The demolition plan sparked a fierce debate, with many residents resisting the idea of leaving their homes. Some argued that the city was a community, a family, and that its destruction would leave them destitute and without support.

The physical structure of the Walled City was a marvel of organic anarchism. Because there were no architects and no planning regulations, buildings were constructed upwards, often without foundations, until they hit the height restriction imposed by the nearby Kai Tak Airport flight path.

The sun never touched the lowest floors. Even at noon, you navigated by flickering fluorescent tubes and the smell of soy sauce, wet concrete, and incense. The city was a single, vertical organism — 33,000 people stacked into 300 buildings, sewn together by illegal add-ons, rusted pipes, and shared desperation.

In the spring of 1993, the last residents of Kowloon Walled City were packing their lives into cardboard boxes and rattan baskets. By year’s end, the labyrinth would be gone — a 2.7-hectare knot of alleyways, stairwells, and unlicensed dreams, crushed into dust and memory.

Overall, I highly recommend "City of Darkness: Life in Kowloon Walled City (1993)" to anyone interested in exploring the complexities of human society, urban planning, and the power of community. This book is a poignant reminder of the importance of empathy, understanding, and social responsibility.

Without government regulation, the city became a hub for unlicensed dentists, herbalists, and food processors (especially fish ball factories).

Disclaimer: Author’s note – Always respect copyright. Ian Lambot and Greg Girard are still active professionals. The 2014 "Revisited" edition is available for purchase (Amazon, Taschen, etc.) and contains superior scans.

By the 1990s, Kowloon Walled City was a labyrinthine metropolis, with over 50,000 residents packed into an area of just 6.4 acres. The city was a maze of narrow alleys, cramped apartments, and makeshift shops, with entire families often living in single rooms.