Michael: Most of us think of liberty as something you get when you break the chains of a powerful government. But what if the exact opposite is true? What if, to be truly free, you first need a powerful, even dangerous, state? Kevin: That's a wild thought. It sounds completely backwards. Get rid of the state, that's the path to freedom, right? Anarchy, individualism, no one telling you what to do. Michael: That’s the common assumption. But it’s the central paradox explored in The Narrow Corridor: States, Societies, and the Fate of Liberty by Daron Acemoglu and James A. Robinson. And these aren't just any thinkers; they, along with Simon Johnson, were just awarded the 2024 Nobel Prize in Economics for their work on why some nations prosper while others fail. Kevin: Okay, so Nobel laureates are telling us we need a monster to be free. I'm listening. Where do we even start with an idea that big? Michael: We start by looking at what happens when the monster disappears. The authors open with a truly harrowing account of the Syrian civil war, which began with protests against a despotic regime. People wanted liberty. Kevin: Of course. They wanted to get rid of the oppressor, Bashar al-Assad. Michael: Exactly. But as the state collapsed in many areas, something else rushed in to fill the void. It wasn't freedom. It was chaos. Warlords, extremist groups like ISIS, and rampant violence. The book quotes a Syrian media organizer named Adam, who said, "We thought we’d get a present, and what we got was all the evil in the world." Kevin: Wow. That's devastating. It completely shatters the romantic idea of just overthrowing the government and suddenly everyone's living in harmony. The absence of a state isn't liberty; it's a power vacuum. Michael: It's what the 17th-century philosopher Thomas Hobbes called the "war of all against all." Life becomes, in his famous words, "solitary, poore, nasty, brutish, and short." Without a state to enforce laws and protect people, you don't get freedom. You get fear. Kevin: Okay, so we need a state. A Leviathan, as Hobbes called it. A powerful entity to keep order. But that brings us right back to the original problem, doesn't it? What if that Leviathan becomes the new bully? Michael: Precisely. And that’s the other side of the dilemma, a problem the authors trace back 4,000 years to the Epic of Gilgamesh. Kevin: The ancient Mesopotamian poem? I remember reading that in high school. What does that have to do with modern politics? Michael: Everything. Gilgamesh was a king who built a magnificent city, Uruk. He was powerful, he got things done—he was the Leviathan. But he also became a tyrant. He trampled on his citizens' rights, abused his power, and the book mentions he even claimed the right to sleep with every bride on her wedding night. Kevin: Yikes. So he was the state, providing order but also total oppression. He's the perfect example of the monster we're trying to avoid. Michael: He is the 'Gilgamesh problem.' How do you create a state strong enough to protect you from chaos, but also prevent that state from turning its power against you? The people of Uruk cried out to the gods, who sent a wild man, Enkidu, to be Gilgamesh's equal and check his power. Kevin: A check and balance. So did it work? Michael: Not at all. After a brief fight, they became best friends and went on adventures together, killing monsters and defying the gods. The check failed. The two power centers colluded. This shows that just creating a rival power isn't enough. Kevin: So we're trapped. No state, and it's chaos like Syria. Too much state, and it's tyranny like Gilgamesh. Is there any way out of this?

Michael: There is a way out, but the authors argue it's not a place you get to, it's a tightrope you have to walk. They call it 'The Narrow Corridor.' Kevin: The Narrow Corridor. I like that. It sounds precarious. Michael: It is. Imagine a corridor. On one side is the Despotic Leviathan—the all-powerful state like Gilgamesh's or modern China, where the state dominates society. On the other side is the Absent Leviathan—anarchy and chaos, like in Syria or stateless societies where life is governed by a rigid, suffocating 'cage of norms.' Liberty exists only in the narrow path between them. Kevin: And what keeps you in that corridor? What are the guardrails? Michael: It's a constant, dynamic struggle. The state needs to be strong enough to provide order and public services, but society needs to be strong, mobilized, and assertive enough to control and shackle that state. It's a competition. And this leads to their most brilliant metaphor: the Red Queen effect. Kevin: From Alice in Wonderland? The one who says, "it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place"? Michael: That's the one. For liberty to survive, both the state and society must constantly run. If society gets complacent, the state's power grows unchecked, and you slip into despotism. If the state weakens and can't enforce laws, society might fracture, and you fall into anarchy. It’s a relentless race. Kevin: Wow, so liberty isn't a comfortable chair you sit in; it's a high-intensity cardio workout that never ends. That's... exhausting. And it makes you wonder why some societies manage to stay on that treadmill and others just fall off. Michael: It’s incredibly difficult. The authors use the example of ancient Athens to show just how wild this race can be. It wasn't a smooth, linear path to democracy. It was a series of violent swings. Kevin: I think of Athens as the birthplace of democracy, this serene, philosophical place. Michael: The reality was much messier. They started in chaos, with blood feuds and bandits. Their first lawgiver, Draco, was so harsh his name gave us the word 'draconian.' Then came Solon in 594 BCE. He saw the rising tension between the rich elites and the debt-ridden poor, and he basically hit the reset button. He cancelled debts, banned debt-slavery, and gave common citizens a real voice in the assembly. Kevin: So he empowered society. He gave them some running shoes for the race. Michael: Exactly. He strengthened society's ability to shackle the state. But then, of course, the elites pushed back. Athens fell into tyranny under Peisistratos. But here’s the Red Queen effect in action: even the tyrant, to keep power, had to continue some of Solon's state-building projects, like public works, which further increased the state's capacity. Kevin: So the state got stronger, and society had to respond. Michael: They did. After the tyrants were overthrown, Cleisthenes came in and supercharged Athenian democracy. He created new democratic councils and, most famously, institutionalized ostracism. Kevin: Ostracism! I remember this. They could literally vote to banish a politician for ten years if he got too powerful. Michael: Yes! Even Themistocles, the hero who saved Greece from the Persians, was ostracized because people felt he was getting too arrogant. It was society's ultimate tool to keep the powerful in check. It was the Red Queen race in full sprint: the state gets stronger, society gets more vigilant. The state builds a navy, society demands a say in how it's used. It's this constant back-and-forth that kept them, for a time, in that narrow corridor. Kevin: That's a much more dynamic and frankly, more realistic, picture of freedom. It’s not a perfect system, it's a permanent struggle. Which brings up the big question you hinted at earlier. Why did this particular struggle happen in some places and not others? Was Europe just lucky?

Michael: That's the million-dollar question, and the authors have a fascinating, almost accidental, explanation. They call it the 'European Scissors.' Kevin: Another great metaphor. What are the two blades? Michael: The first blade is the legacy of the Western Roman Empire. The Romans left behind a blueprint for a centralized, top-down state with a sophisticated legal system, bureaucracy, and the idea that the state provides services. It was a powerful, but often despotic, model. Kevin: Okay, so that's the 'state' side of the equation. The Leviathan. Michael: Correct. The second blade was the traditions of the Germanic tribes—the Franks, the Goths, the Anglo-Saxons—who conquered the Roman Empire. These were bottom-up societies. As Tacitus wrote, their kings couldn't just do whatever they wanted. They had to consult popular assemblies of free warriors. Power was dispersed, and participation was expected. Kevin: So you have a collision. A top-down Roman state tradition meets a bottom-up Germanic participation tradition. Michael: It's a fusion. The authors tell the story of the Frankish king Clovis. After a battle, he wanted a beautiful sacred ewer from the spoils, something beyond his official share. But one of his warriors, standing on his rights as a free Frank, shouted, "You shall have none of this booty except your fair share!" and smashed the ewer with his axe. Kevin: Whoa. You can't imagine someone doing that to a Roman emperor. Michael: Absolutely not. Clovis was furious, but he couldn't do anything about it at that moment because he was constrained by these participatory norms. A year later, he found an excuse to kill the warrior, but the story shows the deep tension. This clash—this 'European Scissors'—created a unique starting point where neither the state nor society could easily dominate the other. It kicked off the Red Queen race in much of Western Europe. Kevin: That’s a powerful explanation. But what about places that didn't have this specific historical accident? What does the model say about them? Michael: It highlights why other paths were taken. The authors contrast Europe with China. China developed a powerful, sophisticated state bureaucracy thousands of years ago, far earlier than Europe. It had the first blade of the scissors—a very sharp one. Kevin: But it was missing the second blade? Michael: It was missing a strong tradition of a mobilized, autonomous society that could shackle the state. Philosophies like Legalism, championed by figures like Shang Yang, argued that the people existed to serve the state, either as farmers or soldiers. Order was the supreme goal, and individual liberty was a dangerous distraction. Kevin: So the state was all-powerful, and society was meant to be obedient. Michael: Exactly. The Chinese state became a Despotic Leviathan. It was incredibly capable—it built the Great Wall, the Grand Canal—but it was unshackled. The authors share the chilling story of the 'Tonsure Decree' in the 17th century, when the Manchu Qing dynasty conquered China. They ordered all Han Chinese men to shave their foreheads and wear a pigtail, the Manchu hairstyle, as a sign of submission. Kevin: A forced haircut to show who's boss. Michael: And the punishment for refusal was death. An official found a student named Lü K'o-hsing who had defied the order. He was immediately executed, his head displayed in public, and his family and neighbors were punished. It was a brutal demonstration of the state's absolute power over the individual. There was no assembly to appeal to, no charter of rights to invoke. The state was supreme. Kevin: This is a powerful explanation, but it also feels a bit... rigid. Critics have pointed out that this 'corridor' framework can feel like it's just retrofitted to history. Is it really saying that if you don't have this specific 'European Scissors' background, your society is doomed to never find liberty?

Michael: That's a fair and important critique, and one the authors are aware of. They're not arguing for a kind of historical determinism. The corridor isn't a fixed location; its width can change. And getting into it isn't about replicating European history. Kevin: So what is it about then? What's the universal principle here? Michael: The principle is that the balance is what matters. A society needs to build both state capacity and societal power simultaneously. You can't just focus on building a strong state and hope liberty will follow. And you can't just focus on weakening the state and expect freedom to emerge from the chaos. You have to do both. Kevin: It's about building the muscle of the state and the muscle of society in tandem, so they can keep each other in check. Michael: Precisely. And that requires active, mobilized citizens. The book is widely acclaimed, but one of the most resonant points for readers is its conclusion that liberty is never a gift from the elites. It's not granted from above. It's always taken, demanded, and defended by ordinary people from below. Kevin: That feels like the real takeaway. It’s not about some grand, abstract historical force. It’s about the actions of people. The British suffragettes chaining themselves to railings, the civil rights marchers in America, the protesters in Hong Kong. They are all part of this Red Queen race. Michael: They are the engine of the Red Queen effect. They are the ones forcing the state to be accountable. The book argues that constitutions and laws are just paper—a 'Paper Leviathan'—unless a mobilized society is willing to breathe life into them and enforce them. Kevin: So the ultimate message is that liberty isn't about having the right constitution or the perfect leader. It's about the messy, ongoing, and often confrontational relationship between the people and power. Michael: Exactly. And it leaves us with a crucial question for our own time, in any country: Are we, as a society, running fast enough to keep our own Leviathan shackled? Kevin: A question that feels more urgent every single day. Michael: This is Aibrary, signing off.