If you venture to a beach this summer, you might find yourself lounging in a place where boundaries have become blurred due to climate change and ancient legal doctrines. The increasingly common phenomenon known as coastal squeeze occurs when properties erect seaside barriers, such as seawalls, impeding the natural landward migration of beaches. This leads to the alarming reality of disappearing coastlines, backed by a longstanding legal principle from Roman times that underscores the public’s right to access the shores.

Richard K. Norton, a law professor at the University of Michigan, captures the challenge succinctly: “Are you going to save the beach house, or do you want to save the beach?” At a recent conference in New York, he elucidated that the answer is not as straightforward as it might seem. Enshrined in the sixth-century code of Emperor Justinian, the idea that natural resources must be held in trust has found its way into modern American legal frameworks, defined as public property below the high-tide line.

This legal landscape has ignited a battleground of interests: environmentalists advocate against coastal armoring, warning that such measures lead to the loss of public beaches, while property owners facing the threat of inundation argue for compensation if they cannot safeguard their investments. The result? A stalemate evident from Hawaii to South Carolina, as property owners seek to protect their assets while others fight to preserve public access to eroding shorelines.

Coastal geologists indicate that the relentless rise in sea levels, exacerbated by climate change, has led to significant armoring efforts—about a third of the world’s sandy coastlines have already been fortified, leading experts to predict severe beach loss by the year 2100. As yards of beachfront vanish, the protective measures taken by individual homeowners often lead to passive erosion for adjacent beaches, trapping communities in a cycle of destruction.

In areas dependent on beach tourism, various jurisdictions have started imposing restrictions against coastal armoring, however, enforcement and compliance remain significant challenges. Notably, a recent case in Columbia, South Carolina, highlights conflicts over setback rules and fines imposed for unpermitted construction of seawalls—raising questions about the balance between protecting private property and ensuring the integrity of public beach access.

As environmental groups like the Surfrider Foundation contest proposed armoring along crucial coastal areas, there remains a tension between immediate homeowner concerns and the broader implications for public trust resources. With projections suggesting a continued rise in sea levels, the conversation about coastal stewardship is not merely about fences and walls, but rather about maintaining the balance between private ownership and communal rights to the shoreline.

In Rhode Island, the once-abundant beaches now yield tales of loss as hard structures aim to protect roads and utility lines at the expense of the natural landscape. Local residents, who once enjoyed the sandy expanse, now contend with the vestiges of an environment changed by climate action and legal decisions that prioritize hard infrastructure over soft solutions.

The fight for the future of America’s beaches is one that echoes the principles laid down centuries ago, reinforcing the need for collaborative solutions that not only serve private interests but also respect the public’s connection to nature. As we chart our path forward, the question looms larger: do we choose to prioritize short-term gains or recognize the communal heritage embodied in our shores?