An Undocumented War: Inside Deportation’s Machinery of Violence
If a body is undocumented, should we be surprised if the war against that body is undocumented too? The ugly truth of deportation is it is a war. An American war predicated on the same things as previous American wars:.
The article argues that deportation functions as a form of war against undocumented individuals, comparing it to historical American conflicts like the Vietnam War or the War on Drugs. It suggests that deportation is driven by the same motives—genocide, white supremacy, and a focus on body counts—as these wars. The term body counts refers to the number of casualties or victims in a conflict, a metric often used to measure progress or success. The article challenges the idea that war requires two opposing sides, pointing out that America has historically waged wars against abstract concepts such as drugs, terrorism, or socialism without a traditional enemy. It questions who qualifies as an American casualty in this war, emphasizing that the deported body, despite being removed from the country, remains an American body in a broader sense.
The article traces the origins of modern deportation back to American interventions in Central America, particularly in El Salvador. From 1979 to 1992, the United States supported a fascist military regime in El Salvador that used torture, death squads, and massacres against the peasant class. This intervention displaced millions, leading to mass migration northward. The Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Cooperation (formerly known as the School of the Americas) is mentioned as a facility where American Green Berets trained Salvadoran military forces in tactics like executions and torture. One trainee, Ernesto Deras, later helped structure the Los Angeles gang MS-13, which was responsible for further destabilizing El Salvador after members were deported back to the country.
The article highlights the role of MS-13, a gang founded in Los Angeles with roots in Salvadoran migration. The gang’s structure was influenced by Ernesto Deras, who was trained by U.S. forces in El Salvador. After members were deported back to El Salvador, MS-13 expanded significantly, with over 78,000 members by 2023. This growth contributed to a rise in violence, leading to the election of Salvadoran President Nayib Bukele in 2019 on a platform of cracking down on gangs. Bukele’s policies resulted in the mass incarceration of an estimated 108,000 people, including deportees from the U.S., and even U.S. citizens in some cases. The article suggests that American deportation policies have indirectly fueled gang violence in Central America.
The article cites research by Sarah Stillman in The New Yorker and a report by Human Rights Watch documenting the fate of deportees sent back to El Salvador. Between 2013 and 2019, 138 out of 200 deportees studied were murdered, while 70 others were abused or sexually assaulted. Additionally, approximately 11,000 Salvadorans have gone missing in the past decade, a number exceeding the disappearances during the country’s civil war. The article frames these deaths as part of America’s body count, describing them as a self-inflicted wound. It also notes that deportees, despite their removal from the U.S., often consider themselves American, highlighting the psychological and societal impact of deportation on families and communities.
The article examines the impact of U.S. policies on Mexico, particularly the War on Drugs and the Mérida Initiative, a security cooperation agreement between the U.S. and Mexico launched in 2008. These efforts contributed to extreme violence in Mexico, with approximately 134,448 people missing as of the article’s writing, most of whom disappeared between 2006 and 2020. During this period, over 150,000 people were killed, including 124 journalists, and Mexico ranks twentieth globally in femicides. The article suggests that U.S. deportation policies have made recent deportees and asylum seekers vulnerable to extortion, kidnapping, and recruitment by cartels along the U.S.-Mexico border.
The article questions the U.S. commitment to fighting cartels and drug wars when it simultaneously deports vulnerable individuals into these dangerous environments. It asks whether these wars have failed by design or accident and to what extent the U.S. is complicit in the genocide of certain classes or ethnicities. The term genocide refers to the deliberate killing of a large group of people, often based on ethnicity, nationality, or other defining characteristics. The article argues that the deaths of deportees represent a loss to American society, including the loss of GDP, family members, and psychological stability for those left behind. It also notes that many deportees, despite their treatment, consider themselves American.
The article draws parallels between America’s current trajectory and Germany’s descent into Nazi fascism, citing the exploitation of racial divides, mass rallies, and the blurring of truth and reality. It suggests that the danger of this path may lead to full-blown fascism, arguing that this moment is already present in America. The term fascism refers to a far-right, authoritarian ideology characterized by dictatorial power, suppression of opposition, and aggressive nationalism. The article notes that this system has been in place long before events like the January 6 Capitol riot or the presidency of Donald Trump, who is described as a product of American history. It concludes that the machinery of deportation is a creation built in America’s image, with a growing body count that continues to swell.
The article includes a narrative about Diego, a Totonac curandero (a traditional healer) from Mexico, who navigates both traditional and modern worlds. Diego designs merchandise, including a black trucker hat with the words *FUCK TRUMP* on it, which later sells for significantly higher prices in the U.S. without his knowledge. His story illustrates the exploitation of deportees and asylum seekers, as well as the psychological toll of deportation. Diego experiences nightmares of death, which he traces back to his 2016 deportation flight from the U.S. to Mexico City. He reflects on his rage toward the officers who treated him like a criminal and his desire for the plane to crash. The narrative also includes a surreal moment in Mercado Sonora, a market in Mexico City, where a statue of baby Jesus with gouged-out eyes is discovered.

