A City and Its Memory

In his decades-long career as master planner of the country, the 81-year-old veteran designed new towns from scratch, moving droves of people living in squatters to high-rise residential apartment buildings that now dot the island state.

Few places in the world physically change as much as Singapore did.

Just a decade ago, the country's skyline looked completely different. The now-iconic Marina Bay Sands did not even exist on the map. The land that it currently stands on was empty. (It is built on reclaimed land in the sea.) Construction started in 2007, and finished in 2010.

If anything, that speaks volumes about the speed at which the city transforms visually. Many who have been away say they sometimes hardly recognise the place; the old torn down and discarded.

And it's not just the commercial buildings.

In recent years, while new structures have emerged, others have also given way – demolished to make way for redevelopment in the land-scarce country.

One, in particular, has touched a raw nerve: when landmark buildings go.

In 2018, it was rainbow-coloured Rochor Centre. In 2019, it was horseshoe-shaped Pearl Bank Apartments. And before this, many would remember it was the diamond-patterned National Theatre in 1986, and the red-bricked old National Library, which closed in 2004.

"I wish that they would stay," Liu tells me – emphasising it is his personal opinion, which he knows differs from that of the state.

"Those buildings, first of all, are architecturally excellent. They represent a style of the time. They represent a period of our architectural achievement.

"Second, they are beautiful buildings. It is a pity that we've lost them."

It's no wonder Liu holds such sentimentality. To him, buildings embody what he calls our "emotional ties to the land".

"We don't see a plot of land as a heap of earth, but we actually develop a feeling for it.

"It's our way of romancing with the land."

In his eyes, buildings are not just functional. They were also designed to give identity to a place. And for Singapore's ubiquitous public housing flats, Liu cites three examples of this "romance": through void decks, corridors, and civic spaces.

The "void deck" is a uniquely Singaporean term, referring to the ground floor of apartment blocks that has been left open as sheltered space.

"The void deck is a community space for the block people," says Liu. It is where residents gather to meet friends, or where children play.

"Then, we created the segmented corridor, which I call 'courtyard in the sky'.

"It is the smallest unit that creates a sense of community, and a sense of sentiment when you know your neighbours."

The common corridor is the walkway that residents living in flats share across a floor level. Residents decorate it with plants, start herb gardens, and even adorn it with fish tanks and koi ponds.

For civic spaces, Liu lists "squares, outdoor performance stages or plazas", where people go to sit and meet others.

But it appears there is an expiry date to these structures. Their fate is on the line at 99 years old. This is because public housing flats in Singapore, which house over 80 per cent of the population, have a leasehold of 99 years.

This means that after 99 years, the flat goes back to the state and the land is redeveloped for future purposes.

The argument is that without the 99-year lease to recycle the land, Singapore would run out of space to build new flats.

Liu attributes it to being "pragmatic", or in Singaporean colloquialism, being "kiasu", fearful of losing.

But what this also means is that many of Singapore's buildings would exist only in one's lifetime.

In another generation, they may no longer exist, and Singapore might look entirely different again.

"I often say that Mother Nature is the soul of a city, and historical buildings are the memory of the city," Liu says.

"What is a city if it has neither soul, nor memory?"

‍

***

Look up Singapore's buildings, homes and public spaces, and the path often traces to Dr Liu Thai Ker. It is a name that recurs in talks about the architecture and design of the city-state, as Dr Liu is regarded as the father of Singapore's urban planning. A master planner, his vision and contributions have shaped the DNA of Singapore's public housing and town planning.

In 2026, Dr Liu passed away at the age of 87.

This story with Dr Liu Thai Ker was first published in 2020 in the second issue of Meantime magazine.

meantime.sg