If you follow my Instagram, you may have seen the post where I shared my excitement about finally getting my copy of Hope in action. But, as always, I like to save all my reflections for the blog, and this book deserves it.

I still remember when the videos of Sanna Marin dancing appeared on the Internet. Headlines everywhere called her “the partying prime minister.” Politicians accused her of being unprofessional; others questioned his ability to lead. Watching it unfold was cruel: a young leader being punished simply for being human. That noise made me curious about the person behind the headlines. So when I learned that Marin had written a memoir, I knew I had to read it.

The book, just over 250 pages, opens with his own words: “Hope is not naive. It is a choice and requires action.” That line set the tone for everything that followed. Marin tells us about her early years in a working-class Finnish family, raised by two women who struggled to make ends meet, but who instilled in her a fierce sense of justice. On page 42, she writes about being the first in her family to attend college and the quiet pressure that comes with carrying other people's hopes.

The most challenging section for me came halfway through, when he describes those long nights during the first COVID-19 lockdowns. On page 118, she remembers sitting alone in her office at 2 a.m., drafting emergency decrees and wondering if the decisions she was making would cost lives. “Leadership,” he writes, “is not about certainty; it is about facing uncertainty with grace.” That line stayed with me. It reminded me that true courage often feels like doubt, not confidence.

Marin's account of Finland's rapid entry into NATO after the Russian invasion of Ukraine is one of the most gripping chapters in the book. He makes no secret of how difficult it was to navigate diplomacy while facing internal criticism and the weight of history. Yet through it all, his writing remains steadfast: he returns again and again to his belief that politics should be guided by compassion and equality, not fear or image.

The book does not shy away from the pain of being under constant scrutiny as a woman in power. The “party video” controversy is handled with honesty and restraint. Marin explains how she felt humiliated and frustrated, but also how that moment revealed the double standard she had been living under all along. On page 177, she writes: “The audience wanted him to be strong, but not too strong; human, but not too human.” Reading that made me feel pain for her, but also admire her determination to remain herself.

Hope in action It is not a bitter book. It's thoughtful, even tender. Marin celebrates the solidarity of her all-female coalition government and the reforms they achieved, from climate action plans to improvements in social welfare and access to education. The final chapters, especially around page 230, are filled with quiet optimism. He writes about his resignation, rediscovering his purpose and continuing his work at the Tony Blair Institute for Global Change, where he now advises governments on equality and sustainability.

I love this book for its sincerity. Marin's voice feels calm and intelligent, but also raw when she lets it be. She never claims to have all the answers; Instead, he invites the reader to understand the difficulty of leading with the heart in a cynical age. It challenged me to think about my own ideas of leadership: not as power, but as service.

If you want policy details, you will find them. But if you want to understand what it takes to stay true to your values ​​when the world is watching, Hope in action offers that in every chapter. It is a story about conviction, femininity and resistance.

I'm really happy to have received my copy. It's one of those books I'll return to when the world feels overwhelmed: a reminder that hope, when combined with courage, still changes things.