Consider the many sides of gentrification—where development gains ground, displacement may quietly follow in Malaysia’s evolving urban landscape.
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16 Jul 2025
7 Min Read
Afrina Arfa (Alumni Columnist)
Consider the many sides of gentrification—where development gains ground, displacement may quietly follow in Malaysia’s evolving urban landscape.
There was once a time when Malaysia was a patchwork of small, family-run shops and modest homes, each corner of the community intimately connected. An era when cars were reserved for long-distance trips, and the simple act of walking was sufficient for errands. Today, what were once homes have been replaced by towering condominiums, and shops have given way to upscale retail outlets. The walkways that had bound neighbours together are now highways cutting through the heart of the community.
The enemy branded as responsible for this architectural change is often none other than gentrification: a process that diminishes the character of a neighbourhood as it shifts from low to high value, regularly at the expense of displacing its original residents. Gentrification typically occurs in declining and under-resourced areas, where new investments attract wealthier occupants. On one side, gentrification is seen as necessary for growth, improving the aesthetic appeal and economic viability of an area. However, it often triggers underlying shifts that go beyond architecture, affecting the social fabric, cultural identity, and economic stability within these communities.
Popularised in London in the 1950s, the word ‘gentry’ was used to refer to people of elevated social status. Gentrification in its current context, though—urban development that shifts an area from low to high value—was coined by British sociologist Ruth Glass in 1964. She used the term to describe the influx of middle-class people into London’s working-class neighbourhoods, displacing former residents.
Gentrification can be witnessed in many parts of the world, including the United States. In the 1980s, Harlem, New York City, symbolised decades of neglect, with abandoned houses and deteriorating buildings. Over the years, it transformed from a neighbourhood marked by disinvestment and decay to one of renewal and rising affluence: new legislation was enacted, private-public partnerships were formed, and buildings were turned over to developers to rehabilitate and sell to middle-income families. Yet despite these changes, gentrification came to be viewed by many as an invasive force occupying Harlem.
The case of Harlem reflects a broader trend seen across many urban centres in the US, where gentrification has not only led to displacement but also deepened social inequality. It has most often, though not exclusively, been associated with neighbourhoods in poor physical condition, predominantly inhabited by communities of colour—an outcome stemming from a history of public policies that devalued property and contributed to declining living standards. As gentrification spreads through these neighbourhoods, the growing presence of wealthier residents often results in the disproportionate displacement of lower-income communities. In the end, gentrification evolves from a matter of urban renewal to a reflection of systemic race and class inequalities.
This process is not unique to the West. Another example can be found in Shanghai, China. Once a colonial enclave, the Former French Concession—characterised by historical European architecture and a diverse mix of residents—became a target for gentrification as China’s economy boomed in the 1990s. Redevelopment ensued, and historic neighbourhoods were transformed into luxury apartments and upscale shopping centres, displacing many working-class residents.
One of the strongest arguments against gentrification is the displacement it often triggers, especially in lower-income neighbourhoods. As areas are reshaped and replaced with high-end developments, original residents are often forced to leave, unable to keep pace with soaring property values in the very places they once called home. Given the opportunity to convert low-cost housing into commercial buildings or luxury condominiums, some landlords even resort to unethical tactics to remove long-term tenants from rent-controlled units.
This practice was particularly evident in a well-known case in Chinatown, New York City, in the 1980s, where developers evicted tenants and demolished buildings even before receiving the necessary zoning permits. Those evicted reported that the corporation involved used various forms of harassment to force them out, including gang intimidation and arson.
Beyond favouring wealthier communities, some argue that gentrification also leads to social and cultural displacement. In the US, research on gentrified areas has shown that white newcomers may impose different social norms on longstanding Black residents, disrupting their sense of place and eroding historical identity tied to their communities.
Similarly, in Montmartre, Paris, the neighbourhood currently grapples with the effects of gentrification and the mass tourism that it attracts. Once a bohemian quarter, its transformation into a tourist hotspot has led to a loss of cultural character. Local businesses and residents are being displaced, and cultural institutions like the Lapin Agile cabaret—once frequented by artists—now struggle to survive within a tourist-centric economy.
On the other side of the argument, some have long debated whether the eventual advantages of gentrification outweigh its immediate drawbacks. A study from the University of Chicago found that displacement is not necessarily tied to gentrification—around 60% of less-educated renters moved out regardless of whether their neighbourhoods gentrified, with only a slight increase to 66% in those that did. Other studies support this, suggesting that while gentrification can cause social tension and anxiety, it does not appear to result in significantly higher departure rates or economic harm.
From this perspective, gentrification is seen as part of a broader urban renewal process that has driven growth and development in neighbourhoods, communities, and cities for decades. It is often considered beneficial not only for newcomers but also for long-term residents who remain in place. As investment flows in, these residents may gain access to modernised housing, improved living conditions, and enhanced educational opportunities.
Gentrification is also viewed as beneficial to the economy, increasing employment prospects and attracting new investment into previously underdeveloped areas. One notable example is the London Docklands, a once-declining industrial zone that was targeted for redevelopment in the 1980s. The transformation introduced new commercial spaces and upgraded public infrastructure, turning the area into what is now Canary Wharf—one of the world’s leading financial districts.
Additionally, the arrival of wealthier residents often coincides with increased investment in public services such as policing, street lighting, and community programmes. These developments can lead to better-maintained and safer public spaces. In line with modern urban planning, gentrified neighbourhoods also tend to see the creation of more green spaces—such as public parks, community gardens, and green roofs—which improve quality of life and contribute to environmental sustainability.
In Malaysia, gentrification has been a topic of significant debate, particularly in areas where urban transformation is regarded as both necessary and disruptive to the cultural fabric of local communities. Kampong Bharu, located in the heart of Kuala Lumpur, has been the subject of government proposals for modernisation since the 1990s. To this day, many of its long-term residents have declined monetary offers for their land, arguing that the compensation is insufficient and would not enable them to afford property within the redeveloped area. While they have not been physically displaced, these residents have experienced other forms of dispossession due to prolonged negotiations over the redevelopment and renewal of the surrounding neighbourhood.
The situation in Kampong Bharu reflects broader tensions in Malaysia’s approach to urban redevelopment. In early 2025, the government proposed an Urban Renewal Act (URA), which drew criticism for its potential implications on property rights, community stability, and equitable development. Although urban renewal is often considered essential to modernisation, the act has become contentious because of how it may affect minority landowners. Under the current National Land Code 1965 and Article 13 of the Federal Constitution, property rights are safeguarded, and redevelopment projects must meet strict legal criteria.
The URA, however, introduces a majority consent model that allows redevelopment to proceed with 80% consent for buildings under 30 years old, 75% for those over 30 years old, and 51% for unsafe structures. This effectively lowers the threshold for approval and raises fears that minority owners could be compelled to sell without full consent. Consequently, critics question whether the URA genuinely addresses urban decay or primarily facilitates private development interests. As with gentrification more broadly, any proposed legislation must include robust safeguards—measures that prevent displacement, preserve the cultural integrity of communities, and ensure that the benefits of redevelopment are shared equitably across all segments of society.
Gentrification remains a complex and multifaceted issue—one that offers the promise of renewal, but often at a human cost. While it can drive economic growth, revitalise ageing neighbourhoods, and modernise city landscapes, it also risks displacing communities, eroding cultural identities, and deepening social inequalities.
As cities continue to evolve, we are left to reckon with the question at the heart of it all: Are we renewing cities, or replacing the communities that give them meaning? Striking a balance between progress and preservation means ensuring that long-standing residents are not just included, but respected and empowered in the transformation of their neighbourhoods. Because a future built without its people is no future at all.
Afrina Arfa is a Bachelor of Finance and Economics (Honours) alumna of Taylor's University. She spends her time indulging in economic news, hoping to inspire others to think beyond the constraints of society.
