The Mystery of the Missing Level: Why Do Some Tall Buildings in East Asia Skip the Fourth Floor?

Ever stepped into an elevator in a gleaming skyscraper in Beijing, Seoul, or Taipei, only to notice the button for the fourth floor is conspicuously absent? You might press '3' and then find the next option is '5'. This isn't a design flaw or a random architectural quirk. The practice of omitting the fourth floor in many East Asian buildings is a fascinating intersection of language, culture, and modern development. This blog post delves into the phenomenon of why some tall buildings in East Asia skip the fourth floor, exploring the deep-seated cultural beliefs that lead to this widespread architectural decision.

The Sound of Fear: Understanding Tetraphobia

The primary reason behind the missing fourth floor is a cultural phenomenon known as tetraphobia, which translates literally to "fear of the number four." This fear isn't arbitrary; it's deeply rooted in linguistics, specifically in the pronunciation of the word "four" in many East Asian languages.

In several Sinitic languages (languages historically influenced by Chinese), the word for "four" sounds remarkably similar, or even identical, to the word for "death."

• In Mandarin Chinese, "four" (四, sì) is a near-homophone for "death" (死, sǐ).
• Similarly, in Cantonese, "four" (sei) sounds very much like "death" (sei), though tones may differ.
• In Korean, "four" (사, sa) is pronounced identically to "death" (사, sa).
• In Japanese, one word for "four" is shi (し), which is the same pronunciation as "death" (死, shi). While Japanese also uses yon (よん) for four, the association with shi remains potent.
• In Vietnamese, the Sino-Vietnamese reading for "four" (tứ) sounds similar to "death" (tử).

This linguistic coincidence means that the number four carries strong negative connotations associated with mortality and misfortune. For many, encountering the number four in significant contexts, like a home address or hospital floor, can evoke genuine unease and is considered highly inauspicious.

How the Number Four Vanishes in Architecture

To accommodate this cultural sensitivity, building developers and managers employ various strategies:

• Direct Omission: The most common method is to simply skip the fourth floor in the numbering sequence. Elevators and floor directories will list floors as 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, and so on.
• Alternative Numbering: Sometimes, though less commonly for the fourth floor itself, a letter might be used, such as '3A' to follow the 3rd floor before proceeding to the 5th. However, directly labeling a floor as '4' is often avoided.
• Extended Avoidance: The aversion can extend beyond just the single digit '4'. Floors like 14, 24, 34, and any floor ending in '4' may also be skipped or renumbered in some buildings, particularly in residential complexes or hospitals where sensitivities are heightened.
• Beyond Floors: This practice isn't limited to just floor numbers. It can influence apartment numbers, hospital room numbers, and even product serial numbers in some cases.

Regional Manifestations and Cultural Parallels

Tetraphobia is most prevalent in regions with strong historical Chinese cultural influence, including:

• Mainland China
• Hong Kong
• Taiwan
• South Korea
• Vietnam It's also commonly observed in countries with significant ethnic Chinese populations, such as Malaysia and Singapore.

While Japan uses yon as an alternative pronunciation for four, which mitigates the issue somewhat, tetraphobia still exists. Hospitals, for instance, are particularly likely to avoid the number four in room or ward numbering.

It's interesting to note that this type of numerical superstition isn't unique to East Asia. Many Western cultures exhibit triskaidekaphobia, the fear of the number 13. It's not uncommon for buildings in North America and Europe to skip the 13th floor, labeling it '12A', 'M', or going straight from 12 to 14. This provides a relatable parallel, illustrating how deeply ingrained cultural beliefs can shape seemingly objective aspects of life like numbering systems.

Beyond Superstition: Commercial and Practical Realities

While the origins of tetraphobia are cultural and linguistic, its persistence in modern architecture is also driven by practical and commercial considerations.

• Tenant and Buyer Preferences: Developers and property managers are acutely aware of local customs. A building that respects these sensitivities by omitting the fourth floor is often more marketable. Units on a floor numbered '4' might be harder to sell or lease, or might command lower prices.
• Maintaining Harmony: For businesses, especially in the service and hospitality industries, creating a comfortable and welcoming environment for clients and employees is paramount. Avoiding unlucky numbers is seen as a way to respect local culture and avoid causing any inadvertent distress.
• International Adaptation: Global hotel chains, multinational corporations, and even property developers operating in East Asia frequently adopt this practice. It's a sign of cultural awareness and a pragmatic business decision to cater to the preferences of the local market.

Conclusion

The intriguing case of the missing fourth floor in many East Asian tall buildings is far more than an architectural oddity. It's a tangible manifestation of tetraphobia, a fear deeply embedded in the linguistic and cultural fabric of the region, where the number "four" echoes the sound of "death." This practice underscores how profoundly cultural beliefs, even those rooted in ancient linguistic coincidences, continue to shape modern urban landscapes and commercial decisions.

So, the next time you find yourself in an elevator in an East Asian metropolis and notice the jump from floor three to five, you'll understand it's not an oversight. Instead, it's a thoughtful acknowledgment of a centuries-old cultural sensibility, a quiet reminder that even in the most contemporary steel and glass structures, tradition and belief hold significant sway.