The 37-year-old prime minister of New Zealand and poster woman of progressive politics is sitting in the passenger seat of a blue Subaru, craving a muesli bar and wearing woollen shoes that look like slippers.
She has the movers in and will shortly relocate to a bigger, family-friendly home a few suburbs away, but apologises that the old house is mid-packing and “a bit of a mess” (it’s not).
This time last year Ardern was known as a young opposition MP with a passion for eradicating child poverty — in fact she could rather bang on about it. She frequently popped up at music gigs, and would return journalists’ phone calls within minutes, at pretty much any hour of the day or night.
Fast forward and Ardern is now the leader of the country, six months pregnant and seeking advice on how to juggle milk bottles and briefings from Barack Obama.
Obama had two young daughters when he entered the White House in 2009, and instigated a domestic regime that allowed him to spend regular time with his family including nightly dinners.
“I did ask him [Barack Obama] how he dealt with guilt,” says Ardern, who first met the former US president last week. She is in the throes of figuring out how she will balance parenting and the prime ministership. Her baby is due on 15 June and she plans to be back at work six weeks later.
“He just talked about the things you can do. Just to do your best, and that there will always be elements of that [guilt] in the roles that we do, and probably to a certain degree just accepting that; but we are still doing our best.”
The challenges of buying milk
Ardern has a good-natured disposition and genuine, megawatt smile but she is also a prime minister who rebels somewhat against her police minders by popping down to the corner shop. She believes New Zealand’s “unique perspective” has been undersold on the world stage. She never questions if she can juggle her many hats but simply sets her mind to the logistics of how.
“It [pregnancy] certainly can feel like an illness for a really long period of time,” says Ardern. “And I had 16 weeks of morning sickness. And no one knew about it. … I think a lot of people struggle with things in their day to day lives that their workmates will never know about and I just happen to be one of them.”
The last year has been a rollercoaster for Ardern and her partner Clarke Gayford, but retaining some degree of normality despite their very changed circumstances is a priority as they embark on becoming parents. They hope to bring up their child with some of the freedoms they experienced as country kids living amid orchards.
“Certainly life has changed. It is just incredibly busy. But I really value being able to do normal things,” says Ardern, sitting in a retro armchair in her small, simple living room.
“So yes, I do still drive from time to time. The wonderful police officers who spend time with me I don’t think appreciate that, but I do still drive. I do still cook, not often, but just last week, I really felt like making one of my mum’s old recipes — so I did. I do still go to our local department store to buy things like maternity jeans that no-one else can really do for me.
“Getting stopped in the middle of the lingerie section when you’re trying to stock up on a few things by an older man who wants a selfie is a little bit awkward … but I don’t let that get in the way of me trying to do normal things, because that is when I get to interact with people as well. Preferably not amongst the underwear though.
“Even going out to get milk becomes a little bit challenging. Just because there is a whole entourage that then travels with me for this simple thing. So I tend to try and find ways not to inconvenience a whole raft of other people, so it changes my mindset a little bit.
“The challenging thing from a work perspective is just the range of things on any given day that you’re dealing with, and making sure you have the head space to really be giving them the thought and consideration you’d like too.”
On Trump and women
A lot has been made of Ardern’s “niceness” — and she is reliably warm, inclusive and fun. But underlying the down-to-earth charm is a determined feminist and canny career politician, who now uses eye rolls and smiles to express what her position as head of a “five eyes” nation no longer allows her to say.
For instance, on Trump’s treatment of women she says: “It is often easy to forget that people draw from the way that you behave. But all I know is that is something I can control and feel responsible for. And I know what I feel comfortable with, so when that comes to the way we portray women for me it’s just how I like to be treated, how would I like to be talked about, how would I like my mother to be treated and talked about, and that is the lens that I apply.
“Can’t change the way that anyone else behaves though,” she says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
During the 2017 election campaign, Ardern was portrayed as the saviour of the beleaguered left; a panacea after Trump and Brexit; a do-gooder who wanted to decriminalise abortion, increase paid parental leave, save the penguins and plant 10m trees.
“Do it for all of us,” said the British Labour leader, Jeremy Corbyn, in a video of support.
When asked what keeps her up at night now, Ardern, in her characteristically earnest way, nominates child poverty, climate change and a prison population that is increasing despite a static crime rate.
But is anything really changing under her leadership? In her first six months Ardern has faced criticism that she lacks control of some of her forceful coalition cabinet ministers, that she is having afternoon tea with pop stars rather than the poor, and that she is prone to undiplomatic disclosures (after the Apec summit, Ardern told a friend Trump had mistaken her for Canadian prime minister Justin Trudeau’s wife — within days the world had heard the remarks).
But despite a few small stumbles Ardern remains forcefully sanguine – and has no trouble sleeping.
“It [being PM] is actually just an amplification of the thing I experienced as an MP — and that’s the diversity of the people that you get to meet,” she says.
“And as much as you do get a whole host of sometimes really awful communication, you get some amazing things as well. The number of schoolchildren who write to me and say ‘I want to be prime minister too, PS can you do something about plastic bags?’ I love that.”
The glamour contrast
The day after a glamorous Vogue image of her posing in designer clothes on a windswept beach went viral, Ardern posted a grainy shot of her as a child with a mullet haircut, standing in the back of a truck with her schoolmates in the deprived town of Murupara; an infamous gang stronghold where her dad worked as the local police officer.
I’m just like you, the picture said. And you’re just like me.
“Since being pregnant … it becomes quite a welcome — distraction is not quite the word — but reminder of life beyond the thing that you’re in. Because as with any job, that moment that you’re really tackling a big issue, or something is really causing you stress, that becomes the big focus and it is easy to think that is the most important thing in the world that you’re dealing with and of course everyone else should be concerned with too,” says Ardern, laughing.
“But I think the beauty of children, at least I know this to be true of my family, is that they draw you away from that thing, and just make you have that wider perspective. There have been a couple of meetings where I have been working away, very focused on an issue, and I’ll get a sharp kick in the ribcage and it is this little reminder that there is something else going on in my life, too.” — The Guardian
