575 Earthquake-Prone Buildings in Wellington: Who Owns Them, Who Wants Them, and Who Fixes Them?

Wellington is a cracking city—full of hills, wind, and a big buzz. But it’s got a problem: 575 buildings here are earthquake-prone. That means they could fall down in a decent shake, hurting people or smashing other places nearby. At One Network Wellington Live, we’ve been looking into this. Who owns these risky buildings? Who’d want to buy them? And who’s sorting them out—and how much does it cost? It’s a big story for Wellington, and we’re telling it straight with the facts.

Let’s start with the numbers. Wellington has 575 buildings tagged as earthquake-prone right now, as of late 2024. That’s down from over 1,000 a few years ago—some got fixed or knocked down—but it’s still heaps. These buildings are weak because they’re under 34% of the New Building Standard, or NBS. That’s a score showing how strong a building is against quakes. Anything below 34% is risky—could collapse in a moderate shake, the law says. Wellington sits on fault lines, like the big Wellington Fault running through the city, so quakes are a real worry. The council’s been tracking these buildings for years, and since new rules came in around 2017, they’ve got serious about fixing them.

Who owns these 575 buildings? It’s a mix. Some are old flats—about 50 are homes, with nearly 1,000 people living in them. That’s folks in shaky spots from Te Aro to Newtown. Owners include people who live there themselves—owner-occupiers—and landlords renting them out. Then there’s the commercial stuff—offices, shops, and old warehouses, especially in the CBD, Cuba Street, and Willis Street. Big companies or small business owners have these, often in heritage buildings from 100 years back. A few are public—like the Wellington Town Hall, owned by the council itself, which might cost $329 million to fix. People own these buildings, not wild cats, and they’re a varied lot.

Take the flats. Around 100 of the 575 are mostly homes—apartments, old houses split into units, or shops with flats upstairs. Owners range from everyday Wellingtonians to body corporates—groups of flat owners sharing the building. A body corporate might have 20 people arguing over what to do. Some want to fix it, some can’t pay, some hope it’ll just go away. Then there’s heritage owners—places like 43 Ghuznee Street and 114 Adelaide Road, old beauties held by private folks who’ve dodged deadlines for years. The council took them to court in 2021 and won, so they can fix them and send the owners the bill. It’s a mess—owners are all sorts, from rich investors to families struggling.

Who’d want to own these shaky buildings? You’d think no one, but some do. Buyers hunting a bargain grab them cheap. Quake-prone homes sell lower—sometimes half price—because of the risk. A flat in Lyall Bay might go for $300,000 instead of $600,000, but fixing it could cost $200,000. Property sharks love that—buy low, fix it, sell high. Developers fancy them too—knock down an old shop on Courtenay Place, build something shiny and quake-proof. Heritage rules make that tough, though—some buildings, like the Tramway Hotel on Adelaide Road, can’t be torn down easy. Rich collectors snap up heritage spots, betting on history over safety. Even the council wants in—they’ve taken over some, like Ghuznee Street, to sort them out themselves.

Not everyone’s up for it, though. Normal buyers—families, first-timers—steer clear. Who’d want a flat that might collapse or cost heaps to fix? A council report flags quake risks, and banks won’t lend much on anything below 34% NBS. Insurance is hard too—some companies won’t cover a building under 67% NBS. That puts most people off. Still, deadlines loom—hundreds hit in 2027—and if owners don’t act, they might sell cheap or lose them. Someone’s always ready to take a chance—Wellington’s too good to ditch.

Who’s fixing these 575 buildings? Owners are supposed to. The law says they’ve got to strengthen or demolish within a set time, usually 15 years from the notice. For busy spots—like shops on Cuba Street—it’s shorter, like 7.5 years. About 500 of the original 1,000 have been dealt with since 2006—fixed, knocked down, or re-rated above 34% NBS, says Hayley Moselen from the council. That leaves the 575 still waiting. Owners hire engineers—like DTCE or Beca—to check and plan fixes. Steel braces, concrete walls, or new foundations get added. Sometimes it’s a full rebuild. The council makes sure it hits at least 34% NBS, though many aim for 67% to keep insurers happy.

Not all owners can handle it, though. Some ignore it—about 100 residential ones are still on the list, with deadlines piling up in 2027. When they don’t move, the council jumps in. They can fence off risky places—like 43 Ghuznee Street in 2019—or take over, fix it, and bill the owner, like they did after winning in court in 2021. Fines are big—up to $300,000 for a person, $1.5 million for a body corporate. The government’s helping now—Building Minister Chris Penk gave owners four extra years in 2024, pushing some deadlines to 2031, because costs were too much. Kāinga Ora offers loans—up to $250,000 for flat owners in trouble—but it’s not enough for all.

Who else sorts it? Engineers and builders do the hard yards. Firms like Mainmark or Naylor Love brace walls, lift foundations, or gut old shells. Wellington’s got hundreds due by 2027, more in the early 2030s—too many for builders to fix quick. Heritage experts help too—old buildings need special care, like the Town Hall or Toomath’s Building on Ghuznee Street. The Ministry of Business runs a list of all 575 quake-prone buildings, so everyone knows what’s shaky. Community groups—like Inner City Wellington—push for action, saying deadlines aren’t enough. Even schools teach kids about quakes to keep it on people’s minds.

How much does it cost? Loads. Fixing a building depends on its size, damage, and what you want—34% NBS or higher. A small flat might cost $50,000 to brace—new beams, some concrete. An apartment block? Try $500,000 or more—100 residential ones could cost millions together. Commercial jobs hit harder—offices in the CBD might need $1 million, with steel frames and deep foundations. The Town Hall’s massive—$329 million to strengthen and refurbish. Heritage adds more—special bricks, careful work, bigger bills.

Let’s average it. Strengthening a typical quake-prone building in Wellington runs $200,000 to $300,000. Multiply that by 575, and it’s $115 million to $172 million total—if every owner paid up. But they don’t. Some can’t—body corporates argue over cash, and solo owners are skint. Costs are so high—plus heritage rules and fights—that buildings might stay empty. Demolition’s cheaper—maybe $50,000 for a small block—but you lose the place, and heritage rules often stop that.

Who pays? Owners, if they can. Kāinga Ora’s $250,000 loans help some flat owners, but only if they’re desperate. The council uses rates—your money—to cover takeovers or emergencies. Taxpayers chip in too—Penk’s extension and reviews cost the government, and that’s public cash. A pilot gave ten apartment groups free engineering advice—small help, but it’s something. Big firms might swallow the cost to flip a property, but small owners? They’re stuck, selling cheap or facing fines.

What’s it mean for Wellington? Heaps. If these 575 don’t get fixed, hundreds could lose homes—nearly 1,000 flat units are at risk. Shops could close, streets go quiet—imagine Cuba Street dead. It could hit the city hard if buildings shut down. But fixing them keeps Wellington going—jobs for builders, homes for people, life in the CBD. It’s about safety too. The Wellington Fault hasn’t moved big since 1855, but it will. Those 575 buildings could kill if they fall.

Who wants to own them? Risk-takers—developers, bargain hunters, heritage lovers. Who fixes them? Owners, engineers, the council—when pushed. Costs? Millions—$115 million at least, maybe double. At One Network Wellington Live, we see it plain: Wellington’s got 575 shaky buildings, and sorting them’s a slog. Owners are scrambling, buyers are choosy, and fixes cost a bomb. Next time you pass a red-stickered flat or a creaky old shop, think—who’s got this one, and will it hold when the ground shakes?