From Boo Jia Cher

You are likely to have dreamed of a landed home, in Petaling Jaya or Subang, or even further away in Elmina or Rawang. Perhaps you grew up in one and want to relive the experience.

Six bedrooms. Five bathrooms. Three cars. A garden. For many Malaysians, it is the symbol of having “made it”. But at what cost?

You spend 159 hours a year in traffic. You need a car for every errand. Friends live too far for regular visits. Mortgages and maintenance are costly. And that quiet suburban life? Often lonely and isolating.

This is not just personal preference, it is a socially reinforced aspiration. When enough people buy in, the market responds: developers push cities outward, clearing forests and carving out distant townships.

Many housing development companies are part of sprawling conglomerates. They convert degraded palm oil land in rural areas for housing.

This is common: once plantation land is exhausted of nutrients for crops, it is rezoned and sold as suburbs. Highways follow, often built by the same entities. Many of these highways now link these far-flung areas to KL.

The result? Urban sprawls, longer commutes, more tolls, higher emissions and lost biodiversity. Tapirs, elephants, and tigers have been killed on highways cutting through what were once forests.

It is not wrong to dream of a better life. But those dreams are making our cities worse.

Only two choices?

But why do we have to choose between a far-off landed home and an isolating 25th-floor unit?

There is, in fact, a third option — low- to mid-rise walk-up apartments in existing urban neighbourhoods. Often called the “missing middle”, these medium density buildings offer proximity without the impersonality of high-rises.

Imagine a modest walk-up apartment in a mature neighbourhood in the heart of KL with trees, as well as grocery stores and eateries within easy reach. The LRT is five minutes away. You run into neighbours on the street, not behind windshields.

This isn’t radical. In Melbourne, suburbs like Fitzroy and Brunswick mix mid-rise housing with transit, shops and walkability. In Tokyo, low-rise, mixed-use zoning creates vibrant areas like Nakameguro, built for people — not just cars.

Back home, old towns such as George Town and Ipoh were once walkable and lively. Today, many are hollowed out, as locals move to the suburbs and urban cores are left to gentrify.

Malaysia’s chance to get it right

The upcoming Urban Renewal Act could be a turning point.

Older KL neighbourhoods like Sentul, Brickfields and Pudu, often seen as ageing and dilapidated, already have walkable grids, moderate density, and good transit links. They hold immense potential.

But renewal must avoid the “clean slate” approach. We need community-led, incremental upgrades: refurbish shophouses, add mid-rise homes, improve drainage, walkways, bike lanes, sanitation, and public services.

Urbanist Jane Jacobs wrote, “New ideas must use old buildings”. With smart policies, we can turn these older neighbourhoods into thriving, transit-rich communities.

Child-friendly cities, where kids walk or bike to school and play safely, support better child development. In Copenhagen and Freiburg, mid-rise housing for families is the norm, with shared spaces and streets with few cars.

If you don’t need a car to function, that’s money and time freed for what matters.

In Melbourne, Nightingale Housing builds mid-rise, affordable homes with no car parks, but equipped with solar panels, and shared gardens, all near transit. It proves dense, urban living can be sustainable and community-oriented.

Shutting ourselves in an unliveable city

In KL, green spaces are scarce, sidewalks are poorly maintained, and public transport is limited.

As a result, people drive between work and home, then shut themselves in. KL rarely feels like a city that invites you to linger outdoors or explore on foot.

The problem isn’t small homes. It’s a city that hasn’t made them liveable. People crave big lawns because they want access to green. Developers now sell condos with endless facilities because public space is lacking. People have become consumers of amenities, not citizens of a city.

That is how badly KL’s urban planning has failed.

For too long, we have been stuck with two extremes: sprawling bungalows or soulless high-rises. They are easy to build but do not reflect what people really need.

It is time to demand better: homes with dignity, walkability, and connection — close to work, schools, and public spaces.

We can’t keep building 40-storey towers with 10 floors of parking, or push families to the outskirts. Developers must work with the city to make mid-rise, human-scale, liveable neighbourhoods a reality.

A home isn’t just about space. It is about freedom, community, and belonging to a city.

Boo Jia Cher is an FMT reader.

The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of FMT.