There's an old Danish fairy tale about an emperor who loved fine clothes.

One day, two swindlers arrive at his court, claiming to be master weavers. They promise to make the emperor an extraordinary suit of clothes like nothing anyone has ever seen before. In fact, the new clothes will be invisible to anyone unfit for their position or hopelessly foolish.

The emperor, obsessed with his appearance and desperate for approval, commissions the two men to create the suit.

The swindlers set up looms and pretend to weave, but in reality, there's nothing there. The looms are empty. The swindlers aren't weaving anything.

When the emperor's ministers check on their progress, each official sees an empty loom, but before they speak up, they remember the warning:

If you can't see the clothes, you're either unfit for your position or unintelligent.

So, not wanting to appear unfit or foolish, each one returns to the emperor and lavishes praise on the work and progress.

Finally, the emperor himself visits. He too sees nothing. But terrified of being exposed as unfit to rule, he smiles and nods approvingly at the empty looms.

"Magnificent," he exclaims.

The swindlers dress him in the invisible garments and the emperor steps out into the city streets for a grand parade—completely naked.

By now, word of the magical garments has spread. The townspeople, afraid to appear unfit or foolish, cheer for the outfit that isn't there.

But then, a small child, stepping forward through the crowd for a clear view, shouts:

"But he's completely naked!"

Suddenly, the truth ripples through the crowd like a wave. The emperor realizes it too, but keeps walking, unable to admit the shameful reality to himself.

It's a children's story, but it beautifully captures one of the most dangerous dynamics in human nature:

The Abilene Paradox.

The term was coined by management expert Jerry Harvey in a ​1974 paper​, which began with a simple story of his family deciding what to do on a hot afternoon in Coleman, Texas.

They were all sitting comfortably on a porch when his father-in-law suggested a 50-mile drive to Abilene for dinner. Each person went along with it, thinking everyone else was excited about the plan. After a miserable drive and a bad meal, they returned home only to discover the truth:

No one had actually wanted to go to Abilene in the first place. They'd all agreed to something that none of them wanted.

The Abilene Paradox occurs when a group collectively decides on a course of action that none of its members actually support, because each person mistakenly believes others do.

Once you understand this paradox, it shows up everywhere around you:

• A leadership team nods in agreement as a new strategy is presented. No one truly believes in it, but everyone assumes the others do.
• Everyone in a country senses something is broken, but no one wants to say it, because everyone else seems to think everything's fine.
• A person blindly adopts the default definition of success for their life, believing it's what everyone in their family wants. No one wanted it, but everyone assumed the others did.

The Abilene Paradox is a dangerous trap.

The antidote is a combination of courage and clarity, from leaders and group members alike.

It's found in the willingness to be the child in the crowd who exposes the truth about the emperor's clothes. To ask the uncomfortable question:

Do I actually want this, or am I just afraid to say I don't?

Stop cheering for a naked emperor. One honest voice can save an entire group from a long, painful trip to Abilene.