I don’t generally read political memoirs. In the 18 years I’ve been posting reviews here, I can only think of a handful of politicians whose books I’ve featured. But I’ve got time for Jacinda Ardern, former prime minister of New Zealand and a politician who was different in many ways. Chief among those is that she didn’t harbour any great ambition for power, and didn’t consider herself politician material – too sensitive, too thin-skinned. Still, she ended up holding the highest office in the land, and A Different Kind of Power tells her story.
Ardern was the daughter of a police officer and a school cook, so public service was in the family. Following her father’s work, they lived in Murupara and then Morrinsville, a largely Maori region and an agricultural town respectively. These were clearly formative. So were the values of the Mormon church that her family attended. As a teenager Ardern joined the Labour party and was soon volunteering at elections and as a researcher. She spent time studying in Arizona and then worked in politics in the UK for a while, before she was convinced to add her name to the Labour party list as a prospective MP.
With a proportional voting system, candidates could win seats through a list rather than a constituency. Though not yet 30, she was respected enough within party circles to come quite high in the list, guaranteeing her place in parliament. She held various shadow roles in opposition, and ended up leader of the party in far from ideal circumstances – parachuted in seven weeks ahead of an election, after a resignation. Like Kamala Harris after Joe Biden’s withdrawal, she fought the election as a later runner, though with a far more positive outcome. Labour returned to power and Ardern became prime minister.
Her government was unusual in character. She was able to act on some of her longstanding concerns, such as poverty and child welfare. Climate change rose up the agenda, with a raft of new environmental policies and a new carbon target. New Zealand made headlines for approaching government budgeting in a new way, presenting a ‘wellbeing budget’ that prioritised wellbeing over economic growth. Ardern’s government spoke with nuance about GDP, rcognising its usefulness while rejecting it as a guiding principle. Alongside Scotland, Finland, Wales and Iceland, New Zealand founded a collective of governments pursuing a wellbeing economy.
Ardern’s premiership might not be remembered for these innovations, as a lot happened in the following years. She became only the second elected head of state to give birth while in office (Benazir Bhutto of Pakistan being the first), and she writes extensively in the book about the challenges of motherhood in such a high-pressure role. The mass shootings at mosques in Christchurch in 2019 also loom large, and then the unprecedented territory of Covid-19. It was the latter that proved the turning point. As I saw with Kiwi friends at the time, support for Ardern and her government drained away under the tight Covid rules that they applied as an island nation. Ardern stepped down in 2023, and I wonder how different her legacy might have been if it hadn’t been for the pandemic.
Not that Ardern dwells on this in a book that is much more personal than political. There’s no attempt to explain a political philosophy, not even the ‘politics of kindness’ than she was known for. There’s little detail on wellbeing economics or climate policy. For those who read political memoirs, this will no doubt be disappointing. I expect they’ll also want more bitterness, strife and gossip, which are not to be found here. What you get instead is a warm and often witty story about someone navigating power in their own way, balancing the demands of relationships, interrogating her faith, trying to do what’s right in the face of often impossible circumstances.
You won’t get a set of political ideas from the book, but you will get a broader definition of what a politician can be. In the conclusion, Ardern reflects on her story and addresses the reader with some advice – perhaps the only passage in the book where this happens and worth quoting at length. Compare it to the entitlement of so many politicians, the born to rule arrogance and the superiority complex, and it’s clear why we need more people like Ardern in politics:
“If you have impostor syndrome, or question yourself, channel that. It will help you. You will read more, seek out advice, and humble yourself to situations that require humility to be conquered. If you’re anxious, and overthink everything, if you can imagine the worst-case scenario always, channel that too. It will mean you are ready when the most challenging days arrive. And if you are thin-skinned and sensitive, if criticism cuts you in two, that is not weakness; it’s empathy. In fact, all of the traits that you believe are your flaws will come to be your strengths. The things you thought would cripple you will in fact make you stronger, make you better. They will give you a different kind of power, and make you a leader that this world, with all its turmoil, might just need.”
- A Different Kind of Power is available from Earthbound Books
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