and the military, giving rise to complex and at times ambiguous triangulations between state institutions, the armed forces, and local communities4. These arrangements reflect the evolving role of the army in non-self-governing territories, where military institutions have progressively extended their remit beyond defense to encompass civic, educational, and socio-cultural functions. The success of the SMA – when compared to other institutions formally tasked with similar objectives, such as schools or employment centers – cannot be reduced to its financial resources alone. Rather, it emerges from a combination of material capacities, symbolic authority, and everyday interactions, through which the military and its personnel (both metropolitan and Polynesian) come to embody discipline and opportunity. Ethnographic observations and interviews reveal that references to a warrior-like culture are frequently mobilized – by military staff, political actors, families, and young people themselves – to frame military training as a culturally resonant option for young men in particular. Importantly, these representations do not operate as fixed cultural explanations, but as situational narratives that acquire meaning within specific socio-economic and political contexts. Together with the dense institutional networks linking the SMA to local authorities, schools and families, they contribute to the broad appreciation of the program across political divides. Yet, the SMA is also widely perceived not simply as a military institution, but as a pragmatic and locally intelligible response to youth precarity.
5At the heart of this study lies an exploration of the tension between state-led attempts to govern marginalized populations through military welfare programs and the situated strategies through which young people navigate, appropriate, and sometimes reconfigure these frameworks. Rather than opposing governance and agency as mutually exclusive forces, the analysis highlights their co-constitution, emphasizing how individual subjectivities are shaped within – rather than outside of – relations of power. Expanding on scholarship on governance, marginalization, and political subjectivities the paper highlights the body as a central site where processes of normalization unfold, but also where limited forms of negotiation and reinterpretation become possible. While young Polynesians are frequently positioned as impolitic bodies – rendered marginal or excluded from full social participation – this categorization is neither total nor uncontested. Participation in the SMA does not simply overturn relations of domination, but it can provide a yet constrained space in which individuals seek recognition, assert claims to social worth, and rearticulate their sense of belonging within the nation.
6Anthropological theory has long conceptualized the body as shaped through the interplay of social, cultural, and historical processes. From a phenomenological perspective, the body is not merely a biological entity but a site where social and cultural values are enacted, internalized, and sometimes contested (Lock 1993; Desjarlais, Troop 2011). Bodily practices mediate adherence to, or contestation of, social norms and expectations, but they also reveal how such norms are experienced, negotiated, and embodied in everyday life. This perspective is particularly pertinent for examining how marginalized – or impolitic – bodies are governed in institutional settings such as the SMA.
7Drawing on Foucault’s concept of biopolitical governance and Agamben’s notion of bare life, a substantial body of literature has examined how marginalized populations are subjected to state intervention through disciplinary and regulatory practices (Foucault 1977; Agamben 1998). Within this frame, institutions – including military ones – are often analyzed as producing compliant or docile bodies aligned with state objectives. While these perspectives are crucial for understanding the logics of power at work, they tend to stress structural effects over lived experiences, leaving less room to account for how such forms of governance are encountered, interpreted, and navigated in everyday practice. As Lock suggests, attention to the “micro-physics of power in praxis” (1993: 140) is necessary to grasp how power operates on the ground.
8This paper challenges the assumption that marginalized populations are entirely excluded from the political body. By approaching citizenship as an everyday experience, following French anthropologist Catherine Neveu (2015), the research highlights the ongoing negotiation of political subjectivity among ordinary citizens. Citizenship, as Carrel and Neveu suggest, is “a social and political construct, an ever-changing work, a bundle of processes subjected to changes in their own becoming” (2014: 6). It is a processual and relational concept: “a defective, rectifiable, improvable institution [...] [citizenship] is rather a practice and a process than a stable form. It is always ‘in the making’” (Balibar 2001: 211; see also Neveu 2015). Thus, far from viewing ordinary people as depoliticized subjects placed outside the political realm due to their lack of formal political engagement, this approach asserts that politics itself is not limited to well-defined actions or claims. Citizens carry political demands in their everyday lives, whether implicitly or explicitly, through actions such as military enrollment. By unsettling the classic definition of citizenship as a political status, this perspective reconsiders politics and political subjectivities, suggesting that even seemingly routine or regulated social actions – like enrollment in the RSMA – can be inherently political.
- 5 Struggling youth is the category officially used by the RSMA, and therefore the Ministry of the Ove (...)
9While the concept of impolitic bodies, as framed by the editors, often refers to individuals excluded from political life and deprived of rights, the Indigenous youth discussed here hold formal political status as French citizens. Within the RSMA, however, they are institutionally framed as de facto impolitic and struggling individuals through recruitment materials, welfare discourses, and training protocols that link employability and social inclusion to compliance with bodily and behavioral norms5. This framing, whether arising from the French State’s objectives or from internal military practices, situates young Polynesians in a dual position: they are subjected to disciplinary and surveillance measures while simultaneously engaging with opportunities for skill development, social mobility, and recognition. Importantly, some members of the RSMA hierarchy and instructors are themselves Polynesian, illustrating that governance is relational and layered, rather than a simple binary. Participation in the SMA thus functions as both a mechanism of incorporation and a space of negotiation: it structures conduct and bodily practices, yet also allows youth to be recognized.
- 6 Fieldwork was conducted in Tahiti and Tubuai, from June 2021 to the end of May 2022.
10Methodologically, this study adopts an ethnographic approach based on my doctoral fieldwork in Tubuai6. It combines in-depth interviews and participant observation to explore how young recruits, military officers, and the local community perceive and engage with the SMA. Interviews with recruits capture their personal narratives of enlistment and reflections on the program’s impact, while observations of training sessions, official ceremonies, and informal interactions provide insight into how disciplinary practices are embodied, negotiated, or at times resisted.
11I engaged with a wide range of interlocutors, from the RSMA’s highest-ranking officer to the unit’s captain, regular soldiers, and young recruits (volontaires stagiaires or VS). While access was generally broad, occasional events were not open to me, and I voluntarily refrained from recording conversations to avoid potential issues. Perspectives often differed depending on the speaker: superiors emphasized the success and rationale of the program, while recruits offered more nuanced accounts, reflecting their experiences and constraints. Reticence around sensitive topics appeared shaped less by the military setting itself and more by broader gendered norms, with young women often more open in their accounts.
12This ethnographic data provides a nuanced understanding of how marginalized bodies navigate the complex dynamics of control, empowerment, and mobility within the SMA structure. The challenge of capturing the dual role of the SMA – as both a space of opportunity and a mechanism of state governance – underscores the diversity of participants’ experiences. Through these interactions, the paper highlights the ongoing negotiation between state-imposed discipline and the emergent political subjectivities of Indigenous youth in their quest for acceptance.
13Mā’ohi Nui/French Polynesia, a central element of France’s Indo-Pacific strategy (Al Wardi, Regnault 2022; Maclellan 2025), has historically been shaped by French military presence. Lacking an Indigenous colonial army, the Établissements Français de l’Océanie (EFO), as the territory was known at the time, saw wide voluntary participation in World War I. Motivations for this engagement were diverse, including a sense of honor, solidarity, and the appeal of adventure, rather than a straightforward patriotic sentiment. This early wave of enlistment established a precedent, which was followed by further Polynesian participation in the French army during World War II (Shigetomi 2014, 2017; Saura 2015).
14At the time, Tahiti hosted approximately five thousand reservists, though only two hundred were mobilized for active duty. Inspired by De Gaulle’s appeal, the local Free France Committee promoted the establishment of the Bataillon du Pacifique, which subsequently served in Europe and North Africa (Regnault, Kurtovitch 2002; Benhalima 2021). Soldiers returning in 1946 were publicly celebrated, contributing to a lasting narrative of Polynesian courage and loyalty. This narrative, reinforced in the post-war period and commemorated annually on Armistice Day, has helped frame military service as a socially valorized path. Combined with persistent economic precarity, these historical and cultural narratives have contributed to the continued attraction of military enlistment, embedding ideals of civic engagement and notions of duty among Polynesians, while shaping contemporary expectations around social mobility and belonging (Regnault 2006; Deroo, Champeaux 2013).
15The 1960s saw a marked increase in French military presence, coinciding with the construction of the Nuclear Testing Center (CEP). During this period, Tahiti’s infrastructure developed rapidly, and the military became associated not only with national defense but also with opportunities for ascending social mobility and wellness. This militarily-driven development disrupted local economies and social dynamics, influencing cultural preferences, social aspirations, and political desires (Firth, von Strokirch 1997; Meltz, Vrignon 2022). The army thus began to shape both individual aspirations and political subjectivities, offering opportunities that were previously inaccessible for many Indigenous citizens (Morone 2022). As Native Hawai’ian scholar Ty Tengan observes, “militarism has become so deeply embedded [into Pacific Islanders’s lives and nation-making] it cannot be seen as completely ‘Other’ and instead must be accounted for in the ways that contemporary Oceanic people construct themselves and nations and modern objects” (Tengan 2008: 29). These historical and cultural myths continue to influence contemporary patterns of military enlistment, highlighting the ways military service is perceived as a potential route to social, economic, and civic recognition.
- 7 U.H. was interviewed on September 29 and October 5, 2021, at her home in Puna’auia. In the Tahitian (...)
16Young men, in particular, are often depicted as having an inherent warrior-like character. As one interlocutor, U.H., remarked, “[young Polynesian men] aren’t cut out for school. They need to be rigidly framed because they like rules [...] Polynesians are warriors”. Many young people perceive a general high school diploma as insufficient to launch a professional career, which motivates some to join the army or the RSMA as soon as they reach the age of eighteen. In this sense, the RSMA is viewed by some as “the best thing that could have happened to French Polynesia, [because it] helps young people” 7.
17This perceived warrior-like ethos contributes to the formation of social and moral categories linked to a specific version of Polynesianness, which can shape expectations about behavior, capabilities, and career trajectories (Dvorak 2008; Tengan 2008; see also Basham 2016). Programs such as the Service Militaire Adapté, valued for their structure, discipline, and practical training, capitalize on these ethnocultural narratives by framing military service as a respected route to economic stability, professional certification, and social status. At the same time, it is important to recognize that not all recruits successfully secure stable employment after their military experience, revealing the limits of the opportunities promised by both state-led and local institutions.
18The profiling techniques targeting Polynesian youth reflect broader shifts in how Indigenous people, their knowledge, and cultural practices have been perceived – changes that accompanied the political enfranchisement and integration into modern job markets and capitalist structures. Ethnic heritage and local forms of knowledge, once considered obstacles to colonial advancement, are now reframed within State-led frameworks as domains requiring guidance and correction through educational and disciplinary programs. In this context, the army – an institution historically central to the material enforcement of colonial logics – has come to play a leading role in addressing these perceived gaps. By providing structured vocational training, certification, and pathways to employment, the RSMA offers opportunities for social and professional mobility, while simultaneously perpetuating longstanding colonial logics through its disciplinary practices. Access to these benefits, and the extent to which participants can leverage them, remains shaped by social origin, economic precarity, and, at times, ethnocultural expectations, producing diverse experiences among recruits.
19The transformation of the army’s functions reflects a broader evolution from a primary focus on defense toward a more complex engagement with civic roles and social responsibilities – a shift that, while not entirely new, has gained renewed emphasis in contemporary times. Historically, the army, particularly colonial troops, operated at the intersection of defense and civic duties, balancing the enforcement of order with the provision of education and moral guidance to Indigenous populations. The Troupes de Marine, the corps responsible for French overseas departments and territories, have long occupied this dual role, combining military, educational, and civic responsibilities in ways that intersected with local social expectations (Garan, Klein 2022).
20These civic and social functions have produced ambivalent outcomes for Indigenous participants. On the one hand, enlistment offers opportunities to acquire professional and soft skills, gain recognition, and develop forms of civic engagement that may be otherwise inaccessible in peripheral contexts. On the other hand, the benefits are unevenly distributed: social position, economic precarity, and ethnocultural factors shape the opportunities available to each recruit. As such, the RSMA can be understood as a mechanism that simultaneously provides avenues for skill development and professional training while operating within broader structures of social and economic inequality.
- 8 Quantitative data on the RSMA are difficult to obtain. Despite repeated attempts, access to detaile (...)
21In Mā’ohi Nui/French Polynesia, the SMA and its training programs are widely attended8. Activities associated with the program are frequently showcased in photos and videos posted online, particularly on Facebook, the dominant social media platform in the region. These images contribute to a favorable public image surrounding the military initiative. Recruitment campaigns are regularly organized not only in the main islands of Tahiti and Mo’orea but also across the outer islands, often in collaboration with local municipalities and educational institutions to attract new recruits. Indeed, the SMA has an extensive presence across the territory. Its first unit, the Compagnie de Formation Professionnelle (CFP), was established in Hiva Oa (Marquesas Islands) in 1989, followed by a second unit in Hao (Tuamotu Archipelago) in 1993. Although the Hao unit was closed in 2010, it was relocated to Mahina (Tahiti) and later merged with another branch. A third unit opened in Tubuai (Austral Islands) in 1996. Following military reforms in 2008, the SMA’s Command Unit and several sections were relocated to the Defense Base in Arue (Tahiti), which now hosts the Recruitment Section alongside other operational units. In the summer of 2022, a renewed unit re-opened in Hao to accommodate volunteers from the Tuamotu Archipelago, further extending the SMA’s geographic reach.
- 9 The RSMA began accepting women into its ranks after the suspension of mandatory military service in (...)
- 10 Although official figures date from 2013 (Ministère des Outre-mer 2013), these amounts were confirm (...)
22French citizens – both women and men – aged eighteen to twenty-six, residing in any French overseas territory and experiencing precarious or marginalized circumstances, are eligible to apply9. Applicants submit a form providing information on their educational background, work experience, and personal details. The form also outlines the benefits of joining the program, which include housing, food, healthcare coverage, preparation for the driving license exam, and a paid contract lasting six to twelve months, with a monthly allowance of € 340,5010.
- 11 An agreement exists between the RSMA and the Polynesian government to prevent the depopulation of t (...)
23Applicants are also asked to indicate a preferred specialty, corresponding to the training options available at the unit they are assigned to. While regional allocation generally follows the geographic origin of volunteers – units in Hiva Oa, Tubuai, and Hao typically attracting participants from the Marquesas, Austral, and Tuamotu Islands, and the unit in Tahiti accommodating volunteers from the Society Islands – this system is not rigidly enforced11. Variations arise due to differences in training availability and unit capacity, allowing for some flexibility; for example, volunteers in Tubuai occasionally came from the Marquesas or Society Islands. Such arrangements have implications for participants’ professional trajectories, social networks, and personal development.
24Many volunteers entering their preferred specialty already possess practical expertise, especially in fields such as agriculture, hydraulics, masonry, restaurant services, and lagoon navigation. Participation in the SMA allows these skills to be formally recognized through official diplomas, offering a pathway to certification within broader professional and administrative edifices. In this way, their competencies are reframed within standardized professional criteria, aligning with recognized qualifications in the wider neoliberal labor market, while their foundational expertise remains rooted in local practices.
25Although educational background plays a role in the selection process, the SMA’s military architecture places comparable emphasis on physical and psychological readiness for the demands of military life. Selection criteria also identified candidates’ expressed motivation and their capacity to adapt to a highly structured environment. In this context, individual effort is framed as a central element of social and professional reintegration, often shifting attention away from the structural conditions that shape youth precarity in the first place.
26Once selected, candidates officially become volunteers in the French army, in accordance with loi n°97-1019 of October 1997. They are issued military uniforms and begin their training within a highly codified institutional environment, structured around five so-called golden rules defined by the program’s hierarchy. Displayed throughout the SMA premises – on office doors, dormitories, and common spaces – these rules emphasize punctuality, safety, teamwork, appropriate appearance, and respect for superiors and peers. Together, these principles articulate the moral pedagogical fabric of the SMA. According to the institution’s official discourse, they are intended to foster an appreciation for hard work and community life, promote behavioral conformity to expected norms, and build forms of self-confidence deemed necessary for social and professional integration.
27Hard work and self-esteem occupy a central place in the three-month period of military and civic general training in Arue, Tahiti, which marks the entry point into the program for all recruits. During this initial phase, the first month – known as Formation Militaire Initiale (FMI) – is dedicated to military preparation. FMI familiarizes recruits with the routines and expectations of military life, including discipline, endurance, respect for hierarchy, and the acquisition of military-specific jargon.
28As Nellie and Vaima, two of my first interlocutors during fieldwork in Tubuai, explained, this phase is widely experienced as demanding. When recalling their initial military training, the term they most frequently used to describe it was hard. For Nellie in particular, this difficulty was articulated not only in physical terms but also – perhaps most significantly – in emotional ones.
29Within the RSMA encampment in Arue, Nellie and Vaima vividly recalled a specific place known among recruits as the Paradise. Despite its name, the Paradise designates a tarred outdoor area used by instructors as a site of collective punishment during the FMI. As they explained, it was there that their cohort was brought to perform physically demanding exercises when discipline was deemed insufficient:
Vaima: The Paradise is a tarred place but...
Nellie: [It is] HARD!
V: There are rocks coming out [...] and that’s where we used to do push-ups [...]
N: Some were... injured [...]
V: At some point, everyone would bleed on their hands [...] so if we were not listening, [the instructor] would tell us, “do you wanna go to the Paradise?” [...]
N: We don’t regret it [...] Damn, but we were given a good beasting.
V: It’s strict! [...] Then, when you can’t really keep up, you don’t care anymore! You just HOLD, you hold [...] You can’t really stand still and do nothing.
- 12 Nellie and Vaima were interviewed on 8 February, 2022 at the RSMA nautical facility in Tubuai. Many (...)
N: We really... we were given a good beasting during the FMI, those three weeks12.
30Although described in terms of physical pain and injury, this experience was not framed by Nellie and Vaima as abusive. Rather, it was retrospectively reinterpreted as a necessary and formative component of the training, one that tested endurance and fostered cohesion. The ironic naming of the Paradise itself encapsulates this ambivalence: a space of suffering that is later remembered with a mix of pride, humor, and nostalgia.
- 13 Paul and Alexia were interviewed on 8 December, 2021 at the RSMA facility in Arue.
31At the outset, recruits expressed mixed feelings about their boot camp experience. Paul, a recruit in the tourism sector in Arue, Tahiti, remarked: “Military life is great, huh! It’s hard, but...”. His unfinished sentence suggested an implicit understanding that hardship is part of the exchange through which the benefits of the program may be accessed. Paul joined the SMA for primarily economic reasons: “It’s just to get some money”, he explained, in order to support his ailing father in Huahine, his island home. Similarly, his friend Alexia noted that her partner had completed the SMA a few years earlier, and that it was now “her turn”13. She described the program as an opportunity they both felt compelled to seize in order to secure a modest income and support their new born, in the hope that it might eventually lead to employment.
32The FMI constitutes a period of total immersion and can be understood as a liminal phase during which young recruits are progressively crafted into new social personae, in a process comparable to what Herzfeld (2004) describes as the embodiment of social knowledge and values among Cretan apprentices. During this phase, recruits are temporarily cut off from their ordinary social lives: personal phones are confiscated, and daily routines are reorganized around military schedules and hierarchies. They undergo physically demanding field exercises that simulate emergency or crisis situations, such as overnight hikes involving first-aid and rescue maneuvers, camp-building, and survival on rations. The ethos of hard work and perseverance is cultivated through daily sports sessions held each morning before other activities begin, reinforcing the importance of overcoming personal limits. Community life and proper behavior are reinforced through strict rules governing politeness, hygiene, respect for authority, and adherence to assigned tasks. Recruits are also required to learn chants that deepen their sense of belonging to the regiment (Poussin 2014). Together, these practices – often accompanied by achievement-based rewards such as diplomas, licenses, and military accolades – contribute to the production of discipline, self-esteem, and group cohesion within a strongly paternalistic military configuration. While these practices are commonly presented by the institution as benevolent and empowering, they also operate as mechanisms through which volunteers are socialized into particular norms of behavior, work, and citizenship that extend beyond the regiment itself and resonate with broader national ideals.
33Physical endurance and performance are prioritized, as recruits are required to demonstrate both physical and emotional resilience before earning their rite of passage: la remise des bérets, which marks their full integration into the regiment as marsouins (soldiers of the Troupes de Marine). This ceremony is also particularly significant for recruits’ families who, after weeks of limited or no contact with their sons, daughters, siblings, spouses, or children, are invited to attend. Held within the military fenceline, the solemnity of the event fosters a sense of pride toward these young people, who are publicly praised for having decided to alter their life trajectories, habits, and aspirations – if only temporarily – as a way of proving worthiness not only to their families, but also to themselves. After completing boot camp and receiving their berets, recruits are assigned to their respective units, where they begin the educational journey.
34The RSMA’s disciplinary framework extends beyond military training to encompass bodily regulation, particularly in relation to weight, physical fitness, and eating habits. Within the military hierarchy, considerable emphasis is placed on exercise and food consumption, often based on the assumption that Polynesian bodies are big and overweight. Recruits’ bodies are closely scrutinized, with commanding officers frequently commenting on weight, posture, and physical performance. This ideal of bodily discipline is not enforced solely from above. Over time, it is also embodied and reproduced by the recruits themselves, who come to see physical transformation as a condition for success. Eating habits are closely monitored and food rationed, while military discipline is framed not only as a means of professional integration but also as a corrective intervention aimed at reshaping bodies deemed unfit. During physical training sessions or at mealtimes, young recruits are often publicly reprimanded or ridiculed, reinforcing normative ideals of self-control. In this sense, military service operates not only as a mechanism of social and economic integration, but also as a site where bodies are molded to conform to state-sanctioned ideals of aesthetics, strength, and discipline – ideals that many recruits actively aspire to embody.
35Robert, an ex-volunteer I interviewed on 13 March, 2022 in Tubuai, recalled: “It’s hard. They put you on a diet, you’re obliged to follow the instructions they give you”. He joined the RSMA at the end of 2019, when his wife, Océane, had just completed her training. Robert had hoped to enlist alongside her, but the regiment does not accept couples. Both explained that many volunteers join the SMA for two main reasons, commonly cited by others as well: “For the driving license or to enlist [...] The cadres say you have to enlist because there are no jobs here. And if you don’t wanna join [the army] they ask you why”. For Robert, the SMA is useful primarily for those intending to join the armed forces: “It works only if you wanna enroll; if not, well...”, he added with a resigned look. Indeed, both he and Océane had previously considered enlisting.
Robert: Well, before the RSMA, I filed my dossier to enlist.
Océane: I encouraged him a lot [but since] he doesn’t tolerate the distance as I do [...] that’s why I told him not to enlist.
R: You wanted to join too!
- 14 Robert and Océane are both Adventist. The Seventh-day Adventist Church is a Protestant Christian de (...)
O: Oh yes, I forgot! [I wanted to be] a sniper but then... I go to church, they say you shall not kill. But they [the soldiers] oriented me towards other specialties. [...] I am a practicing Adventist [in the end, I decided to] put the answer in God’s hands14.
- 15 More than five hundred young Polynesians join the French Army each year, many of them after having (...)
36Joining the armed forces is a common experience for Polynesian families, as it was for Océane, who had a brother joining around three years earlier, and a younger brother along with a cousin participating in the RSMA at the time of our conversation in March 202215.
37Robert’s experience also highlighted a source of frustration, particularly the disregard for religious differences and faith-based practices, including the observance of the Sabbath. “They [the soldiers] don’t respect the Sabbath [...] Everybody is punished [...] I’m forced to work [on Saturdays] even though you’re not supposed to on Sabbath!”. This disrespect made Robert’s intolerance grew toward the army. Ultimately, the RSMA did not fully transform his life and his wife’s as the program is often advertised to do. Despite receiving professional and military training, and countering the common slogan promoted by the SMA, neither Robert nor Océane had secured employment at the time of our interview.
38The RSMA’s training regimen meticulously attends to the micro-details of bodily discipline and the formation of recruits’ social identities. While many volunteers initially join the program expecting to acquire technical skills, such as masonry or agriculture, their experience extends far beyond vocational training. Even everyday choices, such as which clothes or shoes to wear, become significant. Vaima and Nellie recalled their first experience wearing a uniform and participating in class – embodying corporeal practices that must be learned at the very start of the program.
Vaima: They told us to change quickly and enter [the room] [...] But they didn’t explain us!
Nellie: But I heard mea [Tahitian for colloquial ‘like’] RANGERS. We really heard ‘Rangers’!
V: So when we changed, we put on the Rangers boots!
N: Madame! What a shame! When we walked into the class, well not the class, you say classroom, [...] [she bangs her hand on the table] total shame!
V: In fact, the two of us were wearing Rangers’ boots but in reality, they told us PATAUGAS [outdoor shoes] because you can’t really put on the rangers’ boots so easily, you actually have to wait for the berets march.
N: Damn [...] and at some point, madame, we were not accustomed to the... rangers boots, huh?, [...] it was TOO heavy but in the end, as time goes by [...]
- 16 While the use of weapons has recently been abolished, volunteers are still required to learn drills (...)
39This detail about which shoes to wear highlights the centrality of such rules during training and the symbolic importance that volunteers learn to attach to them, as markers of belonging and recognition within the Regiment’s military life. The rangers’ boots, along with the blue beret awarded to the volunteers after the FMI, cannot be worn before the official ceremony marking their integration into the corps. This sense of belonging is further reinforced through other hallmarks, such as the military salute and a specific jargon, both of which Vaima and Nellie illustrated to me (e.g., “not the class, you say classroom”). They showed me how to position hands when marching and how to execute the military salute: “Like this, madame” said Nellie, positioning her hand next to her forehead. Their march is often gawky, their feet scuffing the ground as if the Rangers’ boots were indeed too heavy to lift, as Nellie recalled, and their arms out of sync with their legs, appearing almost to mock their superiors16.
40Recruits’ re-socialization also encompasses language. Nellie and Vaima recalled the ways in which military jargon was taught and enforced:
Vaima: When we arrived at the piaule [bunks], they showed us how to make the bed [lit au carré].
Nellie: In fact, madame, piaule is the room [...] uhm... as soldiers, we say piaule, we’re not allowed to say room.
V: Or we’ll be punished.
N: You can’t do it. [...] In the morning we don’t say good morning, we say mes respects [lit. my respect]; we don’t say sorry, or you’ll be punished, we say au temps pour moi [lit. my bad]
V: Instead of saying yes or ok, we say reçu [lit. got it]
41Similar to Herzfeld’s Cretan apprentices (2004), during boot camp (and throughout their SMA experience) volunteers acquire a whole set of values, along with a poetics of authority, and a newly crafted knowledge of how to navigate it. The recruits I interviewed were fully aware of the disciplinary and military framing instilled during the first weeks and largely accepted it as necessary for their success. Yet, the rigid schedule and emphasis on routines and hygiene practices do not primarily produce skilled workers, as advertised; rather, they craft disciplined and responsible French citizens from Indigenous youth.
42Building on the embodied routines and collective rituals described above, the army’s conveyance of ethnic and gendered stereotypes became particularly visible during my initial weeks at the military facility in Tubuai. Regular activities were frequently interrupted for volunteers to rehearse what at first seemed a peculiar performance in a military environment: a spectacle featuring traditional dances to welcome the Commander General of the RSMA, who would visit the CFP shortly after. Although daily training typically avoided gender distinctions, these rehearsals divided recruits by gender: young men were expected to perform the haka, embodying the qualities of proud warriors, while young women danced traditional Polynesian dances (’ori Tahiti), showcasing gentle, feminine qualities. These traits, however, were not self-defined but framed by the program’s hierarchies, offering only a limited space for recruits to be or act Polynesian, although in a stereotyped manner. Many of my interlocutors resented what they perceived as an imposition of uncomfortable, gendered and ethnic stereotypes under the guise of community life, cohesion, and performance – defining what it meant to be Polynesian.
43For instance, during one rehearsal, a young woman in her military fatigues was reprimanded by her chief for dancing with a sulky expression: “Smile when you dance!” the Officer yelled, emphasizing the feminized and stereotypical ideals attached to Polynesian women. Shortly after, the Captain approached me, offering what I perceived as a moralizing explanation about the importance of such culturally-informed activities:
- 17 Conversation held on 11 February, 2022.
It’s good, you know, because some of these guys have never felt like warriors in their whole life, and here, finally, they can express themselves and feel like warriors for the first time. It’s the same for the girls. Some of them have danced for fifteen years, and others only three or four times in their lives, when they were compelled to do it. But here, they learn how to dance and feel at ease with their bodies. This is pedagogy! You know, in Polynesia, there are many learning centers [...] but they would never do this. The RSMA works because of this military environment. It is this military aspect that regiments them17.
- 18 Conversation held on 25 March, 2022.
44These moralizing discourses extended beyond behavior to physical appearances, further reinforcing gendered and ethnic stereotypes. On another occasion, the Captain expressed his fascination with French Polynesia, which partly motivated his decision to accept the post in Tubuai. Upon arrival, however, he admitted being “shocked”, commenting that “Polynesian women are not like this [mimicking an hourglass shape] but like this [mimicking a barrel shape]”. Similar rhetoric was echoed by other soldiers, as well. Echoing a paternalistic salvage rationale, the second-in-command explained that activities such as traditional dance were organized for a “wider goal” – to preserve cultural knowledge that might otherwise be lost within a few generations. This stance positions the military, and specifically the SMA, as attentive to what is deemed “traditional”, while simultaneously framing local practices in ways that fit French aesthetics and moral expectations18. These practices are deeply entangled with neoliberal logics, where global hierarchies of value permeate local lives, reinforcing normative frameworks that aestheticize and moralize the supposed backwardness of economically marginalized actors (Herzfeld 2004).
45Local traditions, commodified for the enjoyment and scrutiny of mostly metropolitan visitors, also serve to define what it means to be a good Polynesian man or woman, and by extension, a good Polynesian soldier. In this way, programs like the SMA both equip participants with technical skills and mold them into idealized social personae, combining militarized discipline with state-sanctioned values and so-called ‘soft skills’.
46Marginality, as a social construct, delineates those deemed deserving of social rights from those excluded from the social body – bodies that deviate from established social and aesthetic norms, yet continually challenge political principles of interdiction, prediction, and prevention (Panella, Marinaro 2026: 9). This study shows how young Polynesians, marginalized by socio-economic inequality and Indigenous ancestry, assert political subjectivity through bodily practices and engagement in the Service Militaire Adapté (SMA). Their participation reveals that marginalization does not negate political subjectivity; rather, their bodies become sites of negotiation where political claims are articulated and notions of being impolitic are questioned.
47By highlighting the practices of (in)visibility enacted through programs like the RSMA, this study reveals a central paradox of colonial governance: the hyper-visibility of Polynesian youth as objects of State intervention often masks their partial invisibility as political actors capable of engaging with, and at times questioning, the very structures that constrain them. Despite these limits, their engagement demonstrates that their bodies are not merely passive sites of discipline, but dynamic loci of negotiation, agency, and, at times, resistance.
48Framed as a social policy aimed at addressing unemployment, the RSMA presents participation as evidence of care, opportunity, and inclusion. Yet this visibility comes at a cost, as individual trajectories and cultural specificities are frequently subsumed under standardized narratives of rehabilitation and normalization, rendering young Polynesians legible primarily as problems to be managed within a persistent colonial condition that continues to shape their marginalization.
49This process, however, is neither seamless nor fully deterministic. While the RSMA relies on military discipline, bodily regulation, and moral pedagogies to shape compliant and responsible citizens, recruits do not passively absorb these norms. Through their engagement with training and everyday military practices, they actively negotiate their identities and roles, at times subtly reworking the expectations imposed upon them. Such forms of agency are often pragmatic and constrained, oriented toward short-term survival strategies rather than long-term transformation.
50Young Polynesians participating in the SMA thus occupy an ambivalent position: politically included as French citizens, yet socially marginalized by persistent socio-economic inequalities. The SMA functions simultaneously as a mechanism of governance that manages this marginality through discipline and moral reform, and as a space in which recruits may assert belonging, claim recognition, and redefine their political positioning.
51Ultimately, this article contributes to broader debates on marginality, governance and political subjectivity by emphasizing the centrality of bodily practices in the negotiation of belonging. It shows that bodies labeled as impolitic are not merely governed or excluded from the political sphere, but dynamically implicated in the production and negotiation of norms, inhabiting the tension between State discipline and situated forms of agency within contemporary neoliberal states.
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