TRY as hard as I could at the weekend, I was unable to make the coastline budge.

I pushed with both hands, put my shoulder to it, and when that failed I changed direction and attempted to pull it outwards from the east, hoping to benefit from the force of the prevailing south-westerly.

All this fruitless exercise proved was what I suspected all along: that the coastline is not made of elastic and cannot be stretched to meet Jersey’s growing demands.

This does not bode well for the future. As the Island needs to grow the economy to pay for all the services our cosseted little society has come to expect, and to support an ageing population, more people have to work to generate enough money to fill the social security pot and the taxman’s coffers.

A growing population needs somewhere to live, and in the absence of a widespread public transport system it also needs cars to get from A to B, as well as schools for its children, etc, etc.

The rapid advance of Jersey plc since the Island became a member of the global tax haven club has set in motion a vicious circle that has consumed land for housing, changed the coastline by reclaiming tracts of the foreshore and seen suburbia spread its Stepfordesque conformity into the countryside.

How many times have Islanders, parishes and pressure groups said ‘Enough is enough’, only for their arguments to fall on deaf ears?

We can walk in valleys with world-famous botanists, sign petitions, line up on the sands or politely voice our concerns at well-ordered public meetings, but still there are demands for more land to be rezoned. Our culture is dominated by a build, build, build philosophy.

Hotels which sustained the economy in the heyday of cheap tourism have largely been replaced by flats, while there is an assumption that disused glasshouses built on farmland in the countryside should automatically be replaced with residential developments as if these agricultural structures occupied brown-field sites.

This autumn alone plans have been unveiled for 73 homes on the dairy site at Five Oaks, and 39 new homes have been approved to replace the Hotel de Normandie at the Dicq in a development that will overwhelm the surrounding area.

However, the biggest whammy of all is contained in the revision of the Island Plan. The draft of the blueprint that will dictate development over the next ten years is currently subject to a public consultation process that ends on Christmas Day.

The last time the plan was reviewed, the process began a year before it was debated in the States, with public exhibitions and meetings in each parish. In addition, the proposals were on permanent display in a town location with planners and ‘experts’ available for questioning. A summary document was also inserted in the JEP.

Anyone wishing to comment on the current proposals can do so by viewing the weighty document online or by paying £25 for a hard copy and a further £5 for the accompanying maps. Reference-only copies can be viewed at the Library, at parish halls, Le Marquand House, Howard Davis Farm and South Hill.

What price public consultation when so much is at stake? A public inquiry is promised before next year’s debate, but unless it includes Islandwide consultation as was undertaken in 2001, with the draft plan available freely for all who wish to peruse it, then the public is being short-changed – if not grossly overcharged.

I wonder whether Islanders outside the minority of usual suspects even realise that any consultation is currently taking place. And how many inmates of the Laughter Factory are weighing up the impact the plan could have on their constituencies?

The draft of the 2010 Island Plan predicts that 4,000 more houses will be required over the next decade, but fortunately a chunk of these are already in the pipeline on the Waterfront, while brown-field sites in St Helier will also account for a large share, leaving seven other parishes to give up land for between 200 and 250 homes.

This strategic document is about far more than rezoning land for housing, but that is what attracts the most attention – none more so than in St Clement, which has done more than any parish outside St Helier in shouldering the Island’s post-Occupation housing boom. This time round, one of the most densely populated parishes is expected to take up to 150 new units on a disused glasshouse site opposite Samarès Manor.

St Clement is already grossly built-up with seemingly endless ribbon development along the coast and inner road and blanket development from the FB Fields to Le Hocq and beyond.

Ten years ago, as a Senator, the current Constable, Len Norman, fought in vain against rezoning land in his parish. Now it’s a case of déjà vu as he yet again musters the opposition. This time, as father of the parish, he is casting his net Islandwide as he seeks support to save what little space is left in his backyard from disappearing under concrete and tarmac.

I have long held the belief that each parish should meet the housing needs of its young people, while sympathising with those whose are forced by the economic reality of residing in Jersey to live cheek by jowl, horned into shoebox town developments.

In the absence of an elastic coastline, the dilemma faced by everyone, not just Planning, Housing and politicians, is to achieve a balance that protects what we all should hold dear. We are not yet at crisis point, but we are fast approaching the point of no return. How many more green-field sites will have to be rezoned to meet the needs of a growing population as the ever-decreasing circle consumes the environment like a black hole?

The 2010 Island Plan is far too important to be tucked away online or to be sold for £30. It should be freely available to us all because it affects everyone.