OddThinking

Even as a child, it was clear he had a brilliant mind and a penchant for dealing with others. He never fought with his older siblings, and yet he always got his fair share – no more, no less.

The essays he wrote on morality, equity and social progress were widely read in the newspapers, and analysed by students years older than he. At high school, he was the class president, and for the first time the Headmaster started taking their issues seriously. He was selfless in helping others achieve beyond their dreams.

It didn’t go without notice. He was soon being groomed for the highest public office in the land. He offered a new hope to the country after years of being mismanaged

There was however, a fly in the ointment. It started small, after he wrote an essay about his research on the societal damage being caused by large clothing brands. He immediately boycotted brand names, and only wore clothing handmade by his family and his fans.

Those clothes were often itchy, and that’s when it became a problem. With clothes on, he would scratch and fidget. He would feel distracted. It got much worse. He found shoes too restrictive, and walked barefoot. He felt claustrophobic and nauseous when he was wearing a heavy jacket. He preferred to work at home only wearing underwear, saying that couldn’t think straight with trousers on.

Soon, he had a full-blown phobia of fabric. He continued to write his essays, naked, but became a recluse in his own home, unable to get dressed in the morning.

It appeared his political career was over.

It was his top advisor who came up with the solution. She constructed a plan that was both relatively simple, but relied on weaving a careful web of lies. He balked at first, but he slowly came around. Making a naturist palatable to the public would require overcoming some unfortunate preconceptions, and the occasional mistruth would be justified by the good he could do. He wouldn’t be lying directly; his advisors and a couple of well-recompensed tailors would take care of that.

And so the plan was put into place, and it was initially very successful. Once in power, he introduced wide-ranging reforms. By all the economic and social measures, the nation was improving and he enjoyed a high-level of popularity. All this time, he free from suffering the unbearably rasp of wool or cotton against his chest.

Of course, some people saw through the lies. You can’t fool all of the people all of the time. But those people could see why he had done what he had done, and played along. For most people, the lie was like many political lies – it provided a sop to quieten the rational mind, while allowing them to continue to follow their emotional preferences. As long as no attention was drawn to it, people could pretend that they believed it, and believe that other people believed it.

In short, it was a perfect political compromise. Everyone tacitly agreed to believe the unbelievable, or – if they couldn’t – to forgive his little foible. In return, he gave his people more happiness and prosperity than had been seen for many years.

His downfall, when it came, was swift. It really only took one denouncement in a public place – one person to loudly, and in a manner no-one could ignore, to point out the lie. People could no rationalise away their cognitive dissonance. People could no longer pretend to others that they believed, or pretend to themselves that everyone else did. Once he was outed, they had no choice but to condemn his behaviour.

He was arrested, tried, found guilty and sent to prison, while the populace tried hurriedly to forget him and their shame in their own behaviour.

So his ongoing torment was unnoticed: he lay in his cell for hours, scratching endlessly where his rough prison garb touched his sensitive skin, sobbing as the fateful cry of the boy who brought about his undoing repeated in his head:

“Hey! The Emperor is wearing no clothes!”