Opinion: What was missed in Dickens' A Christmas Carol

Every December, we return to the familiar glow of A Christmas Carol. We remember Scrooge’s transformation, Tiny Tim’s blessing and the cosy redemption arc that filmmakers love.

But one of the most important scenes in Dickens’ novella doesn’t always make it into the movie adaptations. It comes from a passage our father highlighted to us each year as its key message — when the Ghost of Christmas Present reveals two gaunt children hidden beneath his robe: a girl, Want, and a boy, Ignorance.

Dickens warns that these are not just unfortunate children but symbols of a society on the brink. “Beware them both, and all of their degree,” the Spirit says, “but most of all beware the boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom.”

Nearly two centuries later, we still have not heeded Dickens’ warning.

Even as we reassure ourselves with comparisons to the greater inequality experienced by our neighbours to the south, children’s access to opportunity here at home remains profoundly uneven.

In some of our neighbourhoods, kids move through a world of excellent schools, stable housing, green spaces and strong community institutions. In others, sometimes mere blocks away, children grow up navigating food insecurity, chronic stress, unsafe streets and schools stretched past their limits.

A child’s postal code remains one of the stronger predictors of their academic outcomes. These disparities are not accidental; they are the predictable outcome of policy choices, disinvestment and structural neglect. “Want” is alive and well even in our wealthiest cities.

But it is the second child, the one Dickens asked us to fear “most of all,” who demands special attention today. The modern face of “Ignorance” is not simply about school inequality; it is the tidal wave of misinformation, disinformation and outright manipulation that young people swim in daily.

It is the confusion created when truth becomes partisan, when science becomes optional and when online platforms profit from outrage and distortion. It is the child trying to make sense of their world while algorithms tug at their attention and extremists recruit in plain sight.

Boys, in particular, are becoming untethered. Across North America, they report lower engagement at school, higher levels of loneliness and rising rates of anxiety and depression. Many disconnected young boys are finding community not in the classroom or local teams or clubs, but instead in the feeds of misogynistic influencers peddling narrow, selfish conceptions of masculinity.

When society fails to offer pathways to purpose, other voices — often dangerous ones — step in to fill the vacuum. Dickens understood this long before social media existed.

The good news is that the solutions are not mysterious. They are the same investments Dickens pleaded for in his time, including strong schools, safe neighbourhoods, mental-health supports, caring adults and opportunities that help young people feel loved, competent, connected and needed.

They require us to take seriously the conditions of childhood, not as sentimental holiday charity, but as the foundation of public investment in a healthy, functioning society.

As many come together with loved ones for Christmas, it is tempting to embrace the comforting version of A Christmas Carol, where individual generosity saves the day. But Dickens’ deeper message is sharper. A society that tolerates want and allows ignorance to fester will eventually face consequences far beyond one man’s redemption.

The true measure of our humanity is the size of the gap between the future we desire for our own children and what we are willing to accept as good enough for other people’s children. If we want a hopeful future for all our children, the path to closing those gaps begins where Dickens told us to look — at the children hidden beneath the robe.

Michael J. MacKenzie is the Canada Research Chair in child well-being and professor of social work and pediatrics at McGill University, and Peter MacKenzie is a Toronto-based economist.

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