Have you ever imagined stepping into a country where there are no traffic lights, barely any tourists, and the ocean is never more than a few hundred metres away? A place so small it measures just 10 square miles, yet so fragile that scientists fear it could be swallowed by the sea within your lifetime?
That country exists. It’s called Tuvalu, the least-visited nation on Earth. But beneath the postcard-perfect beaches and slow island life lies an critical truth: Tuvalu is the most threatened country to climate change, quite literally sinking. The country is now preparing for the world’s first planned national migration program.
Tucked away in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, somewhere between Hawaii and Australia, Tuvalu consists of just nine coral atolls and islands, amounting to barely 10 square miles of land. Its population hovers at around 11,000, most living on the narrow strip of Funafuti, where the lagoon glimmers on one side and the open ocean churns on the other.
In 2021, only 40 international tourists arrived; fewer people than many luxury resorts witness in a single evening. Even in better years, annual visitor numbers rarely cross 200. But what Tuvalu lacks in numbers, it carries in significance. With an average elevation of just two metres above sea level, this tiny nation has become a symbol of what the climate crisis means when geography and vulnerability collide.
The water is rising, and Tuvalu is running out of time. According to NASA’s Sea Level Change Team, seas around Tuvalu were already 15 centimetres higher in 2023 compared to the average of the previous three decades. If the trend continues, most of its land, homes, and critical infrastructure could be submerged by 2050.
Two of its nine atolls are already largely underwater. Storm surges frequently push seawater into homes, and high tides lap against roads. For Tuvaluans, climate change isn’t a future scenario, it is the ground shifting beneath their feet.
In 2023, Tuvalu signed the Falepili Union Treaty with Australia, creating the first-ever planned national migration program. Each year, 280 Tuvaluans will be given the chance to relocate to Australia with permanent residency, access to health care, housing, education, and jobs. The interest has been overwhelming. In the very first application round, 8,750 registrations came in; nearly the equivalent of Tuvalu’s entire population. Experts warn that within a decade, almost 40 per cent of Tuvaluans may have moved abroad, though some will inevitably travel back and forth.
Australian Foreign Minister Penny Wong described the program as a way for Tuvaluans to resettle “with dignity as climate impacts worsen.” Still, the reality is bittersweet as leaving behind ancestral land and centuries of culture, even if survival demands it.
If you try to picture Tuvalu today, you must look beyond guidebook notions of “attractions.” Its treasures are often intimate, rooted in both nature and community. The Funafuti Marine Conservation Area spreads out in brilliant blues, home to shoals of reef fish, turtles gliding lazily, and coral gardens that pulse with colour. On the tiny islets of Fualopa and Funafara, families still live close to the sea, relying on fishing and weaving as generations before them have done.
On land, history and identity leave their marks in quieter places. The Philatelic Bureau sells the stamps that once carried Tuvalu’s name around the world, tiny artworks from a nation most people had never heard of. Not far away is David’s Drill, the site where 19th-century scientists tested Charles Darwin’s theory of atoll formation, embedding Tuvalu in the story of scientific discovery.
The National Library serves not only as a collection of books but also as a gathering place, while the Church of Tuvalu remains a centre of community life, opening its doors for both national events and everyday worship. In the Women’s Handicraft Centre, pandanus mats, fans, and woven crafts preserve skills passed down like heirlooms. These are not attractions designed for outsiders, but fragments of Tuvalu’s lived culture and threads of memory that its people are determined to carry with them, whether across oceans or into digital space.
Indeed, Tuvalu is fighting to preserve itself in new ways. In 2022, the government announced a plan to become the world’s first digital nation, scanning its islands in 3D and creating a virtual homeland where culture, governance, and sovereignty can survive, even if the land disappears. Prime Minister Feleti Teo has urged the global community to adopt an international treaty on sea level rise, to guarantee the rights of nations whose very geography is at risk of vanishing.
Tuvalu may be small, but its story is enormous. It’s the tale of a nation caught between beauty and loss, tradition and survival, presence and erasure. For now, the islands still stand—quiet, remote, and almost untouched. But in a few decades, Tuvalu could become the first country in history to exist entirely in memory and in the digital world.
The question is, will we remember it?
Q1. Which is the least-visited country in the world?
Tuvalu, in the Pacific Ocean, is the least-visited country in the world, receiving fewer than 200 tourists a year.
Q2. Why is Tuvalu the least-visited country?
Tuvalu is remote, tiny (just 10 square miles), and lacks large-scale tourist infrastructure, making it one of the hardest places to reach.
Q3. Is Tuvalu really sinking?
Yes, Tuvalu faces rising sea levels from climate change. Parts of its atolls are already underwater, and experts warn it could be submerged by 2050.
Q4. Where is Tuvalu located?
Tuvalu is a Pacific island nation between Hawaii and Australia, made up of nine coral atolls and islands.
Q5. Can tourists visit Tuvalu?
Yes, Tuvalu is open to visitors. Attractions include Funafuti Marine Conservation Area, traditional handicrafts, the National Library, and historic atoll sites.