The Business Times article, published online on 31st Aug 31, 2026, makes a deliberately provocative argument: in a small country that must continually adapt, Singaporeans should be careful not to treat every forest patch, familiar view or piece of underused land as untouchable. Its larger thesis is that transformation is part of Singapore’s survival strategy, and that refusing development carries costs too — fewer homes, less economic capacity and fewer options for future generations.
There is considerable truth in that argument. But the framing also has a problem.
“Don’t mourn losing some green spaces” risks making the debate sound like a contest between sentimental residents and rational planners. The actual evidence shows something more complicated. Maju Forest at Sunset Way and the wooded parts of Gillman Barracks contain measurable ecological value; nearby residents bear highly concentrated costs when development occurs; and even the Government has acknowledged that the original plans should be adjusted after public feedback. As of the latest publicly reported update before Sept. 1, more greenery was to be preserved at both sites, with correspondingly fewer homes, while the exact revised plans had not yet been finalised.
The deeper question, therefore, is not simply:
Development or nature?
It is:
How much development is actually necessary, why must it occur here, who gains from it, who loses from it, and what would happen if Singapore chose differently?
Looking at the issue from both the surrounding residents’ perspective and the Government’s perspective produces a much more interesting answer.
What the article gets right — and what it moves past too quickly
The Business Times commentary is strongest when it reminds readers that doing nothing is also a policy choice. Singapore does not possess a large hinterland into which housing, transport, industry and infrastructure can simply expand. URA’s long-term planning framework consequently relies on recycling existing land, building more intensively, co-locating uses, redeveloping brownfield sites and, where planners judge it unavoidable, developing previously undeveloped land.
That matters because the intuitive position — “surely there must be somewhere else” — is easier to state than to implement.
A vacant-looking parcel may already be reserved for a railway, defence, utilities, schools or another future use. A site that becomes available in 2040 cannot meet housing demand in 2030. Land in Tuas is not necessarily an effective substitute for housing near ageing parents in Clementi. A former industrial site may also require years of relocation, remediation, and infrastructure work before homes can be built. This is essentially the Government’s argument in Parliament regarding Gillman Barracks and Sunset Way.
The article also correctly challenges a common assumption: more housing does not automatically mean the Government is trying to increase the population dramatically.
URA explicitly indicates that Singapore could require more homes even if its population remained unchanged, because average household sizes are shrinking, more singles want independent homes, elderly couples increasingly live on their own, and young households have changing space preferences.
But the commentary moves too quickly over another truth: the things being lost are not always interchangeable.
A mature forest corridor is not equivalent to landscaping around a new apartment block. An existing freshwater stream cannot simply be recreated by planting trees beside a drain. And a green view enjoyed every morning by a family for 20 years is an amenity with real subjective — and sometimes financial — value.
The Government’s own environmental studies demonstrate why the concerns cannot simply be dismissed as nostalgia.
At Sunset Way, the approximately 23-hectare environmental study area contains native-dominated secondary forest, abandoned-land forest and a freshwater stream identified as areas of high ecological value. The assessment recorded 286 plant species, including 49 conservation-significant species and five critically endangered wild plant species, as well as 113 fauna species. The site also forms part of an ecological connection toward Clementi Forest through the Old Jurong Line and Rail Corridor.
At Gillman Barracks, the environmental study recorded 293 plant species or species groups and 178 fauna species. The native-dominated secondary forest was assessed as high ecological value, and the landscape helps connect green areas including Telok Blangah Hill Park, Labrador Nature Reserve, Berlayer Creek, Kent Ridge Park and HortPark. Even after mitigation, the EIA says some habitat and fauna impacts can remain in categories ranging up to “moderate negative” — and, for some construction-stage fauna habitat-loss scenarios, potentially “major negative.”
Gillman also has a second dimension that Sunset Way largely does not: heritage. Its heritage assessment traces the site to the colonial military complex developed from 1935 and treats not merely individual buildings but the relationships among structures, topography, landscape and historic spatial patterns as part of its heritage value.
So there is something important to mourn.
The harder question is whether mourning something means society should never change it.
It does not.
From the surrounding owners’ perspective: “Why should this particular place carry the cost?”
Imagine owning a home beside Maju Forest.
For years, part of what you effectively bought — whether or not it appeared on the title deed — was the experience of the place: less development immediately outside the window, vegetation, birds, shade, a quieter environment and a particular neighbourhood character.
Then the state announces that a substantial portion of the land may become housing.
From a national planning perspective, the resident still owns exactly the same property.
From the resident’s perspective, however, an important part of the property’s environment has changed.
That distinction helps explain why calling all local resistance “NIMBYism” — “not in my backyard” — is too simplistic.
Green space has real economic as well as emotional value
Research using Singapore private condominium and apartment transactions has found that proximity to natural green areas, regional parks, city parks, and smaller nature areas can be reflected in higher property values. It does not follow that every house overlooking Maju Forest will fall in price after redevelopment — that would require a site-specific valuation study — but it does establish that households can place an economically measurable value on nearby greenery.
A separate Singapore study published in the Journal of Regional Science found that households also place a price on lower density within residential developments: a 10 per cent increase in within-development density was associated with about a 5 per cent reduction in price per square metre in the research design used by the authors. Again, this does not directly predict prices around Sunset Way or Gillman Barracks; it concerns density within developments. It does, however, support the broader point that households value space and lower immediate density.
This is why a homeowner’s objection is not necessarily:
“I want the country to solve its housing problem, just not near me.”
It may instead be:
“The state is taking an environmental amenity that forms part of my everyday quality of life and converting it into a benefit for people elsewhere. Have all lower-cost alternatives genuinely been exhausted?”
That is a legitimate distributional question.
Residents bear concentrated costs while the benefits are dispersed
Suppose several thousand new homes eventually arise in an area.
The benefits are extensive. Future buyers obtain housing. Adult children may live closer to parents. Shops gain customers. The Government expands supply. The transport network is used more efficiently.
But the costs are much more concentrated.
The households immediately beside the project experience years of construction, additional traffic, changed views and potentially different wind, noise and neighbourhood conditions. Wildlife habitat is lost locally rather than abstractly. The family overlooking the forest may lose something every morning; the beneficiary of the new flat may live several kilometres away.
That asymmetry matters in public policy.
It also explains why nearby residents are usually much more motivated to participate in consultations than hypothetical future residents who do not yet know they will someday live there.
And at Sunset Way there is another complication: redevelopment can simultaneously impose a loss and create a gain for existing owners.
Cross Island Line Phase Two is scheduled to include Maju station and improve MRT accessibility for Sunset Way, an area LTA noted was not previously served directly by an MRT line; the phase is scheduled to open in 2032. Better transport accessibility and a larger neighbourhood can improve convenience and potentially broaden property demand.
Therefore, the honest property-owner conclusion is not that redevelopment will definitely lower surrounding property prices. It is that the net effect is uncertain.
An owner might lose forest frontage while gaining an MRT station, shops and better connectivity. Different properties could be affected differently.
The article is fair to point out that homeowners often benefit financially from the very urban development they criticise. But financial appreciation does not automatically extinguish legitimate concerns about ecology, neighbourhood identity or quality of life.
A person can simultaneously become wealthier on paper and prefer the place as it was.
The ecological concern is stronger than “I like the trees”
For Maju Forest in particular, the environmental case deserves to be separated from private amenity.
The EIA’s identification of native secondary forest, a natural stream, conservation-significant flora and connectivity toward Clementi Forest means the debate is not merely about ornamental greenery.
Likewise at Gillman Barracks, planners are trying to preserve most areas of high ecological value and maintain corridors toward surrounding green areas precisely because the existing landscape performs a connectivity function. A proposed 30-metre green corridor toward Berlayer Creek is itself framed in the EIA as a compensatory measure.
That distinction is crucial.
There is a large ecological difference between:
“Should a lawn or vacant field be developed?”
and
“Should part of a functioning forest network be fragmented?”
The second deserves a higher evidentiary threshold.
Residents were also proved right about one thing: the plan could change
Perhaps the most significant development after the original proposal is that public pressure produced an adjustment.
The initial concepts retained green spaces equivalent to about 40 per cent at Gillman Barracks and around 35 per cent of Maju Forest. After residents and nature groups asked for greater retention and wider ecological corridors, Minister of State Alvin Tan announced on Aug. 14 that more greenery would be retained than initially proposed, which necessarily meant fewer homes. The precise revised quantities had yet to be determined at that point.
That is important for two opposite reasons.
To critics, it demonstrates that challenging a development is worthwhile: an initial proposal is not necessarily the uniquely optimal one.
To the Government, it demonstrates that the consultation process can change the plan rather than serving merely as a public-relations exercise.
Both interpretations can be true.
Could the housing simply be built somewhere else?
This is probably the strongest question raised by the residents.
The answer after examining the evidence is:
Some housing can absolutely be moved to other sites. But “another location” is not a complete solution because Singapore is already developing many of the obvious alternatives, while several others are unavailable on the required timetable.
The Government’s parliamentary response is unusually useful here because MPs raised precisely this question.
For the Sunset Way proposal, suggested alternatives included the former Ghim Moh bus facility, the former ITE headquarters area around Dover-Medway, and land around Albert Winsemius Lane and Maju Camp. The Government said the former bus-facility site already has BTO housing under construction; Dover-Medway is intended for public and private housing; Albert Winsemius Lane is needed for ongoing Cross Island Line works; and Maju Camp remains required for defence.
For Gillman Barracks, alternatives raised included Depot Lane Industrial Estate, the former Central Manpower Base and a reserve site at Pasir Panjang. According to MND, Depot Lane is already being prepared for future housing, while the former CMPB site is still required by MINDEF and other users; the Pasir Panjang site has existing uses, including an MOE outdoor-learning facility, and is regarded as a longer-term option.
This leads to a distinction that is missing from much of the public argument:
“Brownfield first” makes sense. “Brownfield only” probably does not.
URA highlights this explicitly. As existing uses are phased out, Singapore intends to prioritise brownfield redevelopment — examples include the Greater Southern Waterfront after port operations relocate and the future Paya Lebar Air Base redevelopment. But URA also says land scarcity means some undeveloped sites will still need to be used.
That is a fairly strong case for the Government.
Singapore should prefer recycling already-developed land because the ecological cost is generally lower and existing land gets a second life.
But redevelopment is constrained by sequencing.
- A port cannot become housing until the port moves.
- A military installation cannot become housing while defence planners still require it.
- A Cross Island Line construction site cannot simultaneously become a residential estate.
- And a site that becomes available 15 years from now cannot solve a housing requirement planners believe will emerge during the next decade.
There is also a geographic issue. Housing supply is not perfectly fungible.
A flat in Tengah is not exactly equivalent to a flat in Clementi for a young couple whose parents provide childcare in Sunset Way. A home in the far west is not the same as housing near Telok Blangah for an elderly parent whose children live nearby. URA’s policy of putting more homes near transport and employment nodes reflects precisely these accessibility considerations.
Nevertheless, the residents’ challenge remains valuable.
The Government should not merely say, “other sites are difficult.”
For environmentally sensitive locations, the stronger standard is:
Show why the alternatives are worse.
A transparent alternatives assessment could compare each candidate site’s available date, expected number of homes, infrastructure cost, ecological cost, transport access and displaced existing uses.
That would shift the debate from trust to comparison.
And if a forested site still emerges as the least damaging practical choice, the Government’s case becomes substantially stronger.
From the Government’s perspective: why does Singapore keep developing?
To understand the Government’s position, one has to zoom out from the particular trees visible from a particular apartment.
The state is planning not for one property owner but for several generations of households — while simultaneously allocating essentially the same island among housing, ports, airports, defence, reservoirs, roads, railways, industry, schools, hospitals, parks and nature.
From that vantage point, “leave it alone” has an opportunity cost every time it is applied.
First, the number of homes is not the same thing as the number of people
This is the most important misconception in the debate. Suppose 10,000 people once lived in households averaging four people.
They would require roughly 2,500 homes. If the same 10,000 people later formed households averaging two people, they would require 5,000 homes.
Population: unchanged. Homes needed: doubled.
URA actually uses this example essentially to explain Singapore’s future housing challenge. It identifies smaller families, singles forming independent households and empty-nester households as reasons more housing may be necessary even with a stable population.
Singapore’s resident-household count has consequently become an increasingly important planning variable, not merely total population.
The housing question is therefore partly demographic, but it is also about household formation.
Second, today’s housing demand originates in births decades ago
There is a timing problem in demographics. A fall in births today does not instantly reduce housing demand.
The people applying for first homes in 2026 were largely born decades earlier. Meanwhile, existing residents continue to divorce, remarry, form smaller households, age alone or seek homes close to family.
This is why it would be a mistake to argue:
“Birth rates are low, therefore Singapore should stop building homes.”
Low fertility affects long-term demand, but housing markets respond to the stock and structure of today’s households.
Third, supply is part of affordability policy
Government housing policy is not merely about having enough physical units. Supply is also one of the tools used to prevent scarcity from translating into continually escalating prices.
The Government has been expanding both public and private housing pipelines, while periodically calibrating land releases against market conditions. In the private market, MND’s second-half 2026 Government Land Sales programme was intended to lift the overall private residential supply pipeline, including executive condominiums, to around 61,000 units.
One therefore cannot evaluate an individual parcel solely by asking whether there are enough flats today.
Land-use planning is conducted years ahead because acquiring land, designing neighbourhoods, relocating uses, building roads and constructing housing all take time.
A shortage visible only after it becomes severe is already late from a planner’s perspective.
Fourth, Singapore continually redevelops because standing still has costs
The Government’s broader economic argument is also more sophisticated than “more people = more GDP”.
Singapore’s 2026 Economic Strategy Review explicitly says that as the economy matures and resource constraints become more binding, future growth and good jobs cannot come from scale alone. Its recommended response includes higher productivity, artificial intelligence, automation, stronger global economic links, and a focus on high-value sectors.
That is an important qualification to the Business Times article. Development matters to Singapore.
But the Government’s own economic strategy does not imply that Singapore must keep adding people, buildings, and land consumption indefinitely to remain viable.
It is increasingly trying to extract more value from each worker and each square metre.
That, in fact, makes careful land use more important, not less.
Does Singapore really need a larger population to survive?
This question needs a particularly careful answer because two apparently contradictory statements from the Government are both true.
The Government does not have a fixed numerical population target that Singapore must reach.
At the same time, the Government does regard demographic decline as a serious—even “existential”—national challenge.
Those are not the same claim.
Singapore is not officially pursuing a predetermined population number
In January 2026, the Government reiterated that it uses multiple population scenarios for infrastructure planning rather than planning around a single future number. It expected the population to remain significantly below 6.9 million in 2030, while keeping 6.9 million as a planning parameter for the 2030s.
The National Population and Talent Division has also explicitly stated that the Government has no 10-million population target and does not seek a particular population size for its own sake.
So interpreting every new housing estate as evidence of a plan to push Singapore rapidly toward some predetermined population ceiling is not supported by current official policy.
But the demographic problem is real — and it became more acute in 2026
The latest full Population in Brief available as of Sept. 1 remains the 2025 edition. It recorded a total population of 6.11 million in June 2025, comprising around 4.20 million residents — citizens and permanent residents — and 1.91 million non-residents. The citizen population was about 3.66 million.
That distinction matters enormously.
“Singapore has 6.11 million people” can create the impression that the domestic citizen population is surging.
In reality, the 2025 annual report says the previous year’s increase was mainly due to growth in the non-resident population, particularly Work Permit holders associated with construction and infrastructure projects.
Meanwhile, the citizen population is ageing rapidly. In June 2025, 20.7 per cent of citizens were 65 or older, compared with 13.1 per cent ten years earlier.
And fertility has deteriorated further.
The resident total fertility rate was 0.97 in 2024. In February 2026, Minister Indranee Rajah announced a preliminary 2025 resident TFR of just 0.87, the lowest recorded, alongside roughly 27,500 resident births. She explicitly described the declining TFR as an “existential challenge.”
Deputy Prime Minister Gan Kim Yong similarly argued in February 2026 that Singapore’s small size makes it unusually sensitive to demographic shifts and said the Government hopes to maintain a stable, preferably modestly growing, citizen core. He also announced an intended range of roughly 25,000 to 30,000 new citizenships annually over the coming five years, subject to demographic conditions, and estimated around 40,000 permanent-resident grants annually, while stressing that Singapore was not pursuing growth for growth’s sake.
So when the user asks whether Singapore’s “survival” really depends on population, the most accurate answer is:
Not on continuously increasing the total headcount. But the Government believes the population’s structure matters enormously to long-term national resilience.
Why demographic decline worries the Government
Imagine a society in which every successive generation is dramatically smaller than the previous one. Eventually there are fewer working-age residents relative to retirees.
The pool available for the workforce, tax base and national institutions grows more slowly or contracts. Healthcare and eldercare demand rises as the population ages.
A small domestic market becomes even smaller.
And in Singapore’s unusual case, demographic trends also intersect with defence manpower, because the country relies on citizen National Service rather than a large professional standing military.
Those pressures do not mean the country “disappears” when population stops growing.
They mean society faces harder choices about taxes, retirement ages, manpower, healthcare productivity, immigration, technology and the level of economic growth people expect.
That is why the Government can legitimately call ultra-low fertility existential without proving that 6.5 million people would automatically be safer or more prosperous than 6.1 million.
The important variable is not simply population quantity.
It is the combination of age structure, skills, productivity, citizenship, workforce participation and dependency.
Population growth is one tool, not the only tool
A country facing demographic ageing has several possible responses, and Singapore is already using multiple ones.
- It can make workers more productive through technology.
- It can redesign jobs