The book we need right now: Jacinda Ardern’s ‘A Different Kind of Power’
It’s hard not to be a fan of Jacinda Ardern. She was one of the world’s youngest political leaders, aged just 37 at time of election, successfully navigated first-time motherhood during her premiership, and led New Zealand through some of the most challenging events in its history. Her memoir, 'A Different Kind of Power', tells the story of her life and political career.
Most people (myself included) would be a bit put-off by the prospect of a political memoir. I’d expect it to be self-aggrandising and packed with dry recollection of every campaign, speech and meeting, but this one looked different.
Yes, its cover has the usual black and white portrait, but the title is in bold, bright yellow. The reviews on the back are from Natalie Portman, Bill Bailey and Melinda French Gates, not the usual politicians and political journalists. Additionally, it is marketed as ‘a deeply personal memoir offering inspiration and hope in uncertain times’, which, let’s be honest – we all need right now.
But does it deliver on this promise? The prologue begins ‘It was a standard bathroom’, a sentence poised to stoke intrigue and suspense, not characteristics usually associated with the form. These couple of pages describe Ardern waiting to see the result of her pregnancy test whilst the decision is made as to whether she will become Prime Minister – two life-altering matters. We all know what happened next, but are still left on a cliffhanger as she looks down to check if the little stick is positive.
In any case, the next chapters vividly detail her small-town childhood, where she grew up in a Mormon family and learnt about the importance of ethics and respect at work from her police-officer father. What is so striking about these chapters is just how normal a life Ardern led, and how openly she now shares that life with the world. It doesn’t stray into self-indulgence - there is a purpose behind these details. Anybody can become a leader, and the normal, kind-hearted kids who doubt themselves and worry about those around them make the best politicians.
The narration of her career in politics is remarkably interesting and informative but peppered with enough personal anecdotes that it keeps its novelistic quality – this is above all the story of a person who happens to be a politician rather than an upholding of the veneer that we are so used to in public figures.
We learn as much about her family as we do policy; her partner Clarke (who presents TV shows about fishing) and daughter Neve (who thought her mum’s job was eating chocolate) are main characters in this story, which is important. You genuinely care about Ardern and her life as the book progresses, meaning that the personal abuse she faced from members of the public becomes palpably hurtful, and the reasons behind her resignation perfectly understandable.
Overall, the book more than delivers on its dust-jacket promise. It is essential reading for anyone in a managerial position, and I would suggest that all young people, especially girls, should give it a go. In a political climate with such division, it is refreshing to learn that countries can be led by people who are kind and care about people. And that a sensitive person can channel her imposter syndrome to become one of the most iconic leaders in modern democracy.