Seasteading

This book felt like science fiction — until it wasn't.
The premise sounds outrageous at first: build floating cities on the ocean to solve global problems. But page by page, the concept becomes strangely believable. Logical. Even urgent.

I didn’t expect much when I picked it up. Just curiosity. But something shifted. The arguments made sense — about decentralized governance, food and water independence, open experimentation. It didn’t promise utopia. But it offered a testbed for new systems. And that was enough to spark something in me.

The more I read, the more I started questioning why it sounded unrealistic in the first place.
Why shouldn't we reimagine governance from scratch? Why not use the oceans — the largest unclaimed frontier — to prototype better ways of living?

What this book does well is not just explain what Seasteading is, but why the world desperately needs experimentation on this scale. If you've ever felt stuck in the status quo of politics, economics, or urban development, this book hands you an exit door — and dares you to open it.

It didn’t stop with the book.
After finishing it, I found myself spiraling — not into idealism, but deep into research.
I started studying sustainable development, systems thinking, and the circular economy. I looked into ocean farming, modular architecture, carbon capture, off-grid energy. The tech exists. The science is here. The models are being tested — just not yet evenly distributed.

And I realized:
There’s a massive opportunity to integrate these systems — to build something regenerative, beautiful, and self-sufficient.

I remember closing the book and thinking:
"I wish I could help build this."
But I wasn’t near the sea. I didn’t have connections. It felt too far away.
Still, I applied for a remote volunteer role anyway. I sent my resume without expectation. And then, unexpectedly, I got a reply. An interview with Carly Jackson, the Development Director. Soon after, I was part of the team as an illustrator in the Classification Society — I was using my technical drawing skills on real ocean infrastructure — CAD software, experimental structures, serious people with serious intent.

Suddenly, it wasn’t just a book.
It was a gateway.
To people. To purpose. To an idea larger than any one country or landmass.

Everyone I met had one thing in common:
They weren’t there for money.
They were there because the vision was worth trying.

Now, the reality check.
Some solutions felt undercooked.
The tech stack isn’t perfect. The pace is slow. A project meant to escape bureaucracies can get tangled in its own. There’s still a long way to go before the first seastead becomes a livable, scalable model.

But that’s no reason to write it off.
It’s still one of the few honest attempts at systemic reinvention — at the edge of politics, sustainability, and human freedom.

Maybe that’s the point.
It’s not about having all the answers.
It’s about starting somewhere.

In the end, I give it five stars — not because the execution is flawless, but because the vision is rare. And because somehow, I got to play a tiny part in it.