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Recently, I have had the pleasure of touching grass.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
Mainly because I have been forcing my friend to hit 10,000 steps a day so she can lose weight, and somehow I became an unpaid walking coach every Sunday. And no, before anyone asks, I am not a personal trainer. Just a retired athlete with too many opinions.
So thanks to the algorithm, I started seeing news about Maju Forest being cleared.
15 hectares out of 23 hectares.
That’s roughly the size of 21 football fields.
And for what?
BTOs.
Now before anyone starts typing an angry comment, I’m not against housing. People need homes. I get it.
What I don’t understand is why clearing a forest has become the solution we keep defaulting to.
Building for a Population That Isn’t Growing?
Singapore’s birth rate has been declining for years. We have an ageing population. More singles are trying to move out of their parents’ homes (thanks, generational trauma). More Singaporeans are exploring opportunities overseas because salaries are struggling to keep pace with the rising cost of living. At the same time, we continue bringing in foreign talent and new residents.
So yes, housing demand still exists.
But if housing demand exists for a variety of reasons, shouldn’t we be having a conversation about where we build rather than assuming every remaining patch of nature is fair game?
For a country that constantly reminds us that land is scarce, we seem surprisingly willing to sacrifice the little nature we have left.
If the Land Is Temporary, Why Is the Damage Permanent?
The thing that confuses me is that Singapore already has a system designed around recycling land.
Today, it is 2026 as I am typing this from the comfort of a hotel room staycation.
Many of Singapore’s earliest housing estates were built in the 1960s and 1970s. Within the next few decades, a growing number of these estates will begin approaching the end of their leases, creating opportunities for redevelopment and land recycling on a larger scale.
Which brings me back to Maju Forest.
If we already have a mechanism for reclaiming and redeveloping land, why are we still clearing increasingly rare secondary forests?
Why are we treating nature as the reserve option instead of the last option?
And before someone says, “It’s just a forest.”
It is not.
A forest is not an empty plot of land waiting for a construction project.
It is a habitat and a carbon sink.
It absorbs carbon dioxide from the atmosphere, helps regulate temperatures, reduces the urban heat island effect, improves air quality and absorbs rainwater that would otherwise contribute to flooding.
Remove 15 hectares of forest and the impact is not isolated to that piece of land.
Every tree removed means less shade, less cooling, less carbon sequestration and less resilience against increasingly extreme weather.
Singapore is already getting hotter.
The last decade has repeatedly broken temperature records. We talk about heat stress, climate adaptation and rising energy consumption from air-conditioning. Yet at the same time, we continue removing one of the most effective natural cooling systems available to us.
The irony is difficult to ignore.
There is another reason why forests matter that rarely gets discussed.
Human beings are not supposed to spend 90% of their lives indoors.
Yet that is exactly what many of us do.
We wake up in a concrete box, travel in a metal box, work in another concrete box, exercise in a different concrete box and then return home to the original concrete box.
And somehow we wonder why everyone is stressed.
The Forest Is a Prescription We Don’t Have to Pay For
For years, Dr. Qing Li, Japanese immunologist and clinical professor has been studying what happens to the human body when we spend time in forests.
His research focuses on phytoncides – natural compounds released by trees to protect themselves against insects, bacteria and fungi.
When we walk through a forest, we inhale these compounds.
What makes this fascinating is that the effects are measurable.
In another study, participants who spent time in urban environments did not experience the same benefits observed in forest environments.
Now, before anyone starts hugging trees and throwing away their medication, that does not mean forests are a substitute for healthcare.
But it does suggest something important.
Forests are not simply nice things to have.
They are public health infrastructure which reduce stress, encourage physical activity and improve mental wellebing.
They provide cleaner air, cooler temperatures and a space for people to disconnect from the constant noise of modern life.
In a society where burnout, anxiety and chronic stress are increasingly common, perhaps the question is not whether we can afford to keep our forests.
Perhaps the question is whether we can afford not to.
Because when we cut down a forest, we are not just removing trees.
We are removing one of the few places where human beings can still experience the environment that shaped us for thousands of years.
Some Residents Were Here Long Before Us.
Then there is the issue of biodiversity.
And before your eyes glaze over at that word, let me explain what it actually means.
Biodiversity is essentially a measure of how much life exists within an ecosystem.
Not just the number of trees.
Everything.
The birds. The insects. The fungi. The reptiles. The mammals. The pollinators. The plants. The relationships between them.
Think of it as nature’s version of a credit score.
The higher the score, the healthier and more resilient the ecosystem.
The lower the score, the more degraded and replaceable it becomes.
A mature secondary forest containing rare species, endangered wildlife and complex ecological relationships is worth significantly more than a patch of newly planted landscaping outside a shopping mall.
Maju Forest is not just a collection of trees.
Ecological surveys have documented hundreds of plant and animal species within the area, including dozens of species that are considered to be of conservation significance.
What that means in plain English is this:
Not all green spaces are equal.
A mature forest is not interchangeable with a park.
A row of roadside trees is not interchangeable with a forest.
When a forest is cleared, the animals do not magically relocate to another forest with a spare bedroom waiting for them.
Some species adapt.
Many are displaced.
Others experience population decline because their feeding grounds, nesting sites and ecological corridors have been fragmented or destroyed.
And if endangered species are affected, every hectare lost matters even more.
Once a habitat is gone, it is not as simple as planting a few hundred saplings and calling it a day.
A forest is an ecosystem.
The soil, fungi, insects, birds, mammals, reptiles, pollinators and plant species all develop relationships over decades.
A newly planted forest is not equivalent to a mature forest.
Depending on the ecosystem, it can take several decades before a secondary forest begins to recover basic ecological functions. To develop characteristics resembling a mature forest can take anywhere from 50 to well over 100 years.
Let that sink in.
Building a Future While Clearing It
If we clear a forest today, many of us will not be alive to see it fully restored.
What strikes me as ironic is that sustainability has become a buzzword in almost every industry.
I know this because I studied project management while pursuing my degree. Many project management courses locally strongly emphasize environmental sustainability. Aligned with the Singapore Green Plan 2030, local universities and training providers integrate environmental, social and governance (ESG) metrics, carbon accounting, and resource efficiency directly into their project management curricula.
Every textbook, assignment, framework and case study eventually circles back to the same idea: sustainability.
Not just financial sustainability.
Environmental sustainability.
Social sustainability.
The whole premise is that decisions made today should not compromise the ability of future generations to meet their own needs tomorrow.
In other words, a successful project is not simply one that is delivered on time and within budget.
It is one that creates value without leaving someone else to deal with the consequences later.
Which is why I struggle with the idea of clearing forests in the name of long-term development.
Because if sustainability is truly one of the principles we claim to value, then surely we should be asking whether destroying a decades-old ecosystem today creates a bigger problem for future generations tomorrow.
Maybe there are reasons the planners know that I don’t.
Maybe there are constraints I can’t see from my Sunday walks.
But I think it is fair to ask the question.
If land is truly scarce in Singapore, shouldn’t every remaining forest become more valuable, not less?
We often measure land in hectares, dollars and housing units.
Biodiversity asks a different question:
What is the ecological cost of losing it, and can it ever truly be replaced?
Perhaps the conversation should no longer be about whether we choose forests or housing.
Perhaps the challenge is learning how to do both.
Instead of designing developments that replace forests, why aren’t we designing developments that integrate with them?
Why aren’t we preserving larger ecological corridors, incorporating existing natural habitats into urban planning and treating forests as critical infrastructure rather than vacant land?
For a nation that prides itself on innovation, surely the future is not choosing between people and nature.
The future is figuring out how people can live alongside nature without destroying it.
Build around or with the forest, or through thoughtful integration with the forest.
with the forest.
But stop treating every patch of nature as an obstacle to development.
Because forests are not empty land waiting to be used.
They cool our city, absorb carbon, reduce flooding, protect biodiversity.
They improve and support our mental wellbeing, physical health and make Singapore more liveable.
And perhaps the most radical idea of all is this:
The purpose of a city should not be to eliminate nature.
The purpose of a successful city should be learning how to live alongside it.
Because once a forest is gone, we are not talking about losing trees.
We are talking about losing something that took generations to grow.
And if sustainability means anything at all, it means leaving behind more than concrete for the people who come after us.
[Edited 07 Aug 2026]
Apparently, Singapore signed a pledge to end deforestation by 2030.
Fantastic.
Looking at Maju Forest, I do have one question though:
Are we ending deforestation by protecting our forests, or by making sure there are no forests left to deforest?
[Edited 09 Aug 2026]
Added subheadings for readability.
[Edited 10 Aug 2026]
A Request for Greater Transparency on Singapore’s Housing Demand
For relevant government agency:
If you happen to come across this post, I would like to request that the following data be made publicly available. Since feedback on Maju Forest is still reportedly being reviewed after 6 August, I believe the public should have access to the data behind the housing demand being used to justify further land clearance.
Housing demand
- % of BTO applicants who accept their flat vs. reject/decline it
- % of BTO flats left unsold after each launch
- % of resale flats remaining unsold after 6 and 12 months
- % of BTO owners who sell their flats after MOP
- Total number of vacant HDB flats
Demographics & future demand
- Population growth over the past 10 years and projected over the next 30 years, including citizens, PRs and non-residents
- Citizen birth trends and projections
- Average household size, past and projected
- Number of HDB flats reaching the end of their 99-year leases by decade, starting from 2030
- Number of brownfield/developed sites with leases expiring that could potentially be redeveloped
Alternative land uses
- Golf courses with upcoming lease expiries and their land area
- % of Singapore’s population that actively uses golf courses
Household formation
- % of marriage cohorts from the past 10 years that have subsequently ended in divorce
- % of Singapore’s population living in single-parent households with at least one dependent child, or alternatively, the number/percentage of housing units occupied by such households
The purpose of requesting these figures is simple:
Before clearing an ecologically significant forest for housing, the public should be able to see exactly how much housing Singapore needs, what is driving that demand, and whether existing or previously developed land could meet it.
I am not arguing that Singapore does not need housing. I am asking for transparency on why clearing Maju Forest is necessary to provide it.
And yes, I’m posting this here because the official feedback form has closed while feedback is apparently still being reviewed after 6 August.
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