I Used to Float: Why We Stopped Dreaming of the Floating Cities

I Used to Float: Why We Stopped Dreaming of the Floating Cities

I remember sitting in a design seminar back in 2018 where the speaker showed a slide of a "lilypad city." It was white, curvy, and looked like something out of a high-budget sci-fi movie. People were nodding. We were all obsessed. The phrase i used to float isn't just a nostalgic sentiment; it captures a specific era of architectural optimism where we genuinely believed we were about to colonize the oceans. We thought we had the tech. We thought we had the money. Mostly, we thought we had the time.

But things changed.

The dream of the floating city, or seasteading, has hit a wall of reality that most futurists didn't see coming. It wasn't just about the engineering. It was about politics, salt, and the crushing weight of the ocean.

The Rise and Fall of Seasteading Dreams

The concept of "i used to float" started with the Seasteading Institute, founded by Patri Friedman and backed by Peter Thiel. They had this vision of autonomous city-states in international waters. It was going to be a libertarian utopia. No taxes, no old-world regulations, just innovation on the high seas.

Honestly? It was a mess from the start.

Engineering a permanent structure in the middle of the ocean is a nightmare. You aren't just fighting water; you're fighting physics. Saltwater eats metal. Waves provide constant kinetic stress. If you've ever owned a boat, you know that "B-O-A-T" stands for "Bring On Another Thousand." Now, imagine that, but for a city of 10,000 people.

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Blue Frontiers and the French Polynesia Fiasco

Around 2017, a project called Blue Frontiers tried to make this happen in French Polynesia. They signed a Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) with the government. People were buying the "i used to float" lifestyle before the first pontoon was even cast. But the locals weren't having it. They saw it as a new form of colonialism—wealthy tech bros parking their tax-free platforms in a lagoon while the locals dealt with the environmental fallout.

The government eventually backed out. The MOU expired. The dream drifted away.

Why the Engineering Failed the Vision

We talk about floating cities like they’re Lego sets. They aren’t.

Most of the early designs relied on modular hexagonal platforms. The idea was that you could just "plug and play" new houses or parks. But the ocean is a dynamic environment. To keep a platform stable enough that people don't get seasick every time a storm rolls through, you need massive dampening systems.

You need something like a Spar platform or a semi-submersible rig. These are incredibly expensive. We’re talking billions of dollars for a small neighborhood. When you look at the economics, the "i used to float" dream starts to look like a very expensive cruise ship that doesn't go anywhere.

  • Corrosion: Salt spray is relentless. You need specialized alloys or high-performance concrete.
  • Waste Management: You can't just dump sewage into a reef. You need a closed-loop system that is 100% reliable.
  • Energy: Solar is great until a hurricane covers your panels in salt and debris.

The UN-Habitat Shift

Interestingly, the conversation shifted from libertarian sea-villas to climate change adaptation. In 2019, UN-Habitat held a roundtable on floating cities. This wasn't about escaping taxes; it was about the fact that 90% of the world’s largest coastal cities are at risk from rising sea levels.

Oceanix City, designed by BIG (Bjarke Ingels Group), became the new face of the movement. This wasn't for billionaires. It was for the people of Busan or the Maldives.

The Busan project is actually moving forward, albeit slowly. They’re looking at it as a way to extend the city's footprint onto the water. It's less "seasteading" and more "floating extension." It’s practical. It’s grounded in local government. It might actually work.

Realities of Life on the Water

If you talk to someone who lives on a houseboat, they'll tell you the truth about the "i used to float" lifestyle. It's damp. Everything is always slightly damp. Your electronics die faster. Your laundry takes twice as long to dry.

And then there's the psychological aspect. Humans aren't necessarily meant to live without a connection to the ground. There's a reason we use the word "grounded" to describe mental stability. Living on a platform that is constantly, even imperceptibly, moving can lead to chronic stress and "land sickness" when you finally step back on solid earth.

I remember reading an interview with a researcher who spent months on a research vessel. They said the hardest part wasn't the waves; it was the lack of a horizon that didn't move. In a floating city, your horizon is always changing.

The Economic Barrier

Let's be real: who pays for this?

Insurance companies are the biggest hurdle. If you want to build a house on land, you get a mortgage and insurance. If you want to build a house on a floating platform in the middle of the Pacific, no bank is going to touch you. You are essentially uninsurable.

This means floating cities are likely to remain the playground of the ultra-wealthy or the desperate project of sinking nations. There is no middle ground yet.

Modern Alternatives to Floating Cities

Since the "i used to float" craze died down, we've seen more interest in "amphibious architecture." These are buildings that sit on land but can float when a flood hits. It's much smarter. It uses existing infrastructure but provides a safety net for climate change.

The Dutch are leading the way here. They’ve been fighting water for centuries. Their approach isn't to run away to the ocean, but to live with it. Floating houses in IJburg, Amsterdam, are a prime example. They are tethered to mooring posts, have permanent utility connections, and look like normal houses. They just happen to go up and down with the tide.

The Social Complexity of Sea-States

If you build a city in international waters, who is the police? What are the laws? If someone steals your laptop on a floating platform 200 miles off the coast of California, who do you call?

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The Seasteaders thought "the market" would solve this. In reality, it creates a jurisdictional nightmare. Unless a floating city is recognized as a sovereign state—which is nearly impossible under current international law—it remains under the jurisdiction of the "flag state" of the platform. If your platform is flagged in Panama, Panamanian law applies.

This kills the "innovation" argument. You aren't escaping the old world; you're just making your connection to it much more complicated and expensive.

Actionable Steps for the Future of Floating Tech

If you're still captivated by the "i used to float" dream, don't look at the sci-fi renders. Look at the practical applications that are actually happening right now.

  1. Focus on Amphibious Construction: If you live in a flood zone, investigate buoyant foundation technologies. This is the "floating city" tech that is actually saving lives and property today.
  2. Follow the Busan Project: The Oceanix Busan project is the litmus test for the entire industry. If they can build a functional, multi-platform neighborhood that survives five years of typhoons, the industry will see a massive influx of capital.
  3. Invest in Marine Materials: The real winners in the floating tech space aren't the architects; they're the material scientists. We need better non-corrosive composites and bio-fouling resistant coatings.
  4. Understand the Legalities: Before you ever dream of living on the water, look into "Flag of Convenience" laws and maritime jurisdiction. It’s the least sexy part of the dream, but it's the part that will actually dictate your life.

The era of "i used to float" as a utopian escape might be over. But the era of floating as a survival strategy is just beginning. We aren't building New Atlantis; we're building a way to keep our feet dry in a world where the water is rising faster than we expected.

The dream didn't die. It just grew up and realized it needed a better anchor.