One day, two swindlers came to a vain emperor presenting themselves as weavers and tailors of fine clothing. For a large sum, they offered to make the finest clothes ever known—a magic suit that could not be seen or felt by anyone lacking in wisdom or virtue. They were very persuasive. The emperor and his ministers became convinced of the swindlers’ claims, and the emperor hired the swindlers to make the new clothes for him.

To tailor the suit, the swindlers pretended to fit clothes on the emperor, but neither he nor his ministers could see anything. Each of them began to doubt the truthfulness of the swindlers, but none dared admit he could not see the clothes. No one wanted the others to think he was lacking in wisdom and virtue, and no one wanted to contradict what he thought to be the group’s consensus about the clothes’ reality.

When the swindlers declared the clothes ready, they insisted the emperor send out a proclamation requiring his subjects attend the unveiling of these magical clothes that only the wise and virtuous could see. As the swindlers pretended to dress the emperor for the unveiling, he again doubted the clothes’ reality, but dared not challenge the swindlers. If the clothes actually were real, he feared admitting that he could not see them; if they were not real, he feared admitting he had been fooled for so long.

The emperor marched out in a regal procession amongst his subjects who were gathered in large crowds outside the palace. They all made a show of being in awe of his fine clothes. Some feared appearing to lack wisdom and virtue; others feared retribution for challenging the opinion of the empire’s elite and of the rest of the crowd.

The emperor passed by a child who laughed and asked why the emperor was parading around in his underwear. The child’s parents were deeply embarrassed. They disciplined him, and he learned to not contradict the received wisdom.

The emperor continued to go about in his underwear, pretending to wear the swindlers’ imaginary clothes. The swindlers pretended to make suits for themselves and too began to go about in their underwear. Next, they made clothes for the emperor’s ministers, then for the nobles and the wealthy, and then for the commoners. The swindlers grew rich and powerful.

A minority of the people doubted the emperor and the swindlers. They refused to pay the swindlers and go about in their underwear. Sometimes the doubters were treated with tolerant condescension; often, they were mocked and shunned.

The empire had a warm climate. For many years, the majority who believed in imaginary clothes could safely go about dressed only in their underwear. Finally, though, a rare blizzard brought cold, wind, and snow. The majority no longer had any real outer clothes left to wear. Those few who still wore clothes tried to share with the others, but they refused. By then, they had banished their doubts. They firmly believed the lie that their clothes were real. The emperor, his ministers, and all the rest who had been fooled froze to death, firm in their false beliefs.

The only citizens of the empire to survive were those who had the courage to stand firm for the truth in the face of the constant, foolish criticism of the majority, even though there seemed to be little immediate reward for doing so.

The swindlers also survived. They had kept an emergency supply of real clothes and coats. The other survivors arrested them and put them to death.

 

Sources: Hans Christian Andersen, “The Emperor’s New Clothes”; Lionel Tiger and Robin Fox, The Imperial Animal, 1971.