Chongqing — A recent fire in Hong Kong has renewed public debate in China about the risks of high-rise living, a discussion that is growing more frequent and urgent as the country’s earliest residential towers approach 30 years old.

Bridging News spoke with Chu Dongzhu, chief architect at the Chongqing Architectural Design Institute, to explore the structural factors behind these risks.

“When you look at some older residential blocks,” Chu said. “Especially those where long rows of buildings are closely connected, you’ll often find light wells left in between.” These spaces were originally designed to allow more apartments access to sunlight. 

But there is a downside. When buildings enclose these narrow voids, they can function like chimneys. “If a fire starts on a lower floor,” Chu said. “The flames can travel upward extremely fast.”

Looking more closely, he added, fire risk is rarely caused by a single factor. Building spacing, density, scaffolding used during renovations, flammable materials, and even wind direction can all play a role. Some factors are accidental, but many are structural—and therefore difficult to avoid.

Approaches to high-rise building management vary widely across countries. Singapore places strong emphasis on life-cycle regulation, backed by strict government enforcement. China, by contrast, is a much larger country and must find a model that fits the realities of governing at scale.

Having worked in North America earlier in his career, Chu noted significant differences in design philosophy. “In China, high-rise codes require that at least one long side of a tower face the street,” he said. “That ensures fire trucks can always access the building.” 

In North America, however, this requirement is not emphasized to the same degree. He recalled seeing a Canadian tower design, jokingly described as “a candle stuck on a cake”—a podium-and-tower form common in North America but unlikely to meet current Chinese design codes.

The difference, Chu concluded, lies in emphasis. North American high-rises rely more on internal systems—such as preventing fire spread and ensuring evacuation—while China places greater weight on external rescue access. “I’m not ready to say which approach is ‘correct,’” he said. “But if we can strengthen both external rescue capacity and internal building quality, we can improve both response and prevention.”

Urban planner Li Xiaojiang, former head of the China Academy of Urban Planning and Design, has warned that high-rise housing could become a “heavy burden” on Chinese society. Chu echoes this concern, linking the rapid spread of high-rises to China’s land-use system and decades of fast-paced urbanization.

As housing became a primary vehicle for wealth preservation, supply grew far beyond actual living needs—leaving some homes occupied, some rented, and others vacant, each with different levels of disaster preparedness.

During the interview, Chu showed an artwork from 1908: towering buildings, dense windows, layered roads, and sunlight so blocked that streetlights are needed during the day. Beneath its technological optimism lies a quiet anxiety.

More than a century ago, writers like Jules Verne were already questioning whether progress alone could guarantee a better life. That question, it seems, still echoes in today’s cities.