Not-Netflix Natter 4 When did stories start preaching?

Doctor Who and the Cost of Advocacy-First Television

I stopped watching Doctor Who not because I stopped caring — but because I started feeling lectured.

That may sound blunt, so let me explain.

I have no objection to values in storytelling. I grew up with stories that shaped my sense of fairness, courage, and compassion. Doctor Who once did this beautifully. It asked moral questions without answering them for you. It trusted the audience — including children — to think.

But at a certain point, something shifted.

The stories began to feel less like explorations and more like declarations. Less “what would you do?” and more “this is what you should think.” The Doctor, once a curious guide through complexity, increasingly sounded like an advocate delivering a position.

When that happened, I quietly stepped away.

This isn’t about politics or ideology. It’s about how stories work.

When narrative gives way to messaging, viewers disengage — not because they disagree, but because they no longer feel invited into the story. Children, especially, are sensitive to this. They don’t like being taught at. They prefer discovering meaning through character, consequence, and imagination.

Historically, Doctor Who was a bridge programme. It sat comfortably between children and adults — frightening but hopeful, serious but playful. Moral, yes, but never moralising.

As the show evolved into a global brand with many audiences to satisfy, that balance became harder to hold. Advocacy-first storytelling can feel urgent and important, but it often comes at a cost. Families drift away. Children stop watching with adults. Conversation gives way to reaction.

The figures tell part of that story too — not in a simplistic “ratings equal quality” way, but as a sign of fragmentation. When people stop gathering around a shared narrative, something cultural has changed.

What’s striking is that this pattern isn’t unique to Doctor Who. Across children’s and family television, we see a similar tension: stories becoming vehicles for messages, characters becoming mouthpieces, complexity replaced by clarity.

Clarity can be comforting. But children’s storytelling has always been strongest when it leaves room for uncertainty.

I don’t believe audiences rejected Doctor Who. I think many simply stopped recognising themselves in it.

And that matters — because children’s and family television works best when it invites people in, rather than telling them what they must believe to stay.

Which is why I keep returning to the same gentle refrain in Not-Netflix Natter

Children don’t need louder stories.

They need kinder and more interesting ones.

Kinder stories trust the audience.

They don’t preach.

They explore.