by Vincent Hooper and Susan Adalla
Long before the rise of Twitter, Instagram influencers, and 24/7 media cycles, the original writers of The Wizard of Oz and Wicked seemed to possess an uncanny foresight. They didn’t just write a children’s story about a girl and a magical land — they crafted a timeless parable about the dangers of illusion, fame, and the manipulation of truth.
Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (1900) was a satirical jab at the political landscape of his time, and Gregory Maguire’s Wicked (1995) took that critique even further, turning Oz into a scathing commentary on power, propaganda, and the struggles of being misunderstood.
Fast-forward to today, and we find ourselves living in a world where reality TV stars hold sway, media narratives are more powerful than facts, and social media influencers shape our perceptions of good and evil. In a way, the writers of these stories didn’t just create fiction — they were visionaries, predicting a world where the Wizard is no longer a figure of magic, but a master of illusion, and where the battle between Glinda and Elphaba feels eerily like a clash between shallow fame and radical truth:
Once upon a time, in the rebranded land of Oz, there was a Wizard — or rather, a self-styled emperor who had cast a long, shiny shadow across the land. His name? Donald Trump. A man who turned a glossy tower into an empire, not with magic, but with illusions, tweets, and a talent for playing the public like a piano.
Our story begins with Dorothy, a social media influencer from Kansas, who, after a viral catastrophe involving an ill-advised TikTok challenge, is sucked into Oz. As her phone dies, and her followers plummet, she embarks on a journey to find the Wizard who can restore her viral status and send her home.
The Yellow Brick Road: A Path of Distractions
As Dorothy sets off down the Yellow Brick Road, she soon encounters the Munchkins — Oz’s equivalent of an army of unpaid interns. They have no real understanding of the Wizard’s true power. All they know is that they chant his praises, like a cult following the world’s most successful reality TV star.
“Munchkins!” they cheer, dancing in choreographed unity. “The Wizard is great! The Wizard is fabulous!”
Dorothy, confused, asks, “Why do you love him so much?”
“Because he’s the brand,” they chant back. “He rebranded Oz, rebranded the truth, rebranded everything! His social media game is untouchable!”
As Dorothy presses on, she’s soon lured into a field of poppies — a metaphor for the addictive allure of social media. The poppies offer sweet promises of effortless fame, a life filled with filtered glamour, and sponsored content. They beckon to Dorothy, whispering:
“Forget the road. Forget the Wizard. Just take the perfect selfie and live your best life.”
But Dorothy, ever wary of distractions, snaps out of it. “No thanks,” she mutters. “I’m going to the Wizard.”
Glinda: The Social Media Savant
On her journey, Dorothy encounters Glinda, the Good Witch — a dazzling, Instagrammable figure who floats above the fray, perfectly coiffed and shining in the glow of a thousand filters. Glinda’s magic isn’t in spells but in optics. She has perfected the art of appearing benevolent while contributing very little of substance.
“Oh, darling,” Glinda coos as she floats down, “you don’t need to go all the way to the Wizard! You just need a little brand enhancement! Trust me, I’ve got the best PR people in the business.”
Glinda offers Dorothy a quick solution: “Why struggle with all this self-improvement and truth-telling nonsense when you could be posting about empowerment, posting your way to the top, and getting those sponsorships? The Wizard loves shiny things, and so do your followers.”
But Dorothy, sceptical, asks, “What about the truth?”
Glinda shrugs, flashing her perfect smile. “Honey, the truth is just what you make it. And trust me, a cute hashtag will get you everywhere.”
Dorothy, though momentarily tempted by the idea of polished fame, knows better. She continues on her journey — though not without a lingering sense that something’s off with Glinda’s advice.
The Scarecrow: The Politician Who Lost His Ideas
As Dorothy walks further down the road, she meets the Scarecrow, who used to be a brilliant political strategist but now can’t remember what he stands for. He’s lost all originality, overwhelmed by the constant demands of politics and media. He’s now reduced to echoing whatever the latest viral trend is.
“I’ve got no brain,” he admits with a sad smile. “I used to know how to win elections. Now I just tweet and hope for the best.”
Dorothy shrugs. “Maybe the Wizard can help.”
“Help?” the Scarecrow muses, looking up. “More like give me a platform and a PR team. That’s all I need.”
The Tin Man: The Corporate Drone in Search of Ethics
Next, Dorothy meets the Tin Man, a corporate executive who’s long since abandoned any semblance of morality in exchange for profit. He’s now nothing but a hollow shell, driven by targets, quotas, and whatever gives him the biggest return.
“I don’t have a heart anymore,” the Tin Man says, glaring at his polished chest. “I used to care. Now I just chase numbers. But I’d like to feel something again. Maybe the Wizard can help me.”
“I doubt it,” says Dorothy. “But I’ll ask.”
The Tin Man follows Dorothy, hoping that the Wizard can offer him more than just hollow corporate strategies. He wants something that matters — ethics, compassion, integrity — things that seem utterly alien in Oz.
The Flying Monkeys: The Internet Trolls
Just as the group is about to reach the Emerald City, they’re ambushed by an army of Flying Monkeys, the henchmen of the Wizard. These aren’t magical creatures — they’re the internet trolls of Oz, here to defend the Wizard’s honour by attacking anyone who questions his authority.
“You’re fake news!” the Flying Monkeys screech. “The Wizard’s the greatest. Don’t you dare challenge him! You’ll never get your truth — it’s all about the narrative, baby!”
Despite their vicious attacks, Dorothy and her friends manage to push forward, finally reaching the Wizard’s tower.
The Big Reveal: Trump as the Wizard
At last, they meet the Wizard, who is revealed to be none other than Donald Trump — the man who built Oz into a reality TV spectacle, turning the land into a corporate empire. His “magic” isn’t in spells or potions, but in the art of illusion and control.
“You want the truth? I am the truth,” the Wizard says, puffing out his chest. “I’m the best there is. The greatest Wizard ever. Everything’s perfect here in Oz because I made it that way.”
Dorothy, exasperated, asks, “So you can fix my social media, right? I need those followers back.”
Trump grins. “Sweetheart, you don’t need followers. You need to reframe the narrative. Create your own brand. You can do anything if you just believe in your personal brand.”
The Scarecrow, desperate, asks, “But what about ideas? I need a way to think again!”
The Wizard smirks. “Don’t worry about ideas. Just take the message that works. That’s all that matters.”
The Tin Man, looking hopeless, asks, “What about a heart? I need ethics, compassion — something real!”
Trump chuckles. “Ethics? Ethics are for losers. You need a better PR team, my friend. They’ll make you look like a saint.”
Elphaba: The Radical Rebel
But then, just as Dorothy is about to give in to the Wizard’s nonsense, Elphaba appears — a radical force from the wild corners of Oz. She’s been fighting against the Wizard’s regime for years, calling out the lies, the manipulation, and the corporate greed that runs Oz.
“The Wizard is a fraud,” Elphaba warns, her green skin glowing fiercely. “He’s not a Wizard. He’s a conman. He’s been controlling you all with distractions, and now he’s feeding you lies.”
Elphaba isn’t interested in the Wizard’s shiny façade or Glinda’s polished social media game. She speaks the truth — uncompromising and radical, even when it makes her unpopular.
“We have to fight for real change, not just the image of change,” she tells Dorothy. “You can’t just post your way out of this. The system’s broken. And the Wizard’s not the answer.”
The Final Twist: Truth vs. Illusion
As the group leaves the Wizard’s tower, they’re left with a decision. Glinda’s world of shiny hashtags and curated images offers an easy escape, but it’s empty. Elphaba’s truth is uncomfortable, but it’s real — and it’s the only way to break the cycle.
But then, as they exit the Emerald City, the Wizard’s voice booms over the intercom: “Remember, folks, the truth is what I say it is. You’ll never be great until you follow my version of reality.”
Dorothy and her friends pause, realising the deep illusion they’ve been trapped in — and that they must walk the long road of reality back home. But as they march down the Yellow Brick Road, Dorothy smiles, feeling a sense of freedom.
“I don’t need viral fame or illusion,” she says. “I just need the truth. And maybe better Wi-Fi.”
