Defying Gravity and Defending Truth

Don’t hear them, hate them.

In the famous Broadway musical, Wicked, Elphaba never changes; only the story we hear about her does. Smoke, assisted by a thunderous voice and a gleaming city, coerce the public to chant “wicked” at a young woman whose only offense is seeking the truth. That’s not just theater. That is our current political culture when narrative drowns out truth and power needs a villain more than it wants a conversation.

In Oz, the Wizard survives on stagecraft — a stately sleight of hand. He doesn’t have to be true if he can be mesmerizing. He doesn’t have to be right if he can be reassuring. Sound familiar? Feel similar? Legacy media too often declares who is “popular,” who is “wonderful,” and who is “wicked,” then deputizes their viewers to enforce the script. When everyday Americans raise an eyebrow at the fog machine, they are treated as the problem, never the proof that something behind the curtain is off.

Our history honors people who paid dearly to say simple, but difficult, things in front of thousands. Lincoln, Kennedy, and King reminded a divided country that truth doesn’t have versions and dignity is not negotiable — and they were murdered for it. In our own time, the assassinations of Minnesota’s former House Speaker Melissa Hortman and her husband this summer, and of Charlie Kirk nearly two weeks ago in Utah, are macabre warnings about what happens when political disagreements are allowed to become a hunt. A republic cannot function if disagreement routinely sours into dehumanization and then into tragedy. We should say so without hesitation, and we should say it together.

Elphaba’s vilification is rooted in her dissent. She refuses to accept the status quo. She breaks with the masses. She asks for the truth — even when it costs her friends, her reputation, and her safety. The chorus is taught to shout her down, and when that fails, to demand her demise. That pattern — first smear, then vilify, then punish — falls too perfectly onto a media and cultural environment that treats heresy as harm and opponents to be removed.

We can stop it. But only if we reestablish a moral standard in America. We have, for too long, treated the nuclear family as old-fashioned instead of essential, patriotism as dangerous instead of dutiful, personal responsibility as fleeting instead of freeing, and reverence for God as a private hobby instead of a personal anchor. When those defining values are mocked or neglected, something else takes over — usually a misguided faith in institutions that frame themselves indestructible. The Wizard is always happy to be revered — to be worshipped.

Redeeming ourselves begins with courage and civility in equal parts. “Attack ideas, not people” cannot be a quote that we simply post “for the gram”. It needs to be a daily rule for how we debate, legislate, teach, and govern. No more rubbing elbows with dehumanizing labels. No more cheering when “our side” silences someone on theirs. No more pretending that a clever headline, a clipped quote, or a trending pile-on is proof of anything but our own appetite for spectacle or binge entertainment. If we won’t self-police, the mob will. And mobs do not love the truth; they love the feeling of winning.

Let’s talk plainly about the Wizard’s machinery. The legacy media has enormous power to portray sentiment, edit timelines, and decide which stories receive oxygen. When used carelessly, that power can turn disagreements into demons and people into parodies. It can turn a complicated person or story into a two-word headline and a tragic event into a cudgel. It can declare — in the moral shorthand of a Broadway chorus — who is worthy and who is wicked. Even over a short period of time, we have seen how that dynamic fuels escalation: an attempted assassination of President Trump in 2024, assassinations of lawmakers and activists in 2025, and a rising tide of mutual suspicion that makes neighbors fear one another. This is not sustainable in the land of the free.

So here is a different tune. WE THE PEOPLE decline the fog machine. We insist that our disagreements happen in complete sentences. We demand a revival of the proven habits that make freedom possible — family honored, work dignified, worship unapologetic, dutiful citizenship. We restore common sense in our international relations, our borders, our economy, and our schools — not because it is fashionable, but because it is faithful to the promises we owe our youth — the same promise that our parents kept with us. Teach your kids that truth exists, that character matters, and that you cannot love liberty while hating your countrymen.

And we tell the Wizard “no.” 

No to mob rule. No to ritualized degradation. No to outrageous comparisons due to disagreeable speech. The press has a sacred role; when it behaves like a stage manager, we should say so without fear. The point is not to replace propaganda with other forms of it. The point is to make propaganda unnecessary by building citizens who understand the difference.

Elphaba’s story does not end in praise from those who condemned her. It ends with a costly decision to stand up for truth. That is not a bad model for us. We may not write the headline. But if we hold the line — truth over theater, people over party, duty over drama — we own something better: a country that debates fiercely without turning political opponents into prey.

We honor the fallen by refusing the rhetoric that made their deaths seem excusable. We honor them by defending truth, demanding peace, and rebuilding the civic trust that evil cannot live in. We honor them by snuffing out wickedness — not people — starting with the lies that ask us to dehumanize one another. That is how you defy gravity in public life: not by floating above the fight, but by standing, steady, when the fog rolls in.