Clara Oswald, constitutional scholar?

By David Yuratich,
Bournemouth University

 

"Kill The Moon" (2014) continues the tradition of parcelling difficult moral decisions into the Doctor’s adventures. Fully in keeping with the Twelfth Doctor’s escapades thus far, the resolution of its central dilemma is left to Clara. When it becomes apparent that the moon is not a benign lump of rock, but an egg hatching into an alien of unknown dangerousness, the Doctor refuses to settle the question of whether to destroy the moon or allow the alien to be born. It is expressly left with three humans - Clara, Courtney, and Lundvik - to decide. The resulting scene is interesting from the constitutional lawyer’s perspective because of two interlinking points it raises about human rights, democracy, and constitutionalism. This blog post seeks to briefly note these implications (other readings of the episode have of course been made: see for example this piece on the ‘Whovian Feminism’ blog about the episode’s relationship to abortion).

 

Determined abstainer: the Doctor on the Moon

 

1. The Doctor abandons the three humans to decide on the moon’s fate for the following reason: ‘there are moments in every civilization’s history in which the whole path of that civilization is decided … it’s your choice’. The message here is that humans must decide for themselves what moral values should underpin their new society and its laws. From the perspective of constitutional law, the significance of this scene can be explained with reference to the literature on referendums. Tierney (2009) argues that if the democratic legitimacy of the state ultimately founds on popular sovereignty, any structural alterations to the rules governing state powers demand the approval of that constituent power. As Levy (2013) states, referendums are designed to approve or disapprove of changes ‘intended to bind present and future citizens to defined public values, policies, and structures and limits on power’. Just as constitutional referendums are supposed to provide popular approval for a shift in fundamental legal principles, the Doctor intends that the moon’s future is determined by those whose fate it so profoundly affects. He recuses himself from the decision because, in his own words, ‘whatever future humanity might have depends upon the choice that is made right here, right now … I can’t make this decision for you … some decisions are too important not to take on your own’. This is humanity’s decision, and at the root of any legitimate constitutional order must be the ownership of that order by its citizens.

 

Watching the referendum result: Clara and Courtney

 

2. The second point arises from the fact that Clara’s ultimate decision seemingly goes against the majority’s wishes. After a global vote (albeit based around a dubious mechanism involving the moon-facing half of the Earth switching their lights on or off - some may seek the views of the other side of the globe, or those who had no electricity?) it becomes apparent that the consensus is in favour of destroying the moon. If this is the decision upon which Earth wishes to base its future, how can we reconcile Clara’s anti-majoritarian intervention with the founding of a constitutional order based on popular consensus? The answer lies in how fundamental rights protection fits into democracy and constitutions. In Freedom’s Law (1996) Dworkin argues that democracy is not purely about the majority will. It necessitates the protection of rights that, although they may not always serve the majority, protect the idea of equality upon which any legitimate constitutional and democratic order must be based. Dworkin terms this a ‘constitutional conception’ of democracy. Clara’s decision to protect the moon offers a Dworkinian twist on the constitutional referendum: a frustration of popular sovereignty that foregrounds fundamental rights within the constitutional order. The Earth’s future is based on the protection of basic equalities as well as the popular will. This is a form of constitutionalism that derives its legitimacy from not only a ‘founding moment’ of expressed constituent power. It is also founded on a recognition that a breach of fundamental rights - here the right to life - would be inimical to a legal order whose legitimacy flows from a commitment to equality. The newly constituted order cannot be allowed to make decisions that would take away the basic rights - here the right to life - of those within its jurisdiction, because this would contradict the basis of their new society, set to ‘spread across the stars’. Clara’s actions are an interesting exhibition of this approach to constitutionalism.

Bibliography

Ronald Dworkin, Freedom’s Law (Harvard UP 1996).
Ron Levy, ‘"Deliberative Voting": Reforming Constitutional Referendum Democracy’ [2013] Public Law 555.
Stephen Tierney, ‘Constitutional Referendums: A Theoretical Enquiry’ (2009) 72 Modern Law Review 360.

Money for old trope

By Danny Nicol,

University of Westminster

“Time Heist” (2014) is the first Doctor Who adventure involving an intergalactic bank.   The detailed plot of this spirited romp need not concern us here.  More interesting politically is what the story tells us about the bank.  We learn three things.  First, the bank exists for the benefit of the super-rich.  Secondly, when individuals get in its way, it is totally without mercy - to the point of murder.  Thirdly, this ruthlessness extends to its treatment of its own staff.

The Bank's security chief Ms Delphox - a bit of an
intergalactic dominatrix.
(Gosh Mr Moffat, you've never given us one of
those before!!)

On one level, the writers missed a trick.  There have been plenty of corporations in Doctor Who, but this was the first story to involve a company in the financial sector.  Unlike “Planet of the Ood” (2008), the episode does not place the corporation in its context. (I thank Dr. Joan Mahoney for this observation.)   Perhaps as a result, the criticism is rather rudimentary: the authors miss out on the opportunity for some biting satire on the banking crisis 2008 which severely damaged the British economy and did even greater harm elsewhere. 

Doctor Who's
 original entrepreneur,
Tobias Vaughn,
in league with Cybermen
in "The Invasion".

Stuff the company

On a more positive note, however, “Time Heist” shows Doctor Who’s astonishing consistency over time when it comes to the show’s unfavourable portrayal of the corporation.   The three features listed above were present in “The Invasion” (1968) and in a significant number of Doctor Who stories thereafter.  As regards the post-2005 show, there has also been remarkable consistency between the two show runners – Russell T. Davies (see e.g. “The Long Game” (2005), “Partners in Crime (2008)) and Steven Moffat (see e.g. “The Rebel Flesh”/“The Almost People” (2011), “The Bells of Saint John” (2013)).   Most interestingly, the show’s stance is markedly different from the cross-party consensus which has developed in British politics in favour of corporate domination (see David Harvey, A Brief History of Neoliberalism (OUP, 2007)).  Doctor Who’s satire thus forms a remarkable contrast with British politicians’ thirty-year love affair with the corporation.

(The top of) One Tiny Damp Little Island Says "No"

By Danny Nicol, in a personal capacity



 

 Companionable hug:
Scottish Jamie, English Victoria

It is with profound relief that this blogger greets the "No" vote in the referendum on Scottish independence.  The Doctor's Scottish eyebrows might be poised to secede (see "Deep Breath" (2014)) but thankfully Scotland isn't. 

Doctor Who has consistently shown how love between the peoples of this tiny damp little island is stronger than negative sentiments.  Unlike Cassandra in "The End of the World" (2005), we've been mingling as the United Kingdom since 1707 (this blogger being one of the many descendants of such mingling) and I hope we continue to do so.




Married bliss, most of the time:
Scottish Amy, English Rory
 

Island of Love

I hope there isn't another "Indyref" in our lifetimes - I rather prefer Doctor Who's assumption that we stay together until the plebiscite on whether the Scots should leave the planet Earth on Starship UK along with the rest of us ("The Beast Below" (2010)).  But if there is another referendum, I hope that the people of England, Wales and Northern Ireland get a consultative vote before the Scottish poll, so that we can express to the people of Scotland how much we love them being part of our country.



Scottish Doctors with their Blackpool, London
and Perivale companions



Scholars convene to discuss Doctor Who's politics and law

On Friday 5th September Doctor Who scholars met at the University of Westminster to hear and discuss a wide range of papers on the politics and law of Doctor Who.

Topics included the show's politics, the Doctor's political morality, the role of law, lawyers and the Church, comparisons with other science fiction political texts, and the role of women in the programme.

One pervasive theme was the question (raised by the Doctor himself in the recent episode "Into the Dalek" (2014)) of whether he is, politically, a good man; another pervasive theme was the extent to which the contemporary show, through its depiction of women, promotes or undermines gender equality.

Professor Andrew Lynch and Dr Penny Crofts
speaking on "The New, Ruthless Doctor"

To give just a brief flavour: speaking on the impossible politics of Steven Moffat's story arcs, Professor Matt Hills argued that our object of study was less the text of the scripts but with the interpretations thereof: it was the interpretations which make Doctor Who political. As such, it is possible to find interpretations which find reactionary elements in the show (the portrayal of Amy Pond and River Song in subordinate or passive roles) as well as progressive ones (which depict Amy and River as strong women). Matt also argued that Steven Moffat's obession with playing around with time meant that political readings become highly provisional.

Addressing the feminine mystique of Doctor Who, Alyssa Franke argued that recent developments in the show reinforce the image of "happy housewife heroine", such as Amy ultimately adopting husband Rory's surname and the unspoken assumption that Amy's life was worthless without Rory. As such the representation of femininity has regressed. Women characters are assertive but comply with the Doctor's demands, a paternalistic Doctor who will save them.

Professor Danny Nicol on "Is the Doctor a war criminal?"

Talking on the Church's role, Dr Andrew Crome pointed to the new visibility of the Church being reflected in the programme, but at the same time being radically de-theologised, prioritising more the public good in the form of maintaining peace. He tackled questions inter alia about the role of women in Steven Moffat's vision of the Church, at one and the same time holding leadership positions, acting as authoritarian dominatrixes and serving as sex objects for the Doctor.

Organiser Professor Danny Nicol said he hoped this very enjoyable event would be the start not the finish of Westminster Law School's engagement with Doctor Who.

In defence of Harriet Jones

by Danny Nicol,
University of Westminster

At an academic gathering on Doctor Who I was criticised for describing Harriet Jones – a character who appears in three Doctor Who adventures - as the programme’s perfect Prime Minister, albeit not the Doctor’s. Apparently I had failed to appreciate that she’s “another Tony Blair”.  My own view is that the Tony Blair figure is in fact the Doctor himself: indeed, I rather suspect David Tennant played the Doctor with this in mind.  For the purposes of this blog post, however, I wish to defend Harriet Jones.

Harriet Jones: We know who you are

We meet Harriet as a backbench Member of Parliament in “Aliens of London”/”World War Three” (2005) when she is bothering Downing Street with a proposal to improve cottage hospitals.  Thus from the outset the writer associates her with the welfare state and National Health Service. We get no New Labour mantra from Harriet about targets and private sector involvement, the staple fare of the Blair and Brown governments: rather, she is driven in her quest for excellence by her mother’s experiences in hospital. 

The writer intends us to like Harriet Jones.  She tries to protect Rose Tyler – from Slitheen and Sycorax alike.  She purports to forbid the use of the Osterhagen Key, whereby Earth’s inhabitants could commit collective suicide.  Her endless proffering of her ID card and identifying herself, with the invariable response “I/We know who you are” is not just done for laughs: it establishes that she is, by prime ministerial standards, self-effacing.  At the same time she is decisive – prompting the Doctor to blow up Downing Street to do away with the Slitheen, as well as herself destroying the Sycorax.

Architect of Britain’s golden age

It’s easy to belittle economic policy when forming an assessment of Harriet Jones: indeed this is what the Doctor ultimately does, neatly reflecting the fact that he doesn’t have to live here.

Jones supporter: Jackie Tyler

“I’m 18 quid a week better off!  They’re calling it Britain’s golden age!” gushes Jackie Tyler in “The Christmas Invasion” (2005) when Jones is well established as Prime Minister.  Not being a political thriller, the politics of Doctor Who is often expressed in terse fashion – no bad thing.  We can extrapolate that the essence of the golden age is that Jones’ government has made working class people discernibly better off.  By contrast, real-life Britain has been characterised by the “growing gap between the very rich and the rest” with New Labour presiding over a “triumph of the super-rich” with “the reinvention of Britain as a massive tax-haven” (Robert Peston, Who Runs Britain? (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 2008) 7-22).

Jones supporter: Wilf Mott.  He voted for her,
much to daughter Sylvia's consternation

Another element of our golden age appears to be independence from the USA, a perennial Doctor Who theme (see e.g. “The Tenth Planet” (1966), “The Tomb of the Cybermen” (1967)).  As regards the invasion of Iraq, Jones quips “I voted against that, thank you very much!”   In “The Christmas Invasion” she instructs: “You can tell the President – and please use these exact words – he is not my boss and he’s certainly not turning this into another war”.    But the anti-American theme is not entirely divorced from the question of making working class people better off: fear of America’s rugged capitalism was always a factor in the show’s hostility to US domination of Britain. (See generally Nicholas J. Cull, “Tardis at the OK Corral: Doctor Who and the USA”, in John R. Cook and Peter Wright (eds), British Science Fiction Television (London: IB Tauris, 2008)).

The Doctor is not always there

The Doctor falls out with Harriet, and gets her deposed, over her decision to fire missiles to destroy the retreating Sycorax.  It is the Doctor himself who puts forward the arguments which prompts her to destroy the Sycorax: that Earth is drawing attention to itself and that the Sycorax are likely to spread the word that the planet is up for grabs.  Firing on a retreating spaceship recalls Mrs Thatcher’s destruction of the retreating General Belgrano during the Falklands War.  However, Jones is defending her entire country and planet, so the metaphor is less strong than it first seems.  Jones is after all Prime Minister of a country, not a time traveller who flits around the universe: as such she has stronger reason to dispose of the Sycorax than the Doctor has for slaughtering the Silence or Twelfth Cyberlegion.  Indeed, it has been suggested that the Doctor is so appalled at Jones because he sees himself in her.  In any event, the Doctor's meddling in Britain's internal affairs creates the political space for Harold Saxon - in reality the Doctor's arch-enemy the Master - to become Prime Minister, with catastrophic results for the entire world ("The Sound of Drums"/"Last of the Time Lords" (2007)).

Jones makes the point that the Doctor isn’t always there to save the Earth.  This is perfectly valid: indeed the Doctor Who spin-offs Torchwood and The Sarah Jane Adventures rather hang on this assumption.  In “The Stolen Earth” (2008) she says that she thought long and hard about whether the Doctor was right but concluded that he was wrong.  The message is that we cannot rely on an ultimate rescuer, be it the Doctor or the USA.

In the end, in resisting the Daleks Harriet sacrifices herself for the rest of us: “My life doesn’t matter, not if it saves the Earth”.  The Harriet Jones trilogy is significant because - like the first few Doctor Who stories of 1963 and 1964 - it prompts viewers to come to an independent judgment on the central political questions of right and wrong, rather than endlessly deferring to the judgments of the show’s “hero”.

Vengeance on Varos: or, why English and Welsh trials aren’t televised

by David Yuratich, Bournemouth University

The opening scene of Vengeance On Varos (1985) contains a familiar dystopian trope.  A prisoner is being tortured live on TV.  This 'entertainment' is presumably being televised across the whole planet, although the episode focuses on the responses of Arak and Etta, a couple watching in their living room.  Rather than being traumatised, they are bored. 'Not him again?' says Arak, before complaining 'when did we last see a decent execution?'. Etta, who appears entranced by the programme, reminds him that there was one last week, at which point the two bicker about whether or not that ‘episode’ was a repeat. Clearly this barbarity has been normalised.  Equally worringly, it soon becomes apparent that when the Governor wishes to implement a new policy, citizens vote through their TV screens - and if they vote ‘no’, he dies live on air.  Throughout the episode the two discuss various scenes of torture and oppression as if they were fictional programmes: ‘'I like that one [the Doctor], the one in the funny clothes!'; 'I like this section, I wonder if they know what's waiting?’; ‘Here comes the acid bath!’.

Viewers of Varos: Etta and Arak engage with the planet's televisual offerings

These events are similar to trials: the prisoner is on public display for questioning, and citizens are called upon to decide the fate of the governor.  These scenes reflect English and Welsh (Scottish and Northern Irish law is different) anxieties about televising justice. Varos usefully epitomises, albeit exaggeratedly, the uneases that have informed a cautious attitude to televising trials.  At present these are are not recorded or televised.  By trials I mean the initial criminal court case where a defendant's guilt or innocence is established.  In contrast to trials, appeals are now often recorded and/or transmitted. The Supreme Court streams selected cases through the internet, and has an excellent YouTube channel where lawyers, law students, and no doubt some slightly bored members of the public can view recordings of their judgments.  Earlier this year the Court of Appeal also started to record selected cases, although this is primarily for the media to use in reporting; it seems more difficult for the public to access them online.

The Supreme Court’s proceedings, which are only ever appeals, can be recorded and broadcast thanks to Section 47 of the Constitutional Reform Act 2005. The situation for other courts is governed by the Crime and Courts Act 2013.  It does not explicitly ban the practice being extended into criminal trials. Section 32(1) of the Act allows the Lord Chancellor, with the ‘concurrence’ of the Lord Chief Justice, to make orders that permit the recording of images or sound in courts. There are two main barriers to this.  First, under Section 32(1)(b), it can be made subject to ‘prescribed conditions’ including the agreement of the parties involved. Second, under Section 32(3), a recording order may be suspended 'in the interests of justice or in order that a person is not unduly prejudiced'.  Given that both these safeguards are broadly-phrased, they may prove difficult to define precisely; instead they seem primarily governed by matters of policy.  Why then has the potential extension of recording not taken place?  Why has the Lord Chief Justice recently told the House of Lords Constitution Committee that he would like a ‘pause’ to take stock of current practice before going any further? And how exactly does Varos serve as a useful illustration of those fears?

Three complaints are played out particularly well in this episode.  Specifically the concerns here relate to about televising trials, and not about publicising them through other mediums: they are usually open to the public and are reported and tweeted about regularly. Vengeance on Varos helps illustrate a distinct set of issues that arise when broadcasting trials.  First, justice may become a spectacle.  The act of televising transforms what the people of Varos should see shameful events (torture and death) into a commodified, not-quite real event situated on the border between reality and fiction. As rued by another character later on, ‘the spectacle of death is our only entertainment’ whilst one of the villains is delighted at the ‘prime time viewing’. Guilt has apparently been assumed just because the accused is on TV; the truth is irrelevant.  As a consequence of the trials being seen as entertainment, a second issue arises: detachment. Arak and Etta do not take what they are seeing seriously. They dehumanise those on display. They forget that they are watching real people in real pain or facing real consequences - recall the argument about whether they were watching a repeat. The accused becomes ‘other’ and the watchers simply do not care what happens to them.  The third issue arises from the fact that viewers vote for the Governor’s fate.  His destiny is not decided by a jury or by evidence - it is settled by the gut feelings of the watching public. Opinion, not fact, is what matters here.

The events on Varos are of course dystopian.  Nonetheless, the three points above are, to varying extents, caricatures of the real concerns that inform the policy reasons against extending the recording of court proceedings in the UK.  Helena Kennedy warns that the solemnity required by fair trials - respecting the rights of the accused to make their case, to make sure decisions are made on evidence, and so on - could be eroded if trials were televised.  This is because the events could easily become sensationalised by the media.  The accused might become dehumanised; edited or distorted images from the trial could influence the jury or dictate the public perception of the accused’s guilt whatever the verdict actually is; this potential threat to the idea of ‘innocent until proven guilty’ has been cited by one New Zealand judge as a reason to ban recording in their courtroom.  The Ministry of Justice itself has recognised this potential problem and states that ‘the Government and the Judiciary will not permit our courts to become show trials for media entertainment’.  Richard Sherwin goes further, warning that blurring the lines between law and entertainment could lead to the law going ‘pop’: if criminal trials are seen as entertainment then their legitimacy as a forum for determining guilt and innocence may dissolve, threatening the rule of law that he sees as underpinning a liberal democratic society.  Indeed, so numbed are Arak and Etta to reality that when the Doctor eventually prevails and the broadcasts are stopped, they cannot comprehend the ‘real world’.

One can look at the ongoing Oscar Pistorius trial as a real illustration of these problems. Its coverage has in many ways focused less on criminal proceedings and more on personalities and a rather distasteful non-legal narrative about celebrities.  Lord Chief Justice Thomas, in the evidence referred to earlier, cryptically said that he was ‘troubled’ by the events in South Africa, but did not wish to expand. Without wanting to put words into his mouth, it is quite possible that he was referring to some of the concerns noted above.

Vengeance on Varos clearly contains representations, albeit exaggerated, of the policy reasons that for now prevent English and Welsh courts from televising trials.  This is one of the great utilities of popular culture: it can place visualisations of important ideas and arguments into an easily-accessible arena.  Not all the arguments against televising trials are covered in Varos of course - there is little material in there about the potential impact on witnesses for example. Similarly, the episode’s setting does not necessarily lend itself to a celebration of the potential benefits of greater transparency to things such as public education.  It is nonetheless a fascinating hour and a half’s viewing for public lawyers.

Inferno’s SSSI – Site of Special Science-fiction Interest

By Danny Nicol

“Inferno” (1970) is one of the finest Doctor Who stories.  It is the first to introduce the idea of parallel universes, and in so doing imagines a fascist Britain.  The plot involves an attempt to drill through the Earth’s crust in order to harness a new power source.  In the parallel-fascist Britain, secrecy, authoritarianism and deference combine to prevent any real resistance to the dangers of the project.  In one of the most tense Doctor Who stories ever broadcast, this leads to the destruction of the planet, and the Doctor has to try to return to our own reality in order to prevent the same fate befalling us.

 

The drilling operation turns humans into Primords 

In The Humanism of Doctor Who, David Layton observes that the negative image of the fascist Britain in “Inferno” is always implied in the “real” Britain of the Doctor Who world (D. Layton, The Humanism of Doctor Who (Jefferson NC and London: McFarland, 2012) 329).  Real Britain still has disparities in social power, rigidity of social structure, an over-reliance on authority and so on.  Thus for Layton the genius of “Inferno” lies in the similarities between the parallel fascist Britain and our own.  

The Doctor encounters the fascist
version of companion Liz Shaw

In a sense, though, Doctor Who imagines alternative universes in each and every episode, through its sustained use of metaphor.  Thus “Inferno” really offers three universes to compare and contrast – fascist Britain, "normal" Doctor Who Britain, and our own Britain.   I am looking forward to hearing a paper on parallel universes in Doctor Who (and Star Trek) from University of Wolverhampton academics Dr Aidan Byrne and Dr Mark Jones at the “Politics and Law of Doctor Who Symposium”, for further insights into “Inferno”.

The film location of “Inferno” is the Kingsnorth Industrial Estate on the surreal Hoo Peninsula in north Kent, an area I know and love.  Here am I on the quirkily-named promontory Horrid Hill, with the Kingsnorth Industrial Estate in the background across the estuary of the River Medway.   

Bleak house: the "Inferno" film location looms through the mist

The area forms “Boris Island”, the piece of land which the Mayor of London, Boris Johnson, wishes to turn into London’s main airport replacing Heathrow.  Yet this rural Peninsula contains fruit farms (Kent being famously “the garden of England"), the marshes in which Charles Dickens based Great Expectations and two huge RSPB bird reserves.  It has a remarkable sense of remoteness despite being close to London.  The “Inferno” location itself is incongruously surrounded by countryside: just outside its perimeter fence are marshes teeming with waterfowl. 

The protected “green belt” which surrounds Britain’s cities is essential not just for those who live there but for those who don’t – city dwellers who need greenery and space.  It provides respite from the insatiable concreting-over of our country.  The London Mayor believes “Boris Island” would be good for business: thankfully many business leaders disagree.  Nonetheless more recent Doctor Who stories have often imagined worlds dominated by corporate interests – and no doubt if “Inferno” were conceived today, the drilling would be a private not public sector operation.  Applying David Layton’s idea, ours is rather too close to these alternative worlds for comfort: the relentless domination of economic concerns over the environment is what “Inferno” rightly warns against.  

Class, Euroscepticism and “The Monster of Peladon”

By Danny Nicol

Peladon – it’s an insular kingdom, cut off from the rest of the galaxy, archaic and twee, with a quirky established religion and an antiquated class system.  I wonder what country that’s supposed to be!

The Doctor’s first visit to this isolated planet (“The Curse of Peladon” (1972)) is widely acknowledged as an allegory for Britain’s accession to the European Communities (now, European Union).  The Doctor sides with those who favour Peladon’s entry into the Galactic Federation against a primitive and self-serving opposition.

The Doctor and companion Sarah Jane Smith encounter
representatives of the Galactic Federation

The solidly pro-EC stance of “The Curse of Peladon” was, however, reconsidered two years later in “The Monster of Peladon” (1974).  This less-well-crafted story is set some fifty years after the Doctor’s earlier encounter with the planet (ironically Britain's half-century milestone as an EC/EU Member State is not so far off).  The story rather overflows with political messages concerning feminism and the miners’ strike of 1974. However these strongly-expressed themes have rather obscured the story’s intriguingly unfavourable account of supranationalism.  Needing minerals for a war in which the Federation has become embroiled, the miners of Peladon are being worked excessively hard.  Federation troops are brought in to replace domestic troops in order to police the miners, and there is a threat that Federation workers will mine the minerals if Peladon miners down tools. The villains of the piece are the Ice Warriors, who as members of the Federation appear to be manipulating it for their own ends.  In particular the introduction of Federation troops seems to be a cover for an invasion by an oppressive Ice Warrior dominated force, authorised to use any terror method.   Of course things come right in the end, and the Doctor leaves Peladon with more social mobility, less sex discrimination and a more sceptical view of galactic integration. 

As an allegory “The Monster of Peladon” can be read as offering three valuable insights into Britain’s European engagement. 

First, interest lies in the swiftly-diminishing legitimacy of the Galactic Federation.  This legitimacy – like that of the EU – is results-orientated, not process-based.  In other words legitimacy relies on the benefits received from membership not on the organisation’s democratic attributes. On this basis the Doctor himself speedily becomes a Federation-sceptic.  He opines that the Federation has brought many of its troubles on itself: after fifty years of membership the miners of Peladon have got harder work for the same rewards.   Similarly with the EU, the Eurozone crisis has damaged its legitimacy, and it cannot recover ground by appealing to non-existent democratic credentials.

Give back our planetary sovereignty!
The Queen of Peladon confronts an Ice Warrior

Secondly, “The Monster of Peladon” shows that the contractarian argument – the idea that the UK signed up to “a Community of unlimited duration” and so must accept its benefits and burdens – will only take us so far.  In the story, the Queen of Peladon complains that her people have been dragged into a war which is not their own, only to be admonished by Ortron, her Chancellor and High Priest, that “we have to accept the duties of Federation membership, as well as the benefits!”  In a later episode the Queen laments the violation of Peladon’s planetary sovereignty; she reflects that when her father signed treaties with the Federation, he could not have known it would lead to nothing but bloodshed; as it is, she reflects, Peladon must accept the consequences.   Yet in the end, as the story shows, there is always a right to revolution.  The EC/EU is at one and the same time an international arrangement and an important part of the constitutions of the Member States, and the British constitution is traditionally easy to change.  Against that backdrop the idea that a previous generation of politicians can bind a political community not to change things is problematic.

Working class hero?
The Doctor makes common cause with Peladon's miners

Thirdly, and most importantly, the story flags up the class nature of supranational integration.  On Peladon, it is in particular amongst the ordinary people that disillusionment with the Federation is most keenly felt.  The miners complain that the promises of Federation membership failed to materialise: “the Federation told us things would be better.  So they are - for the nobles and the court.  We got nothing as usual!”  This leads in turn to resentment at the loss of sovereignty: according to Edis, one of the miners’ leaders, much though he resents the privilege of the Queen’s court, he resents still more that the “real masters” are the Federation.  This chimes with the upsurge in popularity of Eurosceptic parties throughout Europe – including UKIP’s successes in Northern England, Wales and Scotland.  The Eurozone crisis, the permanence of privatisation by dint of EU competition law, and the effect of the free movement of persons on job security and terms and conditions, all suggest that the European project is not some purely technical matter.  Class interests do not stop at the door of the European Union.  Agustin José Menéndez has observed that British entry into the EC did not affect all Britons equally. Indeed, whether you derived a benefit or burden from the country’s EC membership was determined not by your being British but by your socio-economic position.  (See A.J. Menéndez, “Whose Justice? Which Europe?” in Grainne de Búrca, Dimitry Kochenov and Andrew Williams, eds., Europe’s Justice Deficit (Oxford: Hart, 2014, forthcoming)).  “The Monster of Peladon” underlines that different constitutional arrangements benefit different classes of people, and in this regard European integration is no different from any other constitutional change.

Revisiting "The Invasion"

By Craig Owen Jones

One of the finest Doctor Who serials of the 1960s was ‘The Invasion’ (1968), an eight-part story directed by Douglas Camfield in which Patrick Troughton’s Second Doctor, together with companions Zoe (Wendy Padbury) and Jamie (Frazer Hines), are confronted with the megalomaniacal schemes of Tobias Vaughn (Kevin Stoney), the president of multinational corporation International Electromatics. As James Chapman and others have pointed out, in many ways the serial prefigured the future narrative direction of the programme. The primary plot point, whereby a multinational conglomerate exerts hegemonic control over an aspect of the world’s market, was to become a staple of Doctor Who; similar tropes have formed key elements in stories such as ‘Partners In Crime’ (2008) among others. Nor was the choice of an electronics company an accident, resonating with contemporary doubts over the speed of technological development in general (and computers in particular) – doubts that manifested themselves in debate over the viability (and wisdom) of embracing what Harold Wilson referred to as the ‘white heat’ of technology.

The Cybermen invade London

‘The Invasion’ does, however, maintain a surprising silence on another, equally topical matter. As the first serial set in contemporary Britain to be screened following the extraordinary tumults of the late spring and summer of 1968, it is extraordinary that the version of England presented in ‘The Invasion’ has nothing whatsoever to say about them. The unrest in America following the deaths of Martin Luther King and Robert F. Kennedy, the racial tensions in Britain exemplified by Enoch Powell’s ‘rivers of blood’ speech (delivered in April, sandwiched between the first and second readings of the Race Relations Bill in the House of Commons) and the strikes that followed his censure, and the radicalism of the Sorbonne are all firmly eschewed in favour of a not unsuccessful portrayal of swinging London.  For all her feminist bluster - borne witheringly by the males around her - supporting character Isobel (Sally Faulkner) is an aspiring fashion photographer with a penchant for mini-skirts and the quirkiness of the Portobello Road market, and Jamie’s interest in International Electromatics’ new model of portable radio is restricted to the pop music emanating from it.

Swinging Sixties: Companion Zoe and photographer Isobel encounter magnate Tobias Vaughn

It is only fair to point out that Doctor Who was not the only science fiction series to find the depiction of the social unrest and radicalism that encapsulated the end of the 1960s in Europe, America, and elsewhere problematic. The counterculture that formed the backdrop to that unrest was in many ways the most obvious object of comment, and less than three months after the broadcast of ‘The Invasion’, Doctor Who’s contemporary show, Star Trek, made an attempt at a critique. ‘The Way To Eden’ (1969) featured a group of cultish space aliens – thinly-veined depictions of hippies – whose quest for the mythical planet of the episode’s title ultimately brings nothing but death. The cultural politics of this widely-derided episode is painted in broad strokes, but it did at least represent an attempt of sorts to engage with this particular aspect of contemporary cultural affairs. Doctor Who viewers would have to wait until the 1970s, and the appearance of Jon Pertwee’s Third Doctor, for similar treatments.

Must the Doctor be a white male?

 

The short answer is “no”.  In “The War Games” (1969) the Doctor, obliged to regenerate, turns down several new bodies offered to him by the Time Lords including  - seemingly - that of a black man; “The Doctor’s Wife” (2011) confirms that Time Lords can change gender when they regenerate.  Yet, come the new Doctor Who season, the new Doctor will be another in the solid phalanx of (admittedly talented) white males who have ruled the roost in the console room since 1963.

Potential Doctor: Sophie Okonedo, one of the country's most magnificent
actors.  Deserves to be a Dame, or better still, the Doctor!

Yet the excuse that a white male actor is “so talented” is wearing a bit thin.  It ignores the fact that this tiny, damp little island is awash with outstanding female and ethnic minority actors who could pilot the Tardis with quite as much acting prowess as their white male counterparts.  Three of this blogger’s favourites for stints as the Doctor would be Sophie Okonedo, Suranne Jones and Sacha Dhawan, and here they are looking marvellous in old-fashioned, Doctor-style get-up.  And they are far from being the only British non-white and women thespians who could wield the sonic screwdriver with panache.

Potential Doctor: Sacha Dhawan looks dashing in wing collar and bow tie -
so shouldn't he be dashing down a corridor, on a spaceship?

So why another white man?     If we see the Doctor as a political leader, as he surely is, then the conservatism of the show runner and production team in casting the new incumbent reflects the cultural politics of British society.  Thus women form the majority of the population yet only one in five legislators in the United Kingdom Parliament is a woman.  Some 18% of British subjects are non-white but only 4% of MPs.  The Cabinet is 18 men and 3 women: only one is ethnic-minority.   And the discrimination in British politics is mirrored in British society as a whole.  White men run the country so white men run the Tardis.

Yet in the population at large, white men are decidedly in the minority.  Thus the unwritten rule banning women and ethnic minorities from playing the Doctor is increasingly undermining the show’s aim of representing Britishness.  It may be too late this time around, but breaking the white-male monopoly on portraying the Doctor would serve as a splendid demonstration of the inclusivity of British national identity.



Potential Doctor: Suranne Jones has already
played the TARDIS - so why not the Doctor?

 

 

Is Doctor Who unionist?

The forthcoming Scottish independence referendum raises the question of Doctor Who’s stance on the union between the four nations making up the United Kingdom.  One should bear in mind that the “new show” has been broadcast entirely during the era of devolution whereby Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland take more of their own decisions themselves through their own assemblies and administrations.  This system, now well established, contrasts with the unitary constitution which prevailed in the days of the “old show” when the entire United Kingdom was governed by Whitehall and Westminster.  Devolution arguably prompted the BBC to project a more varied conception of Britishness.  It also means that Scotland’s choice will be between devolution and separation.

Against this backdrop it has been a remarkable coincidence that new Doctor Who’s two showrunners, Russell T. Davies and Steven Moffat, have been Welsh and Scottish respectively.  The new show is made by BBC Wales and the 2005 revival saw Wales relatively frequently used as a locus for stories (e.g. “The Unquiet Dead” (2005), “Boom Town” (2005), "The Hungry Earth"/"Cold Blood" (2010)) in contrast to the old show’s almost exclusive assumption that stories set in Britain were set in South East England. 

Amy and Rory being, to coin a phrase, Better Together

The new show’s Scottish and Welsh characters have occasionally expressed somewhat nationalistic attitudes.  Most notably companion Amy Pond as a child expresses the view that England is “rubbish” compared to Scotland (“The Eleventh Hour (2010)), and voices approval in “The Beast Below” (2010) at learning that, in the distant future when humans are obliged to leave Earth, the Scots insisted on a starship of their own rather than embarking on Starship UK.  The Doctor himself comments on the Otherness caused by Amy’s Scottish identity: she’s a Scottish girl in an English village and he knows how that feels.   Gwen and Rhys in the spin-off Torchwood joke about needing injections as they cross the Severn Bridge from Wales into England.

In fact these mild comments are outweighed by a stronger current of unionism in the show.  Take Amy Pond.  Amy is indeed a Scottish girl in an English village: she chooses to remain there and she chooses to marry an Englishman, ultimately favouring him over the Doctor (“The Angels Take Manhatten” (2012)).    The Scots’ decision to go off in a starship of their own in “The Beast Below” can likewise be turned on its head; it presupposes that the UK remains united for thousands of years until humans are forced to desert the planet.   As for Gwen Cooper, she opts to work for that most British of organisations, Torchwood, created in Scotland by a British Queen in order to protect the whole of Great Britain (“Tooth and Claw” (2006)).

 

Gwen poised to enhance Anglo-Welsh relations with colleague Owen

Images of the Union Jack also abound under both showrunners far more than in the old show.  More significantly, since the issue of the union relates to governance, the programme’s unionism can also be seen in the new show’s portrayal of civil servants.   These were a breed portrayed in early 1970s Doctor Who as exclusively English, upper class, greedy, nationalistic buffoons (see for instance, Mr Chinn in “The Claws of Axos” (1971) and Mr Walker in “The Sea Devils” (1972)). In their place in the new show we have the Welsh Mr Llewellyn in “The Christmas Invasion” (2007) and the Scottish Professor Bracewell in “Victory of the Daleks” (2010) both of whom are cast in a heroic light as British civil servants. 

 

Courageous Mr Llewellyn (second from the left) with Prime Minister Harriet Jones

Of course Doctor Who always has to deploy a certain subtlety: as Professor Matt Hills has observed, the show cannot be too obviously about real-world, contemporary politics: it isn’t a political thriller (Triumph of a Time Lord, London: IB Tauris, 2010. p.138).  The bottom line, however, is that Doctor Who is the product of the British Broadcasting Corporation and cannot seriously have a separatist agenda.  Thus, despite relishing national differences and deploying them for tension and humour, BBC Wales’ Doctor Who remains quietly but firmly unionist.

Westminster Law School watches "The War Games"

The War Lord (Philip Madoc) faces trial by the Time Lords

Is this the first time a university Law School has watched Doctor Who collectively?  Perhaps!  Under the aegis of its Centre for Law Society and Popular Culture, Westminster Law School held a viewing of the seminal episode 10 of "The War Games" last week, with an introduction by Professor Danny Nicol.  The episode centres on two trials held by the Doctor's people, the Time Lords.  They try an alien called the War Lord, for having gathered together human soldiers from different eras in time, in order to wage war on each other with a view to creating a super-army out of survivors to conquer the galaxy.  They then try the Doctor, one of their own species, for having interfered in the affairs of other planets.

"The War Games" is the high water mark of Time Lord gravitas.  Yet Westminster's legal scholars were not overly impressed by the Time Lords' idea of a fair trial and there was considerable questioning of their legitimacy to act as guardians of the Universe.   The academics observed how the Time Lords' black-letter law diverged from the far more flexible view of law put forward by the Doctor, and yet there was a lack of reasoning for the Time Lords' decisions.  Cold war and anti-colonialist themes were readily identified, and it was noted how heavily the episode would have been influenced by the war crimes trials of the era such as Nuremberg and Eichmann.  

The Doctor (Patrick Troughton) presents his defence

The event was a precursor to a symposium which the Centre is holding in September on "The Politics and Law of Doctor Who".