I am in favour of diversity. I think it’s important to normalise other races, genders, sexualities on television and film, because when children see them, they don’t think or care about those aspects – they just care about the character. So when we of a certain age grew up with Mickey and Martha, both black, we never thought of them as deliberately-chosen black actors – they were just Mickey and Martha.

But they were deliberately diverse castings. So, later in Series 10, was Bill. And children growing up with Martha, Mickey, Bill, Captain Jack, River Song, Jodie Whittaker as the Doctor – etc, etc – don’t care about race, sexuality, gender. They just want exciting stories and heroic characters. As we get older and more cynical we think about those aspects in today’s casting, but we overlook the diversity castings of our youth. Good. That means it worked.

So when the new Doctor’s companions were revealed – Ryan, a black teenager; Yaz, a teenager of Pakistani descent; and Graham, a white older man – the internet was ablaze with accusations of political correctness and diversity. A group of four with two women, three races, and multiple different ages.

They were obviously diversity castings. Showrunner Chris Chibnall talked about how he wanted viewers to be able to latch on to and identify with one of the companions – be you male, female, white, Asian, black. “The whole concept of Doctor Who,” he said, “is that anybody can go anywhere and do anything, and we want to reflect that on-screen and off.”

And I didn’t care. It really didn’t bother me. I was happy for my favourite programme to become more accessible, particularly behind-the-scenes, which had a distinct lack of female and minority voices.

Until I watched the series, and I realised how cynical a marketing ploy this was.

When Chibnall talked about identifying with characters, it was literally only skin deep. Yaz and Ryan’s skin colours were, broadly speaking, their only identifying feature. Character-wise, they were practically interchangeable throughout the series – both generally idealistic, enamoured with the Doctor, excitable. Ryan was, perhaps, a little better-sketched, slightly reckless and childish. Graham – white and male, remember – was the most distinct, older, a little grumpy, more cynical, and wise.

It quickly became apparent that in this series, character was function. Graham and Ryan’s stories and emotional arcs were largely based around the death of Grace, a black woman. Yaz, by contrast, got nothing. She skated by, just meat in the room, asking constant questions that any of the characters could have asked. Her one function – probationary police officer– was at best flirted with, but usually ignored. When a gun was pulled on her in Arachnids in the UK, her status and her training were simply forgotten while she put her hands up. She should have reacted to this situation in a unique, Yaz-specific way, mentioning her police status and threatening him with the law. But instead she put her hands up, and in that moment she could have been any companion.

Race was addressed in Rosa, but poorly. Initially, Ryan is slapped by a man simply for being black, and it is a powerful moment. But later, Yaz and Ryan have a conversation full of soundbites and badly-written dialogue. Yaz mentions being called a ‘Paki’, and being insulted for attending the mosque. This is the first and last time Yaz being a Muslim has any impact on her character – and this is because it’s used as a function. It’s not meant to be part of her character or inform her hopes, dreams, or motivations; it is just a contextless statement that is meant to establish the programme’s credo as inclusive and diverse.

I despise the phrase, but this is virtue signalling. Concepts and phrases and casting thrown in to make the programme look good. Yaz’s faith does not matter beyond that scene because Yaz as a character does not matter.

Rita in Series 6’s The God Complex was a lovely character. Bright, kind, genuine – and a Muslim. The Doctor reacts favourably to her faith, which informs her reaction to the events around her, guessing that the hotel they’re trapped in is the Muslim version of hell. The episode deals with faith, true, but this one-off character is a better-developed portrayal of a Muslim/ethnic Asian than the entirety of Series 11.

So when Series 11 is marketed as ‘It’s About Time’ (translation: we’ve finally cast a woman as the Doctor because under Chibnall we’re no longer sexist) and Series 12 is marketed as having ‘Space. For All’ (translation: we’re diverse and inclusive under Chibnall), don’t believe it. The programme was inclusive, in the post-2005 era at least, from Day 1. It just didn’t feel the need to shout about it.