Explainer
Culture
Film & TV
Identity
5 min read

Adapting Doctor Who: it's time for change

The fan debate on associating disability with evil lacks nuance.

Harry Gibbins  is a doctoral researcher at the University of Aberdeen. His PhD concerns the intersection between autism and Christian ministry.

Davros, an alien leader sits in the lower half of a Dalek.
Davros: leader of the Daleks.

In an interview with behind-the-scenes show Doctor Who Unleashed, returning showrunner Russel T Davies had this to say about how iconic Doctor Who baddie Davros was to be portrayed in a mini-episode produced for charity event Children in Need last year. 

“We had long conversations about bringing Davros back, because he's a fantastic character, time and society and culture and taste has moved on. And there's a problem with the Davros of old in that he's a wheelchair user, who is evil. And I had problems with that. And a lot of us on the production team had problems with that, of associating disability with evil. And trust me, there's a very long tradition of this.” 

He continues to explain that this led the production team to depict Davros differently. Gone is the facial scaring, the wheelchair, the robotic eye, and the mechanical hand. Now, as Davies explains, Davros is seen through a lens in which disability stops being a way of identifying evil.  

“This is our lens, this is our eye. Things used to be black and white, they’re not black and white anymore, and Davros used to look like that and he looks like this now.” 

Davies’ comments caused somewhat of a split online with some fans. On the one hand, Davies is continuing a tradition that can be traced back to his previous work on Doctor Who between 2005 and 2010. For example, he purposefully wrote Billie Piper’s character Rose Tyler as working class to cut against the gain of the prim-and-proper received pronunciation of previous companion characters. Perhaps Davies was tired of the limited scope of once again portraying the villain as disabled. Just as he didn’t want another female companion who lacked agency and depth, depiction of Davros as disabled simply wouldn’t fit with this modern incarnation of the show. On the other hand, in his comments, Davies seems to suggest that if this character ever appears again, he will not be disabled, even if it contradicts previous storylines, retroactively removing this part of the character as if it was never there to begin with.

Davros isn’t evil because he’s disabled, so why is Davies so hellbent on changing something that wasn’t an issue to begin with? 

But is Davies’ efforts necessary? Reddit user u/Bowtie327 suggests that Davros’ disability isn’t important, “I can’t say I ever even drew a connection around Davros, being evil, and being disabled”, whilst another user u/PenguinHighGround claims that as a disabled person themselves they found him “weirdly inspiring, his (sic) goals are abhorrent, but he didn’t let his physical issues limit him”. X user @Dadros3 highlights how, as a wheelchair user, Davros has become a sort of science-fiction icon. He euphemistically states that “evil comes in all forms, all races, all genders, all abilities, and all disabilities. We cannot stand by and allow the cancellation of something for fear of offence that doesn’t exist”.

We are starting to see where the conversation heads; there are worries of by simply removing disability from the equation no effort is made to necessarily further the cause of disabled representation in media. Similarly, Davros isn’t evil because he’s disabled, so why is Davies so hellbent on changing something that wasn’t an issue to begin with? Whether it's that Davros’ disability wasn’t noticed by a majority able-bodied audience, or that his evil ideology has nothing to do with being disabled, Davros should stay put! 

What becomes clear is that the changes made to depicting Davros is a product of the philosophy of change that is woven into the show’s DNA. 

There’s a nuance that I believe has been missed by these arguments, a nuance that speaks to the philosophy that underpins what has led Doctor Who to last so long. I do not believe that Davies is suggesting that we pretend that harmful depictions of disabled people didn’t happen. Rather, this is a progression of a core part of Doctor Who

Doctor Who encompasses change. Whether it’s the titular character’s face changing every few years, new story motifs coming and going, or even entirely new production teams, change is what keeps the Doctor Who machine whirring. It is clear that in this new era of the show that Davies is looking for a sort of fresh start. That is what keeps Doctor Who alive, and I think it’s what can make it such a great show. The ability to, despite its long history, still tell a new story. Times where I think the show has suffered has been when it has tried too hard to emulate what has come before.  

This is a good opportunity to look back at how disability has been characterised in the media. It is good to sit with this tension even if we didn’t notice it and even if we don’t necessarily take offence. Interestingly, in the brief discussions Davies has had in the behind the scene footage he never mentions offence, nor does he want to attribute blame onto anyone for depicting a wheelchair user in such a way. Instead, he looks forward, just as we do as an audience. Forwards to opportunities to encapsulate the real lived experiences of disabled people, not only and narrowly looking at it as a way of identifying the baddie. Speaking to Doctor Who Magazine in 2022, casting director Andy Pryor stated that he is actually intentionally trying to cast more disabled actors claiming that “If you can’t cast diversely on Doctor Who, what show can you do it on?”. This is even reflected in the set design, with the TARDIS now being completely wheelchair accessible. What becomes clear is that the changes made to depicting Davros is a product of the philosophy of change that is woven into the show’s DNA. 

The original 1975 story ‘Genesis of the Daleks’, in which Davros first appears, is still available to watch on BBC iPlayer; no attempt has been made to alter the original to remove the problematic depiction of disability. These stories are still there for us to watch and learn from, not to pave over and pretend they didn’t happen. Perhaps this means Davies and the rest of the production team at Bad Wolf will be cautious about featuring Davros again. What we can say is that Doctor Who is a unique icon in the television space in the way it demonstrates how we respond to change.  

Article
Comment
Identity
Nationalism
5 min read

Which nation are you flying the flag for?

Flag raisings, Ed Sheeran, and my split national identity

Juila is a writer and social justice advocate. 

A Union Jack is draped over a railing, next to a red flag saying Jesus.
A flag demonstration, Portsmouth.
TikTok.

Flags are flying from lamp posts around England. It’s newsworthy here – and yet reports barely note that for those of us from Northern Ireland, we know something of this. A couple of weeks ago, the backlash was loud when Ed Sheeran declared himself ‘culturally Irish’, attributing greater significance to his family’s heritage than being born and raised in England. When it comes to signs of identity, things can quickly get personal. 

In my family – Northern Irish mother, English father, two daughters born in London but most of our childhood spent living just outside Belfast – we’ve been known to debate points to tot up our national identities over the dinner table. Does a place of birth outweigh the school years? When does formation finish – on turning 18 or do the months away at university count for anything? Does it matter how our mixed DNA actually expresses in our hair, our eyes, our stature?  

It’s a game and it’s our deeply felt reality. It’s the years spent with my schoolmates teaching me to correctly say ‘how now brown cow’ – and the arrival in England to find people couldn’t understand me saying my own name. It’s the stomach churn I still feel when I see flags flying, having grown up in a country where banners signal who is in – and therefore who is out. It touches on the questions of belonging and home.  

Irishness seems to travel well. The popularity of the island’s artists and art (from Paul Mescal to Derry Girls) are all signifiers of this cultural moment. But being Irish has always carried more cachet when I’ve been abroad, and I confess that when it has suited, I have led with my more ‘palatable’ half (or quarter or… the family maths is still up for debate). It’s convenient – but there’s also a discomfort in the enduring appeal of ‘Irishness’ outside of the island. It’s an ‘otherness’ that evokes intrigue and warmth, rather than fear. Difference that is more than acceptable, sometimes desirable. Distinct enough to be interesting but unthreatening for often being associated with white skin. 

Underneath the light-hearted arguments of our dinner table is a question of formation. Ed Sheeran attributes his sense of being Irish to the things that he feels have shaped him. It’s in being away from Belfast, living in England, that that I have seen more clearly the ways that Irishness has formed me. Watching Derry Girls with my English husband I freely laughed at what I assumed were universal jokes, only to have to hit pause and explain them. The show unearthed memories – not bad, just not often recalled – of Bill Clinton’s historic visit and the ‘across the barricades’ style gathering of primary schools from different sides of the community. 

Signs and symbols matter. I recently rewatched an episode of tv show, The West Wing, in which the US flag may – or may not – have been burned as part of a trick by magicians Penn and Teller. A media maelstrom follows. Whether or not the flag burned matters, as does the symbolism of this act taking place in the White House, itself an emblem of national identity and power. 

Reflecting on the news, I find myself thinking about the signs of a different kind of kingdom, one that transgresses national borders. In the Bible there's the story of one man who died once for all the world. And in dying, he brought forth his kingdom – one that crosses boundary lines to be truly global. The signs of this kingdom are not division or disconnection but peace and justice, joy and comfort, healing and presence. 

This is not about homogenisation. It’s not about the erosion of cultures, but about the beauty of all represented. As Harvey Kwiyani, a theologian from Malawi, puts it: “We are all welcome to God’s kingdom with our unique cultures. Being in the kingdom of God does not erase our cultural differences… The kingdom of God finds its fullest expression in intercultural mutuality. It is a multicultural kingdom.” The kingdom of God in all its richness – that’s a tempting proposition.  

It’s easy to see that we aren’t living in the fullness of this yet. But the world is not a static place. One metaphor used to describe the kingdom of God is yeast; living cultures filling the dough, making it rise. This is an image that is expansive, generous. The kingdom isn’t wholly realised yet, but we can see more and more of it. 

And like the yeast, we have a role to play in culture changing. As Graham Tomlin wrote following debates about ‘Englishness’, belonging to the kingdom of God means we have an identity not defined by where we live. Being part of this kingdom, we also become active participants in it. Formation is not just about us; we get to play an intentional role in the formation of a kinder world, in the coming of God’s kingdom. In the midst of fear and uncertainty, our ability to engage in such life-giving action offers a concrete hope.   

This is not a defensive position, but a brokering one. The kingdom is bigger than our individual lives, churches or communities; recognising this helps us to break out of a fortress mentality. So far, this century has been marked by fortification. As well as the raising of flags, there have also been walls. At the end of the second world war there were fewer than five border walls; there are now more than 70, most of them built in the last two decades. But the kingdom of God offers a view of home that is not about defence, not about perimeters, or even places. It’s a relationship with God, who made and sustains this world, who crosses the divide to meet each of us. In meeting him, we can partner together in seeing more of his kingdom on this earth.  

Anthropologist Andrew Shyrock defines sovereignty as “manifest in the ability to act as host”. Or to ground it in the day to day: to be able to offer a cup of tea. Perhaps some of the anger about Ed Sheeran’s claim is because of what it seems to either take or reject, pulling towards one nation while turning a back to another. Belonging to the kingdom of God invites us to think beyond what we can have to how we can intentionally serve. It has room to honour heritage and at the same time, it bends forward towards eternity. In the day to day, I find this a comfort: to see formation as not just about the past, but also the power of creative act after creative act in shaping the world that’s coming. 

Support Seen & Unseen

Since Spring 2023, our readers have enjoyed over 1,500 articles. All for free. 
This is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.

If you enjoy Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?
 
Do so by joining Behind The Seen. Alongside other benefits, you’ll receive an extra fortnightly email from me sharing my reading and reflections on the ideas that are shaping our times.

Graham Tomlin
Editor-in-Chief