I have taken the article below from: http://exodusmyth.com/2017/05/26/wizard-of-oz/
It is quite frankly a literate and compelling article and certainly spoke to me. It was pointless writing in my own words, because what the article states I could not have made any clearer.
When Toto pulls the curtain to reveal that Oz is not an omnipotent deity, but merely a small old man putting on a show, the so-called wizard cries into the loudspeaker, ‘Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!’
On the surface, the line is a pathetic attempt by Oz to mask the obvious truth that he is a fraud. But what is often overlooked is the fact that Dorothy and her friends listen to this apparently absurd advice: that is, they clearly do overlook the fact that the wizard is simply a man behind a curtain, since they continue to demand that he grant their wishes, even after it becomes clear that is he is incapable of doing so. After all, when the man admits that he is the one behind the smoke and mirrors of the great Oz, Dorothy’s immediate response is ‘I don’t believe you.’ She tries to maintain her belief in the wizard even when the evidence against it is overwhelming. And she is not alone. Her companions clearly feel the same way, since they are not outraged at the powerless trinkets he gives them (a fake degree in ‘thinkology’, a medal of courage, and a ticking clock shaped like a heart); instead, they express gratitude for these gifts.
How can this be explained? It is best understood in the context of a famous story about Niels Bohr, the Nobel prize-winning physicist. There are several versions of the story with superficial differences, but Slavoj Žižek’s telling is particularly instructive:
Niels Bohr provided the perfect example of the way that such a fetishist disavowal of belief works in ideology: seeing a horseshoe on his door, the surprised visitor said that he isn’t superstitious and doesn’t believe that such things bring luck, to which Bohr snapped:
‘I don’t believe in it either; I keep it there because I was told that it works even if one doesn’t believe in it!’ What this paradox renders clearly is the way belief is a reflexive attitude: it is never a case of just believing, one has to believe in belief itself.
Is this not precisely the attitude that the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion have toward Oz? They cannot really believe in Oz’s powers; after all, he has admitted that he is ‘a very bad Wizard.’ But they still believe in belief. They still believe that Oz’s cheap trinkets might work even if they do not really believe in them.
What we are left with, then, is not only a belief in belief, but also a kind of belief without belief. In other words, belief as such is dead, but its specter lives on. Belief is still professed, but all that remains is a semblance or trace of the original conviction.