Modernism emerged in the first decades of the 20th century when architects embraced new building technologies such as reinforced concrete, which allowed them to design things they had never been able to build before, for instance, massive cantilevered overhangs. They were also interested in throwing off the yoke of history and tradition—and, by extension, the ills of previous centuries.

Radical thinkers such as the Swiss-French architect Le Corbusier and German architect Walter Gropius, founder of the Bauhaus art school, proposed an entirely new kind of design whose form was a product of its function, leading to the sleek, minimalist shapes we often associate with modernism today.

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This new movement was wholeheartedly embraced by architects in Singapore. You can see it in Tiong Bahru Estate, the city’s oldest public housing neighbourhood, which was designed by government architect Lionel Langdon Williams in the streamline moderne style and built between 1937 and 1941. After World War II, architects continued to experiment with new approaches, leading to movements like brutalism, which found beauty in raw, exposed concrete, and metabolism, a concept hatched in Tokyo that imagined buildings which functioned like living beings.

Both of those movements found themselves expressed in Golden Mile Complex, which was designed by pioneering Singapore firm DP Architects. Along with People’s Park Complex, which was also completed in 1973, it marked an attempt to chart a new course for post-independence Singapore. “The design concept behind both People’s Park Complex and Golden Mile Complex share one simple belief: that architecture, when done well, can accelerate the process of social bonding, enrich the human experience and uplift lives,” says DP Architects chairman Angelene Chan. 

Both projects were conceived as cities-within-a-city, with spaces to live, work and play. And they each incorporated large, open-air spaces within the complex, based on the architects’ idea of “city rooms”, which they saw as a way of bringing lively street life into the heart of their buildings.

Chan notes that this concept left a lasting impression on Singapore architects, and it continues to inform DP Architects’ own work on commercial buildings such as Bugis Junction, Paya Lebar Quarter and Our Tampines Hub, a community and lifestyle centre in the east of Singapore.

“These buildings are significant on two fronts—internationally and nationally,” says conservation expert Yeo Kang Shua, an associate professor at the Singapore University of Design and Technology (SUTD). Internationally, they serve as valuable examples of metabolism, and locally, they “introduced new ideas about spatial typologies to Singaporeans—an internalised ‘city’ of shops and residences with ‘streets’ in the sky. They are an important part of our architectural and social history,” he adds.

And yet their value isn’t universally acknowledged. “The general public is not aware of this heritage, the history and significance,” says Jonathan Poh, director of multidisciplinary firm WY-TO, who is also a member of Docomomo Singapore’s executive committee and a heritage advocate who is leading the effort to save Dakota Crescent, one of Singapore’s earliest public housing estates, from demolition. “Sentiment is quite mixed. But it’s changing.”  

One can credit that shift in attitude to a few high-profile cases. In 1998, the government announced its intention to demolish the National Library at Stamford Road which was built in 1957 by British architect Lionel Bintley. That sparked a debate over its architectural, social and historical value. “The groundswell of unhappiness was quite unprecedented, and the government took notice,” says Ho. “The very next year, the first batch of modernist buildings was conserved, including Beach Road Camp, a former military barracks.”

Another turning point was the fate of Pearl Bank Apartments. Designed by Tan Cheng Siong and built in 1976, it was once the tallest apartment block in Singapore, and its design was ahead of its time in capturing the breeze and mitigating sun exposure to create pleasant, naturally ventilated spaces. When developers began expressing interest in acquiring and redeveloping the tower, some residents launched a campaign to save it. They were joined by the architects who went on to launch Docomomo Singapore.

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“It really was a colossal effort. We met up with so many people, so many times,” says Poh. But a majority of residents voted to approve the sale, partly because the building’s maintenance fund had dwindled over the years. CapitaLand bought it in 2018 and demolished it the following year after deeming rehabilitation too costly and complicated; the site is being redeveloped to feature a new 39-storey condominium, One Pearl Bank, which will feature a curved design inspired by the original building.

“It caught everyone by surprise. But that started our journey,” says Poh. And it gave them extra motivation to campaign for the conservation of Golden Mile Complex. “I think there was some regret towards (Pearl Bank), which is what pushed the government and the parties involved towards conservation.”

There’s another consideration at play, beyond preserving Singapore’s architectural icons: environmental sustainability. “The total cost may not be lower if you are reusing a building compared to if you redevelop it,” says Ho Puay Peng, the Unesco chair on architectural heritage conservation and management in Asia and head of the department of architecture at the National University of Singapore (NUS). “But in terms of sustainability, it’s definitely the better choice.”

That’s because of something called embodied carbon, which are the emissions represented by the manufacturing, transportation, installation, maintenance, and disposal of building materials. According to green building non-profit Architecture 2030, embodied carbon represents 11 per cent of all global greenhouse gas emissions. One of the easiest ways to reduce that is through the adaptive reuse of existing buildings. “We consume less carbon if we use a building as long as we can, or extend the building life cycle by sensitive retrofitting instead of redevelopment,” says Yeo.

Once a building is conserved, something needs to be done with it. It’s possible to simply fix it up and let it be, which has been the case for countless shophouses in conservation areas around Singapore. But things get more complicated with massive modern complexes sitting on prime city centre property. As they near the end of their land lease, the value of each individual unit declines as maintenance costs go up. “It’s the beginning of the decline,” says Ho Weng Hin. “As residents approach that tipping point, they want to cash out. Pearl Bank Apartments was the first casualty. Later on, it’s Golden Mile Complex and Pandan Valley.”

In the case of Golden Mile Complex, its conservation status likely means URA will partner a developer that will buy out the units and transform the building. That’s a challenge in itself. The building needs to be brought up to the latest building standards, which would require structural and electrical improvements, as well as new green features in order to comply with the Green Plan, which requires existing buildings to have an 80 per cent improvement in energy efficiency over 2005 levels.

All of this will need to be done while respecting the conservation guidelines meant to keep the building’s architectural character intact. “The key is to resist the architect’s ego to impose one’s design values onto these buildings,” says Yeo. 

More intangible issues will also come into play. “When I talk about a building, I like to talk about its spirit,” says Ho Puay Peng. “Sometimes when you turn the building into another use, the spirit is gone.” What will happen to Golden Mile Complex’s Thai community? Can the grassroots character of the building survive a more upscale transformation? “The building is going to be given a new lease of life. My concern is, will this building (still) be accessible to the public?” asks Poh. “Because if not, it will be just another condominium, another gated community. Then what’s the point?”

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These are all outstanding questions. But there’s a good chance the answers will be equally interesting. Singapore’s commitment to conserving its modern architecture is growing. Along with Docomomo Singapore, this year saw the launch of a new master’s degree in architectural conservation at NUS, which is being headed by Ho Puay Peng.

It’s only the second such programme in Asia, after the University of Hong Kong’s architectural conservation programme was launched in 2000. Ho credits that programme with sparking robust public and professional interest in conservation in Hong Kong. “I’m hoping we can use (the NUS degree) to increase awareness,” he says.

Meanwhile, opportunities and challenges abound. Most of the buildings on the Docomomo 100 list have no conservation status—and a few, like People’s Park Complex, are considered at risk of imminent redevelopment. But there are also ongoing projects such as the rehabilitation of the Tanjong Pajar Railway Station, an example of the early modern art deco style, and Kallang Airport’s mid-century terminal and hangars, all of which Ho is working on with his firm Studio Lapis, a Singapore-based architectural conservation specialist consultancy. “Just think of the huge stock of modernist buildings we have,” he says. Their history is still being written.

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