When leadership fails: Lessons from Netflix’s The Polygamist

The South African telenovela The Polygamist has swept the global streaming world off its feet, triggering viral reactions from Mzansi to the US. Produced by Stained Glass Productions, this 22-episode adaptation of Sue Nyathi’s novel has dominated cultural conversations, making it impossible to ignore the digital buzz.

Curious about the frenzy, I hit play. Watching it, I was instantly horrified by the central figure: Jonasi Gomora, a self-made corporate CEO played with chilling precision by S’dumo Mtshali. Jonasi’s audacity, careless infidelity, and sheer lack of empathy are shocking. Yet, amidst the chaos, I kept noticing the quiet, resilient leadership of his “main” wife, Joyce, brought to life through a career-defining performance by Gugu Gumede. Even in the worst moments when she was falling apart, Joyce tried very hard to hold her children together, creating structure where there was only havoc and desperately trying to preserve sanity in a home Jonasi was actively destroying.

While the series exposes macro-level societal failures, its most profound critique is entirely personal: the near-total absence of self-leadership. Almost no one in The Polygamist understands what it means to effectively govern oneself before attempting to love, provide for, or lead others.

Ultimate cautionary tale

Jonasi is the ultimate cautionary tale. He could not lead himself because he utterly lacked self-restraint – the foundational pillar of sustainable leadership. When an individual surrenders to every passing desire, they lose the capacity to make decisions that protect their legacy, family, or future. One could argue he was a successful businessman, but financial success is a house of cards without baseline discipline. Ultimately, Jonasi destroyed his family and paid the ultimate price because he never learned to govern the man in the mirror.

This is an area where our collective socialisation falls short. We must stop raising boys to believe they are entitled to default leadership simply by virtue of being male. True leadership cannot be inherited through patriarchy; it must be learned, practiced, and earned. Jonasi serves as a stark reminder of what male leadership should never look like, illustrating how poor personal governance dismantles an entire ecosystem.

Alarmingly, Joyce also struggled with self-leadership. Paralysed by public perception and what others might whisper, she rarely stopped to ask what Joyce thought of Joyce. If she had asked that question honestly, she might have walked away much earlier. The tragedy is that Joyce was immensely talented, capable, and far more powerful than she realised. We see a flash of this latent power when, with a single, calculated phone call, she persuades a government minister’s wife to intervene, ensuring Jonasi understands he stands to lose a lucrative tender if he leaves her. That was a masterclass in leverage. Yet, Joyce could not truly own that power because her identity was entirely wrapped up in him, their joint couple identity, and the external validation of social media. Her self-worth remained anchored to everyone except herself.

This personal leadership crisis ripples across the supporting ensemble. Joyce’s mother, the matriarch who occasionally speaks sense, simultaneously acts as an enabler. Because Joyce knew her mother would always provide a soft landing, she found the psychological cushion to remain in toxicity. At times, the matriarch even plays into the harmful cultural script that “a man is the key to heaven,” urging Joyce to change her clothes and look more appealing so Jonasi would not “look outside”.

Vacuum of self-ownership

This tension speaks volumes about a society deeply devoted to preserving traditions, even when those traditions actively break the women who bear them. Similarly, the additional wives and Jonasi’s brother reflect this vacuum of self-ownership. Their goals rarely reach beyond gaining proximity to Jonasi’s wealth, routinely behaving in ways that diminish their dignity and strip away their personal agency.

Ultimately, the danger of poor self-leadership is that the collateral damage is simply too costly. Even though the word begins with “self”, the ripple effect extends far beyond the individual. As the series brilliantly demonstrates through the Gomora children, the emotional fallout spills over to touch families, communities, and future generations. The damage creates toxic, repeating cycles that mimic themselves endlessly until someone finally says, “Enough is enough”, and does the hard work of leading themselves toward a better life.

We owe a debt of gratitude to author Sue Nyathi for delivering this rich narrative through her original book, and to the production team at Stained Glass for translating it so viscerally to the screen. The cast’s outstanding portrayals, especially S’dumo and Gugu, are the reason we are currently having such vital, nuanced public conversations around leadership, culture, identity, and the modern family structure. If you do not yet practice self-leadership, let this show be your invitation.

• Lovelyn Bassey is an entrepreneur and the founder of Leadership with Lovelyn, a coaching and leadership development outfit. She is also the author of the upcoming book, Hear Me Out: The Audacity to Lead as an African Woman.