Barges piled with sand traverse the sea lanes around Singapore, almost as ubiquitous as the semi trucks that ply America¡¯s interstate highways. Aboard a small motor boat one recent afternoon, I catch sight of an imposing green wall rising from the shoreline protecting a huge sand stockpile. As one of the world¡¯s most densely populated countries ¡ª intent on building up, down and out ¡ª Singapore couldn¡¯t survive without millions of tons of the grainy stuff.
The city-state is slowly ticking back to life as the coronavirus lockdown eases. Yet answers to the existential questions about Singapore¡¯s future aren¡¯t in its glass-and-steel office towers or orchid-trimmed shopping malls or pulsing hawker centers. They¡¯re in the water surrounding it. There, you¡¯ll see evidence of a country half the size of Maui and among the world¡¯s richest that¡¯s desperate to expand.
When you¡¯re an island nation and seas are rising, sand is something you can never find yourself without. Singapore has grown its landmass by about a quarter since the 1960s. The republic is often thought of as a single small island jammed with skyscrapers and state-of-the-art highways that can whisk you from end-to-end in about half an hour. In fact, the country is composed of anywhere between roughly 40 and 70 islands ¡ª though few residents can put a precise figure on it. Land reclamation has merged some islands over the years for industrial use, while others appear to be little more than a cluster of rocks and shrubs. A handful are reserved for the military.
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