The Quest to Save Tanglin’s Rubber Tree

Rubber Soul

On the land outside Gate C stands a historic Pará rubber, one of only two in Singapore to qualify as a Heritage Tree. Head of Outdoor Education Martin Foakes explains why its recent endorsement is cause for celebration

Stand under the expansive branches of the beautiful Hevea brasiliensis, or Pará rubber, just off Portsdown Road and you will hear two distinct sounds: the collective buzzing and clicking of cicadas, and the revving engines of nearby trucks.

The contrast is mirrored by the surrounds; the magnificent tree is positioned somewhat precariously between Portsdown Road and the new development at Gate C, on the edge of a small, swamp-like area that’s encircled by construction work. Thankfully, despite the encroaching machinery, the Pará rubber is protected: recently, it was officially endorsed as a Heritage Tree by Singapore’s NParks.

There are two criteria for a Heritage Tree: it must have a trunk circumference of at least five metres, and/or have botanical, social, historical, cultural or aesthetic significance. The Portsdown Pará meets both and is only one of two rubber trees in the Garden City to qualify at all; the other is located in Woodlands.

“It’s very special,” explains Head of Outdoor Education Martin Foakes, standing in its shadow. “If not the oldest, it is one of the oldest rubber trees in Singapore. It’s big, and it’s also historic.”

Pará rubbers are not native to Singapore, but to South America. Martin believes the tree is a descendant of the 22 Pará rubber seedlings that were brought from Kew, UK, in 1877, 11 of which were planted in the Singapore Botanic Gardens.

While these plants were not intended for industrial use, the Gardens’ first director, Henry Nicholas Ridley, later used them to research new ways of tapping that might allow this. His “herring-bone method” – among other discoveries – was instrumental in persuading local coffee growers, whose crops had been impacted by disease, to grow rubber commercially.

Above: A local rubber plantation pictured in the 1900s. Credit: Lim Kheng Chye Collection, courtesy of National Archives of Singapore.

The method involved removing only small sections of bark without damaging the tree or meaning it had to be replanted.

At the time, the demand for rubber was growing due to the expansion of the automotive industry and thanks in part to “Rubber Ridley” – who was known to carry rubber tree seeds in his pocket as a marketing tool – Malaya, as it was then known, was producing half the world’s supply by 1920.

Unlike its ancestors, the Portsdown Pará is uncultivated and is showing signs of wear and tear. Martin points out twisting and scarring on its surface that is most likely the result of a wayward lawnmower; fallen branches on the surrounding grass are evidence of unchecked growth, as is an offshoot of the tree growing in shade. And of course, there is the impinging construction work. Concerned about the condition of the tree and its uncertain future, Martin approached Dr Nigel Taylor, then director of the Singapore Botanic Gardens, with a few photos.

Explains Martin, “Dr Taylor has a particular interest in rubber trees; he has completed expeditions to the Brazilian Amazon to look at wild rubber. He was very drawn by ‘our’ tree.”

The conversation prompted Martin to apply for Heritage Tree status; happily, it was approved last year. “Being able to protect the tree was, of course, important,” he tells, “but it’s not just about the tree.” He gestures towards the swamp-like area at the foot of the Pará rubber, pointing out a palm oil palm, Terminalia catappa (sea almond) and Barringtonia asiatica (fish poison) – all native trees. “What tends to happen with these sorts of habitats is that they are cleared for grass, or construction – and actually, little pockets of like this help wildlife to thrive. By protecting the tree, maybe we will protect this, too.”

Just across the road from Gate C is an example of how these “pockets” can be managed for the benefit of both local flora and fauna, and the human population. The One-North Park runs through the length of this area and comprises 16 hectares in total, although stepping inside the park from the One-North Crescent, it feels like more a small hideaway. Several of the trees inside were planted by Tanglin staff as saplings. “This was a plain, grassy area and now it’s more like a wood,” says Martin. “As you walk in, the buildings disappear. It goes to show you don’t need a lot of space to create a wildlife habitat.”

With Singapore entering Phase Three of its reopening in December, the school was fortunately able to resume some of its Outdoor Education opportunities in the local area; Martin says this “pocket park” has proved a useful learning base.

“We often get a surprised reaction from younger children when we come in here because it is so quiet and hidden from the road,” he says, pointing out an Albizia whose upper branches have been stripped out by parrots. “One of the students’ favourite parts on a nature walk like this is smelling the plants that grow in here – pandan, tamarind leaves, wild pepper... A small area can be surprisingly rich. It’s very exciting to be bringing them out again.”

It’s Martin’s hope that the Pará’s Heritage Tree status will protect it in the same way and that, like other Heritage Trees in the area – mainly rain trees – it will soon receive its own plaque: part commemoration, part warning sign.

“I am concerned about its future, because most people don’t like swampy areas, but biodiversity does. This tree and its surrounding area are a potted history of human interaction with nature in Singapore. It’s vital we hold on to that.”