48 pages • 1 hour read
Angela GarciaA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Garcia opens the book with a story from her time working at Nuevo Día, an addiction clinic located in the Española Valley. She describes sitting outside with three patients, each of whom is eagerly awaiting their next round of medicine. Garcia encourages the patients to join her on a walk to the river. John carries out the full walk with her, but when they reach the river, they find a heroin cooker and syringes. John declares that the river is dead, a stark contrast to the vibrant river of his childhood. This introduces the idea that the personal struggles of individuals in the Española Valley parallel this environmental decay and the loss of land and opportunities for self-determination in the community.
Garcia argues that loss and space are intrinsically connected and that a person’s experience is shaped by how these contexts intertwine. The rate of heroin addiction in Española Valley cannot be understood outside of the context of the history of the land and the effects of colonization. Situated between Santa Fe and Taos, the Española Valley consists of the Rio Grande and its badlands. Española marks the first Spanish colonial settlement in the Southwest, which dates back to the 16th century. Many residents of the Española Valley can trace their ancestry to these original colonists, though Indigenous people had been living on the land for centuries. In her work, Garcia highlights tensions between the Latinx community and Pueblo communities, a tension that began with Spanish colonization. Additionally, the communal lands and individual land grants that residents enjoyed under Spanish rule were taken away when the United States conquered the land in the 19th century. When New Mexico became a state, many of these people were left with nothing, a legacy of poverty that has extended into the 21st century. Garcia argues that this created generational trauma, and the sense of this loss pervades the culture in this region, contributing to high rates of drug use.
This connection is further complicated by the opening of the Los Alamos National Laboratory (LANL), which created huge wealth disparities. Residents of Los Alamos have higher rates of wealth and college education than surrounding areas. This comes with a cost, however, as the plant leaches hazardous material into the soil and water. The subjects that Garcia interviews describe the differences in the land as it exists now compared to their childhoods and the continuous reminders of what has been lost. Abandoned adobes, along with the markers of personal loss—descansos—shape their perception that the cycle of grief is without end.
As Garcia struggles to grapple with how these connections function and how institutions can both alleviate and contribute to their dysfunction, she questions whether marinating in the past harms or helps the individual: “Young and old insist that to meaningfully address the heroin problem, one must also address the region’s deep historical scars” (93). Garcia emphasizes that she wants to be careful about offering a naïve solution. Her work as a researcher is not to tie up the narratives of her subjects with a tidy bow, presenting an idealized picture of the future. However, she finds hope in the changes made at Nuevo Día when she returns to New Mexico a few years after her project ends. A return to the land through farming offers hope to patients, giving them something to look forward to in the future. This approach juxtaposes the patient-prisoner model, which fails to consider what lies outside of the rehabilitation clinic. Instead, by engaging with the land, patients recapture the connection between land, loss, history, and culture by investing in the future.
The focus of institutional care and the drug court system is streamlining recovery through a series of hierarchical structures that place individuals in a prisoner-patient pipeline, treating people in addiction recovery like prisoners and creating environments that encourage relapse. Garcia is highly critical of the patient-prisoner model, which she suggests leaves individuals with drug addiction in a never-ending cycle of vulnerability. While in a detoxification clinic, patients are aware that they live in a limbo between the pain of the past and the pain of the future. What lies ahead for them—whether it is going to prison or returning to the homes where their addiction was first fostered and incentivized—is not that different from what they experience while staying at the clinic.
While at Nuevo Día, patients' lives are highly monitored. Their schedules and actions are determined by others. Mimicking their experiences using drugs, patients do not know what medicine they will receive or how much. Often, this changes on a whim, reflecting the ever-changing nature of their drug use outside of the clinic. In therapy, they revisit the past, trying to find the source of their addiction without being offered the opportunity to unpack the myriad contextual factors that influence their lives or how the court system forces them into extreme vulnerability—something they already live with daily. Garcia suggests that this forced vulnerability, mirroring their everyday experiences outside of treatment, negatively shapes patient identities, contributing to a sense of hopelessness.
Garcia examines the language of addiction and how it impacts a person’s individualized experience with drug use. The word “relapse,” for example, suggests that the patient will inevitably falter: “The framework of chronicity risks altering its own causality by insisting on a schema of return and repetition, whereby each return recapitulates a sense of inevitable demise” (15). Garcia suggests that the frequent “relapses” of patients in the clinic where she works are evidence of this institutionalized identity. The reframing of addiction as a chronic illness is meant to separate the medical field’s understanding of addiction from the idea that drug use is simply a matter of personal responsibility. However, Garcia suggests that this reframing causes people dealing with addiction to internalize the idea that there is no escape and that overdose is inevitable. She sees the consequences of this mentality in Bernadette and her mother years later, when she runs into them at a taco stand. Both women are using heroin again, and Bernadette tells Garcia that there is no escaping the reality of her life. For her, that reality is heroin, showing an acceptance of the identity imposed on her by institutions.
One of Garcia’s major critiques of modern approaches to drug addiction is the patient-prisoner model, which treats patients like prisoners and often results in incarceration rather than recovery. The center of this model is the drug court system, which Garcia argues takes a hodgepodge approach by combining various ideologies and treatments without considering a patient’s history or context. When a person is arrested for selling or using drugs, they are required to submit to in-patient treatment as well as therapy and random drug testing. Failing to comply results in being sent to prison. Garcia asserts that the system causes individuals to see themselves as “addicts,” occupying a space as both patient and prisoner: “The more urgent the desire or mandate to ‘recover and reckon,’ the more injurious the effects of its failure” (20). Many of the institutional problems associated with the drug court system are explored in the theme The Institutional Shaping of Identity. Garcia’s critique of addiction treatment spreads throughout all tiers of the system, including the history of its development.
As Garcia considers the myriad contexts that intersect to form the experience of drug addiction, she realizes that institutional approaches to addiction treatment completely ignore these nuances. One patient must choose between staying with abusive parents under house arrest or abandoning her children for a better treatment option outside of the state. Another patient shares that when her daughter was ready for rehabilitation, there were no spots available; by the time a bed became available, it was too late. A lack of choices and resources for people dealing with addiction exacerbates the problem, resulting in continued addiction or death. Outside actors make judgments about the effectiveness of clinics like Nuevo Día, not understanding how treatment protocols are severed from the region’s culture, history, and legacy of loss. Garcia suggests that losing land through the historic revocation of land grants holds the key to both the regional melancholy, which informs addiction, and a means for recovery. This is borne out in Nuevo Día’s successful gardening program, which gives patients a sense of purpose and future that was unavailable to them in traditional treatment methods.
The recidivism of the subjects Garcia studies is a reminder of the failures of conventional addiction treatment. Many of the patients at Nuevo Día have been there before and will end up there again. Alma, for example, tells Garcia that the treatment will not work and that there is no point in trying. When serving on a commission to address drug-related issues, Garcia is asked about her experience at Nuevo Día and what she believes is the biggest problem with clinical addiction care. She suggests the problem lies outside the clinic—meaning that institutions fail to consider the broader picture of addiction and how treatment isolates itself from the realities of patients’ complex lives. The Pastoral Clinic concludes that new treatment methods, rooted in individual patients’ cultural contexts, are needed to truly help people living with addiction.
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