Can our troubles melt like lemon drops?

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

The GOIS of 2025 (Great Orillia Ice Storm) struck a nerve and frayed a bunch of them as well.

Hydro One struggled mightily with shifting goal post estimates for when power would be restored - neglecting a handy, if not obvious, rule of thumb when managing expectations: undercommit and overdeliver. I find it’s always best to tell the truth… and if you don’t know the answer, don’t pretend you do.

We lost power sometime on Saturday, March March 29th and it was finally, reliably restored the following Thursday.

What Sue and I were reminded of most during the interruption is how boring we are - how much we have become creatures of habit. More than the lost contents of the fridge and freezer, it was the disruption to our routine that was most unsettling.

When power was finally restored, we were almost giddy to take our comfortable positions and hunker down, to try forget our troubles and watch a classic movie… it was either that or constant news coverage of economic warfare, threats of annexation, loony tunes tarifs, and federal election campaigns…

We turn on the fireplace, uncork a bottle of South African Chardonnay (no more Californian Cougar Juice in this household!) , pour a glass of whisky (not whiskey or bourbon!), 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 extra political messages.

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

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.

It’s a classic – more than 80 years after its release.

“If IMDB gives sit an 8.1, I’m good to go,” says Sue.

One of my favourite writers, Sir Salman Rushdie, is a big fan of the movie. In an essay he argued 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 enormous bluster. It’s the weaknesses of adults that force children to grow up and take control of their destinies.

We sit there, engaged in the movie until the moment Dorothy meets the first of her new friends – and I hit pause on the remote.

Sometimes, in 2025, it seems even the starting point - the rules of debate themselves - can no longer be taken for granted. “I’m engaging in political discussions more than I ever have,” says Sue.

“They’re not always very comfortable, but I feel like it’s more important than ever. I saw on a protester’s sign: to avoid them is to be complicit,” I reply.

In a movie full of compelling characters, I think 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?”

If we want to get through this dark night, we must all agree on some things.

Facts matter. Words matter. Reasoned, fallacy-free arguments matter. LYING MATTERS.

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?

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.

In political debate, as in election campaigns, we must strive for reasoned debates on policy, qualifications, long-term strategies, and leadership skills. Ad hominem attacks and simple slogans only add to to toxic corrosion of our culture.

When 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, we all lose.

“You know who doesn’t care about norms? The flying monkeys!” says Sue. “In the US, they’ve already taken over. Who’s going to stop them here?”

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