Despite the birth control pill’s position as a symbol of modern scientific advancement, Mexico’s role in the production of synthetic steroids and the global pharmaceutical science that led to the pill has been regrettably overlooked. Fortunately, Gabriela Soto Laveaga corrects this. By exploring the history of a forgotten medicinal yam that grows wild in Mexico’s southern tropical states — and the powerful and lucrative diosgenin source material extracted from it — Soto Laveaga demonstrates the intertwined complexity of global medicine, social conditions, and economic reforms. She reconstructs the shifting relationships between rural harvesters, state industries, and international companies from 1941 to 1989 and in doing so chronicles the social organization that waxed and waned around this tuber.Although it might fit into the slew of recent “commodity” profiles, this book is different for two reasons. First, rather than a botanical product of high visibility (cocaine, vanilla, coffee), it chronicles the hidden, unsuspected role of a native root, barbasco, in the modern pharmaceutical industry. Indeed, barbasco’s story proves so compelling because of its ubiquitous presence in laboratories and its rapid rise and fall in global circulation in an industry long imagined to have only elite roots. Second, the author succeeds in telling this story from a remarkably human perspective.Soto Laveaga’s introduction situates barbasco’s usage and makes a strong case for its relevance to the political, economic, and social changes of the mid-twentieth century. The book’s nine chapters alternate among the local, national, and international domains. She first gives a glimpse into the deep history of the Tuxtepec region of Oaxaca, considered the nation’s richest barbasco site, and guides the reader through a host of relevant landscape and demographic changes. A discussion of international pharmaceutical discoveries follows to chronicle how scientists came to seek out steroid hormones in southern Mexico. The explanations of relevant scientific terms and processes are particularly strong here. Examples of how international demand reached the countryside and began to reconfigure rural labor demonstrate the author’s attention to the tensions between supply, demand, and social organization. The same tensions led subsidiaries of prominent pharmaceutical firms to enter Mexico, raising the interest, but not yet sustained actions, of government committees. Increasing national interest in the yam’s value peaked during the shifting political atmosphere of the 1970s. President Echeverría ultimately used this interest to nationalize the industry and create a government processing company, Proquivemex, with the intent to modernize rural areas. In the final chapters, Soto Laveaga chronicles Proquivemex’s struggles with transnational corporations, local populations, and ultimately, the business conditions that resulted in the company’s failure to reach its much heralded potential. Yet, some of the social changes, such as expanded knowledge, land reconfiguration, and unionization, remained in the countryside.The strength of this work comes from the judicious use of both interviews and archival sources. Drawing on repositories in Oaxaca, Mexico City, and the United States, the author mines a variety of sources for data on volumes and prices, company negotiations and government policies, as well as barbasco ballads, photographs, and cartoons. The volume of evidence is astounding and put to good use. To this background, Soto Laveaga adds lively oral histories. Her brief but revealing profiles of campesinos humanize discussions of yams, diosgenin, and state projects as she insists that scientists, both domestic and foreign, relied on rural Mexicans’ understandings of natural systems, from soil conditions to yam species, to develop this prosperous trade. By locating processing facilities in the sites of harvest, like Tuxtepec, state administrators conceded the signifi-cance of campesinos to this industry; but campesinos proved more than passive recipients. In this way, barbasco offered an important opportunity for Echeverría’s populist government to hitch waning revolutionary rhetoric to a new site of possibility, with wide-ranging results. Soto Laveaga carefully maintains that barbasco’s use in reshaping the pharmaceutical world was more than an early case of biopiracy. Instead, this study also demonstrates how local power structures change over time.My single minor quibble with this otherwise captivating text is a structural one: The overuse of subheadings at times shortens the interesting analysis rather than allowing narrative threads to weave together. Otherwise, the writing is crisp and clear.In sum, this is an interesting and important book. For Mexicanists, it makes a much-needed contribution to studies of post-1940 rural Mexico and of Echeverría’s era in particular. It will earn attention from regional scholars interested in the history of science and the history of state formation, political organization, and transnational business, in addition to a commodity studies audience. Finally, historians, anthropologists, and geographers interested in the ebb and flow of local knowledge will also find much use in this careful study.
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