“There are a few misguided heroes in our government who can’t be bribed or threatened,” he explains. “They’ve set vast tracts of land aside for the Indians, and sometimes even I can’t get at them. Torching the trees ends the argument. Once the forest is gone, the Indians retreat. And I can bring in foreign investors to plant soy. A few cans of gasoline is all it takes to develop the most sheltered parts of the forest.”

“You’re not interested in developing anything,” I almost growl at him. “You just want to ruin it all.”

“How easy it must be for a brash young American to make that accusation,” he answers. “Tell me, what corner of the United States, from Alaska to the Everglades, was sacred when America was transforming itself into the richest industrial nation in the world?”

I think back to what I know of American environmental history over the last two centuries and I can’t find a good answer. From the near extinction of the buffalo to acid rain, from the bad farming techniques that led to the Dust Bowl to the Exxon Valdez spill, I know our own record of preserving natural beauty is not a distinguished one.

He reads my face and smiles. “Did China or Russia show any restraint in developing their own resources? Does Chernobyl ring a bell? Or the damage being done to Siberia and the Russian Arctic by the oil industry? Do you know the harm the Three Gorges Dam is inflicting on Chinese wildlife? Why should the Amazon be any different? It’s not a treasure that the whole world owns—it’s the possession of a striving nation. And we have the right and the duty to develop it to feed our children and take our place among the powerful nations of the world.”

I can’t argue history with him: he has deeper knowledge and a far more sweeping vantage point. So I make it personal. “Cut the crap. You’re no Brazilian patriot, interested in feeding the poor. You’re the leader of the Dark Army. I struck a blow against you when I used Firestorm to save the oceans. So you’re trying to poison the future by ruining the lungs of the planet.”

His face darkens threateningly, like the sky before a tropical storm. “Okay, to use your charming phrase, let’s cut the crap. I can imagine what Dannite lies you’ve been fed. So you’re pure and wholesome children of God, while we’re Dark Army abominations who don’t even deserve the spark of life? I find your father’s definitions narrow and very self-serving, and I have news for you both.”