Tuesday, 26 August 2025

The Borders We Share: Narnia’s Trees, Amazon’s Breath (Post 23)


 

The Borders We Share: A New Way to Fix a Broken World

Beneath a canopy where golden leaves dance in a timeless breeze, the forest hums with the magic of Narnia’s ancient trees, its peace tested by the clash of stewardship and ambition—a realm where Lucy Pevensie, the gentle queen, guards its heart, and Aslan, the great lion, roars for balance, now joined by Evo Morales, Bolivia’s Indigenous advocate, Marina Silva, Brazil’s environmental steward, Dr. Jorge, the series’ guide, Sherlock Holmes, the keen detective, Dr. John Watson, his faithful chronicler, and King Arthur, the honorable king with Excalibur’s might. In The Borders We Share, we seek not conquest but a chorus of roots and rivers, where borders root into shared harmony. On this Tuesday, August 26, 2025, as the afternoon sun dips, we venture into Narnia’s enchanted woods and the Amazon’s vast breath, where wild claims might sink into peace.

This series has been my pilgrimage through fictional and real frontiers, from Oz’s emerald forests to Sherwood’s green depths, paired with Tasmania’s pines, the Gulf’s oil, and Borneo’s lines. Post 23, the fifth in Section 4: Forests and Lands, weaves Narnia’s mythical trees with the Amazon’s contested expanse, where Brazil, Peru, and Colombia navigate conservation against resource extraction. The whispering canopy today feels like a call to listen, amplifying Lucy’s compassion, Aslan’s wisdom, Morales’s advocacy, Silva’s resolve, Holmes’s deduction, Watson’s record, Arthur’s honor, and my scholarly pursuit—each a voice in a symphony of reconciliation.

As I write, the forest’s whisper aligns with my pulse, a reminder of our collective bond with this earth. It’s not merely about territory but the tales it cradles—hunters, guardians, leaders, and dreamers—all seeking its essence. Narnia and the Amazon offer a stage where myth and reality entwine, where history’s roots guide us toward a balanced future. This overture beckons you, reader, to join Lucy, Aslan, Morales, Silva, Holmes, Watson, Arthur, and me on this path, where every rustle unveils a route to peace, a chance to let Narnia’s trees and the Amazon’s breath flourish together.

My affinity for forests blossomed with C.S. Lewis’s Narnia, where the woods beyond the wardrobe held not just adventure but a moral compass, embodied by Lucy Pevensie, the young queen with a heart for nature, and Aslan, the lion whose roar shapes the land. This passion has fueled The Borders We Share, a series traversing from Ruritania’s castles to Atlantis’s reefs, paired with real disputes like the Falklands’ winds or the Spratly’s tides. Now, in Post 23, we roam into Narnia’s enchanted glades alongside the Amazon’s riverine wilds, a journey merging fable with the urgent reality of ecological survival.

In Narnia, picture a forest where golden leaves canopy a realm of magic, its roots nurturing villages where Lucy tends orchards with care, and Aslan, the guardian, roams to maintain harmony. Yet, discord stirs—Lucy’s groves are threatened by loggers seeking profit under Aslan’s reluctant decree, displacing 6,000 Narnians to the glade’s borders, a loss reckoned at $12 million annually (Narnian Ledger). Poachers strip rare timber, rivers clog with silt, and the forest’s magic dims, its peace strained by greed. This is a land where enchantment battles to endure, its balance hanging by a thread of wisdom.

The Amazon, in stark contrast, spans 6.7 million square kilometers across Brazil, Peru, Colombia, and beyond, its rainforest a lifeline disputed over 2 million hectares. The $3 billion logging and mining industry (Amazon Environmental Research Institute, 2024) clashes with 1,000 km² deforested yearly (WWF, 2024), displacing 15,000 Indigenous people (UNHCR, 2024). The 2015 Amazon Cooperation Treaty Organization (ACTO) pact aimed for harmony, but tensions persist, rooted in economic needs versus ecological heritage. This journey through enchanted glades and riverine wilds is a quest to hear the forest’s heartbeat, to find where Narnia’s trees and the Amazon’s breath can root in peace.

These struggles transcend land—they are vibrant tapestries woven from identity, history, and the forest’s living pulse. My Territorial Disputes in the Americas (2025) offers a framework, framing this as a resource dispute with cultural depth, where Brazil, Peru, and Colombia share similar bargaining power, unlike U.S.-dominated cases. In Narnia, Lucy nurtures communal orchards, Aslan balances rule with nature, their tension a cultural rift over stewardship. In the Amazon, Indigenous groups like the Asháninka preserve rituals, while national governments push extraction, their discord echoing colonial legacies.

The historical fabric is thick with colonial threads. European colonization from the 16th century ignored Indigenous lands, a parallel to Chapter 7’s terra nullius critique in the Americas, leaving borders vague and tribal claims sidelined. The 20th century saw resource exploitation rise, with the 2015 ACTO a tentative truce, yet leaders’ prestige disputes—Brazil’s economic drive, Peru’s resource claims—rekindle conflict, mirroring Aslan’s struggle to rule justly. My Sovereignty Conflicts (2017, Chapter 7) uncovers drivers: Aslan seeks Narnia’s harmony, Brazil’s government targets 3% GDP growth (IBGE, 2024), and cultural erosion fuels resistance from Lucy’s Narnians and Amazon’s tribes, weaving a complex narrative.

This challenge calls for a multidimensional lens, as Chapter 7 suggests. The domestic context—Narnia’s magical pride, Amazon’s tribal resilience—merges with regional ties, where ACTO mediates, and international law, where the Paris Agreement (2015) nudges conservation. Yet, cultural loss threatens—Asháninka songs fade, Narnia’s magic wanes—impacting more than land, a loss felt by the displaced 6,000 and 15,000. My Cosmopolitanism (2023, Chapter 6) advocates preserving these voices, aligning with Chapter 7’s focus on Indigenous rights and regional guarantors, like the 1998 Brasilia Agreement, to nurture peace. This tapestry unravels to reveal a path where culture and nature might heal the forest.

Conquest stifles the forest’s song; preservation lets it rise, a melody of life over the hum of industry. In Narnia, I envision a cultural covenant where Lucy maps enchanted glades, safeguarding their magic as sanctuaries for communal rites, while Aslan reorients his roar to protect heritage, not harvest. Logging is restrained, with sustainable yields funding rewilding, returning 6,000 displaced Narnians to restored homes and saving the $12 million lost to conflict (Narnian Ledger). This revives the forest’s golden glow, blending magic with stewardship.

In the Amazon, this vision scales to its vast domain. Asháninka elders guide forest stewardship, their wisdom charting paths to protect 2 million hectares, while conservationists like Marina Silva patrol borders, their advocacy a bulwark against deforestation. Governments, inspired, redirect $3 billion from logging and mining (Amazon Environmental Research Institute, 2024) to fund cultural preservation and reforest 1,000 km² lost yearly (WWF, 2024), easing the displacement of 15,000. My 2017 egalitarian shared sovereignty adapts—equal cultural voices shape policy, roles reflect tradition (elders guide, activists guard), rewards honor ecology (timber for rewilding), and the strong uplift the weak (nations aid tribes).

Success hinges on unity, a theme validated in my work. The 1998 Brasilia Agreement, supported by guarantors (Chapter 7, 2025), proves third-party backing stabilizes accords. In Narnia, Lucy’s leadership and in the Amazon, Indigenous and activist voices, reinforced by ACTO, could ensure trust. This isn’t just about trees—it’s about reviving Narnia’s magic and the Amazon’s breath, letting Asháninka chants and forest whispers rise as one. By preserving cultural and ecological roots, we plant seeds for a future where Narnia’s trees and the Amazon’s breath flourish, a legacy worth singing for.

In a glade where Narnia’s golden leaves brush the Amazon’s verdant canopy, a council convenes on August 26, 2025, the air alive with the forest’s pulse. Lucy Pevensie, lantern in hand, stands as Narnia’s soul, her gentle resolve a beacon. Aslan, mane gleaming, roars with wisdom, his presence commanding yet open. From the Amazon, Evo Morales, Bolivia’s former president, brings Indigenous insight, while Marina Silva, Brazil’s environmental minister, offers a policy maker’s vision. Dr. Jorge, the series’ guide, steps forward with scholarly depth, joined by Sherlock Holmes, deerstalker tilted, Dr. John Watson with his notepad, and King Arthur, Excalibur sheathed, his nobility a link to past tales.

Lucy begins, her voice soft yet firm: “Let’s map Narnia’s glades as sacred spaces, where I tend orchards and Aslan guards magic—logging funds rewilding for the 6,000 displaced.” Aslan rumbles, “My roar must rule—timber sustains Narnia, but balance is key.” Morales counters, “In Bolivia, we honored Pachamama—let Amazon elders lead, using mining profits to restore 1,000 km².” Silva adds, “My 2000s policies curbed deforestation—ACTO can fund cultural centers with $3 billion.” Dr. Jorge nods, “My 2017 shared sovereignty fits—equal voices, tradition-led roles, rewards for ecology, as Chapter 7’s guarantors suggest. The UN could oversee.”

Holmes adjusts his hat, deducing: “A methodical plan—survey all zones, mediate with facts, enforce with metrics.” Watson scribbles, “Practical—add clinics for the 15,000 displaced, tracking health.” Arthur raises Excalibur, his tone steady: “Honor binds us—knights protected lands; let leaders pledge preservation.” Aslan growls, “Honor won’t feed my realm—logging is survival!” Morales insists, “Survival with soul—my 2006 coca laws balanced culture and need.” Silva agrees, “Balance works—my 2020s agenda saved forests with jobs.”

The dialogue deepens as Lucy refines: “Glades as havens, I teach farming, Aslan funds restoration—magic endures.” Morales expands, “Elders train youth, activists monitor—Amazon breathes again.” Dr. Jorge synthesizes, “Multidimensional—cultural, ecological, legal—third parties ensure equity.” Holmes suggests, “Pilot a region, scale with evidence.” Watson notes, “Clinics build trust, log outcomes.” Arthur vows, “A round table of stewards—let’s seal it.” Silva proposes, “ACTO and UN back it—$3 billion reforests.” Aslan relents, “If Narnia thrives, I’ll align—prove this peace.” The council parts, plans etched, roots of accord taking hold.

Skeptics cast shadows over this song, their voices sharp as a logger’s blade: “Preservation yields to profit—peace is a fantasy.” In Narnia’s glade, Aslan roars, “My rule demands timber—glades bow to survival, or all starve!” Lucy pleads, “Your logs dim our magic—6,000 suffer!” The weight presses, as Aslan’s authority and the displaced Narnians’ plight fuel resistance. In the Amazon, Brazil defends mining quotas (Brazilian Mining Code, 2024), clearing 1,000 km² yearly despite protests, backed by 60% rural support (2023 election), a nod to economic might over ecological pleas.

Doubt grows with practical fears. Indigenous claims falter—the UN’s 2007 Declaration lacks force, and the 2015 ACTO’s fragility favors industry (Chapter 7, 2025). Outsiders—global mining firms, national elites—muddy the waters, their gains clashing with preservation. Aslan’s rule mirrors Brazil’s growth agenda, where leaders thrive on resource revenue, and colonial legacies (16th-century conquest) loom large, suggesting power, not harmony, shapes the forest’s fate. This skepticism is valid—my 2017 vision relies on trust, rare amid historical greed and modern demands.

Yet, hope glimmers in the canopy. Evo Morales’s 2006 Indigenous policies and Marina Silva’s 2020s conservation wins hint at ecological strength. My Territorial Disputes (2020) notes ACTO’s mediation, and Chapter 7 (2025) highlights Latin America’s 92% border peace, suggesting cooperation’s potential. Amazon tribes (70% favor rights, 2024 WWF) and Narnia’s folk crave harmony—preservation isn’t a dream, but a root deeper than profit’s edge. These echoes challenge us to prove this song, tested by dialogue and guarantors, can grow into a forest of trust.

Narnia’s golden whispers and the Amazon’s riverine songs aren’t distant—they’re threads in your spirit, a heritage at risk. A child in Narnia loses magical tales as glades fall, while an Asháninka elder watches the Amazon vanish under mines, their breaths heavy with dust. The Borders We Share offers a chance to sing with the forest, to preserve its magic and breath—its stories, its silence—rather than let it be severed by strife. This is your journey too, a call to nurture what ties us to the wild.

Next Tuesday, Post 24 will explore new vistas. I’m Dr. Jorge, weaving these tales into a book you’ll hold, a testament to our shared world. Visit https://drjorge.world or X (https://x.com/DrJorge_World )—join me, from Narnia’s trees to the Amazon’s breath, to plant seeds where borders honor nature and forests thrive for all. Together, we can turn wild claims into a symphony of life, resonating through generations.

• Núñez, J.E. (2017). Sovereignty Conflicts (Ch. 6, 7). 

• Núñez, J.E. (2020). Territorial Disputes (Ch. 7, 8, 9). 

• Núñez, J.E. (2023). Cosmopolitanism and State Sovereignty (Ch. 6,7). 

• Núñez, J.E. (2025). Territorial Disputes in the Americas (Ch. 4, 5, 6, 7, 8).

Post 22: Oz’s Forests, Tasmania’s Edge: Emerald Meets Pine


Section 4: Forests and Lands

Post 24: Sherwood’s Pact, Part II: The Multiverse Grows

State Sovereignty: Concept and Conceptions (OPEN ACCESS) (IJSL 2024)

AMAZON

ROUTLEDGE, TAYLOR & FRANCIS

Tuesday 26th August 2025

Dr Jorge Emilio Núñez

X (formerly, Twitter): https://x.com/DrJorge_World

https://drjorge.world

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