Tuvalu

Tuvalu is the world's fourth-smallest country and perhaps its most existentially threatened: nine coral atolls averaging two meters above sea level, facing an ocean that rises roughly three millimeters annually. The math is simple and terrifying.

The Polynesian settlement of Tuvalu predates European contact by at least a millennium. The islands became a British protectorate in 1892 and achieved independence in 1978 after separating from the Gilbert Islands (now Kiribati). The population has never exceeded 12,000—roughly the size of a small American college.

The economy that emerged was subsistence-based and aid-dependent. Coconut cultivation, small-scale fishing, and remittances from Tuvaluans working abroad (primarily as seamen on international shipping vessels) provided income. Foreign aid—primarily from Australia, New Zealand, Japan, and Taiwan—filled gaps that domestic revenue couldn't cover.

Then came an unexpected windfall. The country code top-level domain assigned to Tuvalu was .tv—accidentally valuable as the internet developed and television networks sought memorable URLs. The marketing agreement licensing .tv domain registration generates several million dollars annually, constituting a substantial portion of government revenue. The fishing license fees from Tuvalu's exclusive economic zone—vastly larger than its land area—provide additional income.

Climate change has transformed Tuvalu from obscure Pacific microstate into global symbol. King tides increasingly inundate the capital, Funafuti. Saltwater intrusion threatens the freshwater lenses beneath the atolls. Coastal erosion accelerates. The government has pursued legal strategies to establish that Tuvalu's maritime boundaries and statehood would persist even if the islands become uninhabitable—a question of international law never previously confronted.

The November 2023 Falepili Union treaty with Australia represents the most concrete response: Australia will accept Tuvaluan climate refugees and provide security assistance, while Tuvalu gains a pathway for its population if conditions become unlivable. New Zealand has offered similar, more limited arrangements.

Yet out-migration hasn't accelerated as dramatically as vulnerability might suggest. Tuvaluans have deep attachments to ancestral land, and leaving means abandoning identity as much as geography. Those who leave often seek to return.

By 2026, Tuvalu's trajectory isn't economic in any conventional sense—it's existential. The question isn't how to grow GDP but whether to invest in adaptation (seawalls, land reclamation) or prepare for managed retreat. The .tv domain will keep generating revenue; fishing licenses will continue. But the foundation on which the economy rests—the coral atolls themselves—is what climate change threatens to dissolve.