JACINDA ARDERN'S political legacy is being steadily mythologised. The new film Prime Minister continues the trend of presenting her as a beacon of compassion, a leader who embodied a 'kinder politics' in an era of cynicism and division. The narrative is seductive: a young, empathetic woman leading a small nation through crises, offering hope to a world starved of it. Yet this cinematic portrayal, like much of the commentary surrounding Ardern, obscures the reality of her government’s record. If New Zealand is to make any progress in breaking free from the shackles of neoliberalism, it must be honest about what Ardern represented—and what she did not.
Ardern’s rise was framed as a generational shift, a break from the managerial politics of her predecessors. Her rhetoric of kindness and well-being seemed to promise a new direction. But beneath the surface, her Labour government remained firmly committed to defending the neoliberal status quo. The economic model that has dominated New Zealand since the 1980s—privatisation, deregulation, market orthodoxy—was not challenged. Instead, it was managed with softer language and a more empathetic face. For all the talk of transformation, the material conditions of ordinary New Zealanders did not improve. In many cases, they worsened.
Consider poverty. Despite promises to lift children out of hardship, child poverty rates remained stubbornly high under Ardern’s leadership. Incremental adjustments to benefits and targeted programmes were no substitute for structural change. Housing, too, became more unaffordable than ever. The government presided over a speculative property market that enriched investors while locking younger generations out of secure housing. Homelessness persisted, with families living in cars and motels, while Labour ministers spoke of compassion. The gap between rhetoric and reality was stark.
Ardern’s defenders point to her handling of crises—the Christchurch mosque attacks, the COVID-19 pandemic—as evidence of her progressive leadership. Certainly, her empathetic response to tragedy resonated globally. But crisis management is not the same as systemic transformation. The deeper issues—inequality, precarious work, ecological collapse—were left untouched. The government’s pandemic response, while initially decisive, ultimately reinforced existing inequalities. Essential workers were lauded but left underpaid. Renters faced insecurity while landlords were protected. The economic recovery was shaped around business interests, not redistribution. Commentator Bernard Hickey observed '..the Government’s Covid policies made the rich almost $1t richer, while the poor were allowed to get $400m further in debt to the Government itself, and were forced to apply for more than twice as many food parcels in our largest city.'
The political establishment has every incentive to maintain the myth of Ardern as a liberating figure. For Labour, it preserves the illusion of progressive achievement. For National and other defenders of the status quo, it ensures that neoliberalism remains unchallenged, cloaked in the language of kindness. For international audiences, it offers a comforting story of a small democracy led by an inspirational woman, without requiring any reckoning with the failures of the economic model she upheld. But myths are dangerous. They prevent honest assessment. They allow continuity to masquerade as change.
Breaking free from neoliberalism requires confronting these myths head-on. It means recognising that Ardern’s government did not deliver transformation, but continuity. It means acknowledging that poverty, homelessness, and inequality are not unfortunate by-products of her tenure, but evidence of a system she chose to defend. It means refusing to let cinematic portrayals or media narratives obscure the lived reality of ordinary New Zealanders who remain trapped in hardship. Only by stripping away the illusion can space be created for genuine alternatives.
The danger of allowing Ardern’s legacy to be painted as progressive is that it narrows the horizon of political possibility. If her government is remembered as the high-water mark of kindness and progress, then the bar is set pitifully low. Future leaders will be judged against her rhetoric rather than against the urgent needs of the people. The political establishment will continue to recycle the language of compassion while defending the same economic orthodoxy. Neoliberalism will remain entrenched, its failures masked by the myth of benevolent leadership.
New Zealand requires more than kindness. It needs redistribution, public ownership, and economic democracy. It needs to confront the housing crisis not with tinkering but with structural change. It needs to lift benefits to liveable levels, guarantee secure work, and invest in public services. It needs to break the grip of market ideology and build a system rooted in solidarity and justice. None of this will be achieved by mythologising leaders who managed neoliberalism with a softer face. It will only be achieved by rejecting the myths and demanding genuine transformation.
The film Prime Minister may inspire audiences with its portrayal of Ardern’s empathy. But inspiration without honesty is a trap. To move forward, New Zealand must resist the temptation to sanctify leaders who leave the system intact. It must tell the truth: Jacinda Ardern represented continuity, not liberation. She embodied the politics of managing neoliberalism, not dismantling it. Until that truth is faced, the shackles of neoliberalism will remain, and ordinary New Zealanders will continue to pay the price.
I see Ardern is appearing on the Graeme Norton show, has she reached peak celeb status?
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