New Earth is such a rewarding episode. In contrast to the following episodes, which are either character-driven or pure adventure fun, it introduces a lot of important issues that define the Tenth Doctor's journey, and that makes it a particular favourite of mine. New Earth is arguably the Tenth Doctor's real debut, after his eleventh-hour appearance in The Christmas Invasion. That episode established the vast poles of his personality - that lightning switch from bouyant swashbuckling to vengeful arrogance - but New Earth works on a deeper level, setting out the themes that Russell T Davies chose to define the Tenth Doctor's arc, and with which the Doctor would wrestle for the rest of the Davies tenure. When you view this episode in the light of the end of Ten's story, it really becomes clear how solidly those major issues and themes were sitting there, in plain view, just waiting to blossom in a year or two's time.
The whole episode is concerned with life and death in its many forms. The Doctor is new-born, seeing the universe with innocent, enamoured eyes; the Lady Cassandra is alive, but by rights should have been dead long ago - she is a parody of life. The Flesh are living death itself, bearing so much disease and suffering that their life is a contradiction; the cat nuns are physically alive but, in the Doctor's view at least, morally dead or worse than dead through their utilitarian brutality.
And it's clear that the Tenth Doctor is very much on the side of life. He fights for Rose's life; he takes explosive joy in saving and healing the Flesh. Others might well have written off this new life form, but the Doctor invests himself in their flourishing: "I'm the Doctor and I cured them!". The approaching hubris in this remark is hardly subtle, but he's so baby-faced and exultant, and so very innocent in this remark, that a time where that statement might be backed up with real arrogance seems very far off.
It's also clear that if there's beauty and joy in the beginning of life - the Tenth Doctor's and the Flesh's - then there's a right and proper time to die as well. "I don't want to die," Cassandra whimpers, and he replies, "Nobody does." Which of course includes the Doctor himself, and if we flash-forward to The Waters of Mars and The End of Time we see that the Doctor isn't really much better at taking his own advice in this respect than are other people. At the end of his own life it takes him time, and more human damage, and more crushing regret, for him to face up to the inevitability of his own demise, compounded as it is by his guilt and fear for the mistakes he's made. He rages against the dying of the light like everyone else, except, like everything else he does, it's somewhat more spectacular.
Of course it's not all bleak - he gives Cassandra a truly meaningful experience before her death, gives her a moment of real living in his sense of the term ("You're so desperate to stay alive, why don't you live a little?"), and that experience gives her the strength and dignity to face up to her demise. In much the same way, Wilf's companionship to the Doctor in The End of Time, and the wider legacy of Rose and his other companions, enable the Doctor to master his fear and regret enough to make a good end, giving his life to save an "insignificant" old man. And because he's the Doctor, and because he basically succeeds in living up to his own values, it's a tremendously selfless and moving end, proving that while he gets it wrong - sometimes spectacularly so - ultimately he lives up to his moral values and his concept of what a life well lived should look like. He dances with joy to see the Flesh "completely, completely alive" because he, too, is so vibrantly alive, and his childlike delight stems from the quality of a life truly lived.
Despite his fierce dedication to preserve life, no matter the species, the Doctor doesn't advocate life at any cost. He has extremely clear ideas of what constitutes a meaningful life. That's not to say he's without compassion - the very opposite, in fact - but it explains why his discovery of the Flesh's exploitation is met not only with compassion or sorrow but with explosive anger. "If they live because of this, then life is worthless." The Doctor sees very clearly inside his own head what constitutes a meaningful life. His moral compass is well-defined and absolutely rigid, and anything that clashes with it brings out an unbending anger that belies his happy-go-lucky exterior. This is, of course, one of his greatest strengths (his instinctive anarchism, his firm resolution to resist structural power and control, enables him to refuse the Krillitane in School Reunion) and also a significant weakness. In New Earth we're inclined to side with his anger - experimenting on humans is clearly wrong - but in the previous episode his moral line in the sand, while very clear to him, likely evoked a more ambivalent response from us. Was he right to depose Harriet Jones? Even if he might have been justified, should he have done it? They're open questions, and a reminder that while the Tenth Doctor defines himself as this earth's champion, he doesn't prioritise human life over that of other species. He might be utterly humane, and the model humanist, but he's not human.
Next time it's one of my favourite guest-written episodes, Vincent and the Doctor.
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