The Abilene Paradox

Sometimes, in our family, we decide to do something that is agreed upon by all concerned, but seems to be a less than optimum use of our time and resources. At those times, one or more of us might say, “Is this an Abilene Paradox?”

In the early 1990s, I was treated to a management seminar that was actually enlightening, entertaining, and enduring. It involved a story from Dr. Jerry B. Harvey’s book, The Abilene Paradox and Other Meditations on Management, about an experience he had that he called “The Abilene Paradox.”

Background: Dr. Harvey’s daughter and her husband are visiting Dr. Harvey and his wife. Here is the story as quoted from Dr.. Harvey’s book:

The July afternoon in Coleman, Texas (population 5,607) was particularly hot— 104 degrees as measured by the Walgreen’s Rexall Ex-Lax temperature gauge. In addition, the wind was blowing fine-gained West Texas topsoil through the house. But the afternoon was still tolerable—even potentially enjoyable. There was a fan going on the back porch; there was cold lemonade; and finally, there was entertainment. Dominoes. Perfect for the conditions. The game required little more physical exertion than an occasional mumbled comment, “Shuffle ‘em,” and an unhurried movement of the arm to place the spots in the appropriate perspective on the table. All in all, it had the makings of an agreeable Sunday afternoon in Coleman—this is, it was until my father-in-law suddenly said, “Let’s get in the car and go to Abilene and have dinner at the cafeteria.”

I thought, “What, go to Abilene? Fifty-three miles? In this dust storm and heat? And in an unairconditioned 1958 Buick?”

But my wife chimed in with, “Sounds like a great idea. I’d like to go. How about you, Jerry?”

Since my own preferences were obviously out of step with the rest I replied, “Sounds good to me,” and added, “I just hope your mother wants to go.”

“Of course I want to go,” said my mother-in-law. “I haven’t been to Abilene in a long time.”

So into the car and off to Abilene we went. My predictions were fulfilled. The heat was brutal. We were coated with a fine layer of dust that was cemented with perspiration by the time we arrived. The food at the cafeteria provided first-rate testimonial material for antacid commercials.

Some four hours and 106 miles later we returned to Coleman, hot and exhausted. We sat in front of the fan for a long time in silence. Then, both to be sociable and to break the silence, I said, “It was a great trip, wasn’t it?”

No one spoke. Finally my mother-in-law said, with some irritation, “Well, to tell the truth, I really didn’t enjoy it much and would rather have stayed here. I just went along because the three of you were so enthusiastic about going. I wouldn’t have gone if you all hadn’t pressured me into it.”

I couldn’t believe it. “What do you mean ‘you all’?” I said. “Don’t put me in the ‘you all’ group. I was delighted to be doing what we were doing. I didn’t want to go. I only went to satisfy the rest of you. You’re the culprits.”

My wife looked shocked. “Don’t call me a culprit. You and Daddy and Mama were the ones who wanted to go. I just went along to be sociable and to keep you happy. I would have had to be crazy to want to go out in heat like that.”

Her father entered the conversation abruptly…He proceeded to expand on what was already absolutely clear. “Listen, I never wanted to go to Abilene. I just thought you might be bored. You visit so seldom I wanted to be sure you enjoyed it. I would have preferred to play another game of dominoes and eat the leftovers in the icebox.”

After the outburst of recrimination we all sat back in silence. Here we were, four reasonably sensible people who, of our own volition, had just taken a 106-mile trip across a godforsaken desert in a furnace-like temperature through a cloud-like dust storm to eat unpalatable food at a hole-in-the-wall cafeteria in Abilene, when none of us had really wanted to go. In fact, to be more accurate, we’d done just the opposite of what we wanted to do. The whole situation simply didn’t make sense.

The Abilene Paradox, while a true story, could be called a parable, in which a group of people collectively decide on a course of action that is counter to the preferences of any of the individuals in the group. It involves a common breakdown of group communication in which each member mistakenly believes that their own preferences are counter to the group's and, therefore, does not raise objections.

Although it commonly treated as a parable of group dynamics, The Abilene Paradox applies just as strongly to individual actions, and is, in my mind, an inditement of dishonesty in dealing with others.

While tact, diplomacy, and group concensus are traits that we do our best to cultivate in ourselves and our family members, sometimes we let circumstances dictate dishonesty rather than diplomacy in dealing with ourselves and with others. Ida Smith, founding director of the Women's Research Institute at Brigham Young University, said this in a Women’s Conference talk:

I feel a need for us to be honest with ourselves, with our families, and with each other.
I saw a fascinating educational film recently entitled The Abilene Paradox, which deals with this issue of being honest with ourselves and others. The film depicts four individuals (two couples) who end up traveling a fair distance on a hot summer afternoon to have dinner in Abilene. They later discover that none of them wanted to go. They all went because they thought everyone else wanted to go, and no one wanted to play the spoilsport.
Being honest with ourselves and admitting our own needs must be central to the plotting of our destinies, because if we cannot be true to ourselves, we will ultimately find it impossible to be true to anyone else.
Our lives are filled with paradoxes and hard questions. (Quoted from: As Women of Faith: Talks Selected from the BYU Women's Conferences [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1989], 204.)

Paradoxes and hard questions do abound. Sometimes we must choose between two alternatives that both seem good. Yogi Berra, the baseball Hall-of-Fame catcher, supposedly said, "If you come to a fork in the road, take it!" Crossroads and forks in life's pathways are unavoidable. When we choose the beginning of a road, we are also selecting a destination. Even though we choose a path that seems good at the time, hindsight may be illustrative of the better of the two choices. Robert Frost, In his poem, The Road Not Taken, says:

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

The road to Abilene is filled with places where deeply held logical values give way to consensus and worldliness, to the easy path, and to loss of integrity and honesty. It's a bumpy, dusty ride culminating in meaningless outcomes and blame.

So don’t go to Abilene. Hold to your principles and the teachings of the Savior. Don’t give in just to avoid contention and strife. Make the choices the Savior has outlined for you. Hold to the path and enjoy to the end – which is eternal life with our Father and His Son.


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