Measuring Shanghai beyond its skyline
By Emeritus Professor Ng Kwan Hoong
Beneath the glass and concrete jungle, expressways weave across districts and metro lines operate with clockwork precision. Twenty-five million people go about their lives in a metropolis that pulses with extraordinary confidence. Welcome to Shanghai, a city that often feels like a vision of the future brought into the present.
Recently, I joined my university delegation for an industry and hospital visit, and we were genuinely impressed by what we encountered. What stood out was not merely the scale or sophistication of Shanghai’s infrastructure, but the way modernisation has been carefully deployed. Public transport systems work seamlessly. Movement is efficient, disciplined and purposeful. Increasingly, this efficiency is also shaped by environmental awareness and sustainability.
It would be easy to admire the city from above, to see progress only in terms of speed, scale and connectivity. But Shanghai reveals itself most meaningfully when one steps away from the grand arteries and allows the city to be encountered at a slower pace.
We stayed near the Yu Garden in the Huangpu district, a location that immediately reveals Shanghai’s layered identity. The historic Bund, the old quarters and the dense commercial energy of the city all exist within easy reach. It feels like standing at a quiet crossroads where different eras meet in engaging conversation.
Entering the Yu Garden is like crossing into another world. This Ming dynasty landmark offers a gentle retreat from the surrounding bustle. As one walks through its pavilions, rock formations and winding paths, the city’s urgency seems to dissolve. People gather near ponds, under ancient trees, or along shaded corridors, not to optimise their time, but simply to be present.
The garden was never intended as a place to recharge for greater productivity. Its purpose is more generous. It promotes well-being, balance and a harmonious relationship with nature. Its design reflects a long-held wisdom that life is not only about movement forward, but also about moments of stillness. In a city defined by speed, the garden quietly insists on restraint.
Stepping out from the hotel one afternoon, I found myself wandering into narrow alleyways threaded behind the skyscrapers. Low brick houses stood close together, with laundry lines stretching overhead. Motorbikes rested against walls. Children ran freely, laughing, while grandparents sat on low stools, watching the world pass by with unhurried attention.
Tourists bargained at small stalls. A vendor called out to passers-by. A trolley rattled along uneven ground. These were not scenes of spectacle, but of ordinary life. Yet in these small moments, the city revealed a different measure of progress. One defined not by efficiency alone, but by liveability, dignity and shared space.
At night, Shanghai takes on another character. The skyline glows with carefully choreographed light. High-rise buildings and riverfront promenades shimmer without overwhelming the senses. Despite the cold, people gather along the water’s edge, strolling, resting and talking quietly. The city remains accessible, even after dark.
There is an elegance to this restraint. Beauty here does not dominate or exclude. It invites. When guided thoughtfully, modernity can enhance human experience rather than diminish it. Shanghai shows that technological advancement and human presence are symbiotic.
Journalist Jane Jacobs once observed that cities have the capability of providing something for everybody, only because and only when they are created by everybody. Shanghai approaches this ideal when it allows different lives and tempos to coexist. The executive and the street vendor. The intern and the manager. Energetic youth and seasoned retirees in their later years, all sharing the same urban fabric.
What gives the city its quiet strength is not just what rises above the skyline, but what unfolds at ground level. The gardens, the alleyways, the everyday movements of people going about their lives. These are the spaces where a city reveals whether it is truly designed for those who inhabit it.
An old Chinese saying captures this wisdom succinctly. “Those who rush too quickly do not arrive.” Shanghai’s skyline speaks of ambition and elegance. But its human spaces remind us that progress is not only about how fast a city moves, but about how thoughtfully it cares for people and the environment they inhabit.
Beyond the skyline, Shanghai measures progress in human terms. And in doing so, it offers a lesson worth reflecting on.
The author is an Emeritus Professor of Biomedical Imaging at the Faculty of Medicine, Universiti Malaya. A 2020 Merdeka Award recipient, he is a medical physicist by training but also enjoys writing, drawing, listening to classical music, and bridging the gap between older and younger generations. He may be reached at ngkh@ummc.edu.my