Can our troubles melt like lemon drops?

“Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.” The Wizard of Oz

A cold and rainy autumn day is the absolute best time to hunker down, forget our troubles and watch a classic movie… it was either that or news coverage of second pandemic waves and US election campaigns…

Sue’s parents (Jim & Carol) are visiting – and so is her behemoth brother Brad – a police officer. Don’t worry though, we’re all members of the same bubble.

As a dual citizen, Sue’s absentee ballot sits on the table… next to the napkins, crackers, and smoked trout.

We make a fire, uncork a bottle of wine, pour a glass of whisky, grab our Hudson Bay blankets, and get comfortable to watch a favourite – The Wizard of Oz.

Yet, these days, even a family movie we’ve seen a hundred times seems to carry an extra message.

“I love everything about The Wizard of Oz – save for the flying monkeys – they scare the bejesus out of me,” Sue exclaims.

Of course we can’t watch anything without youngest son Louis doing a quick smart phone search…

He pipes up:

“Did you know The Wizard of Oz was released as the great depression was coming to an end and fear of another worldwide conflict was rising? At the 1939 Academy Awards, the movie won 2 Oscars (both for music), while Gone with the Wind won best picture,” he explains.

“It’s a classic – even 80 years after its release,” Carol agrees.

“If Imdb.com and rottentomatoes.com, (big-time influencers of my viewing choices), give it an 8.1 and 99%, I’m good to go,” Brad chimes in.

One of my favourite writers, Sir Salman Rushdie, is a fan of the movie. In an essay he argues the film’s driving force is the inadequacy of adults. They fail to keep Dorothy safe. They fail to keep Toto safe. The intimidating Wizard is revealed as a small man of harmless bluster. It’s the weaknesses of adults that force children to grow up and control their destinies.

We’re all sitting there - 3 generations – engaged in the movie until the moment Dorothy meets the first of her new friends – and I hit pause on the remote.

As families are apt to do, we proceed to have an animated conversation. There is so much going on in the world and each of us has a point of view.

Sometimes, in 2020, it seems the generational gaps can extend beyond positions and impact the rules of debate themselves.

In a movie full of compelling characters, it’s the Scarecrow (a straw man – or a weak opposition argument set up only to be easily confuted) that is the most a propos for our troubled times. Like his two cohorts, the Scarecrow feels he’s limited by a single, glaring weakness.

“With the thoughts that you'll be thinkin'

You could be another Lincoln,

If you only had a brain…”

The Scarecrow is Dorothy’s first and most loyal friend and proof that goodness/honesty exist on an independent axis from brains. In spite of his absence of gray matter, though, he does possess a certain barnyard wisdom.

“How do you talk if you don't have a brain?” Dorothy asks him.

“Well, some people without brains do an awful lot of talking, don't they?”

The good news: we can all agree on some things.

Facts matter. Words matter. And reasoned, fallacy-free arguments matter.

“If you engage in an encounter – a dialogue - should you not be prepared to have your mind changed - your positions evolve? Should you not be ready to come through the experience different from the way you went in?” asks Louis.

“Thank God, in a court of law you can’t simply “cancel” someone whose position you don’t agree with,” says Jim.

The norms that govern coherent and constructive debate are tossed aside at our peril. When these are lost – in the maelstrom of lies and alternative facts - the rules are simple and brutal. Force wins every debate – no matter logic or morality.

Words become nothing more than weapons – to be used according to their impact in the moment – regardless if they accurately portray their adversary, are based on facts or contradict the ones last used.

Should we be surprised if the children rise up to take control of their destinies? How well have the adults protected them?

“You know who doesn’t care about norms? The flying monkeys!” says Sue. “And they’ve started to take over. Who’s going to stop them?”

With that, Sue tosses her blanket aside, rises, and picks up a pen and her absentee ballot.

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