Both characterisations of Jacinda Ardern as being driven out of office by misogyny, and her lacking the courage by throwing in the towel, are cartoonish and false.  Yet while each are wrong in telling the whole story, there are strands of truth to each of them.

There is no doubt that in the last two years, Ardern has been the subject of hate and viciousness that is unprecedented in New Zealand politics.  Much of it has been gendered.  It is of a nature that none of her predecessors has experienced.

It is not unique to New Zealand.  It is consistent with the increasing division and extremism that has plagued Western democracies.  It has been fed by anger and frustration at various governments’ responses to Covid.

It is true that John Key experienced hate.  Tom Scott, a cultural darling of the left wing, wrote a song in 2014 about killing the Prime Minister and bedding his daughter. Too few of Scott’s friends in the Labour Party condemned him for it.  

In 2016, senior Minister Steven Joyce was hit with a dildo at Waitangi.  The Left celebrated it.

But even then, the risks and threats of violence against politicians were rare and isolated.  As PM, Key could, and did, visit his neighbourhood Parnell cafe on a weekend morning.  He visited the nearby supermarket to cook dinner for his family on a Sunday afternoon.  Bill English went to church every Sunday. Both did so with a skeleton security detail.

Ardern swept to global political superstardom in 2017.  Over several years prior to becoming leader, she had cultivated a devoted following in the Labour Party.  In 2011 and 2014, despite a dysfunctional Labour Party unable to compete with John Key’s juggernaut, she mounted a credible, but ultimately unsuccessful, insurgency against Nikki Kaye in Auckland Central.  She also nurtured close relationships with political media, and established a substantial social media brand that eclipsed her own leaders.

Before taking over the leadership, the internal adulation that Ardern successfully fostered was at odds with any notable achievements as a Member of Parliament.  She was variously given the Justice, Children, Arts and Culture, and small business portfolios, and then failed to undertake any substantial policy development.  Despite shadowing Kaye in Auckland Central, she didn’t put any substantial efforts into advocating for constituents’ interests.  Her single legislative effort, a private members’ bill to contract out adoption law reform to the Law Commission, rather than do the policy effort herself, was a cynical attempt to gazump Kaye, who had developed a legislative framework.

By contrast, immediately upon becoming an MP in 2011, Louisa Wall championed same sex marriage.  She worked with Kaye to develop the legislation.  Within two years of entering Parliament, Parliament passed the law.

Still, Ardern was a formidable campaigner.  That was evident in 2011.  She was a strong debater and matched, if not bested Kaye in their joint public appearances.  Their styles were very different.  When Kaye was asked a policy question, she would typically respond by listing examples of what she was doing, and what the National Government was doing, to address the problem.  Ardern would respond by empathising with the questioner and sharing her concern with the problem, without offering an outcome.  More often than not, Ardern’s response was better-received.

Ardern engaged easily with diverse audiences.  Prior to election night in 2011, I spoke with her campaign manager indicating that if the result went against Kaye on the night, she would wish to come and concede in person.  I then gave Ardern’s campaign the assurance that if Ardern wished to concede in person on the night, she would be treated with dignity and respect.  Sure enough, in 2011 Ardern came down to our election night function, was greeted with raucous applause at the gesture, and stayed for a couple of drinks.  For an hour she mixed and mingled with the National Party set in Auckland Central, and an innocent observer could have been mistaken for believing she was one of us celebrating Kaye’s reelection.

Ardern was surrounded by people who believed in her, and would go to the ends of the earth with her.  Left-wing journalists, such as Simon Wilson, were early converts.  Ardern’s popularity was much more than basic respect for her political skills: it was unbridled adulation.

Part of that adulation can be explained by a response to Key’s dominance of the centre-right. There was a relative vacuum of charisma and political success from Labour’s leadership for nine years, and the party was desperate for a leader they could believe in.  Part of it was Ardern’s political skills and personality.

Until she was anointed Prime Minister by Winston Peters in October 2017, Ardern barely faced a dissenting voice to her meteoric rise to public prominence, let alone an angry one.

Much more will be written about her government’s delivery between 2017 and 2023.  The grand visions, of elimination of child poverty, homelessness, transformation of government, and the comically under-developed targets for Kiwibuild, light rail, and forestry, among others depict a presumptive Ministry that was prepared to say anything for public attention, without doing the work.  Domestically, before Covid struck in March 2020, Ardern’s Government was on the rocks.

For the first term of Ardern’s Government, until Covid struck, the National Party was regularly ahead of Labour in the polls, and often by a significant margin. Yet throughout this time Ardern was fêted in global media.  The New York Times and The Guardian ran uncritical praise of Ardern as the Anti-Trump.  Appearances on the Stephen Colbert show ensued.

While some of this coverage was grounded in some of Ardern’s unique achievements: a young liberal woman achieving elected office while Trump was tearing America at the seams; a young liberal woman having a baby in office while Trump was tearing America at the seams; a young liberal woman embracing the victim’s of a white supremacist’s terror attack in Christchurch while Trump was tearing America at the seams, much of it was part of a deliberate global effort by Ardern’s team to pursue her global celebrity.

Ardern turned up to the UN General Assembly and proclaimed Climate Change as her generation’s “nuclear-free moment”.  Her government’s actual record on climate change did not reduce emissions.  The Guardian screamed in early 2018 that Ardern would provide “shelter for all homeless people within four weeks”. Homelessness quadrupled.  The New York Times boldly declared that Ardern had forced her Ministers to travel together “in a van”.  All screeching nonsense to sustain Ardern’s celebrity, and fed by her office, that had no basis in reality.

While there was gendered criticism of Ardern in her first term as PM, it was not of a scale and degree that other women leaders had faced in the past.  Helen Clark was the subject of vicious personal attacks.  So too were Jenny Shipley, Judith Collins, Paula Bennett, and Ruth Richardson.  In Australia, Julia Gillard was the subject of such viciousness, not just from the Liberal Opposition, but from Kevin Rudd supporters in her own party.

However, after Ardern’s stunning reelection in 2020, something broke in New Zealand.  Our political culture fractured.  Growing resentment at rolling lockdowns, restricted freedoms, and separation from friends and family alienated many.  Conspiracy theories, often fomented by disruptive international elements, thrived online.  The chilling, violent spectacle of an insurrection in Washington DC to keep Trump in power in January 2021 despite his election loss was repeated on the steps of New Zealand’s parliament a year later to bring down Ardern’s elected Government.

Ardern personified the enemy of extremists who was the target of a scale of hatred that had hitherto not been seen in this country.  Hate was no longer isolated to comments on Herald articles that few people read.  Every New Zealander’s facebook page became testimony to online hostility and abuse.  Much of it was directed at Ardern, but there had been an alarming growth in New Zealanders’ right to be obnoxious.  It spilled out into the open from both sides of the spectrum.  Not wearing a mask in public could result in random strangers screaming abuse.  Wearing a mask after restrictions were relaxed could face similar vilification.

Part of that culture can be reasonably parked at Ardern’s government’s door.  Her Government’s inflexible administration of the Managed Isolation and Quarantine regime raised resentment.  Her promises of a rapid vaccine rollout were hampered by delayed, albeit eventually hugely successful delivery.  Her early construction of a “team of five million” was a masterclass in rallying an initial response to the pandemic, but left large swathes of New Zealanders feeling like they were not a welcome part of the team as the country stayed locked down long after many others.

The “Podium of Truth” message, intended to counter extreme conspiracies and disinformation, was used by Ardern’s army of online trolls to attack Simon Bridges for valid criticisms of the Government’s performance and responsiveness to the pandemic.  The character assassination of Bridges played a key part in his downfall.  Ardern used her unchallenged platform in her daily briefings to the nation to push political narratives that were immediately self-serving.

To the extent that such elements provoked a public backlash, particularly as the economic slowdown and social dislocation of two and a half years of national isolation drew nearer, and that she was Prime Minister while this happened, Ardern had a hand in this.  To the extent that no alternative government’s response to the pandemic would have been perfect, and no country has emerged from the pandemic without catastrophic economic and social disruption, we must judge her relatively.

The Ardern Government’s initial response to the pandemic was mostly competent, and mostly successful, given what was known at the time.  Comparing death tolls with other countries is a macabre practice, but to the extent that our early success mirrored Australia, another high income country that closed its borders and weathered the global storm, suggests that a hypothetical National Government would have made the same early decisions.  Indeed, Bridges himself called for the same measures often days, if not weeks, ahead of Ardern’s announcements.

Just as Ardern takes the credit for the initial success, because she was PM at the time, she must also take responsibility for the intransigence that saw New Zealand closed down for far longer than Australia, regardless of the risks.

It should be said, however, that even if New Zealand had opened up in concert with Australia, New Zealand would not have avoided the economic crisis now facing us in 2023.  An alternative National Government would have made some different choices.  Ministers would not have been diverted by such distractions as Three Waters, major structural reform of the health and education systems, and a merger of broadcasting entities.  It is highly unlikely that a National Government would have inspired a dramatic improvement in business or consumer confidence, or that a Reserve Bank Governor under National would have made dramatically different choices.  Altering basic trajectories has its limits.

Ardern’s Labour Party has been trailing National in the polls for most of the last year.  Despite her formidable campaign skills, and a Labour Party organisational machine that is largely as strong now as it was three years ago, the odds were against her winning the 2023 election.  Things are tough now for New Zealanders, and in all likelihood they are only going to continue to deteriorate.

An aspirational leader like Ardern could not credibly have campaigned on making things better for New Zealanders, when all the evidence points to a different reality.  She could not have demonstrated a country with less inequality, with so many indicators pointing the other way.  Even with her consummate messaging prowess, the hope for a better future that resonated in 2017 just wasn’t going to cut it.

The mantra of kindness that propelled Ardern’s brand internationally has worn thin.  Even for those who believe that the mantra was more than a branding exercise, New Zealand is not an empirically kinder place than five years ago.

Further, Ardern could not have campaigned as she did in 2017, and in every election prior.  She could not wander freely among adoring throngs of Jacindamaniacs enthralled at her every gesture.  The culture of hate and division has ended that.

Ardern barely appeared in either the Tauranga or Hamilton West by-elections this year.  Her pre-announced appearances in public no longer take place without a heavy security presence.  She can no longer go out and about anywhere without fear of being yelled and screamed at, or worse.

Much of that yelling and screaming takes the form of gendered abuse.  But it would be disingenuous to say that it is always, or even mostly, just because Ardern is a woman.  It is improbable that any leader who, having made the same or similar decisions as Ardern has, in the circumstances, and faced with a country that has lost many people believing things will get better, would have avoided it.  That division and political reality has ousted incumbent governments from Australia to Brazil, from Italy to Sweden.

When she resigned, Ardern said that misogyny did not play a role in her decision to resign.  We must take that statement on its merits.  Misogyny did not prevent her from becoming leader of the Labour Party.  Being a younger woman was distinctively contrasting and a benefit in establishing her political brand.  Misogyny did not prevent her from becoming Prime Minister.  In reality, being a younger woman was a core part of her international brand. Misogyny did not prevent her from carrying out the duties of PM.  She was not awarded less access or coverage or respect in any of her daily functions because she was a woman.

And although much of the abuse directed at Ardern was gendered, it was the culture of abuse and violence directed at her that makes it so difficult for her to campaign as she has in the past.

We must also accept the genuineness that Ardern felt she had “nothing left in the tank”.  Those were the exact words that Key used when he resigned, suddenly, in December 2016, again to the shock of both his colleagues and the nation.  Those who are questioning Ardern’s sincerity in this respect, but accepted Key’s explanation six years ago, need to reflect on their own good faith.

While there were some similarities to Key’s and Ardern’s decisions to leave, there are also fundamental differences.  Both had led New Zealand through unprecedented crises: In Key’s case, the global financial crisis, the Canterbury Earthquakes, and the Pike River tragedy.  In Ardern’s case, the global pandemic, the Christchurch terror attacks, and the White Island tragedy.  Both were highly popular leaders with appeal across the political aisle.

Yet when Key resigned, his successor inherited a country with a strong economy, and improving standards of living.  Ardern offers no such gift to Chris Hipkins.

Secondly, although occasionally the subject to nasty personal attacks, sometimes involving his family, Key did not have a genuine anxiety for his or his family’s safety.  We can reasonably surmise that Ardern did.

A few weeks ago, a friend spotted Ardern at a local park.  They were known to each other.  They chatted for a while, watching on as their respective daughters played on the equipment.  My friend detected a degree of anxiety both from Ardern and the security detail at approaching strangers.

Little Baby Neve, as we knew her when she was born in June 2018, turns five this year.  No child should have to explain to her new friends on her first day at school why there is a large man in a suit standing at the doorway to the classroom.  The scale of the abuse directed against Ardern has made this security precaution a prudent reality.

Ardern’s father has been seriously ill over the last year.  Most of us have to deal with the inevitability of the finite nature of our time with our parents during our lifetimes.  For those of us who have children, when we do so, the moments between grandchildren and grandparents are precious.

Ardern could not reasonably have married her fiancé this side of an election had she remained as PM.

There is no doubt that in Ardern’s mind, and in the minds of Labour’s strategists, that Labour is worse off without her in an election campaign.  She is a known quantity, and despite declining popularity, she has been well ahead of Luxon in favourability stakes.

Following the Christchurch terror attacks in March 2019, Ardern toured the world advancing the Christchurch Call.  It was a grand vision to eliminate violent and extremist behaviour online.  Although various platforms responded with announcements of measures to better moderate extremist behaviour, the announcements have been more ambitious than the delivery.

Facebook was still used to organise the insurrection in Washington.  Telegram, and other social media networks, were used to organise the occupation of Wellington’s Parliament.  Disinformation across platforms, and the proliferation of conspiracy theories, remains the norm.  New Zealand, and the Western world, is more vulnerable to online disinformation and abusive behaviour than at any time prior to 2019.

The culture of division and tribalism won’t snap back to civility any time soon.  It will unlikely dissipate when world economies emerge from recovery.

We should rightly acknowledge that faced with this, Ardern made the decision that the personal toll of remaining as Prime Minister until the election, and the family sacrifices she would have to make, were more than she was willing to bear.

We can only respect her for making that decision.  As with Key, she goes out on her own terms.