Imagine getting a positive pregnancy test and finding out just days later that you're going to be prime minister. In retrospect, a willingness to deal with the unexpected has become a hallmark of Jacinda Ardern, the former prime minister of New Zealand,'s political career.
She has always stood out as a leader, but her turbulent political journey has followed none of the expected trajectories. Readers of her memoir will get to relive that experience, from her personal feelings about motherhood to her encounters with world leaders.
The title of her book, however, promises more than that. Many people hope for a different kind of leader, but what personal qualities or virtues do such leaders need? More broadly, can the personal qualities that contribute to great leadership be learned and applied to others?
The answer, it seems, is a conditional yes. Since leaving political office, Ardern has become a global influencer. Her career now revolves around international agencies and public appearances, but the memoir also serves as a manifesto on leadership, especially for women, but also for anyone who doubts themselves.
The limits of empathy
In the early years of her career, while working as an aide to Labour leader Helen Clark, Ardern describes how easily her political opponents could pick on her. Was she “too sensitive” for politics? She quickly learned that “you can be sensitive and survive.” Better yet, she realized that she could turn her sensitivity to advantage.
But “for women in the public eye, it’s different,” she writes. Derogatory terms were used against her, such as the epithet “mannequin” coined by a prominent journalist. Questions were raised about whether she had “substance.” Such things could shake people’s faith in her competence, and perhaps shake her self-confidence.
What she did about it can serve as a lesson. A harsh response to the taunts would have made her seem “humorless and overly sensitive.” The “trick” was to respond in a way that “led the story nowhere.” She became adept at it, successfully deflecting comments that were intended to humiliate her.
It also meant being a feminist, but not using feminism as an ideological platform. Aside from once telling a TV host that it was “unacceptable” to ask if a prime minister could go on maternity leave, she mostly let others protest and avoided becoming an even bigger target of culture warriors.
But “A Different Kind of Power” begs the question: different from what? Ardern’s political career has been a challenge, if not an open critique, of leaders who cultivate self-centered, competitive, and always-win behaviors. Should we even mention Donald Trump?
Instead, Ardern promoted kindness and empathy. That approach came into its own after the 2019 Christchurch terror attacks. At a time when anti-immigrant and Islamophobic sentiments were rising around the world, Ardern embraced the victims. “They are mine,” she said. She channeled emotions that could have fueled a cycle of blame toward sharing grief and aroha (love and compassion).
But, like any political virtue, empathy has its limits. It reaches out to those whose suffering touches us, but it is selective. Effective social policy also requires impartial administration and the redistribution of resources. Leaders must ensure that public goods are equally available to all who need them, which requires rational planning.
And sometimes a national crisis requires measures that do not seem fair or compassionate to everyone.
Pandemic politics
The Covid-19 pandemic was just such a crisis. It brought enormous uncertainty to governments, and no path forward was “good.” Jacinda Ardern’s government stood as an example of responsible governance, saving many lives, and the Labour Party won a record 2020 percent of the vote in the 50 election. Yet Ardern’s account of the period is surprisingly brief, especially given her pivotal role.
She was at the center of events every day, patiently explaining public health measures. But in this fight against the virus, she failed to defend herself from the political consequences and changes in public opinion.
Over time, many citizens, whose businesses were closed, who were isolated for months, who were unable to return home from abroad, or who were stigmatized for not getting vaccinated, stopped feeling empathy from the authorities. And they felt that silence was being imposed on them. That feeling spread far beyond the circle of activists who spoke out in front of parliament in early 2022.
Ardern refused to meet with the protesters. “How can I send the message that it’s okay to illegally occupy parliament and get what you want?”
But she, or someone at the top of the government, could have listened to their demands and explained why they could not be met. Her refusal to hear them opened the way for veteran populist Winston Peters, who seized the opportunity to campaign for a return to the parliament he now sits in, where Ardern does not.
While mandatory vaccinations were a key issue for the protesters, it is disappointing that Ardern continues to blame dissenters, as if they are “not us” – cast out of the “team of five million”. She attributes the discontent solely to their “distrust”. Refusing to listen to them – not just the protesters, but the deeper shifts in public opinion – has cost Labour dearly.
Inflation, fueled by pandemic fiscal stimulus, peaked at 7,3 percent in June 2022. By then, two changes had occurred: the National Party had taken over the leadership, and a majority of citizens were saying the country was going in the wrong direction. In January 2023, Ardern resigned. She believed, probably rightly, that it could “be good for my party and maybe good for the election.”
Leadership Guild
But in her memoir, she also reveals that the decision was influenced by a cancer scare, which was a false alarm, but perhaps a sign that the job was taking its toll. She concluded that her departure might “reduce political tensions.” After all, she was tired, stressed, and losing patience.
A change of leadership, the arrival of Chris Hipkins, and a devastating cyclone temporarily boosted Labor's ratings. But in the October 2023 election, they lost almost half their voters: from 1.443.545 in 2020 to 767.540.
Hundreds of thousands of voters have turned their backs on Labour, and it’s not just the Covid measures that have caused this. There have also been controversial or unsuccessful policies, such as water reform, unemployment insurance proposals and initiatives for shared governance with the Maori community that have been ruthlessly exploited by the political opposition. These were all initiatives launched during Ardern’s term, although she does not mention them in her memoirs.
Her book is more about personal doubts and empathy. She does not critically examine her own policies. Nor does she express empathy for those who have felt neglected or excluded by those policies - with the usual caveat that the extraordinary measures were necessary. And as she now builds an international career, she does not express compassion for those who need it most today, whether it be children in Gaza or refugees in South Sudan.
It is disappointing that Ardern does not define key terms: empathy, leadership or power, for example. These terms can be interpreted in different ways, and definitions carry certain assumptions. But she is not addressing an academic audience or political analysts. Her audience is primarily American, a much larger and more lucrative market than her own. As the Democratic Party continues to struggle to find direction and leadership after last year’s defeats, Ardern, who poses no political threat to anyone there, offers a certain dose of inspiration.
Some may find her evasive about the tough questions about her time at the top, but Ardern's memoir authentically weaves personal narrative with high political drama. It tells the story of one woman's struggles with morning sickness, childbirth, breastfeeding and motherhood, all while shouldering enormous public responsibilities and facing constant media pressure. It remains astonishing how she managed to pull it all off.
The author is a teaching associate in politics and international relations at the University of Auckland.
Translation: A. Š.
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