A Towering Risk: Why Shang Properties Must Rethink Its Ortigas Twin-Tower Ambition

In the heart of Metro Manila’s Greenhills district — long cherished for its serenity and old-world charm — a storm is gathering. Not one of thunder or rain, but of steel, cement, and citizen resistance.

The tranquility of the Greenhills neighborhood may soon be cast under the shadow of 72 stories — unless the community’s cry for preservation and due process are heard. (Illustrator: ASK)

At the center of the brewing uproar is Shang Properties, Inc. (SPI), which has proposed a 72-story twin-tower condominium project along Ortigas Avenue, right next to La Salle Green Hills.

If built, it would become the tallest structure in the vicinity — a colossal pivot from the modest scale that has defined the area for decades.

But this isn’t just a story about height or concrete. This is a story about identity, legality, and the soul of a neighborhood under siege.

At a jam-packed community dialogue on July 22, 2025, residents of surrounding Greenhills communities — from elderly homeowners and young families to priests, nuns, and barangay officials — gathered in unified defiance.

Their message was clear: this project should not be here.

Their fears weren’t abstract. They were rooted in law, health, safety, and something deeper — betrayal.

The proposed project would tower more than twelve times over the six-story cap defined under the site’s existing zoning classifications. This isn’t just an overreach. It’s a full-scale incursion into protected planning codes — a move some urban planners additionally describe as “reckless” and “legally unsound.”

But the damage wouldn’t end on paper.

The project site lies mere meters from La Salle Green Hills, a historic educational institution with over 4,000 students.

Experts warn that building skyscrapers beside a school and along the West Valley Fault could be catastrophic in the event of a major earthquake. (Illustration: La Salle Green Hills)

Parents, alumni, and residents fear that nine years of sustained construction could unleash a tidal wave of toxic dust, noise, and logistical chaos — all in the backyard of a school that counts President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. among its alumni.

And it’s not just about debris and disorder. The West Valley Fault Line, a known seismic threat, runs underneath Metro Manila. Engineering guidelines warn against erecting skyscrapers next to schools or hospitals. In the event of a major quake, the risk to life could be incalculable.

Then there’s the issue of scale — not just vertical, but infrastructural.

Ortigas Avenue, which according to the MMDA, is already one of the city’s most congested corridors.

Add thousands of new residents, an armada of passenger-service vehicles, and years of heavy equipment, and the result is foreseeable: traffic paralysis, overtaxed water and electricity grids, and an overwhelmed waste system.

Environmental specialists also flag the risk of aggravated flooding, as vast swathes of concrete and glass replace what little permeable ground remains.

But beyond the physical and the legal lies the cultural.

Greenhills has long held symbolic significance in Filipino-Chinese geomancy. It is known as the “belly of the dragon” — a place of prosperity, nourishment, and energy, considered the most auspicious part of the dragon in Feng Shui lore.

To build over it — or worse, to dwarf it — is viewed by many in the community as more than disrespectful. It’s a spiritual affront.

Worryingly, this isn’t the first time the area has watched high-rise dreams end in disaster. Other out-of-zone developments in the vicinity, built in defiance of zoning and community sentiment, have struggled with vacancies, sluggish sales, and reputational fallout. (With some even reported to be on the verge of financial ruin.)

So, the question begs: why is Shang Properties, a company once synonymous with elegance and discretion, pushing through with a plan that feels so discordant?

Community members say they were blindsided. No town halls. No official letters. No real effort at dialogue. Instead, early project discussions were conducted in closed-door meetings with city officials excluding community stakeholders.

During the July 22 dialogue, one barangay officer entered into record that Shang Properties’ paperwork was submitted prematurely. Key permits — including the crucial Environmental Compliance Certificate (ECC) — remain pending.

No town halls. No official letters. No real effort at dialogue. (Source: Community Dialogue)

To date, no Barangay clearance has been issued.

The lack of transparency cuts deepest. Many residents had trusted Shang Properties to be a brand above backdoor dealings — a brand that listens, collaborates, and considers impact before profit.

To be clear, Shang Properties’ track record is far from checkered.

Landmark developments like One Shangri-La Place and The St. Francis Shangri-La Place have earned praise for their design and compliance. But the Ortigas project — if pursued in its current form — risks unraveling that legacy.

Now, residents are organizing. Legal teams are preparing a petition for a Temporary Restraining Order (TRO). A formal referendum is underway. Escalations to DHSUD, DENR, the Office of the Ombudsman, and even Malacañang are on the table.

Some are calling for an international appeal to the Kuok Group in Malaysia — the powerful family behind the Shangri-La brand — to intervene before irreversible damage is done.

The Kuok Group of Malaysia, owners of the Shangri-La brand, have built a legacy of elegance and discretion. Will they intervene before that legacy is jeopardized? (Image: Robert Kuok)

Investors are watching, too. Shang Properties is listed on the Philippine Stock Exchange under the ticker SHNG.

While the stock has remained stable, analysts warn that unresolved legal and reputational risks tied to ESG violations could eventually spook institutional investors, particularly those with strict governance benchmarks.

The brand now faces a defining choice.

Will it bulldoze ahead in the name of profit, or pause and protect the values that built its name? Will it gamble its decades-old legacy on a twin-tower bet, or double down on its reputation as a responsible, responsive developer?

For a company named after a mythical paradise, this saga is quickly shaping into a cautionary tale of how not to build one.

The real test is not architectural. It is moral. For true luxury does not cast shadows over schools or communities. It shines by standing on foundations of legality, empathy, and respect.

Now is the time for Shang Properties to show it still knows the difference.

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