Tiong Bahru is an example of the tension between historic preservation and economic development on the small island of 5 million people. Today, Singapore is the epitome of modernity: the gleaming towers, the multi-color lights illuminating the night sky, and the radical architecture that other cities can only dream of. And the landscape is constantly changing to meet new demands, so much so that there’s barely room for the older buildings. [...]
Indeed, Singapore’s government has never really been enthusiastic about historic preservation, and any efforts to hold on to the physical relics of the nation’s past often become mired in political disputes. As my colleague Mimi Kirk reported in June, even the fate of the estate belonging to the late founding prime minister Lee Kuan Yew—himself an outspoken critic of preservation—is embroiled in a bitter and politically charged family feud. [...]
The researchers argue that urban planners and leaders need to evaluate the tangible aspects (the physical buildings or sites), the intangible elements (human-to-human interaction), and the natural surroundings. In fact, it’s these patterns of interactions—and how they spread throughout a city and transform from one generation to the next.
So how do you measure the strength of these interactions over time, and predict how certain development projects might affect them? For starters, look at data that is already abundant and readily available. “What we are trying to measure here is the depth of connection between the people and the [customs] and places,” says Cheong. “If we value this particular building, how much do we value it? The natural way of measuring that would be to see whether people write or paint about this.” Or take lots of Instagram photos (because, you know, Millennials).
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