Economists call it “existence value”: the worth people place on simply knowing that something continues to exist, even if they never visit it or make use of it themselves. You might donate to save whales or protect rainforests because you believe they matter, even if you never see or enjoy them.

This same idea, Tan Dawn Wei argues, may explain the strong public reactions to the planned redevelopment of Maju Forest, Gillman Barracks and, more recently, the conditional en bloc sale of Tan Boon Liat Building. None of these places attracts large crowds. Gillman Barracks, with its cluster of art galleries, is so quiet on most days that it feels detached from the rest of Singapore. Tan Boon Liat Building draws a niche following of furniture hunters and design enthusiasts. Maju Forest is not even an NParks-managed nature reserve, but a patch of secondary forest that is more useful to critically endangered Sunda pangolins than weekend hikers.

Yet many Singaporeans take comfort simply from knowing these places remain part of the city’s fabric.

Since HDB published its environmental and heritage reports and announced conceptual plans for Maju Forest and Gillman Barracks on July 10, petitions opposing the proposals have emerged.

About 15 hectares of the 23-hectare Maju Forest along Sunset Way are proposed for public housing, while approximately 8 hectares will be retained as wildlife refuges and ecological corridors. HDB’s baseline study recorded 286 flora and 113 fauna species on the site, highlighting critically endangered animals known to inhabit the forest, such as the straw-headed bulbul and the Sunda pangolin.

At Gillman Barracks, the Heritage Impact Assessment proposed retaining 25 of the site’s 86 buildings and turning the land into a mixed-use residential neighbourhood featuring both public and private housing.

Environmentalists argue that carving up Maju Forest into smaller patches and narrow ecological corridors will leave endangered wildlife with insufficient connected habitat to survive. Heritage groups, meanwhile, say retaining only a fraction of Gillman Barracks would rob the site of the critical mass needed to preserve its historical character.

At the heart of the debate is the perpetual tension of a city-state: the relentless, pragmatic need for housing colliding with a growing desire to preserve the island’s historical soul and ecological lungs. Singapore’s population grew from 5.54 million in 2015 to 6.11 million in 2025, and it consistently ranks among the top three most densely populated territories in the world alongside Monaco and Macau.

What is interesting about the current debate, Tan writes, is its civic maturity. It is not NIMBYism driving it; on the contrary, the public response is increasingly informed, fuelled by a desire to exhaust all alternatives before sacrificing irreversible assets. The Maju Forest campaign, for example, identifies a nearby older housing estate and other brownfield sites that it believes could be redeveloped more intensively before clearing forest.

HDB has stressed that the development plans are not final and it is seeking public feedback until Aug 6. As Tan notes: “A forest designated for housing in 1980 is not the same forest today, nor do Singaporeans necessarily view it through the same lens.” Today, perhaps “existence value” deserves a place in the equation too.