Chris Bishop moves fast. It’s his super power and Achilles heel

He’s powerful and polarising and he would really like his mic to work.

On Wednesday morning, National minister Chris Bishop took to the stage at an Environmental Defence Society conference at the Grand Millenium Hotel in Central Auckland. He told them: “Environmental protection is at the heart of our party”. He had to pause before the next sentence because the audience wouldn’t stop laughing.

He pulled a stink face and muttered “well, that’s a great start”. He sulked through the rest of his speech like a kid doing the bare minimum to finish his chores. He mumbled into his mic and focused on dry technical details. He ended on a downbeat, said “thank you”, folded his notes, and walked off stage without waiting for applause.

When the MC brought Rachel Brooking, Labour’s environment spokesperson, on stage and tried to start a debate between the two, Bishop shut it down. “Rachel and I talk all the time. Let’s not do this in public.” While taking questions from the crowd, he was combative. “Not true,” he said before one woman had finished her question. “Don’t just presuppose I have a view one way or another.”

After one highly opinionated question, he simply refused to answer, staring daggers at the inquirer. Brooking tried to break the awkward silence by giving her view. Bishop wasn’t happy with her answer. “That wasn’t the question,” he said. “Yes it was,” the woman who had asked it said.

As Bishop was walking off stage, a man grabbed the mic and gave an emotive speech imploring Bishop to protect the environment for his mokopuna. The room applauded. Bishop looked at him, rolled his shoulders and walked away.

This term in parliament, Bishop has led one of the most significant regulatory reforms in New Zealand history and has done it at record speed. Across his four major ministerial portfolios, he’s attempting to overhaul key aspects of planning law, housing policy, resource management, environmental protection, local government and infrastructure. He merged several agencies into new mega-ministry Cities, Environment, Regions and Transport, known as MCERT.

Bishop is a classical liberal who believes New Zealand’s main economic problem is regulatory friction. He wants to give developers and businesses more certainty and get the state out of the way. That, his theory goes, will lead to more houses, energy, infrastructure and shared prosperity.

However, the reforms have made him a controversial figure in environmental circles, where many experts are concerned the rapid liberalisation could have serious consequences. The Fast Track Approvals Amendment Bill generated the second-highest number of select committee submissions in New Zealand history, behind only the Treaty Principles Bill.

Bishop has also found himself increasingly isolated within his own coalition. His ambitious plan to zone for two million new homes in Auckland was reportedly blocked by Act leader and Epsom MP David Seymour. And he was stripped of his role as National Party campaign chair after reports he was plotting to roll prime minister Christopher Luxon (he denied this). And yet, despite presenting a potential threat to Luxon’s leadership, Bishop didn’t lose any ministerial portfolios. His agenda has become too central to the government’s economic message to risk changing hands.

That same morning, less than 500m away, Bishop spoke at another conference hosted by Community Housing Aotearoa. It was a less hostile audience, but the speech began almost as badly.

Just as he got into the swing of things the lectern microphone broke, sending a loud, high-pitched noise ringing throughout the theatre. An assistant ran a handheld microphone out to him. The noise continued. The second mic worked, but distorted his voice so he sounded like a dying transformer. Then both the noise and the second mic cut out. The crowd let out a sigh of relief. Bishop stood at the stand, alone, looking frustrated. The assistant brought out some water and asked if he wanted a glass. “No, I want the mic to work,” Bishop said, flatly. A third mic appeared but it wouldn’t turn on no matter how many times they tapped the top. At long last, the original mic crackled back to life. “Alright, we’re back,” Bishop said, to a cheer.

Bishop doesn’t like waiting around. He charges head down, in single-minded pursuit of his goal. The scale and pace of his reforms package is only possible because of New Zealand’s uniquely powerful unicameral parliamentary system. Through his other role as leader of the House, Bishop has exploited urgency rules to push through law changes in faster timeframes with reduced scrutiny.

The audience nodded along as he laid out his theory of why the regulatory reforms were necessary and how he was going about implementing them. He told them that putting low-income families into houses was “the reason I’m in politics”.

The community housing sector has been supportive of many of Bishop’s reforms, particularly around higher density housing, though has been highly critical of other government policies such as move-on orders for homeless people. National governments tend to favour investment in non-government community housing providers rather than Kāinga Ora.

Labour’s Kieran McAnulty, speaking after Bishop at the housing conference, committed to expanding the government’s underwrite scheme. The room applauded. At the environmental conference, Brooking had nothing new to announce, but received a warm reception simply from expressing her frustration and saying she wanted the government to “do better”. Labour doesn’t need a counter-agenda to win the sectors over. They can just promise to keep the stuff you like and scrap the stuff you don’t.

During the housing conference Q&A, a representative from Disability Connect asked why Bishop had scrapped Kāinga Ora’s target for 15% accessible housing. Bishop dismissed the target as “frankly a bit arbitrary”.

“Those targets were really important to the disability sector,” she replied. “We would have really liked to be involved if you had asked us to help you.”

That, really, encapsulates where Bishop has found himself. The pace of his reforms may be what makes them possible, but it can also make people feel they’re watching a runaway train.