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Book Review<br />

Jason De Leon’s The Land of Open Graves<br />

De León, an anthropologist, founded and heads the University<br />

of Michigan’s Undocumented Migration Project, a study that<br />

uses archaeological, forensic, and ethnographic methods to<br />

enhance understanding of unauthorized migration between<br />

Mexico and the United States. The project provides much of<br />

the material upon which his well-informed and informative<br />

book is based.<br />

The book’s focus is on the grueling journeys of migrants<br />

who seek to circumvent Washington’s ever-more-formidable<br />

policing apparatus in the U.S.-Mexico borderlands. In pursuing<br />

this, De León illuminates their drive and creativity, as well as<br />

the myriad forms of suffering they endure — and which often<br />

kills them.<br />

For De León, the countless tragedies<br />

that befall migrants are “neither random<br />

nor senseless.” And unlike Luis Alberto<br />

Urrea’s much-praised, but politically<br />

problematic, book, The Devil’s Highway<br />

(2007), which largely blames smugglers<br />

for migrant deaths and does little to<br />

challenge the factors that underlie the<br />

fatalities — De León does not hesitate to<br />

indict U.S. authorities. Migrant deaths,<br />

he argues, are the predictable results of<br />

“a strategic federal plan,” which he likens<br />

to a killing machine “that simultaneously<br />

uses and hides behind the viciousness<br />

of the Sonoran Desert.”<br />

The governent’s plan is called “Prevention<br />

Through Deterrence” (PTD), and<br />

it serves as the book’s temporal framing.<br />

As Timothy Dunn’s excellent Blockading the Border and Human<br />

Rights has shown, PTD was first developed in El Paso in 1993.<br />

By amassing agents and policing infrastructure in the most urbanized<br />

areas along the U.S.-Mexico boundary, the strategy effectively<br />

forces migrants to cross the U.S.-Mexico borderlands<br />

in remote zones, the far-from-unrealized hope being that the<br />

arduous terrain and the associated costs and dangers will dissuade<br />

migrants from continuing their journeys.<br />

In making some rather dense academic concepts come<br />

alive, De León powerfully shows how PTD involves the effective<br />

enrollment of non-human elements like poisonous snakes,<br />

mountains, extreme temperatures, and the desert itself in the<br />

policing apparatus. Indeed, he characterizes nature as “the<br />

best and most lethal weapon the Border Patrol has.”. Clearly,<br />

it is not a pristine nature, but a “hybrid geography”, one that<br />

embodies dynamic ties between humans and the non-human.<br />

This, he explains, has served to create a “setting in which the<br />

Border Patrol can draw on the agency of animals and other<br />

non-humans to do its dirty work while simultaneously absolving<br />

itself of any blame connected to migrant injuries or loss of life.”<br />

De León brings his readers into the complicated lives of<br />

many and takes them to various sites — including a migrant<br />

shelter where people recently deported from the United States<br />

struggle to figure out their next steps, and the home of the<br />

loved ones of Maricela, an Ecuadorian migrant whose decomposing<br />

corpse he and his students stumble<br />

upon in southern Arizona. In doing<br />

so, the author exhibits sensitivity, sympathy,<br />

and self-reflection. He knows that in<br />

conducting research among highly marginalized<br />

and vulnerable communities,<br />

he risks being “an academic voyeur” as<br />

they share their hopes and pains with<br />

him and, by extension, his audience.<br />

Given such care and self-awareness,<br />

two problems with the book stand out.<br />

First is De León’s shocking decision<br />

to buy and execute five pigs so as to<br />

understand what happens to human<br />

corpses due to the animals and insects<br />

that feast upon them and exposure to<br />

the desert elements. (Pigs, in terms<br />

of anatomy, amount of hair, muscle<br />

content, etc. are good proxies for humans<br />

in forensic tests.) As he watches one pig descend into<br />

a three-minute “death dance” after someone he hired shoots<br />

the animal in the head, the author is troubled by what he witnesses.<br />

It is, he says, “violent despite all the precautions we<br />

took.” However, he declares the violence warranted because<br />

“other than obtaining human bodies donated to science,”<br />

there was “no feasible alternative.” Of course, there was one:<br />

not conducting the lurid experiment, not least because it<br />

contributes nothing of significance to the project, other than<br />

(unintentionally) raising questions about research ethics.<br />

Second is De León’s failure in the final pages to take a<br />

stance against the broad apparatus of exclusion, instead weakly<br />

offering that “[t]here is no easy solution.” He defends this<br />

64 CURRENT FALL 2017

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