Jacinda Ardern: The Psychology of an Ideal Woman Leader

While the ranks of women in leadership continues to grow at a hopeful rate, there are still constant reminders that the goal of leadership equality remains unattained. There are still bitter daily reminders that the U.S. has never elected a woman president; the recent fawning media coverage of male candidates over female ones, even when less experienced or less substantive in their policy positions, shows we have a long way to go to overcome deeply ingrained, even subconscious misogyny about women in power.

On the positive side, the more women are publicly in charge, the greater variety and visibility of successful women leaders will help provide nuance and humanity to people’s misgivings and prejudices about those roles. Each prominent women leader nowadays, in a sense, is filling in the blanks of a previously crude and binary caricature; these leaders are helping forge the path for future women to see what is useful and possible in these roles.

One particularly poignant, even groundbreaking, example of a woman leader has been Jacinda Ardern, Prime Minister of New Zealand, who is not yet 40 years old. It is in times of crisis that leadership arguably matters most, and New Zealand recently experienced a major tragedy during the March 15 Christchurch mosque attack. Christchurch had already endured a major tragedy after a February 2011 earthquake decimated the city center and killed 185 people, including numerous students at an international school.

A relatively small nation in terms of population (just under 5 million) and known for being generally safe and peaceful, New Zealand was shocked by the brutal and sickening terrorist attack, likely comparable to 9/11’s psychological impact on the U.S. (which I experienced, having lived in Manhattan at the time). By chance I was on holiday in New Zealand during the attack; I had marveled at being able to hop on a domestic flight only a couple days beforehand without any security screening. It had been a particularly warm and sunny day in Christchurch the Tuesday before. The compact city center had a buzzy enthusiasm with its new 21st century buildings and trendy restaurants, crowded even on a Tuesday night by a small central river. It seemed life was moving forward, despite the ominous and somber presence of the central Cathedral, covered still in scaffolding with a visible and savage crack across its main façade. We had driven by numerous smallish, tightly organized, extremely suburban homes on the way to the city center, and the large flat green Hagley Park, where one of the mosques was located. All of it reminded me some of my own extremely suburban hometown while growing up, a blandly safe and idyllic setting for my immigrant parents who had left their country, still recovering from the aftermath of the Korean War.

By the time we returned to Christchurch a week later, the attack had happened against innocent people in the Muslim community, many of whom were refugees and immigrants also seeking a better life and fleeing war zones. The mood was painfully altered. The streets were nearly silent, and the overall tone was muted. Fliers advocating for solidarity and mutual understanding were posted on various poles. On the drive back to the airport, we saw the street at the edge of Hagley Park by the botanical garden bursting with flowers and signs from one end to the other. At the airport, security screening had been newly implemented for our flight back to Auckland.

In the immediate aftermath of the shooting, Ardern quickly made a public speech that has been widely praised for its tone. She did not shy away from the underlying motives of the attack: anti-Muslim hatred, toxic prejudice, and racism. She addressed it head-on: “Christchurch was the home of these victims. For many, this may not have been the place they were born. In fact, for many, New Zealand was their choice … a place that many came to for its safety, a place where they were free to practice their culture and their religion...we represent diversity, kindness, compassion, a home for those who share our values, refuge for those who need it.” She pointedly said to the killer: “You may have chosen us: we utterly reject and condemn you.” She refused to provide the killer any recognition via name or image, and the media in the country followed her direction, blurring him out in most coverage. (In contrast after the horrific Charlottesville march and murder, our leader made minimal, ambivalent attempts to condemn white nationalist hatred, saying mistakes were made on “both sides.”)

Ardern managed to strike a balance of being firm and decisive and clear in her moral stance as a leader, setting the values that her nation should and would represent. And those values were based on empathy and compassion, traits that she herself also exhibited and highlighted in her speech. In that sense, she forged an important amalgam for female leadership: a combination of steely resolve with authentic emotional connection. She did it with poise and ease as well, although it has actually been extraordinary difficult for many women leaders to hit this balance, let alone after a major crisis.

Women leaders are often held to a higher standard in terms of emotional stability; the internalized misogynistic fear of many is that women are too invested in their emotions, that they cannot make objective decisions because of them. And to overcompensate for this fear, some women leaders turn towards traditionally masculine behaviors of being overly cold or emotionless, else they risk being labeled quickly as “bitchy” or angry or unstable when emotional. Hillary Clinton was often criticized for being inauthentic or cold; during the Presidential debates, she appeared to be trying very hard not to come across as angry or negative and staying perhaps too much on the high road. She likely knew that to brawl back at her bullying adversary would still lead to a backlash, despite his own angry, negative tones and behavior towards her.

Ardern somehow masterfully used all of these emotions to her advantage during this crisis. While outwardly calm and in control, she still acknowledged the multitude of strong emotions flooding her nation: the sorrow, the anger, the compassion. She focused everyone’s emotions with clarity on core values of empathy and tolerance, and unity and support for the Muslim community in New Zealand as she publicly wore a hijab. Any stronger and wayward emotions she channeled towards action: within days she expressed the intent to pass decisive, immediate legislation for stronger gun control, while simultaneously gathering consensus from her government and also her populace, by instituting a voluntary weapon turn-in initiative. This past week, a ban on semi-automatic weapons was approved by her government almost unanimously.

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As her nation heals, Ardern has shown that a focus on what perhaps some have disparaged as overly soft values to emphasize in leadership are actually powerful strengths: kindness, sympathy, love. Suzanne Moore’s March 18th editorial in the Guardian remarked upon how Ardern’s focus on these values was perhaps revolutionary in the annals of leadership. Indeed, she has shown in an incontrovertible way the greater possibilities of leadership when we permit diversity within its ranks. In turn, the public may develop a more multifaceted sense of what women in power can be like. Hopefully, moving forward, we can learn and see that Ardern’s balanced leadership is a positive role model not just for women, but for all people who aspire to such roles.