In 2017, Jacinda Ardern became New Zealand’s prime minister at just 37, leading her country through some of its most challenging moments — from a terrorist attack to a pandemic.
In her memoir “A Different Kind of Power,” she offers a rare glimpse into the personal convictions and leadership style that shaped her political career.
Rather than chasing power for its own sake, Ardern writes candidly about leading with empathy, staying grounded in values, and letting purpose outweigh fear.
Here are 10 lessons drawn from her book.
Say yes before you’re ready
Ardern never set out to run for office. She loved politics but saw it as a calling for other people — more assertive, more confident, more sure.
So when Labor Party officials encouraged her to join the party list ahead of the 2008 election, she hesitated.
She was living in London, working as a policy advisor, and becoming a member of New Zealand’s Parliament felt far off and improbable.
But something shifted: “You’ve said no so many times. But this time, maybe, you just said yes.”
Let purpose be bigger than fear
While volunteering for the Labor Party and working as a researcher for New Zealand’s former Prime Minister Helen Clark in 2001, the idea of becoming a member of Parliament briefly crossed her mind.
It didn’t seem practical — she doubted whether politics could ever be a real job for someone like her.
“What would it be like? To not just help people one-on-one — by being a good community member and volunteer, as I’d seen my mum do for her whole life — but to also have a vote and a voice in the place that set and changed the rules.
“What would it be like, I wondered, to be an MP?”
Leadership is service, not status
For Ardern, politics was never about prestige. Her early campaign work taught her that political change isn’t about optics — it’s about impact.
“An election wasn’t just something that was battled out on a television screen. It wasn’t about phone calls or pages of an Excel spreadsheet. It was about real things that happened to real people.”
Empathy is not weakness — it’s power
Mocked and jeered in Parliament as a young MP, Ardern wondered if she was “too thin-skinned for politics.”
A party veteran urged her not to change.
“Promise me you won’t try to toughen up, Jacinda. You feel things because you have empathy and because you care. The moment you change that is the moment you’ll stop being good at your job.”
The traits you think disqualify you may be what make you a great leader
Jacinda Ardern often felt she didn’t fit the mold of a traditional politician — too anxious, too empathetic, too filled with self-doubt.
But over time, she learned to see those traits as assets, not liabilities.
“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 flaws will come to be your strengths. They will give you a different kind of power, and make you a leader that this world, with all its turmoil, might just need.”
Good leadership is good listening
As a volunteer phone banking at 18, Ardern had to call through a dated Labor Party spreadsheet to recruit volunteers.
Most people hung up. Some were hostile. But she got better — not by pushing harder, but by listening closely.
“With each, I listened to how people answered, and tried to start a conversation. ‘How do you think things will go at the election? What do you think might swing things?'”
You don’t need to be the loudest to lead
During her years in opposition, Ardern was often told — explicitly and implicitly — that she wasn’t “tough” enough for politics.
She wasn’t confrontational, didn’t dominate debates, and didn’t attack for the sake of scoring points.
Commentators called her “vapid,” “pretty bloody stupid,” or a “show pony.”
But Ardern never embraced the shouty, aggressive archetype of leadership.
“I would never be that kind of leader, and I didn’t want to try. If the only way to put runs on the board in opposition was attacking and tearing people down, then maybe I was mediocre.
“I didn’t want to choose between being a good politician and being what I considered a good person. So I settled into the criticism.”
Let your values challenge your tribe
Raised Mormon, Ardern supported civil unions and the decriminalization of sex work — even though her church opposed both.
“Did my political decision differ from that of the Mormon church? Absolutely. But yet again, I ignored the clash of values, instead filing it away in the same metaphorical box where I put all the other things I couldn’t square.”
Failure doesn’t mean stop; it means grow
In her third attempt at winning a parliamentary seat — this time in her hometown of Morrinsville — Ardern lost again.
Labor’s national result was its worst in nearly a century, and she returned to Parliament only via the party list.
Despite campaign losses, she still kept going.
“I cried myself to sleep. Then I went back to work.”
Know when to step back — even from the top
Leadership took a toll on Ardern, physically and emotionally. In her memoir, she reveals that a cancer scare — a false alarm — was a wake-up call.
The relentless pressure of leadership was beginning to affect her health, patience, and perspective.
“I knew the next challenge, whatever it was, lay just around the corner. And when it came, I would need a full tank, more than enough in reserves. And I wasn’t sure I had that anymore. It was time to say aloud what, until then, had been a thought in my head alone.”
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