Overcome land scarcity by building water-borne communities

Singapore is known as the “Little Red Dot” for good reason. With a total land area of 719.1 sqkm, the city-state is a tiny dot surrounded by giant neighbours. The government has said that the population is projected to increase to 6.5 million to 6.9 million by 2030, so the need to create more homes and alternative working and recreational environments inevitably puts pressure on finding more space.

At the same time, the island needs to “future-proof” itself and be resilient to the cataclysmic effects of climate change. By 2050, it is estimated that 40 per cent of the global population will be living in river basins that experience severe water stress, particularly in Africa and Asia.

Waterfront cities, such as Miami, will become increasingly depopulated or even abandoned, as the traditional, static responses to flood defence (i.e. barriers or raised accommodation) lack adaptability.

Addressing rising sea levels has, therefore, become a key goal of the Singapore’s recently launched Climate Action Plan.

So far, Singapore has expanded by reclaiming land. Since gaining independence in 1965, the country has expanded by 24 per cent from 580 sqkm to 720 sqkm ; and according to government projections, it will need to expand by a further 10 per cent, or 66 sqkm, by 2030.

It comes as little surprise then that Singapore has become the world’s largest sand importer — a process that has an environmental impact as well as legal and political implications with our neighbours who supply this sand.

Forests in Vietnam have been uprooted by sand miners trying to get at the sandy soil underground; small islands in the Indonesian archipelago have disappeared, and fishing villages in Cambodia have witnessed the destruction of the delicate mangrove ecosystems that supported crabs and fish — the source of the fishermen’s livelihood. These nations have all since imposed export bans on sand, driving up its cost and adding to Singapore’s spatial expansion woes.

Perhaps, instead of pushing the sea even further out, we could embrace it. A water-borne community — where people may live, work, play and learn on floating or piered structures, can address growth while tempering the increasing density (and spatial constraints) of the city.

What the floating community lacks in compactness of infrastructure, it gains in open space and its potential for satellite developments that can expand or contract, according to socio-economic needs. New water towns can grow and connect to the original economic waterfront centres of commerce to effectively form a waterborne-urban “molecular structure” that organically evolves over time into mature communities.

Water-borne communities exist in other countries. The floating market in Bangkok, Thailand; the floating village of Chong Khneas in Siam Reap, Cambodia; and the floating neighbourhoods of Ijburg, Amsterdam are some examples of communities that have learnt to make their homes on water and have proven to be a preferable place to inhabit in light of natural disasters.

As waters rise from flooding, water-borne developments can similarly rise — thus mitigating flood risk. By contrast, land-based developments have to be engineered to move slightly according to seismic or soil settlement influences, or raised above water levels. They may also have flood buffers such as physical water barriers at the doors and windows. All this comes at a cost. Water-borne developments can therefore reduce the risk of flooding and save the city billions of dollars every year in repurposing and rebuilding.

Living or working on or near water is not an alien notion to Singaporeans, nor half the world’s population who reside in cities that were born out of water-driven trade and commerce. Singapore’s mercantile past relied on the open seas to conduct trade and become the entrepot it is today. Singapore’s coastline is also a hospitable living environment as its sheltered coves and bays provide adequate protection against inclement weather and sea conditions.

My vision of building water-borne communities could take place in cities where land value is too costly given the shortage of space; or in areas of potential urban regeneration. For instance, the shift from 19th century industrial, to 20th century technological, to 21st century digital-based economies has seen the decline of some docks that were once the lifeblood of a country’s past economy. Their potential under utilisation allows for regeneration (Keppel Harbour being an example).

In such places, water-borne farming and aquaculture could provide income-generation and be supported by residential “Pods-Off-Grid (POG)”. These could generate their own energy and float out or dock with a larger “hub”, that would contain commercial and community services. A “spine” structure could provide energy, water and essential services that could then link the “hub” to the mainland / dock as the primary means of traversing between the two places.

The Sentosa boardwalk, viewed alongside the bridge and rail system that links Sentosa to the mainland, is a good idea of how future “spines” can host a range of amenities as well as provide vehicular, rail and pedestrian access to the “hubs” they connect to.

Even Marina Bay — a centre of finance as well as entertainment and leisure — could offer opportunities for spatial expansion by becoming a venue for flexible living and work spaces adjacent to its financial centre. Other floating or plug-in elements could host a range of recreational amenities — floating parks, offices, hotels, bars and restaurants — to serve the community, businessmen and tourists alike.

While we have embraced land reclamation as a method of “interacting” with the waters around us, it is not the only means of urbanisation in the foreseeable future. Perhaps it is time to consider the element that constitutes two-thirds of Earth’s surface area and look into constructing alternative floating spaces that will not only save money and be able to support our growing population, but also cope with the challenges of climate change.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Professor Jason Pomeroy is an eco-architect and Founding Principal of Singapore-based sustainable urbanism, architecture, design and research firm Pomeroy Studio. His latest research book, ‘POG: Pod Off-Grid: Explorations Into Low-Energy Waterborne Communities’ explores self-sustaining waterborne communities as an alternative domain to living, working, playing and learning on land in the wake of climate change and rising sea levels.