Every time someone expresses sadness over any redevelopment plans, or contests them, we hear the same, well-polished statement: Singapore is a small island nation, which means balancing our country's needs within our limited land requires difficult trade-offs. One recent example is the Peace Centre mall, which is slated for demolition in 2024. Singaporeans familiar with the mall expressed sadness to see it go. Similarly, the recent announcement that a new indoor arena would replace the Singapore Indoor Stadium (SIS) sparked dismay over the potential loss of this iconic landmark, even though the authorities have not confirmed that the SIS would indeed be demolished.
There are many excellent reasons for demolishing old buildings. Redevelopment allows for greater intensification of limited land. Older buildings nearing the end of their functional lifespan require more frequent and expensive maintenance works. Replacing fading structures with newer buildings with more resource-efficient designs and systems can also reduce Singapore's resource footprint.
It's also true that old buildings may also not be optimally configured for Singapore's changing population demographics nor its evolving economy. For these reasons, being able to refresh our building stock is important, which is why residential and commercial sites sold by the Government are offered on 99-year, and sometimes shorter, leases. When leases expire, the land is returned to the state and resold for development, ensuring constant renewal of our urban landscape.
Saying goodbye to buildings is an inevitable part of living in Singapore today. However, rapid redevelopment comes with a substantial cost, especially when what gets torn down isn't even old to begin with. A recent analysis by Stacked, a real-estate website, concluded that most residential projects in Singapore were redeveloped after 19 to 24 years - a mere fraction of the functional lifespan of a building.
And rapid redevelopment is not restricted to the residential sector. Even relatively new commercial buildings get torn down - such as JCube in Jurong, only 11 years after it was built.
Some criticise Singapore's rapid churn of buildings as wasteful and say that it directly contradicts the nation's commitment towards cutting carbon emissions.
For others, the losses associated with urban redevelopment are much more intimate. They speak of communities that have dissipated with their respective buildings. They reminisce about the memories tied up in shared public spaces and private corridors, and express a sense of dislocation as unfamiliar buildings spring up in once recognisable places. Some even describe a sense of helplessness, not knowing when or where the next demolition might occur, nor how to meaningfully protest against these changes.
The truth, however, is that we may not have a choice. Entire HOB towns with leases ending around the same time suggest a seismic wave of redevelopment is on the horizon. As a preview of what might come, we can look at experiences from the estate-wide redevelopment of Tanglin Halt under HDB's Selective En bloc Redevelopment Scheme (Sers).
Interviews with long-term residents who were relocated described a profound sense of loss and disruption, despite HDB's efforts to relocate residents nearby to maintain some sense of
place and community.
This makes it critical to relook our stance towards redevelopment. What should stay and what should go? Can certain key aspects of a neighbourhood be preserved while others are rebuilt? Who gets to decide? What safeguards can be in place to ensure all voices are equally respected, even those who might lack the capacity to shout loudly?
Beyond Historical Conservation
Policymakers and citizens often position heritage conservation as a bulwark against the dislocation engendered by rapid urban change. During a 2023 parliamentary debate, Second Minister for National Development Indranee Rajah shared: “While we cannot conserve each and every older building, we nevertheless want to feel that sense of familiarity and connection as we walk through our streets. Today, we already carefully consider how to safeguard our heritage as a key part of urban planning. In the last 30 years, over 7,200 heritage buildings and structures have been conserved.”
Her comments clearly position conservation efforts as the primary way to safeguard Singaporeans’ connection to the built environment. But while the buildings slated for demolition might be tremendously significant to the communities they serve, they often fail to pass muster when held up against the lofty criteria for conservation.
A 1993 publication by the Urban Redevelopment Authority (URA) and the then Preservation of Monuments Board laid out a list of values that a building of “national historical or cultural significance” worthy of conservation should possess. First is aesthetic value, which is assessed based on the material qualities of the building. Second is historic value, which requires a building’s connection with historic figures or events. Third is social value, defined as whether it is a focus for the sentiment of the nation or a racial group. Fourth is technological value, defined as the rarity and quality of technology that was available at the time of construction. What aesthetic, historic, social or technological value, thus defined, could a neighbourhood school tucked away in an HDB estate be evaluated to possess, even if it is of deep personal value for former students or nearby residents?
Whose Voices Get Heard?
Heritage conservation, if not carefully managed, can worsen societal inequality. Conserved buildings are rare, expensive assets, and have been shown to increase property values of nearby developments. This “positive” effect on property prices could in turn trigger neighbourhood gentrification in which the less well-off residents get displaced. The better-resourced, better-connected groups are also more likely to lobby for conservation.
We have seen how alumni of prestigious schools like Singapore Chinese Girls’ School and Methodist Girls’ School actively engaged the authorities to conserve their former school premises, with varying degrees of success. In contrast, less prestigious schools, even those with buildings with relatively long histories like the former New Town primary and secondary schools, get demolished without substantial opposition. Whose memories then are more likely to be preserved, and who gets to benefit from such preservation?
While heritage conservation is important, given its inherent limitations, a more substantial rethink of Singapore’s development priorities and processes is necessary.
Protecting The Vulnerable
As we renegotiate our approach to urban change – including the need to demolish and rebuild – we will need to listen to those most likely to be affected. Each time a space is redeveloped, we need to consider the impact of the dislocation on older residents, particularly in the light of Singapore’s ageing population.
Older adults are particularly attached to their immediate neighbourhoods, as they are likely to face mobility and cognitive challenges that shrink how far they are able to travel. These challenges also render them more reliant on familiar landmarks and facilities to navigate and meet their daily needs than their younger counterparts.
One can imagine the negative impact of a rapidly shifting urban landscape on the social, physical, emotional and cognitive well-being of older Singaporeans. Furthermore, the shrinkage of the family unit over time arguably elevates the importance of community ties as a support mechanism. If we fail to protect place-based communities, what are people left with to lean on?
That is why it is important to know what are the elements of neighbourhoods that residents, especially older ones, deem critical to retain. Can we slow the cycle of demolition and rebuilding of these key elements to protect personal or localised communities’ histories and identities for as long as possible? Might more inclusive, participatory neighbourhood planning approaches help Singaporeans, especially those that are more socially vulnerable, feel more in control of their environments? A greater sense of agency can in turn help one cope better with other unavoidable stresses from urban change.
If unmitigated, the upcoming demolitions and reconstructions that are scheduled to occur in clusters over the next few decades as land leases run out are likely to be jarring. There is an urgent need to identify ways to moderate such shocks. The initiation of new schemes like the Voluntary Early Redevelopment Scheme (Vers) that seeks to spread out the pace of redevelopment represents a bold but potentially contentious approach. As details of Vers are still being worked out, the time seems ripe for a broader, collective renegotiation of Singapore’s priorities around redevelopment, especially regarding how the social costs and benefits of urban change can be equitably distributed.
As we step into uncharted waters, the Government and citizens have to work together to negotiate a new balance.
This article was first published in
The Straits Times on 9 March 2024.