A better way to live between high-rise condominiums and landed houses

[MALAYSIA] For decades, the landed home—six bedrooms, a garden, space for three cars—has been the ultimate symbol of success for Malaysian families. Yet this aspiration, so deeply woven into the national psyche, comes at a mounting cost: hours lost to traffic, rising living expenses, environmental destruction, and a growing sense of urban isolation. As Kuala Lumpur and its surrounds sprawl ever outward, the promise of a better life is undermined by the very structures meant to deliver it. With the Urban Renewal Act set to reshape the cityscape, Malaysia faces a pivotal choice: double down on outdated models, or embrace a new urban vision that prioritizes community, sustainability, and genuine livability.

The Cost of Sprawl: More Than Just Traffic Jams

Urban sprawl in Malaysia, particularly around Kuala Lumpur, is not just a matter of personal preference—it’s a market and policy phenomenon that has reshaped the nation’s cities and countryside. The expansion of suburbs, driven by developers converting exhausted plantation land and incentivized by government infrastructure projects, has led to a “donut city” effect: hollowed-out urban cores and booming, car-dependent peripheries. Between 2010 and 2018, home prices in Kuala Lumpur surged by 87%, far outpacing wage growth of 59%. The result? Lower-income households are squeezed out, and the rate of homelessness has soared by over 300% in just two years.

The consequences extend beyond affordability. Sprawl means longer commutes—Kuala Lumpur drivers now spend an average of 68 extra hours a year stuck in rush hour traffic. It also means higher emissions, increased public spending on far-flung infrastructure, and the loss of biodiversity as highways carve through former forests. The health impacts are real: more pollution, less physical activity, and a rise in chronic diseases. In short, the dream of suburban bliss is proving unsustainable for both people and planet.

Breaking the False Choice: The Case for the “Missing Middle”

Malaysia’s housing market has long been trapped between two extremes: the sprawling landed home and the high-rise condominium, both of which come with significant trade-offs. But why should families have to choose between distant isolation and vertical anonymity? The answer lies in the “missing middle”—low- to mid-rise walk-up apartments and mixed-use neighbourhoods that offer density without sacrificing community.

Globally, cities like Melbourne and Tokyo have shown how mid-rise, human-scale development can create vibrant, walkable communities with easy access to transit, shops, and public spaces. In Malaysia, older neighbourhoods such as Sentul, Brickfields, and Pudu already possess the bones of such environments: walkable grids, moderate density, and proximity to transit. Yet these areas have been neglected in favour of new suburban projects, often left to gentrify or decay.

Market trends are beginning to shift. Younger Malaysians, especially millennials and Gen Z, increasingly value sustainability, convenience, and affordability. Mixed-use and transit-oriented developments are on the rise, and government initiatives like the National Housing Policy and Rent-to-Own schemes are targeting affordability in urban centres. However, the supply of genuinely affordable, well-located homes still lags far behind demand, with more than 83,000 applicants for just 50,000 available units under the Rumah Selangorku scheme in 2023.

Urban Renewal at a Crossroads: Opportunity or More of the Same?

The upcoming Urban Renewal Act (URA) could be a game changer—or a missed opportunity. On paper, the Act aims to facilitate the redevelopment of ageing, dilapidated buildings, especially in city centres, by lowering the consent threshold for en-bloc sales and streamlining the process for upgrading infrastructure and public spaces. The government has identified over 500 potential urban renewal sites in Peninsular Malaysia, with 139 in Kuala Lumpur alone—representing over 13% of the city’s area.

If implemented thoughtfully, the URA could unlock the potential of mature neighbourhoods, enabling community-led, incremental upgrades rather than wholesale demolition. This could mean refurbishing shophouses, adding mid-rise homes, and improving walkability and public amenities—turning neglected areas into thriving, transit-rich communities. International models, from Copenhagen’s child-friendly mid-rises to Melbourne’s car-free, solar-powered apartments, show what’s possible when policy aligns with people’s needs.

Yet the risks are real. Critics warn that lowering the consent threshold could lead to forced sales, displacement of vulnerable residents, and gentrification. Past redevelopment projects have seen maintenance costs skyrocket for original residents, sometimes pricing them out of their own communities. Without robust safeguards—fair compensation, genuine community engagement, and a focus on affordability—the URA could simply become another tool for profit-driven overdevelopment.

What We Think

Malaysia stands at a crossroads. The landed home may remain a cherished dream, but clinging to it as the default urban model is making cities less liveable, less equitable, and less sustainable. The real promise of the Urban Renewal Act lies not in clearing the way for more high-rises or endless suburban sprawl, but in empowering a third way: compact, connected, human-scale neighbourhoods that offer dignity, walkability, and community. To get there, policymakers, developers, and citizens alike must reject the false binary of “big or high” and demand cities built for people, not just for cars or capital. The future of Malaysian urban life depends on it.