Maree Buske
Maree Buske was born and raised in Gisborne. From working in retail to a five year stint in local radio and a period in brewing and manufacturing: the scope of work has allowed Maree to meet some incredible individuals, entrepreneurial thinkers and authentic everyday New Zealanders.
This weekend I read Jacinda: The Untold Stories – the unauthorised biography by David Cohen with Rebecca Keillor.
This is the book the Ardern luvvies don’t want you to read. It doesn’t fawn over her every move, though it does devote a passage to how “adorable” became the most fashionable adjective for Ardern during the winter of 2017. There’s no chapter dedicated to Paddles the cat – although Paddles does get a mention. Instead, this biography examines the side of Jacinda Ardern that Madeline Chapman’s authorised account, and Ardern’s own words, tended to gloss over.
Cohen weaves together his own early encounters with the then-novice MP alongside the experiences of those who worked with her, admired her, befriended her, were betrayed by her, and, of course, those who criticised her. Over a hundred interviews were conducted in the research – myself among them – and it’s evident how carefully Cohen sought to strike the right chord in uncovering who Jacinda Ardern really was.
He explores her provincial upbringing in a conservative Mormon family with a quietly ambitious father who rose from local police constable to high-profile international postings. Jacinda’s diligence and drive were apparent early – from intermediate school through high school and university. Over time, she traded her Mormon faith for a new creed: the emerging religion of social justice and critical theory.
While this theme isn’t heavily emphasised, Cohen notes the thread of her “compulsive kindness” – kindled during her formative years and later honed, even weaponised, during her political ascent. You can take the girl out of religion, but not the religion out of the girl.
Cohen rightly emphasises her hypnotic, intoxicating star power and how many fell under her spell. I never succumbed to Jacindamania – but many did, and it’s easy to see why. From her early years, she radiated a disarming affability and charm that, combined with diligence and tenacity, opened every door. Whether or not she had a clear destination programmed into her GPS, she always seemed to find herself in the right place at the right time.
The first two-thirds of the book chart the rise of Brand Jacinda: its power, polish, and appeal, which primed her for what came next – the pandemic, the soaring popularity, and the eventual crash. She had already set a precedent for overpromising and underdelivering during her first coalition term, but during the pandemic this tendency was turbocharged. Her polished, almost evangelical communication style, combined with fear of the unknown, cast her as the saviour of the “Team of Five Million”. The reward came in her emphatic 2020 election victory.
Chapter 10 marks a turning point – an acknowledgment of the growing discontent among New Zealanders, a discontent ignored, dismissed, or vilified by political and professional circles. For many Kiwis, that frustration wasn’t fully realised until it camped on parliament’s front lawn for three weeks. Here, the evangelical saviour revealed a harder edge, drawing on the old religious impulse that cruelty could be a form of kindness. After the protest, Ardern seemed to recognise her tenure was faltering. As Ruth Richardson put it, “Jacinda was all hat and no cattle.” Ardern herself admitted to bouts of imposter syndrome – and by then, much of the public shared her doubt. The only groups seemingly unaware were the local legacy media (shocked by her January 2023 resignation in Napier) and much of the international press and academe.
With her freshly minted investiture at Buckingham Palace – arise, Dame Jacinda – she seemed poised for her next chapter of beatification among the global ideological elite. The rising fury at home has often been blamed on misogyny. Some interviewees claimed a male prime minister would never have faced the same vitriol purely for being a woman. But Cohen cites Ruth Richardson, who summarised Ardern’s legacy as “an emotionally muscular communication style undermined by a lack of policy depth, economic recklessness, and an inability to deliver measurable outcomes”.
As I said at the outset, the Ardern luvvies will not want you to read this book. They’d rather not see their Saint Jacinda portrayed in any unflattering light – misogynists! On the other hand, Ardern’s harshest critics may feel Cohen didn’t go far enough. That tension suggests he and Keillor struck the right balance. The final chapter of direct quotes provides a satisfying mosaic of opinions, and the inclusion of hard data at the end gives readers an unvarnished view of the Ardern years.
As Cohen concludes, “Her core principles were shaped long before she entered office; they were rooted not in ideology, but in a seriously religious worldview.”
And let’s not forget – be kind.
This article was originally published by Reality Check Radio.
