Jacinda Ardern has a natural presence most politicians would sacrifice a kidney for.
She spoke like a normal person most of the time, but could switch into moving rhetoric at the exact points it was needed – like when a terrorist carried out a mass murder, a global pandemic shut the world down, or at a normal old election rally.
This saw her gain an incredibly large international profile, with mentions in US presidential primary debates, a series of unauthorised books, and front page media attention in countries ten times the size of New Zealand. At home, the enthusiasm surrounding her 2017 election campaign was dubbed “Jacindamania”.
No one expects her replacement Chris Hipkins, who will be confirmed as prime minister this Wednesday, to quite reach these heights. But New Zealand voters might not really care.
“When John Key, who was an exceptionally popular prime minister, resigned the interest was purely domestic,” says Ben Thomas, a lobbyist and frequent media commentator.
“When Ardern resigned I received requests for comment from all around the world. Under Hipkins – and in fairness to him, anyone following Ardern – the international profile of the New Zealand prime minister will revert to the mean.”
There is a good chance that many Kiwis will find this refreshing. As much as New Zealanders liked the idea of their prime minister being properly famous, there was always an undercurrent who thought this was distracting her from issues at home. This generally wasn’t fair – New Zealand has an export economy that requires our politicians to court other countries – but it stuck around and grew as her profile did.
Hipkins himself signalled a different style in his first full-length press conference as incoming prime minister, telling a journalist who asked if he would be as “transformational” as Ardern that he would deliver a “solid government that is focused on the bread-and-butter issues that matter to New Zealanders”. He has promised to trim policies that aren’t relevant to the economic pressures facing Kiwis right now, and when asked if he would do as much on the international stage as Ardern he made no mention of her flagship Christchurch Call policy.
“We don’t need a change of heart, we need to apply the heart to the things that matter most to Kiwis,” Hipkins said.
This vibe shift has resulted in serious speculation that Hipkins will take the government back down to the ground on more than just rhetoric, with controversial policies like a new BBC-style public media giant and reform of water infrastructure governance shelved ahead of October’s election.
A longtime former staffer of Hipkins, who spoke on condition of anonymity, described him as a relentlessly pragmatic politician focused on bringing the country with the government.
“I think people confuse centrism with looking at: ‘How does the situation impact your everyday working New Zealander?’ How do we take people along a journey that they understand?
“You can’t make major change for the left if you don’t land the plane.”
Then again, this change in rhetoric may not signal much more than, well, a change in rhetoric. The election is just nine months away. The process for the May budget is already on track, although Hipkins did say it wasn’t too late to change some elements of it. Ardern herself signalled a renewed focus on economic policy late last year.
And the pair’s biographies suggest that Hipkinism is likely to not be a million miles away from Ardernism. Both worked as advisers for Helen Clark’s Labour government in the early 2000s, before being elected to parliament as that government left office in 2008 – Ardern aged 28, Hipkins 30. Neither were fans of Labour leader David Cunliffe, who styled himself as a leftwing saviour of the party but led it to a horrific defeat in 2014. There was even talk of elder party figures attempting to matchmake the two at one point.
‘No indication … that he’s inspirational’
Biography is not destiny. Hipkins’ ascension is already resetting the relationship between the prime minister’s office and the media, particularly the press gallery based in parliament. The relationship between Ardern’s office and the gallery steadily eroded over recent years (I was a member until 2022), as Ardern shifted focus to talking directly to voters through social media, rather than through the sceptical filter of reporters. Hipkins and his office have maintained a very strong relationship with the gallery through his role as Covid-19 minister. This relationship could steer him well with the clutch of people who still do decide how politics is perceived by much of the country.
But this change will only go so far, and Hipkins will now face huge scrutiny on both his future plans, as well as the problems from his time as ministers of education and Covid-19 – particularly the decision to centralise most of the nation’s polytechnics and the long period it took to open New Zealand’s borders, even as the disease spread around the country.
When the going got tough for Ardern, she could always draw on that well of inspiring rhetoric to speak past the media and directly to the country. It’s not clear that Hipkins will have that power.
“Ardern wasn’t forced out. She remained Labour’s most popular politician and best campaigner, and was expected to apply real heat to [opposition leader Christopher] Luxon on the campaign trail,” Thomas says.
“Hipkins can certainly do the transactional business of politics well, but there’s been no indication in his career that he’s inspirational.”