Reading “Hope in Action” by Former Finnish Prime Minister Sanna Marin — A Story of Courage, Scrutiny, and Leadership

If you follow my Instagram, you might’ve seen the post where I shared my excitement about finally getting my copy of Hope in Action. But as always, I like to save my full reflections for the blog — and this book deserves it.

I still remember when the videos of Sanna Marin dancing broke out online. Headlines everywhere called her “the partying prime minister.” Politicians accused her of being unprofessional; others questioned her ability to lead. Watching that unfold felt cruel — a young woman leader being punished for simply 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 her own words: “Hope is not naïve. It is a choice, and it requires action.” That line set the tone for everything that followed. Marin takes us through her early years growing up in a working-class Finnish family, raised by two women who struggled to make ends meet, yet instilled in her a fierce sense of fairness. By page 42, she writes about being the first in her family to attend university — and the quiet pressure that came with carrying other people’s hopes.

The most challenging section for me came midway through, when she describes those long nights during the first COVID-19 lockdowns. On page 118, she recalls sitting alone in her office at 2 a.m., drafting emergency decrees and wondering if the decisions she was making would cost lives. “Leadership,” she writes, “isn’t about certainty; it’s about carrying 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 Russia’s invasion of Ukraine is one of the book’s most gripping chapters. She doesn’t hide how difficult it was to navigate diplomacy while facing domestic criticism and the weight of history. Yet through it all, her writing remains grounded — she returns again and again to her belief that politics should be guided by compassion and equality, not fear or image.

The book doesn’t shy away from the pain of being under constant scrutiny as a woman in power. The “party video” controversy is treated with honesty and restraint. Marin explains how she felt humiliated and frustrated, but also how that moment revealed the double standard she’d been living under all along. On page 177, she writes, “The public wanted me to be strong, but not too strong; human, but not too human.” Reading that made me ache for her — but also admire her resolve to remain herself.

Hope in Action is not a bitter book. It’s reflective, even tender. Marin celebrates the solidarity of her all-female coalition government and the reforms they achieved — from climate action plans to welfare improvements and education access. The final chapters, especially around page 230, are filled with a quiet optimism. She writes about stepping down, about rediscovering purpose, and about continuing her work at the Tony Blair Institute for Global Change, where she 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 pretends to have all the answers; instead, she invites the reader into the difficulty of leading with 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’ll find them. But if you want to understand what it costs to stay true to your values when the world is watching, Hope in Action delivers that in every chapter. It’s a story about conviction, womanhood, and endurance.

I’m genuinely happy I got my copy. It’s one of those books I’ll return to when the world feels overwhelming — a reminder that hope, when paired with courage, still changes things.