Jacinda Ardern has always been a political trailblazer, pioneering a new style of leadership that resonated around the world. And, of course, the announcement of her departure was in-keeping with the spirit of her premiership—honest, open, self-aware and emotional.
Choking back tears, the New Zealand prime minister told a press conference: “I know what this job takes, and I know that I no longer have enough in the tank to do it justice.” She said she wanted to have time for her four-year-old daughter Neve and her fiancé Clarke Gayford. Normally when politicians quit to “spend more time with their family” they have been embroiled in some kind of scandal. But Ardern insisted that there were no skeletons in her cupboard and no hidden agenda. “The only interesting angle you will find is that after going on six years of some big challenges that I am human. Politicians are human. We give all that we can, for as long as we can, and then it’s time. And for me, it’s time.” Experts praised Ardern’s honesty and willingness to admit to suffering from “burnout”.
There was something refreshing but also sad about her statement. It is Ardern’s humanity that has made her so appealing as a leader who values empathy and compassion as well as competence. There is much to learn from her “politics of kindness”, a quality that is all too rare in a brutal dog-eat-dog world where rivals are encouraged to fight each other to the death, while the discourse is couched in the language of war.
Other female leaders have deliberately mimicked the male approach to power. Margaret Thatcher had her power suits and Theresa May prided herself on being a “bloody difficult woman”. Ardern—only the second leader to have given birth in office—took maternity leave after her daughter was born. She has never been embarrassed by her femininity or seen gentleness as a source of vulnerability. She understands that it is not weak to listen, and she has shown that there can be great strength in being empathetic.
Yet, like many female politicians, Ardern has also faced an extraordinary level of abuse online. Helen Clark, the former New Zealand Labour prime minister, said that “in this era of social media, clickbait and 24/7 media cycles, Jacinda has faced a level of hatred and vitriol which in my experience is unprecedented in our country.” She called for society to reflect on “whether it wants to continue to tolerate the excessive polarisation which is making politics an increasingly unattractive calling.”
Even now, the misogynists are out in force, claiming Ardern’s departure is a sign that women are not up to the job, or cannot credibly combine a family with a political career. There was a similar reaction when Estelle Morris, the former UK Labour education secretary, resigned, saying she did not feel she was up to the job. At Westminster there is a more nuanced concern among some female MPs who see Ardern’s decision to quit as a betrayal of the sisterhood. Margaret Hodge, the veteran UK Labour MP, thinks Ardern’s political strength comes from her authenticity: “She’s like the rest of us, she doesn’t have to be pretend.” But she says some of her colleagues feel torn. “It’s a mixture—you can look at it as honesty and integrity or you can look at it as making it more difficult for others after her.”
Amber Rudd, the Conservative former home secretary, says the news has just made her feel relieved she is out of politics. “When people say to me why don’t you go back? I shudder,” she tells me. “It’s like you put yourself into a cage when you are a senior politician. It’s a gilded cage and you do it because you have something you want to achieve but you don’t see your friends, you don’t have time for all the things that make you a rounded person.” She “can’t bear” the suggestion that Ardern’s decision to quit shows it is impossible to combine a career with a family as a woman in politics. “I think Jacinda is remarkable and impressive,” she says. “She has succeeded and now is the time to step out of the ring. A man would be lucky to have the self-awareness to have had six amazing years and leave at the top of their game.”
Professor Cary Cooper, the author of Burnout in the Workplace, told Sky News that the impact of Ardern’s statement would be “very positive” in terms of shifting attitudes. “When you get people in a position of influence, in senior roles, saying something, it has a more profound change on other people being prepared to open up themselves,” he said.
“It’s unfortunate we don’t get enough people saying that who are in leadership. Instead, they carry on and carry on, or when they do leave they give some other excuse. It would be nice if they were open and honest.”
Politicians too often go on and on, or even when they are ousted become obsessed by plotting their return. The contrast between Ardern’s humility as she bowed out and Boris Johnson’s swaggering “Hasta la vista, baby” could not have been starker.
Politically, Ardern’s decision to stand down was yet more evidence that the culture at the top needs to change. Personally, though, by quitting as she did, Ardern was taking control of her future, and deciding the priorities for her own life. It was a sign of strength not of weakness. She is only 42. There is plenty of time for her to make her next move.
