By One Network Wellington Live
Jacinda Ardern was New Zealand’s Prime Minister from 2017 to 2023, a leader who won praise around the world for her handling of big moments like the Christchurch mosque attacks and the COVID-19 pandemic. She was young, just 37 when she took the job, and seemed to have it all together—calm, kind, and in control. But here’s the thing: she’s admitted, more than once, that she didn’t always feel like she belonged there. She’s talked openly about suffering from imposter syndrome, that nagging feeling that you’re not good enough, that you’re faking it, and that someone’s going to catch you out. At One Network Wellington Live, we’ve been looking into what she said, and it’s got us asking some tough questions. How could someone who felt this way run a country? Was she really up to the job mentally? And what does it mean for New Zealand that its leader spent years doubting herself?
Ardern first spoke about this in December 2020, when she sat down with Sir John Kirwan, a famous ex-rugby player who talks a lot about mental health. It was for his Mentemia series called Open Minded, and she didn’t hold back. “I have felt imposter syndrome,” she said, about four minutes in. She called it a “gnawing lack of confidence” that sits in your head, telling you you’re not the right person for the job. She said she’d felt it but tried to turn it into something useful, like a push to work harder or think more about what she was doing. She even said she admired other people who felt the same way, and that it’s a bit of a New Zealand thing to doubt yourself. It was a big moment—here was the Prime Minister, on camera, saying she didn’t always believe in herself.
She didn’t stop there. Later that month, on December 2, 2020, she accepted an award from Harvard’s Kennedy School, called the Gleitsman International Activist Award. It was online because of COVID, but her words were clear. “I have on many occasions thought, ‘I cannot do that because it’s me,’” she said. “Imposter syndrome is real.” She was talking about her whole career, hinting that even as Prime Minister, she sometimes felt like she wasn’t cut out for it. Then, in October 2023, after she’d left office, she gave a speech at Brown University in America. She told a crowd of nearly 2,000 people that she never planned to be Prime Minister and felt “too sensitive” for it. She said imposter syndrome made her hesitate, but she thought it could make leaders better. Three times, in public, she laid it bare: she didn’t always feel like she deserved to be in charge.
Now, let’s be fair for a second. Lots of people feel imposter syndrome. It’s that voice in your head that says you’re not smart enough or strong enough, even when you’re doing well. Studies say up to 70% of people get it at some point. So Ardern’s not alone. But here’s where it gets tricky—she wasn’t just anyone. She was the Prime Minister of New Zealand, running a country of five million people through some of its hardest times. When you’re in that job, you don’t get to shrug and say, “Oh well, I feel like a fraud sometimes.” People’s lives depend on you. Businesses, schools, hospitals—they all look to you. If you’re not in the game mentally, if you’re spending energy fighting your own doubts, how can you lead properly? That’s what’s got us worried.
Think about what she faced. In March 2019, a gunman attacked two mosques in Christchurch, killing 51 people. Ardern was everywhere—hugging survivors, passing tough gun laws, speaking to the world. She looked strong, like she knew exactly what to do. But what if, inside, she was thinking, “I can’t do this”? She said in that Kirwan interview that she’d felt imposter syndrome before big moments. Was Christchurch one of them? We don’t know for sure, but it’s hard to imagine she was totally confident when she’s admitted that doubt was always there. A leader who’s second-guessing herself in a crisis—that’s a risk. People needed her to be certain, not wrestling with a voice saying she wasn’t good enough.
Then there’s COVID. New Zealand locked down hard in 2020, and Ardern got heaps of praise for keeping the virus out. “Go hard, go early,” she said, and it worked—cases stayed low, deaths were few. She stood at those daily press conferences, all smiles and clear words, telling Kiwis to stay home and be kind. The world loved it; she was on magazine covers, called a superstar. But if she felt like an imposter, how solid was that? Running a country through a pandemic means making huge calls—closing borders, shutting businesses, spending billions. If she was sitting there thinking, “I’m not the right person for this,” how could she be sure she was making the best choices? Doubt can freeze you up, make you slow, or push you to overdo it just to prove yourself. Did she lock down too hard because she was scared of failing? We can’t say for certain, but her own words make you wonder.
She quit in January 2023, saying she had “no more in the tank.” Fair enough—five years as Prime Minister is tough, especially with a baby born in 2018 and all those crises. But that phrase sticks out. No more in the tank? Was the tank ever full if imposter syndrome was draining it? She was 42 when she left, young for a leader, and some say she burned out because she was never mentally ready. In that Brown University speech, she said she didn’t plan to be Prime Minister—it just happened when Labour picked her in 2017, weeks before the election. She went from a backbench MP to the top job overnight. Maybe that’s why the doubt hit so hard. She wasn’t prepared, and she’s admitted it. But should someone who feels like that take the role? Shouldn’t you step aside if you’re not all in?
Let’s talk about how she ran things. Ardern’s big promise was to fix New Zealand’s problems—housing, poverty, climate change. She called it “transformational” government. But the results? Mixed at best. House prices kept soaring; by 2021, the average home in Auckland cost over a million dollars. Child poverty didn’t drop much, even with her big speeches about it. Climate goals got pushed back. Sure, she had COVID to deal with, and coalition partners like NZ First slowed her down. But if you’re Prime Minister and you feel like a fake, how do you push through? How do you fight the tough battles when you’re not sure you belong there? Her fans say she did her best, but her critics—and we’re leaning that way—say she didn’t deliver because she wasn’t mentally strong enough. Imposter syndrome might’ve held her back.
Look at her style. She was great at talking—soft, warm, like your mate down the pub. After Christchurch, she wore a hijab to show respect, and people cried. During COVID, she went on Facebook Live from her couch, chatting like it was no big deal. It made her popular; polls loved her. But was it all a mask? If she felt like an imposter, maybe she leaned too hard on being likeable instead of being tough. Leading isn’t just about hugs and kind words—it’s about hard decisions, saying no, standing firm. Did she avoid the hard stuff because she didn’t trust herself? Take the “Captain’s Call” in 2022, when she scrapped a tax policy her party wanted. It looked decisive, but some say it was her dodging a fight she didn’t think she could win. Doubt can make you play it safe, and New Zealand needed more than safe.
Her team must’ve seen it too. She’s said she admired people with the same syndrome, like it’s a club. But running a country isn’t a support group. Her Finance Minister, Grant Robertson, was a rock—did he carry her? Her Chief of Staff, the ones who kept the government ticking—were they filling gaps she couldn’t? She’s never said they did, but if she was battling imposter syndrome, someone had to pick up the slack. A Prime Minister who’s not fully there mentally puts pressure on everyone else. That’s not fair to them, or to the country.
And what about us, the people? We voted for her—well, Labour—in 2017 and 2020. In 2020, she won big, the first majority government in years. We trusted her. But if she was doubting herself the whole time, was that trust misplaced? She didn’t tell us during campaigns, “Hey, I feel like a fraud sometimes.” She waited until she was safe—winning awards, giving speeches—to admit it. That feels off. Leaders owe us honesty upfront, not after the fact. If she wasn’t in the game mentally, she should’ve said so before we gave her the keys to the Beehive.
Some will defend her. They’ll say imposter syndrome made her humble, careful, human. In that Brown speech, she argued it can make leaders great because they try harder. Fair point—nobody’s perfect, and a bit of doubt can keep you sharp. But there’s a line. When it’s “gnawing” at you, when you think “I can’t do this because it’s me,” that’s not humble—that’s weak. New Zealand didn’t need a leader who was still figuring out if she belonged. We needed someone who knew they did. Ardern’s fans call her a hero, but heroes don’t spend their days wondering if they’re fakes.
Now she’s gone, living a quieter life—writing, speaking, maybe healing. Good for her. But as we sit here in March 2025, looking back, her time as Prime Minister feels shaky. She did big things—Christchurch, COVID—but at what cost? If imposter syndrome was eating at her, it’s a miracle we got through. At One Network Wellington Live, we’re not saying she was awful. She tried. But trying’s not enough when you’re the boss. She’s admitted she wasn’t always there mentally, and that’s a problem. New Zealand deserved a leader with their head in the game, not one fighting their own shadow. Her story’s a warning: if you don’t believe in yourself, why should we?