Is tragic leaky homes history about to repeat?

The first house my partner and I bought was a villa. We fell in love with it the moment we stepped over the threshold.

We were so infatuated we managed to overlook the holes in the floor, the 10cm gap between the ceiling and walls, the old gas boiler that looked like a relic from the 1950s, the broken windows and the lean-to bathroom-laundry that hadn’t been used in years.

We thought everything would be fixable once we moved in, but it was 10 years before we could afford to renovate (including 10 years of boiling jugs after learning there was no running hot water in the kitchen).

But the beauty of villas is that most things can be repaired; we knocked down the leaky lean-to, put in a new kitchen and bathroom, insulated and installed gas central heating and had a house that was not just beautiful, but cosy, warm and likely to stand for another 100 years.

Or maybe not. Under new housing-density rules, old villas like ours could be for the scrapheap, bowled for threestorey townhouses, without consultation.

Preserving heritage homes is a bit of a passion for mine and my parents’ generation. We grew up with a dawning awareness that much of our heritage was being lost.

In the post-war era there was too much of a rush to embrace modern and new. Beautiful 100-year-old buildings were being knocked down and replaced with ugly monstrosities.

Instead of repairing, people took the easy option and replaced everything with cheap new materials. Aluminium joinery, formica bench tops – and let’s not forget that miracle product, asbestos.

My generation became even more gun shy about ‘‘new builds’’ after the leaky building crisis. Houses knocked up with shoddy materials, and poor workmanship have caused decades of heartache and loss for leaky homes victims. My distrust of plaster cladding runs so deep I would always buy the oldest, dingiest pre-1980s home over the flashest plaster-built home.

I have the same worry about the latest move to address the housing crisis. Law changes open the door to a building freefor-all, as developers get free rein to put townhouses and multi-unit developments on inner-city sections. Older homes could be bowled in their thousands.

I understand the need for a radical shakeup. I also understand the simmering anger of young people that council rules and regulations designed to preserve character and heritage have contributed to them being locked out of the housing market, while entrenching privilege and wealth in the leafy suburbs.

The anger is so visceral that Wellington city councillor Iona Pannet was dropped from the Green Party ticket for speaking out in favour of heritage values. The leafy suburbs, and their beautiful villas, have become the symbol of class warfare in New Zealand.

But, like much of my generation, I’m suspicious. I do not believe for a minute that local and central government are capable of protecting people from rip-off merchants, cowboy builders and dodgy developers. They will wash their hands of responsibility.

There is an obvious attraction to some of the new townhouses springing up everywhere. I would be tempted too.

But I am worried that the granite benchtops and latest fancy tapware used to dress these 70sqm new builds are just lipstick on a pig.

The average cost of fixing a leaky building in New Zealand is estimated by one report at $300,000 for recladding, $110,000 on non-repair costs and a further $75000 in legal fees.

I hope I’ll be proved wrong in 10 years’ time, when all these socalled affordable houses have had time to weather. But I worry that history is about to repeat. And the victims, yet again, will be those same young people politicians claim they’re trying to help.

Will we also lose forever the heritage and soul of our cities?

I am worried that the granite benchtops and latest fancy tapware used to dress these 70sqm new builds are just lipstick on a pig.