A new reality series from South Africa, chronicling the lives of a polygamous family, has landed like a grenade in the middle of British cultural diplomacy. The show, which follows a Johannesburg businessman and his three wives, has ignited a firestorm of debate about whether our Foreign Office should be funding programming that challenges Western norms.
At a moment when the UK is keen to position itself as a champion of progressive values, this programme has become an awkward test case. The BBC World Service, through its partnership with a South African broadcaster, provided partial funding for a series that many in Westminster now deem 'problematic'. The conundrum is this: do we impose our cultural sensibilities on other nations, or do we respect local traditions even when they clash with our own?
On the streets of Brixton and Birmingham, the reaction has been telling. At a community centre in Sparkbrook, a group of young British Pakistani women told me they felt 'spoken for' rather than consulted. One said, 'Polygamy is not something we practise, but it exists in our history. The show doesn't represent us.' In contrast, a focus group in Johannesburg described the series as 'honest' and a 'reflection of real life' for a tiny minority.
The human cost here is not just about bruised diplomatic egos. It is about the women on screen. Are they empowered or exploited? The producers insist the wives are 'co-creators' and 'paid equally'. Yet the camera lingers on their domestic tensions, their rivalry for the husband's attention. One wife, a former teacher, said in an interview, 'I am not a victim. I chose this life.' But choice in a context of economic dependence is a slippery concept.
Class dynamics add another layer. The family in question is wealthy, living in a gated community. The debate, therefore, is not about poverty but about privilege and tradition. Middle-class South Africans, both black and white, are embarrassed. 'This makes us look backward,' a Cape Town academic told me. Yet the show's defenders argue that the UK should not play cultural gatekeeper.
Cultural shift moves at different speeds in different places. The UK itself was slow to accept same-sex marriage, and now champions it globally. The unease here is partly a reflection of our own history of imposing values abroad, from the colonial era to modern 'aid conditionality'. The British Council now walks a tightrope between promoting British values and not being seen as neo-colonial.
What the debate reveals, ultimately, is a deep discomfort with the idea of a universal standard for relationships. The series has been a mirror, forcing us to ask: what exactly are we defending when we defend 'our' values? And are we ready to listen to voices from elsewhere, even when they make us wince?
For now, the show airs. The diplomats squirm. And the rest of us watch, confused and fascinated, as a private domestic arrangement becomes a public battleground for the soul of cultural diplomacy.
