At 42, the island state is a new country that is becoming newer, increasingly stripped of many of the early legacies of its founding in 1819 or even those of the 20th century.

This has happened despite a government effort at preservation starting from the 70s that has achieved mixed success. The lure of prosperity – leaders call it survival – has proved too strong.

Today, construction work dots the island’s landscape as old, and sometimes not so old, buildings are being torn down to make way for a global city that could house six million people.

Towering building frames, giant cranes and armies of imported workers toil across the island – sometimes working in two shifts – building new railway tracks, highways, schools, hospitals and two big casino resorts.

A new Singapore is, however, not possible without getting rid of much of the old.

Gone long ago were the lazy kampung (village) life along the coast and the dirty pig-and-chicken farms, but few of the new generation miss the loss very much.

This year, another old icon will make way for progress – the old bumboat that plied the Singapore River. By the end of the year, the oar will surrender to electric power.

The government has, however, been careful not to lose too much of the country’s heritage.

Its aim is to keep a realistic balance between economic need and conservation, drawing the line somewhere.

But as demand for land grows, that balance is tilting – to the unhappiness of conservationists – against the survival of old institutions, especially in the city centre.

Renewal is not the only cause. Declining relevance is another; so is Singapore’s free economy, which allows foreign investors to buy companies that own landmark sites.

In recent years, several icons have disappeared in the city centre where land use has to be maximised.

They include the buildings that housed Raffles Institution (built in 1868), the National Library (1887) – both institutions were moved elsewhere – and Clifford Pier (1927-33).

Others are newer establishments so familiar to a generation of Singaporeans and Malaysians, including Jalan Besar Stadium (1932) and the National Stadium (1973).

In the world of business, too, Singapore has been losing some landmark companies that date back to the 19th century.

They have been bought over by foreign investors. But although no longer in Singaporean hands they have not been closed.

They include historical icon Raffles Hotel (1887), which went to the Americans, and the 100-year-old Malaysian Publishing House or MPH building in Stamford Road.

Robinson (and associate John Little), a much-admired colonial department store, was sold to an Indonesian investor despite an angry petition from shareholders and customers.

Robinson and Co, the founding company, started trading in Singapore in 1858.

To simply list the lost heritage, without mentioning the success in keeping others, is unfair to the people behind it.

For every one that is lost, many others have been preserved or refurbished and put to good use.

So far, the government has preserved 6500 buildings and established 86 areas for conservation.

Colonial bungalows and schools with a colourful past are being adapted into offices or split into upscale apartments.

For example, St Joseph’s Institution (1852) moved from Bras Basah Road, but the majestic building, its architecture intact, is Singapore’s History Museum.

A little further away, the Convent of the Holy Infant Jesus (1854) still retains its facade together with its distinctive church – but is now Chijmes, a bustling enclave of retail shops, restaurants, and nightspots.

The students of both institutions have moved to the suburbs, as is the case with other old schools in the city.

Cathay Cinema (1935) was, and still is, an important part of Singapore’s history after having entertained generations of Singaporeans (and not a few Malaysians, too).

Its impressive facade, a landmark in central Singapore, has been kept. It has become a cineplex, still screening movies for families and dating couples.

Similarly, Capitol Cinema (1931), with its eclectic neo-Classical architecture. Its body changed but not its face.

Singapore’s ethnic history is firmly preserved – Chinatown, Little India and the Malay kampung, though with new looks. Old mosques, temples and churches have also been kept for posterity.

How have Singaporeans taken to their disappearing landmarks?

They don’t like it but most accept it is an inevitable process for a city so short of land. “It’s a matter of time. You can’t keep everything old while building a new, modern city,” an architect commented.

But like many others, he feels the government could tilt the balance more towards preservation, even if it means a little less profit.

“I think we’re rich enough. All these buildings ... once you tear them down, they’re lost forever.”

The Urban Redevelopment Authority last year decided to expand the scale of historical conservation.

Preserving, too, appears likely to move into a new stage: Preserving the work of leaders who built today’s Singapore by naming institutions and street names after them.

This small city-state has a colourful, multicultural past that is still evident in scattered pockets of older districts that have escaped redevelopment thus far.

The government wants to ensure that history doesn’t disappear.

A company executive involved in some conservation work said: “Conserving older buildings and rehabilitating them for future use is an essential part of what Singapore is. We need to preserve our past.”

o Seah Chiang Nee is a veteran journalist and editor of the information website littlespeck.com

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