
Every summer in New Zealand, the same story appears. Residents in brand-new townhouses complain they cannot sleep because their homes trap heat like pizza ovens. Bedrooms become unbearable by late afternoon, windows are flung open all night, and people end up camping in lounges beside portable fans that sound like jet engines preparing for take-off. Then winter arrives and the headlines pivot straight back to cold, damp housing, mouldy walls, condensation dripping down windows, and thousands of Kiwi children ending up in hospital with preventable illnesses linked directly to the homes they live in. The cycle has repeated itself for so many years now that it barely even shocks people anymore. That might be the most worrying part of all.
What makes this situation so frustrating is that none of these problems are mysterious. Experts have been warning about overheating, poor ventilation, bad thermal performance and unhealthy indoor environments for years. The science exists. The design principles exist. The international examples exist. Yet New Zealand continues building homes that are technically compliant while still performing terribly for the people actually living inside them. Politicians remain obsessed with the idea of “affordable housing”, but affordability has been reduced to the cheapest possible upfront build cost, as though long-term health, comfort and running costs are somehow optional extras. A home that slowly cooks occupants alive in summer and grows mould in winter is not affordable. It is simply expensive in slower, more miserable ways.
The shift toward denser housing and rows of townhouses is not inherently bad. Density done properly can improve affordability, reduce sprawl and create more vibrant communities. Countries across Europe prove every day that medium-density housing can be comfortable, attractive and highly desirable. But New Zealand has developed a habit of treating density as little more than a numbers exercise. Too many developments are designed almost entirely around maximising yield and minimising cost, with human comfort squeezed somewhere down the priority list beside rubbish bin storage and whether the marketing renders include enough strategically placed lemons in a fruit bowl.
The results are painfully obvious to anyone who understands building performance. Entire developments are being built with huge areas of west-facing glazing, tiny or non-existent eaves, poor ventilation pathways, dark roofs and layouts with little regard for airflow or passive thermal control. In many cases, there is no meaningful overheating strategy whatsoever. Yet these homes still receive consent because New Zealand’s Building Code simply does not demand better. These homes are not failing because of isolated mistakes or unfortunate accidents. They are failing because the minimum standard itself is failing.
A major problem is that genuine design thinking has become heavily marginalised in large parts of the residential building industry. Many volume builders now treat design as little more than producing consent drawings quickly and efficiently. But drafting plans and designing buildings are not the same thing. One is documentation. The other is understanding how a building will perform for real people over many decades. Great homes require careful thought about orientation, shading, ventilation, insulation, glazing ratios and occupant comfort. Bad homes happen very easily when those things are ignored.
Anyone experienced in performance-based design can often identify overheating risks almost instantly. The warning signs are glaringly obvious once you know what to look for. Over-glazed bedrooms facing west. No cross ventilation. Poor orientation. Minimal external shading. Compact sites where airflow is heavily restricted. Yet these problems continue appearing because there is little regulatory pressure to avoid them. Astonishingly, New Zealand’s Building Code still does not properly require overheating analysis, ventilation effectiveness, airtightness standards, or mandatory heating and cooling systems in new homes. In some respects, rental properties now face stricter healthy homes requirements than newly built owner-occupied houses. That fact alone should make the entire industry pause awkwardly and stare at its shoes for a moment.
Meanwhile, countries New Zealand constantly compares itself to have already moved far ahead in this area. Across much of Europe, thermal performance and indoor comfort are treated as fundamental parts of good housing, not luxury add-ons. Energy performance certificates are common. Thermal modelling is standard practice. Airtightness testing is expected. In New Zealand, many developments still operate on the optimistic assumption that if a house technically meets minimum code, everything will somehow work itself out eventually. That approach belongs back in the era of beige bathrooms, cigarette smoke indoors and aluminium single glazing that could practically refrigerate a lounge overnight.
The industry also has a habit of hiding behind cosmetic ideas of “quality”. Developments are advertised as premium because they include stone benchtops, black tapware and tiled showers, while the actual thermal performance of the building envelope receives far less attention. Occupants do not care how premium the kitchen tap feels when their upstairs bedroom hits sauna temperatures every February. Nobody lies awake at 1am during a heatwave admiring the soft-close cabinetry while sweating directly through the mattress protector.
The conversation around affordability desperately needs reframing. True affordability is not about achieving the absolute lowest construction cost on day one. It is about creating homes with low lifetime costs to occupy physically, financially and socially. A well-designed home that stays warm in winter, cool in summer and dry year-round reduces energy bills, improves health outcomes and provides a far better quality of life over decades. Spending slightly more upfront to achieve that is not wasteful. In reality, it is often vastly cheaper in the long run. Poor-performing housing quietly transfers costs onto occupants through higher power bills, medical costs, discomfort and lost wellbeing.
None of the solutions required here are particularly radical. New Zealand does not need to reinvent housing science or wait for some futuristic Scandinavian miracle technology to descend from the heavens. The knowledge already exists. The tools already exist. The Building Code needs reform to properly address overheating, ventilation effectiveness, airtightness and whole-home thermal performance. Mandatory Energy Performance Certificates would give buyers clearer information. Thermal modelling should become routine for townhouse developments and other high-risk typologies, and post-occupancy monitoring should become normal practice so buildings are judged on how they actually perform once people move in.
At its core, this issue is really about deciding what kind of future New Zealand wants to build into its housing stock. The homes being constructed today will likely still exist 50 to 100 years from now. If poor thermal performance continues being accepted now, future generations will inherit entire suburbs of homes that are fundamentally uncomfortable and expensive to live in. New Zealanders deserve homes designed around human wellbeing rather than minimum compliance and maximum yield calculations.
At some point the country has to stop confusing “legal” with “good” and stop accepting homes that perform like expensive Tupperware with a mortgage attached.

Bob Burnett Architecture © 2026