Review: The Line Becomes a River

Last week the White House gleefully announced that, thanks to their efforts, 4000 "criminal illegals" had been removed from the streets of Minnesota.

My sense is that pronouncement could serve as a sort of immigration issues Rorschach test. Some will greet this news with a sense of relief: finally, progress is being made to keep Americans safe. Others will read the article with a sense of horror, fearing that countless individuals and families have had their lives derailed for little more than political theater. To the first group, border issues revolve around drugs and violence. To the second group, it's all about neighbors getting swallowed up by bigotry and bad policy.

Who's right?

Francisco Cantú's The Line Becomes a River: Dispatches from the Border brings a unique perspective to this debate. Cantú is a gifted writer who spent 4 years working as a Border Patrol Agent. His book, The Line Becomes a River tracks his experiences, giving the reader a front row seat to America's immigration challenges.

Warning: Spoilers Below

Cantú gives us views into the border in three acts: first as a field agent, then zoomed out a bit as he works in border intelligence and finally, through the lens of a citizen who has a friend swallowed up by the system. I found the writing to be excellent and I zipped through the book in record time. I listened to the audio version, which he read, and found him to be an excellent narrator.

I could tell that I was enjoying the book because I found myself trying to relay the text to Shira on a regular basis.

I appreciate that Cantú's book is descriptive, not prescriptive. He doesn't say what border policy should be; he just puts his experiences vividly out there for the reader to learn from. He lets the reader connect the dots.

One example, to prove the point. Over the years, the US has made crossing the border more difficult. Personnel, sensors, cameras, drones, have all increased the level of difficulty. The hope, of course, is that this will deter migrants from making the trip. Maybe for some, the deterrent works. But for many, this simply means that migrants now need to turn to more extreme means to make the trip. The result, as Cantú shows, is that a harder to cross border is an aid to narco terrorists. Desperate crossers are easy fodder for carrying drugs or serving as kidnapping and ransom victims.

While Cantú doesn't say it, he seems to show it: hardening the border is a win for the cartel. One wonders what outcome doing the opposite would be.

So, who's right? Is the border a place of horrific violence, or the site of a policy that tears apart families and keeps good people out of our country? My take after reading The Line is: Yes.

Cantú makes it clear that there is horrific, out of control violence in Mexico. Narco terrorists have committed unspeakable atrocities. You can sense the physical toll on Cantú as he simply tries to process what happens along the border on a day to day basis. The Line was published in 2018, so perhaps there have been changes in the level of violence along the border. But given the scope described in Cantú's writing, it's hard to imagine it's ebbed in a significant way.

But the story doesn't end there. The narrative of the law abiding, hard working, community contributing would-be citizen is also real. Cantú shows us the impact first hand as a beloved father of three finds himself trying to illegally enter the border to reunite with his family. Refusing entry to this man means depriving three vulnerable US citizens of their father. How is that just? How is that in the best interest of America?

Thanks to Cantú's book, I feel like I have a more complete picture of the challenges that are at the root of the immigration headlines I see daily. I'm not sure what the solution is, but at least I understand the problem better. And that's a start.