In The Narrow Corridor: States, Societies, and the Fate of Liberty (2019), Daron Acemoglu and James Robinson present a theoretical framework that underscores the necessity for society to continually strive to maintain a balance of power with the state. Drawing from Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking-Glass, they invoke the figure of the Red Queen and her famous admonition — “You must run as fast as you can just to stay in the same place” — to illustrate a political dynamic in which freedom survives only through an ongoing struggle between an ever-expanding state and a vigilant society that observes, resists and holds it to account.
They describe this dynamic as the “Red Queen effect”, a driving force that keeps societies within what they call the “narrow corridor” — a fragile space where a strong yet restrained state coexists with an organised and alert society. Within this corridor, the state avoids veering into tyranny, and society refrains from dismantling the foundations of public authority.
The Red Queen effect reveals a simple yet disquieting truth: freedom is neither a permanent condition nor a gift guaranteed by constitutions, elections or enlightened leadership. It is the result of an unending contest between state power and social power — a contest requiring both to continuously enhance their capacities just to maintain equilibrium. When the state races ahead, it leans towards despotism. When society outpaces the state without constructing capable and accountable institutions, public authority collapses, giving way to disorder or informal governance. Freedom can only endure when both state and society progress together at a comparable pace within the narrow corridor, where balance is never fixed but must be constantly recreated.
The Narrow Corridor between the Despotic Leviathan and the Absent Leviathan
At the heart of Acemoglu and Robinson’s thesis lies the metaphor of the narrow corridor. On one side stands the despotic Leviathan — a state whose unchecked power, coupled with a weak society, leads to authoritarian domination. On the other stands the absent Leviathan — a scenario in which society constrains the state so thoroughly that public authority disintegrates into local fiefdoms, lawlessness or horizontal networks of informal rule led by traditional notables and local actors.
In this context, the Red Queen effect becomes crucial to remaining within the corridor. As the state increases its capacity — whether administrative, legal or coercive — society must likewise become more organised and more capable of demanding accountability. The essential insight here is that balance is not a settled agreement or a milestone to be proclaimed and then left to run its course. It is a dynamic equilibrium that must be regularly tested, repaired and renegotiated. A society that grows complacent, imagining it has “struck a good bargain” with power, will gradually lose that bargain. The state, by its very nature, tends to expand its reach when it encounters no organised resistance.
The Red Queen in Through the Looking-Glass: A Power That Forces You to Run Simply to Avoid Falling
The figure of the Red Queen originates in Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking-Glass, published in 1871, a work of imaginative fiction that follows Alice’s adventures in Wonderland. In this tale, the young girl enters a fantastical world governed by the logic of a chessboard. She steps into it as a minor piece striving to advance, only to find herself confronted by the Red Queen, a commanding presence who rules the realm through rigid and unyielding rules. The Red Queen is not malicious in the conventional sense, yet she personifies an authority that is both disciplinary and didactic. She explains to Alice the laws of this world and demands obedience without question, as though power here persuades not through argument, but through instruction and correction.
The Red Queen seizes Alice’s hand and forces her to run at a frantic pace, until Alice realises that despite all her exertion, she has not moved forward at all. The Queen then delivers her famous line: “It takes all the running you can do to stay in the same place, and to get somewhere else you must run twice as fast.” This deceptively simple scene encapsulates the logic of the Red Queen’s world, a world where exertion is the condition of survival, not the reward for progress. In political life, the lesson is even more sobering. When the forces that restrain power fall dormant, the system does not remain stable; it begins to regress.
A Race Without End
A central insight of The Narrow Corridor is that state-building and social mobilisation do not occur in sequence or in isolation. They develop in tandem. As the state extends its reach through bureaucracy, law enforcement, regulation or surveillance, it may deliver public goods but also introduces fresh risks of domination. These expansions must, in turn, prompt corresponding responses from society: more robust civic organisations, an independent judiciary, a free press, political parties, social movements, and social norms that enable participation and dissent.
The Red Queen effect describes this dynamic as an endless race in which neither side seeks to triumph but to maintain equilibrium. A state that outpaces society slides into authoritarianism. A society that outpaces the state without constructing mechanisms of accountability undermines public order and allows informal power centres to flourish. For this reason, the authors define the ideal political arrangement as a restrained Leviathan, a state strong enough to govern yet constrained by social forces that are continually tested, reinforced and renegotiated.
The strength of this vision lies in its realism. Laws and institutions do not enforce themselves. Even the most carefully crafted systems erode when citizens retreat from public life or accept authority as an unchangeable fact. A powerful state that faces no organised opposition will gradually expand its reach, often using legal or administrative tools that appear neutral yet steadily consolidate control.
Equally perilous is the inverse temptation: to equate freedom with the complete weakening of the state. When social forces fracture authority without building accountable institutions in its place, society falls out of the corridor in the opposite direction. The result is insecurity, coercive norms or chronic instability. The Red Queen effect, then, rejects both authoritarian faith in state power and romantic suspicion of it. Freedom depends not on harmony but on constant tension, a sustained push and pull that keeps power effective without letting it slip its bounds.
History offers ample evidence of this dynamic. In China during the Warlord Era from 1916 to 1928, central authority collapsed into competing armed factions. In Russia during the 1990s, a weakened state enabled oligarchic networks and a grey economy to thrive, transforming laws into privileges governed by influence. And in Somalia, following the fall of the central state in 1991, clan-based structures and militias supplanted public authority, leaving rights and security at the mercy of ever-shifting balances of force rather than accountable institutions.
The Unleashed Red Queen: When Mobilisation Veers Toward Despotism
Freedom may be the most frequently invoked word in political history, and it has often carried strange and contradictory meanings. Yet if anything about freedom is certain, it is that it is not a stable condition, nor is it guaranteed by the mere drafting of constitutions or the holding of elections.
Freedom is a dynamic equilibrium that must be recreated each day between a capable state and a vigilant, organised society. Germany between the two world wars offers a stark illustration of what occurs when this balance turns into a distorted race. Social energy that once served to hold power accountable was redirected into a force that propelled it forward. The crowds became an engine for state advance, not a restraint upon it. The rise of Nazism was not simply an elite conspiracy imposed from above, but a mass movement that emerged from below. It reoriented social mobilisation towards excluding opponents and stripping them of legitimacy. That exclusion was then transformed into systematic coercion, and ultimately this popular energy was fused into the machinery of the state itself.
The race does not end at that point, but it changes direction. Mobilisation ceases to act as a check on authority and becomes a tool for delegitimising dissent. Strength is no longer used to restrain the state but to enable it to exceed legal limits. The corridor narrows not because society is weak, but because it has been reorganised around exclusionary aims that justify political violence and suppress competition.
This dangerous trajectory unfolds through three interlinked mechanisms. First comes polarisation, which turns politics into an existential struggle and converts mobilisation into a weapon for eliminating rivals rather than checking authority. Then coercion moves into the streets through militias, and violence becomes a political language that paves the way for the seizure of state power. Finally, there is legal capture — the manipulation of constitutional procedures to hollow out the system from within, expanding state control while eliminating the forces that could restrain it.
The German experience shows that the mere existence of elections or constitutions is not enough to keep politics within the corridor. What safeguards freedom is the presence of countervailing forces that cannot be dismantled at the whim of the state: an independent judiciary, a free press, political parties and unions that are not absorbed into a single structure, professional security institutions, and a society able to mobilise without being criminalised. This is the restrained Leviathan, and it is the only sustainable form of political order.
The Narrow Corridor: Four Arab Equations
The Red Queen effect finds clear expression in four Arab states, each revealing in practice the theoretical logic previously outlined, though each in its own distinct way. Lebanon, Iraq, Saudi Arabia and Syria represent four different relationships between state power and social power, and therefore four different positions relative to the narrow corridor.
On the side where society outpaces the state stands the case of Lebanon, a reverse failure in which society moves faster than the state but without building a capable alternative. The state is weak, fragmented and captured, while society is active, mobilised and energetic, yet divided along sectarian and clientelist lines. Within it operate hybrid actors who wield both coercive and social power beyond that of the state, while simultaneously blocking any effort to rebuild public authority. The race exists, but it is lopsided and distorted. Society pushes forward through protests, media and civic initiatives, yet the state cannot respond effectively or translate that pressure into institutional accountability. The result is the breakdown of shared development and a slide into paralysis, pushing Lebanon out of the corridor toward the absent Leviathan. In this space, the state no longer holds a monopoly on force, accountability cannot be guaranteed, and social and cultural freedoms persist without institutional protection.
Iraq represents the most ambiguous case. It lies partially within the corridor, yet constantly brushes against its edges and remains at continual risk of falling out. After 2003, a space emerged for social mobilisation through elections, protests and the media. However, the state remained deeply compromised by militias, sectarian apportionment and external interference, leaving its authority weakened and unstable. The October 2019 protests embodied a genuine Red Queen moment — a society pushing back against coercion and political captivity, yet facing a harsh response marked by repression and assassinations. The race in Iraq is active but unsettled. Society retains the ability to mobilise, while the state extends its power selectively, often through coercive means rather than equitable governance. Freedom appears in bursts rather than as a structural reality, and Iraq hovers at the corridor’s edge without establishing firm footing within it.
Saudi Arabia remains the most paradoxical case. It approaches the corridor from above, through a sweeping expansion of state capacity in administrative, technical and coercive domains, while society remains politically fragmented despite shifts in social norms and behavioural patterns. Reform has largely been initiated by the state rather than as a response to organised social pressure. The race here is largely one-sided. The state runs at speed, while society moves within a restricted space for participation, leaving little room for independent organisation, political pluralism or meaningful accountability. In this regard, Saudi Arabia stands close to the corridor but not within it. A strong and modernising state exists on one side, but it is not met by corresponding political constraints from society on the other. The country’s eventual entry into the corridor depends on whether social empowerment — including the protection of independent civic organisation, the expansion of political participation, and the creation of credible accountability mechanisms — can keep pace with state development. If not, modernisation may slide into a more refined form of authoritarianism.
Syria, by contrast, appears to be a case where the race has ended in violence. This is not simply a matter of society losing a political contest, but of its organisational and competitive capacity being systematically dismantled. Historically, the state amassed coercive power with little restraint, becoming a classic example of the despotic Leviathan. When society attempted to “run” in 2011 through protests, coordination committees and local councils, it was met with overwhelming force. The ensuing militarisation, sectarian division and external intervention deepened repression while eliminating accountability. The result was not a rebalancing within the corridor but the destruction of society as an independent actor. The Red Queen effect ceased to function because one side of the race was deliberately incapacitated. Syria today stands far outside the corridor: a coercive state stripped of institutional integrity, and a society surviving either through fragmented informal networks or in exile. The structural possibility of freedom remains faint unless society’s capacity for organisation and accountability can be revived from below, rather than substituted with superficial reforms imposed from above.
But Can the State and Society Learn to Run Together in Syria?
It was naïve, of course, to imagine, as many of us once did, that the fall of Bashar al-Assad’s regime, regardless of its timing or manner, would lead Syria directly into freedom. We should have understood that such a moment would mark the beginning of a far more difficult phase. We should also have looked to history and asked whether freedom is structurally possible at all. The decisive question is not whether new leaders will emerge, elections will be held, or constitutions drafted. The real question is whether Syria can enter the narrow corridor, where a capable state and a mobilised society develop in parallel without one crushing the other.
One can imagine four broad transitional paths, but only one keeps Syria inside the corridor.
The first scenario, still unfortunately the most likely and the most dangerous, is the return of authoritarianism. In this path, a central authority swiftly restores security and administration under the pretext that order must precede politics. Strong central institutions are rebuilt, but independent social organisation is viewed as a threat to stability rather than a foundation for legitimacy.
This is a familiar failure. The state runs, and society is told to slow down. Pluralism is postponed, civic space is restricted, and accountability is treated as a luxury that must wait. The system may wear a new face, but its logic is old. Coercive power expands without corresponding social constraints. Only the names change. The Baath Party becomes “the political council”, the intelligence services become “public security”, and the local security officer becomes the “sheikh” whose word is final in every ministry or department. Although this approach may appear practical in post-conflict settings, it is not structurally stable. It produces obedience, not legitimacy, and turns repression into a permanent substitute for public consent.
At the opposite end lies a scenario in which state weakness masquerades as freedom. The collapse of the old regime gives rise to fragmented pluralism. Local councils, militias, clientelist networks and external patrons fill the vacuum left by a fragile transitional authority. A government in the capital becomes incapable of monopolising force, enforcing a single legal order or managing national resources and services. Society remains active but lacks unity, and authority is contested without mechanisms for accountability.
It is hardly a revelation to say this is not freedom in the logic of the narrow corridor. It is the condition of the absent Leviathan. There is no effective monopoly of force, and no capacity to impose fair or consistent rules. In the language of the Red Queen, society runs ahead while the state fails to keep pace. The result is institutional fatigue, unequal rights and justice that is bargained for rather than guaranteed. Over time, this fatigue generates calls for strong leadership, which often pave the way for a return to authoritarian rule.
Between these two failures lies a third, more ambiguous path that may be closest to Syria’s current reality. It is a state of oscillation, where the state shifts between moments of openness and periods of repression. Civic space expands then contracts. Reforms are announced then quietly withdrawn. Progress emerges in brief episodes, only to be reversed under pressure from security actors, political division or external shocks.
This occurs not because the Red Queen stops running, but because she stumbles. The race continues, but without coordination, shared rhythm or stable institutional rules. This condition may persist for years, yet it eventually tends to resolve in one of two directions: either the consolidation of coercive authority or a drift into informal power. Without deliberate institutionalisation of mutual constraints, the corridor remains out of reach.
The only scenario consistent with a sustainable form of freedom is also the most demanding. It is the deliberate entry into the narrow corridor. This path does not require immediate democracy or perfect justice. It requires a single foundational principle: every expansion of state capacity must be matched by a corresponding increase in society’s ability to constrain that capacity.
In practical terms, this means rebuilding the state while protecting society’s ability to organise, compete and hold authority to account. Security institutions must be unified and professionalised, but placed under civilian and judicial oversight. Courts must become arenas for resolving disputes, not extensions of the executive. The work of the press, political parties, unions and civil society must be protected, even when it proves inconvenient. At this point, the Red Queen effect becomes a principle of governance. The state moves forward by building its capacity; society advances by deepening oversight. Neither side is allowed to pause.
What, then, will determine Syria’s path? Through the lens of the Red Queen, Syria’s future will not be shaped by slogans, declarations or celebratory conferences crafted for social media appeal. It will be shaped by sequence and balance:
- If security reform progresses faster than legal safeguards, authoritarianism returns.
- If social mobilisation outpaces the reconstruction of state institutions, fragmentation deepens.
- If both advance in tandem, freedom becomes structurally possible.
The greatest danger lies in imbalance. Post-conflict states are often tempted to suspend political competition in the name of reconstruction. Yet any such pause proves fatal, because standing still does not preserve the status quo — it marks the beginning of regression.
In the end, the Red Queen effect redefines freedom as a long and intricate trajectory. To borrow an image from physics, it resembles a particle that never settles into a fixed position, its boundaries constantly shifting in response to fragile equilibriums. A small disturbance can alter the entire system. Freedom is not a romantic tale, nor a happy ending that societies reach and then preserve passively. It is something they must generate continually through vigilance, contestation and the renewal of institutions.
To remain within the narrow corridor, societies must keep running — not toward a fixed endpoint, but in constant resistance to the pull of domination on one side and collapse on the other. Standing still is not neutrality, but retreat. In the conception offered by Acemoglu and Robinson, freedom survives only when state and society remain locked in an unending, generative contest. Without it, freedom cannot last.
