The Borders We Share: A New Way to Fix a Broken World
Section 3: Islands and Waters (Posts 13–18)
Post #14: Atlantis’ Waves, Spratly Reefs: Who Rules the Wet?
Atlantis’ Waves, Spratly Reefs: Who Rules the Wet?
For days, the sea churned with an unnatural fury, waves crashing against unseen barriers as if the ocean itself anticipated the upheaval. Then, with a sound like the earth splitting open—a roar that drowned out the wind and shook the heavens—Atlantis rose. Towers of coral and crystal, their surfaces etched with patterns older than human memory, pierced the surface of the South China Sea. Sunlight danced across spires that gleamed with an otherworldly iridescence, revealing a city long relegated to myth, its edges softened by millennia beneath the waves. The Atlanteans emerged, their robes shimmering like liquid sapphire, wielding technology that hummed with a quiet power—devices that bent light, purified water, and whispered of a past unbroken by time. Their claim was immediate and resounding: a chain of reefs, pulsing with life and laden with untapped wealth, belonged to them by ancient right, inscribed in songs and star-charts predating the nations now encircling the sea.
These were no ordinary reefs. They teemed with schools of fish that sustained millions, harbored oil and gas deposits that powered economies, and sat astride trade routes carrying $3.4 trillion in goods annually (UNCTAD, 2023). To the Atlanteans, they were sacred, a cradle of their civilization lost to cataclysm and now reclaimed. To the nations staking modern claims—China, Vietnam, the Philippines, Malaysia, Brunei, and Taiwan—they were sovereign territory, defended through centuries of maps, wars, and the livelihoods of those who fished or sailed their waters. The tension was palpable, a storm brewing not just in the sky but in the hearts of those who called these waters home.
This fictional resurgence mirrors the real-world Spratly Islands dispute, a cauldron of overlapping claims threatening to boil over into conflict. In this fourteenth installment of The Borders We Share, we intertwine Atlantis’s mythic return with the voices of the Spratly’s stakeholders—both historical and imagined—guided by my Núñezian framework of egalitarian shared sovereignty. Here, the stage is not set for war, but for a bold reimagining of borders in a world where the wet resists the rigid lines of human design.
The Coral Hall Conclave
Beneath Atlantis’s towering spires, the Coral Hall stood as a marvel of nature and artifice. Its walls, woven from living coral, pulsed with bioluminescent threads—blue, green, and gold—casting a soft, shifting light across the chamber. The floor, a mosaic of polished shells and smoothed stone, reflected the glow, while the ceiling arched high, studded with pearls that mimicked a starry sky. At the center, a circular table of pearl and abalone gleamed, its surface rippling as if kissed by unseen waves. The air carried the tang of salt and kelp, and the distant murmur of the sea seeped through the walls, a reminder of the restless world outside. Around this table gathered an extraordinary assembly, figures from history and myth, summoned to debate the fate of the reefs.
I, Dr. Jorge Emilio Núñez, scholar of sovereignty disputes, took my place among them, my purpose to weave their voices into a tapestry of possibility. Elder Mara of Atlantis presided, her silver hair braided with strands of seaweed, her eyes deep as the abyss. Her robes flowed like water, and her presence carried the weight of eons. “We rise not to conquer, but to reclaim—and to share, if wisdom lights the way,” she intoned, her voice resonating like a shell held to the ear, rich with the echoes of forgotten tides. “These reefs birthed us, yet we see your stakes woven into their fate. Speak as stewards, not as lords.”
Representing China stood Admiral Zheng He, the 15th-century explorer whose fleets charted the seas, his silk robes adorned with dragon motifs, his demeanor calm yet unyielding. Beside him, Sun Wukong, the Monkey King of legend, perched with a restless grin, his golden staff spinning in his hands, his tail flicking with mischief. For Vietnam, Trưng Trắc, the warrior queen who defied invaders in 40 CE, stood resolute, her armor glinting faintly, her dark hair pulled tight. Thanh Giong, the giant hero of Vietnamese lore, loomed beside her, his bamboo staff rooted like an oak, his silence a storm held in check. The Philippines sent José Rizal, the writer and martyr of 1896, his spectacles catching the light, his words measured yet sharp, accompanied by Lam-Ang, the Ilocano epic warrior, his rooster strutting and crowing defiance. Malaysia offered Hang Tuah, the 15th-century admiral of Malacca, his kris sheathed but ever-present, his voice steady as a ship’s helm, with Puteri Gunung Ledang, the mystical princess, her presence ethereal, her words like mist curling over a peak.
Elder Mara turned to me, her fingers adorned with rings of coral and pearl that clinked softly. “Dr. Jorge, your work has navigated such turbulent waters. Chart us a course through this tempest.”
I stood, activating a holographic map above the table—a three-dimensional marvel of light and motion. The reefs shimmered, their ecosystems alive: fish darted through coral forests, currents swirled around submerged peaks, and tendrils of oil and gas pulsed beneath the seabed. “In Sovereignty Conflicts (2017), I argued that sovereignty is not a wall but a bridge—strongest when it includes all who depend on it. Here, we confront a collision of history, economy, security, and ecology. Let us hear your claims, then forge a path that lifts every voice.”
Voices of the Wet
Admiral Zheng He spoke first, his voice as steady as the compass that guided his treasure fleets. “These waters welcomed my ships in 1405, from Nanyang to the reefs you now dispute. China named them—Nansha, Xisha—centuries before your nations rose. Our 1947 map, the nine-dash line, stakes our claim, unbroken by time. Today, they shield $3.4 trillion in trade—half the world’s goods. Atlantis’s rise challenges our rightful dominion.”
Sun Wukong vaulted onto the table, his staff twirling, his laughter a sharp bark. “Maps and ships? I could leap these reefs in a heartbeat, scatter any foe with a flick! China’s might built islands—Fiery Cross, Subi—while others scribbled lines. But fishers go hungry if Atlantis hogs it all—fight or share, I say!”
Trưng Trắc stepped forward, her voice a blade cutting through the air, her eyes aflame with memory. “Vietnam’s nets trawled these waters before China’s sails cast shadows. In 43 CE, I drove invaders from our rivers; these reefs, 100 miles from our shores, are ours by blood and toil. The 1974 Paracel clash with China took our sons—fifty-eight dead, their names carved in stone. Atlantis cannot erase our scars with songs.”
Thanh Giong rumbled, his voice deep as rolling thunder, his giant frame casting a shadow over the table. “The land bends to us, Trưng Trắc. These reefs feed our deltas—fish for rice, life for life. Atlantis’s crystals dazzle, but our roots sink deeper than their towers rise.”
José Rizal adjusted his spectacles, his tone calm but edged with steel. “The Philippines claims by law and proximity—Spratlys, 200 miles west, ours under the 1951 Treaty of San Francisco and UNCLOS. In 1898, we broke Spain’s yoke; these waters are our freedom’s breath. My people fish there, as their fathers did. Atlantis’s return threatens that legacy.”
Lam-Ang slammed his spear against the floor, his rooster crowing in echo. “I slew giants for my bride—these reefs are my kin’s prize! Nets cast before Atlantis woke, fish hauled under our sun. Their tech’s pretty, but our claim’s alive!”
Hang Tuah rested a hand on his kris, his voice smooth as a monsoon’s end. “Malaysia’s 1979 map stakes our share—oil beneath these waters fuels 40% of our nation. My voyages for Malacca taught me the sea’s worth—trade, power, life. Atlantis must not unravel our tomorrow.”
Puteri Gunung Ledang’s words drifted like fog over a peak, soft yet piercing. “The sea lives, Hang Tuah—coral breathes, fish dance. Oil rigs scar it, nets choke it. Atlantis speaks of care; let them show it, not sing it.”
Elder Mara raised a hand, her rings catching the bioluminescent glow. “Atlantis claims these reefs as our genesis—our maps, etched in crystal, chart them before your ancestors sailed. Our devices can heal their wounds, guard their wealth, share their gifts. We seek not to rule, but to renew through council.”
The Núñezian Lens: A Web of Sovereignty
I adjusted the hologram, its threads weaving a glowing net across the reefs—each strand a nation, each pulse a shared fate. “In Cosmopolitanism and State Sovereignty (2023, Ch. 6), I likened sovereignty to a quantum sea—entangled, where one dredge starves another’s nets, where a spill ripples to every shore. Here, unilateral acts—China’s artificial islands, Vietnam’s outposts, the Philippines’ fishers, Malaysia’s rigs—fray the web. My egalitarian shared sovereignty mends it: equal voices, roles by strength, gains by effort, aid from the mighty to the meek.”
Zheng He’s brow creased, his explorer’s mind weighing the shift. “Equal voices? China’s power—our coast guard, our ports—towers over others. Why cede that?”
“Because power unchecked breeds chaos,” I replied. “In Sovereignty Conflicts (2017, Ch. 6), I outlined a council—one vote per nation, Atlantis included. China’s strength secures trade routes, your $3.4 trillion safe, while Atlantis’s sensors sustain fish for all.”
Trưng Trắc’s gaze sharpened, her warrior’s heart testing the words. “Vietnam’s fishers need these waters—China’s shadow looms too large. What’s our shield?”
“Your fishers set quotas,” I said, “tracked by Atlantis’s tech—real-time data, no overreach. Your 100-mile reach makes you stewards of the shallows.”
Rizal scribbled notes, his scholar’s curiosity stirring. “The Philippines could fish and farm, but China’s reefs—built since 2013—block our boats. Where’s justice?”
“Transparency,” I countered. “Atlantis’s purifiers dismantle excess islands, joint zones open access. Your vote matches China’s.”
Hang Tuah leaned in, his admiral’s pragmatism engaged. “Oil drives Malaysia—40% of our wealth. Atlantis’s tech tempts, but who reaps the gold?”
“A sliding scale,” I proposed. “Malaysia drills, profits tilt to need—Atlantis takes less, you more, until balance. In Territorial Disputes (2020, Ch. 7), I modeled this: shared riches, shared watch.”
Elder Mara’s voice flowed like a tide, soothing yet firm. “Our purifiers can mend coral—90% bleached in spots (WWF, 2023)—but your harm must cease. This is not surrender, but abundance.”
Clash of Claims
Sun Wukong spun his staff, his laughter a challenge ringing off the coral walls. “China forged islands—Fiery Cross, Subi, Mischief—while others drew maps! Dredgers roared, reefs rose, trade flowed. Atlantis wants peace? Show it won’t snatch our sweat! I’d flip their towers with one somersault if they try!”
Thanh Giong’s bamboo staff thudded against the floor, his voice a growl of earth and sky. “Vietnam bled for these waters—1974, Paracels lost, fifty-eight dead; 1988, Spratlys scarred, fourteen more gone. Atlantis’s songs don’t fill our widows’ bowls or mend our nets. Sharing’s fair—our share comes first, or I’ll uproot their spires.”
Lam-Ang’s rooster screeched, his spear raised high, his warrior’s blood hot. “The Philippines won at The Hague, 2016—China spat on it! Our boats sank, our fishers wept, like in 2019 at Reed Bank when their ship rammed ours. Atlantis’s council shines, but who binds the lawless? I’d duel their champions to prove our right!”
Puteri Gunung Ledang’s gaze cut through the clamor, her voice a whisper that silenced the room. “The sea mourns—oil slicks blacken its breath, nets strangle its children, guns pierce its heart. China builds, Vietnam fights, the Philippines pleads, Malaysia drills—all hoard while coral dies. Atlantis offers healing, but trust is a pearl earned, not gifted. Why believe?”
I zoomed the hologram to a single reef—its coral pale, its fish sparse, a wound laid bare. “Enforcement lies in clarity—Atlantis’s sensors watch all: quotas breached, spills tracked, ships logged. A council veto halts greed. China’s might, Vietnam’s grit, the Philippines’ law, Malaysia’s wealth—each strengthens the web.”
Zheng He stroked his beard, his navigator’s mind tracing the logic. “Sensors, like stars guiding my fleets. If they chart true—no secrets, no theft—China might bend. But our trade lanes—$3.4 trillion—must never falter.”
Trưng Trắc’s fists unclenched, her voice softening with cautious hope. “If our fishers see the numbers—fish caught, fish left—and China honors them, trust could root. But the Paracel ghosts demand proof.”
Rizal’s pen paused, his eyes alight with possibility. “A council with claws—Atlantis’s tech enforcing The Hague, not just echoing it. China ignored us in 2016; this could tether them. I’d draft its charter myself.”
Hang Tuah’s grip on his kris eased, his tone pragmatic yet warm. “If Malaysia drills and splits fair—oil for our schools, our roads—and Atlantis cleans our spills, we prosper. But justice must strike swift, or it’s wind over waves.”
Elder Mara spread her hands, her rings glinting like beacons. “Our shields protect, not punish. Joint fleets—Zheng He’s galleons, Hang Tuah’s prows—guard all. Our tech is your eyes, your hands—not our chains.”
Sun Wukong leapt down, his staff tapping a playful rhythm. “A contest, then! Who cheats, I’ll thwack—Atlantis or China, no matter! Let’s see who blinks!”
Laughter broke the tension, a tide receding from jagged rocks.
The Quantum Sea’s Lesson
The hologram flared, its threads pulsing like a heartbeat, a net binding the reefs in radiant unity. I stepped closer, my voice firm yet inviting. “In Cosmopolitanism and State Sovereignty (2023, Ch. 6), I framed sovereignty as quantum—entangled beyond borders. One nation’s dredge empties another’s nets; a rig’s spill chokes fish 200 miles away. Your fates interlace, not by will, but by the sea’s own weave.”
Zheng He nodded, his explorer’s soul catching the thread. “Like tides—one pull shifts all. My fleets sailed that truth.”
“Precisely,” I said. “Test it—a pilot reef, shared, watched. Atlantis’s sensors track fish, trade, coral—data open to all. If fishers thrive, ships sail, and reefs heal, the council grows.”
Trưng Trắc’s eyes gleamed, her warrior’s caution yielding to vision. “A trial… if our nets fill, our villages eat, Vietnam stands with it. But China’s dredgers—silent, or no deal.”
Rizal’s smile widened, his pen itching to write. “Law with flesh—UNCLOS alive, not a ghost. If fish return to our shores, I’d sing this in every plaza.”
Hang Tuah’s voice carried a captain’s resolve. “Oil and harmony? Malaysia risks it—if spills vanish and profits flow, our rigs turn green.”
Sun Wukong twirled his staff, his grin sly. “A game where all win? Even I’d play fair—for once! Let’s roll the dice!”
Elder Mara’s voice wove the moment together, a thread of ancient calm. “The sea teaches: hoard, and it dies; share, and it lives. Atlantis offers tools—your hands wield them.”
I pointed to the hologram’s core—a reef reborn, coral blooming, fish swirling. “Quantum entanglement isn’t myth—it’s math. One act here lifts all there. Start small, see big.”
From Atlantis to Spratlys
No treaty sealed that day, but a spark ignited—a working group formed: Elder Mara, Zheng He, Trưng Trắc, Rizal, Hang Tuah, and their mythic allies, tasked with a single reef under the Núñezian web. Atlantis’s tale mirrors the Spratlys, where China’s 2015 reclamation—3,200 acres of artificial islands—clashed with Vietnam’s Spratly outposts and the Philippines’ 2016 Hague triumph. An ASEAN council—equal votes, shared zones—could echo this, rooting myth in reality.
In the real Spratlys, the stakes cut deep: China’s nine-dash line swallows 90% of the sea, brushing Vietnam’s ancient fishing grounds, the Philippines’ UNCLOS rights, and Malaysia’s oil fields. The 2012 Scarborough Shoal standoff saw Chinese ships bar Filipino fishers, a wound still raw. The 2019 Reed Bank sinking—a Chinese vessel ramming a Filipino boat—left twenty-two adrift, a flare of tension. Yet, the 2002 Declaration on Conduct eased skirmishes, a fragile hint of peace.
The Núñezian lens sharpens the view: egalitarian voice, roles by strength, gains by need. Picture a Spratly Council—China patrols trade lanes, its $3.4 trillion secure; Vietnam oversees fisheries, its deltas fed; the Philippines farms kelp and fish, its law upheld; Malaysia drills, its oil clean with Atlantis-like tech. Profits build schools in Luzon, clinics in Hanoi, roads in Sabah, while purifiers mend reefs—90% bleached (WWF, 2023). Quantum ripples prove it: one dredger’s churn hikes prices in Manila, stalls ships in Shenzhen, but shared care steadies the sea. This isn’t fantasy—it’s a blueprint.
History whispers lessons: the 1988 Johnson Reef clash—China vs. Vietnam, seventy dead—shows unilateral cost. The 2016 Hague ruling, ignored, begs enforcement. A council binds what treaties can’t, turning rivals into stewards.
Why It Matters
The Spratlys aren’t dots on a map—they’re your lifeline. Their oil fuels your car, their fish fill your plate, their routes bring your phone, your clothes, your world—$3.4 trillion in trade, half the globe’s pulse (UNCTAD, 2023). A flare-up—like Reed Bank 2019—spikes your gas, empties your stores, risks soldiers’ lives. Atlantis’s story isn’t whimsy—it’s a mirror: the sea’s a shared vein, its borders liquid, its wealth boundless if held in common.
This matters to you—your wallet, your table, your peace. A council could calm the waves, not with guns but with data, tech, and will. China’s ships, Vietnam’s nets, the Philippines’ law, Malaysia’s rigs—woven right, they don’t clash, they create. Coral heals, fish multiply, trade flows, wars fade. Ignore it, and the quantum sea bites back—prices soar, shelves thin, tensions snap.
Join us at https://drjorge.world or on X at https://x.com/DrJorge_World and shape these waters with us. The sea’s lesson is stark: share, or sink.
References
- Núñez, J.E. (2017). Sovereignty Conflicts (Ch. 7).
- Núñez, J.E. (2018). Sovereign Game: A Tale of Three Peoples (Ch. 1–5).
- Núñez, J.E. (2020). Territorial Disputes (Ch. 6).
- Núñez, J.E. (2023). Cosmopolitanism and State Sovereignty (Ch. 1, 6).
- Núñez, J.E. (2025). Territorial Disputes in the Americas (Ch. 5).
NOTE:
New posts every Tuesday.
PREVIOUS POSTS:
Post #13: Ruritania’s Crown, Falklands/Malvinas’ Winds
NEXT POSTS:
- Post #15: Lilliput’s Isles, Senkaku Clash (June 24, 2025)—Lilliput fights over tiny isles, like Japan-China’s Senkaku.
- Post #16: Lilliput’s Isles, Part II (July 1, 2025)—A multidimensional fix splits the speck.
- Post #17: Narnia’s Sea, Aegean Edge (July 8, 2025)—Narnian fleets claim tides, mirroring Greece-Turkey’s Aegean.
- Post #18: Blefuscu’s Boats, Paracel Puzzle (July 15, 2025)—Blefuscu sails against Laputa’s waters, like Vietnam-China’s Paracels.
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Tuesday 17th June 2025
Dr Jorge Emilio Núñez
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