#post colonial

Well it’s good enough for the CCP…

Seriously though, I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt that you are 13 and don’t really understand what a country/government/nation state does and how they work yet. A “country” has a single tax pool that funds much of the national budget. Obviously every nation handles this a little differently, and situations where governments merge (eg. German reunification) are a little more complicated, and some countries tax their overseas citizens. But overall, if you move from NY to LA, you still pay taxes to the United States federal government, and receive similar benefits from it. If you move from eg Haiti to the United States, you may choose to send money to your family and friends in the old country, but your taxes go to the United States, not Haiti. Now, there are countries that are so short of anything but human capital that most of their GDP is remittances (money sent home by migrant workers), but this is not a great long term base for an economy for multiple reasons.

Country lines are NOT drawn arbitrarily generally speaking. Post colonial state boundaries were often drawn up by colonizers half a world away without much regard to local conditions… which resulted in rather a lot of conflict in post colonial regions as internal and external violence occurred to move national boundaries or people into more stable locations. Country borders are where the corpses of soldiers pile up, attacking or defending; they are boundaries of blood shed and projection of force. They are anything but arbitrary. It’s not a “particularity of history” that the last war left the borders in a particular location. Occasionally borders are adjusted by polite negotiated agreements between nations, but this usually involves extremely small areas and territory swaps or officially renouncing competing territorial claims. Still not arbitrary.

Recently I've been thinking a lot about how beautifully Doctor Who reflects the state of post-colonial British identity, and tumblr seems like the appropriate place to share my ramblings. So let’s see if I can explain in a way that makes sense.

I must start by putting on my obnoxious little film degree hat and reminding everyone that sci-fi is one of those genres that is highly political (as most things are, but scifi even moreso). It turns out it's pretty easy to get a sense of people's fears and anxieties by asking them to envision the future, and that's what sci-fi media does; it uses contemporary cultural standards and ideas to create a vision of what futuristic/advanced science and technology might look like, and how people might respond to it. In doing so, it ends up taking the social and political temperature of the time and place in which it's created.

As such, it's very, very common for scholars to analyze sci-fi media through this lens; even Frankenstein, arguably the first science fiction novel ever written, is often interpreted as reflecting cultural fears regarding swiftly advancing science and technology during the early stages of the industrial revolution. The Day The Earth Stood Still (1951) is another great, very blatant example of how sci-fi and politics can interact. In this movie, a Jesus-like alien ascends to Earth during the Cold War to warn the human race about their imminent nuclear annihilation. It seems corny to us now, but it's actually a great movie and I would highly reccomend it. It's rumored that the US Department of Defense read the script and Did Not Like It because the themes were too anti-war.

In other words, despite often being viewed as too “pop,” too goofy, and too unserious to have any deep meaning, pretty much any scifi story can be analyzed within an inch of its life using a meta social/political lens. It's not the only way to interpret sci-fi, but it's by far the most common. One must simply ask, “what does this vision of science, technology, and/or the future say about us as we are now?”

But anyway. Doctor Who. Disclaimer: I haven't watched the classic series so I'll focus on 2005 onward (still post-colonial so it still holds up, lol). If you've seen Classic and you'd like to chip in, please do.

Genre-wise, Doctor Who is more-or-less a space-western, a subgenre of sci-fi that incorporates Western elements—exploring new frontiers, engaging with unfamiliar civilizations, rogue figures, etc. Star Trek is the peak example of this, but there are many, many others.

Of course, the Western genre is dripping with colonialism due to its historical setting of the American West, and the racist depictions of Indigenous peoples. Space-westerns, consequently, also tend to address colonial topics. Sometimes space westerns are just as racist as normal westerns, but sometimes they use the genre reflexively, to question colonial ideals. A more progressive space-western might be more willing to “humanize” the alien cultures they meet, asking questions like, "how does one ethically engage with foreign societies?" or "When is it appropriate to intervene in a conflict?" etc.

Althought these kinds of questions come up regularly in Doctor Who, especially regarding its anti-war messaging (Time War etc.). These themes become doubly interesting when you use them to inform your interpretation of The Doctor, both as a character and as a symbol.

Consider this: The Doctor is the embodiment of an ancient and immensely powerful being with a bloody history. Their kill-count is quite literally somewhere in the quadrillions. Although they are a self-proclaimed pacifist, they are still constantly a perpetrator of death and destruction throughout the series. The Doctor, despite repeatedly and loudly choosing peace, can never seem to keep their hands clean of chaos and suffering. Doctor Who is about an entity that destroys everything they touch, sometimes on purpose, sometimes not. As an allegory for grappling with the legacy of British imperialism, I'd say it's pretty on the nose.

In this sense, not only is Doctor Who a show about colonialism, it is also a show about identity in the wake of colonialism. It's even in the name: "Doctor Who?" Who is the Doctor? What is their responsibility to the universe? What does it mean to be ancient and powerful and drenched in the blood of millions? How do they move on, become better, without falling into the same traps? What does it mean to be British?

These questions come up over and over throughout the new series, from the destruction of Gallifrey, to the Timelord Victorious, to A Good Man Goes to War, the Flux (arguably), and many, many other smaller plotlines I could mention. Even in the latest series with Ncuti Gatwa, the focus on adoption and family is in a similar vein—where does the Doctor come from? What does it even mean to be “from” a place? How much do your origins truly contribute to who you are and who you become?

How the companions fall within this framework is also interesting; if the Doctor is a stand-in for the nation as an entity, then the Doctor's companion, the everyday British person, is the stand-in for the populace. The companions are ever-changing, ever-evolving, constantly renegotiating their relationship with the Doctor. The companion's ultimate challenge is to find how they fit into the narrative of the Doctor's life, and try their best to come out the other end with a happy ending (ha).

Of course, Doctor Who is owned by the BBC, meaning it is quite literally nationally subsudized TV. As a result, althought the show is actually VERY critical in some places, the Doctor is usually ultimately sympathetic; their good intentions tend to forgive a lot of the problems they've caused. The companion is usually charmed by the Doctors' seemingly endless tragedy of a life. This is a country's state-owned media company working with it's own self-image--it's inherently a work of self-reflection, and perhaps of self-obsession, too.

It would be easy to be cynical about Doctor Who as a product of the BBC, which is state-funded (but notably not owned or directly controlled by the government!). However, I tend to think that just writing it off as propaganda because of this is doing the show a disservice. Yes, there is an inherent privilege and self-centeredness to endlessly forgiving the Doctor, but that's also kind of the whole point; it's a show about coming to terms with one's horrible past. It's a show about learning to formulate a new sense of self. To demand that Doctor Who to be less self-obsessed, to not be about British identity when it is in fact a British show for Brits about Brits, is just a bit unrealistic.

Instead, I choose to believe that Doctor Who can and does use its privilege for good more often than not. The creators tend to be very progressive (as sci-fi so often is) and they can get away with a lot of very progressive messages in the guise of a silly sci-fi show for families. Most recently, I would point to s14e3: Boom, s14e5: Dot and Bubble as examples of thinly veiled rants about the evils of capitalism, war, racism, social media, etc. To ignore or dismiss Doctor Who because it has some form of institutional backing would be doing the actual stories and writers a disservice.

Finally, let me leave you with one last point; One consistancy throughout the new series that I find very charming is the positive effect the companions always have on the Doctor. Companions come and go, which is sad, but they're each special in their own little way, and they each change the Doctor, wearing them down a little at a time. The Doctor is consistently at their worst when they are alone, removed from the people that make them want to be better.

Very often the companion's parting message for the Doctor is "don't be alone.” This can be extrapolated to mean: don't forget we exist. Don't forget to be kind. Even if you can't help your legacy, even if you can't wash the blood off your hands, you can always keep striving to be better. Keep someone around to remind you to be better. And the Doctor, more often than not, does. Because ultimately it is the companions, us the people, that make the Doctor who they are.

It’s this special brand of relentless optimism, this indomitable belief in the goodness of people and the power of that goodness that always brings me back to Doctor Who, one way or another, despite all its flaws.

Neo Matloga, Ke O Fa Pelo Yaka (I give you my heart), 2021,

78.74 x 78.74”.

her animal eye. Gacela oscura. Negra llorona.

Along the clayen banks I follow her-astonished,

gathering grief’s petals she lets fall like horns.

Why not now go toward the things I love?

Like Jacob’s angel, I touched the garnet of her wrist,

and she knew my name. And I knew hers—

it was Auxocromo, it was Cromóforo, it was Eliza.

It hurtled through me like honeyed-rum.

When the eyes and lips are touched with honey

what is seen and said will never be the same.

Eve took the apple in that ache-opened mouth,

on fire and in pieces, from the knife’s sharp edge.

In the photo her fist presses against the red-gold

geometry of her thigh. Black nylon, black garter,

unsolvable mysterium—I have to close my eyes to see.

Achilles chasing Hektor round the walls of Ilium

three times. How long must I circle

the high gate above her knees?

Again the gods put their large hands in me,

move me, break my heart like a clay jar of wine,

loosen a beast from some darklong depth—

my melancholy is hoofed. I, the terrible beautiful

Lampon, a shining devour-horse tethered

at the bronze manger of her collarbones.

I do my grief work with her body—labor

to make the emerald tigers in her hips leap,

lead them burning green

to drink from the violet jetting her.

We go where there is love, to the river,

on our knees beneath the sweet water.

I pull her under four times

until we are rivered. We are rearranged.

I wash the silk and silt of her from my hands—

now who I come to, I come clean to, I come good to.