World War III

After our first cliffhanger, our first cliffhanger resolution. They rarely satisfy completely: ideally they should surprise and delight, but still be conceivably foreseeable. It's not an exact science. This one's alright, although you can probably only play the "But I'm not human!" card once.

Afterwards the episode spins into a madcap runaround sequence that delighted both the boys and the Doctor. He is really enjoying this, and grins wildly at the Slitheen as he escapes in the lift or bounds up and down the stairs. He has come alive, delighted to be mixed up in the middle of it all and his enthusiasm is infectious. But once he's safely ensconced in the Cabinet Room (after some wonderfully Doctorish flimflam) everything settles down and it becomes clear that the Slitheen's plot to destroy the world is not the sole focus of this episode.

The emotional centre is Jackie's fear for Rose. It's bad enough that her daughter is threatened by the mysterious unknowable universe, but now Rose is inside Downing Street as Mickey buffalos his way into missile command. It's a fair point and a timely one for the series to address. We know she's not safe. We wouldn't be watching if it was safe. But at the same time, we sort of assume that the rules of television mean that nothing really horrible is going to happen to her. This isn't Spooks after all. But Jackie reminds us that for her this is real, and the truthfulness of all this once again gives the fantasy a rock-solid foundation that makes all the difference. She never gives the Doctor credit for sharing her concerns, but he does, and can not bring himself to give the order that fires the missile, yet again unable to do what must be done. Luckily, the MP for Flydale North, this week's locum and destined for greatness, is happy to take the tough decisions. 

It's obvious, but still needs to be said: World War III is anti-war and also anti-The War. Harriet Jones has to get it on record that she "voted against that". Less obliquely, the Slitheen declare that "massive weapons of destruction" are pointing at Britain and could be deployed within "forty-five seconds". It's not subtle, but that doesn't make it inappropriate. Doctor Who has poked a stick into the wasps' nest of politics in the past too, albeit rarely. Various Pertwee stories were 'about' industrial relations, or apartheid, or environmentalism, Fourth Doctor story The Sun Makers was nothing less than an attack on the Inland Revenue and The Happiness Patrol had seen the Seventh Doctor bring down an outer space Margaret Thatcher (Shelia Hancock in a pink wig).

Roughly a year before this episode was written up to a million people marched against British involvement in the Iraq War; I think it's fair to say that enthusiasm was not widespread. I was, initially, prepared to believe the government's claims about WMD, but only because it seemed so impossible that it would lie to me about it, either deliberately or accidentally. The sheer desperation of the scrabble for a UN resolution changed my mind, the goalposts continually shifting as the UK and US failed to make their case. It felt as if the war needed to take place no matter what. Whatever the rights and wrongs of toppling Saddam Hussein, ultimately there were no weapons of mass destruction and many British people were left with the feeling that some alien influence had somehow been able to steer the course of our country against our will, and that maybe it had all really just been about money.

In that light, the events of World War III become a kind of coup d'état. Doctor Who marches into the heart of government, leaves Tony Blair for dead and then demolishes Downing Street, eradicating the stain of war with fire. For an encore, Harriet Jones - an idealised, compassionate politician - is installed, her grip on power to be legitimised retrospectively by three landslide elections: Britain is restored. Forget the farting, this episode is angry, cathartic and important.

William was born just days before the invasion of Iraq went ahead so, needless to say, the boys are watching a different show to me, which is just as it should be. They're both thrilled and happily dole out 10s. Chris thought the Slitheen were "very, very, very scary" and loved the Doctor, calling him "funny and excited".

"What about when he's angry?" I asked.

"I think he's supposed to be, but I don't like it," he replied.

Wiliam agreed with all that but also mentioned the final scene, where Rose promises her mum that, thanks to time travel, she could be away for years and come back ten seconds later. The TARDIS leaves. Jackie sits and counts silently. But nothing happens.

"Good drama, that," said William.


NEXT TIME...