Gun Control: What Australia got right (and wrong)

By Tom Frame

In the aftermath of the Port Arthur massacre on 28 April 1996 when a gunman murdered 35 people and injured another 23 at a popular Tasmanian tourist attraction John Howard, a conservative prime minister who had been in office for just six weeks, surprised his colleagues and startled the nation by moving swiftly to transform Australia's lax firearm laws. The National Firearms Agreement, produced just twelve days after the massacre with support from all levels of government and across the political divide, is now held up around the world as a model for gun control.Gun Control analyses whether the Australian Government achieved its intention and what it might have done in response to the massacre, and didn't.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Independent Publishers Group
• Release date: Dec 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781742244433

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INDEX

INTRODUCTION

This book is about fear – principally fear of firearms – and what can and should be done about it.

People are rightly fearful of what can happen when the wrong people gain access to firearms. There are certainly few things more frightening than shooting sprees in public places. In the United States, Britain, Australia and, most recently New Zealand, individuals acting alone and unaided have inflicted enormous pain and suffering, injury and death, with privately owned firearms. These events are random, senseless and unpredictable. There is residual fear of being shot by an unknown assailant. It could happen at any time and in any place. These incidents happen without warning and without provocation. The perpetrator’s objective is taking human life, killing people with whom the killer has no personal acquaintance and against whom they have no specific grievance. Unlike the political terrorist who can at least claim a cause for their indiscriminate violence, shooting sprees in public places have no purpose beyond demonstrating an individual’s anger and hatred. If citizens are fearful of participating in public gatherings because no-one can assure their safety from extreme malevolence, political, economic and social life is brought to a standstill. Men and women, boys and girls, are no longer able to meet together freely to pursue their shared interests and common aspirations. Community life is debilitated and everyone is diminished.

Tragic shooting sprees at Port Arthur in April 1996 and in Christchurch in March 2019 changed the tenor of public life on both sides of the Tasman. The murders of 35 people at Port Arthur and 51 people in Christchurch left an indelible mark on the victims’ families and friends – indeed on both nations as a whole – and prompted everyday Australians and New Zealanders to demand tighter control of private firearm ownership. These terrible events should never be allowed to happen again. And because public safety is the first responsibility of government, the people demanded that their representatives regulate firearm ownership because pistols, revolvers, rifles and shotguns in the wrong hands become lethal weapons that can be used to inflict serious injury and death.

The response of the New Zealand Government to the Christchurch massacre was still under consideration as this book was written. Legislators in Wellington were being urged to take notice of the Australian Government’s swift and decisive action after Port Arthur. This book examines the decisions made in 1996 to deal with the Australian community’s fear of firearms and the possibility of another shooting spree in a public place. These decisions were welcomed at home and applauded abroad – then and now. The National Firearms Agreement (NFA) was considered the ‘gold standard’ of regulation.

When thousands of surrendered firearms were collected in large dumpsters and then thrown into raging furnaces to be destroyed, the 1990s had one of its most enduring images. The NFA marked an important turning point for community safety in Australian history. Negotiated by the Howard Government after the Port Arthur massacre, the NFA included a nationwide gun buyback scheme, and most commentators believed Australia ‘got it right’. Private owners were licensed; personal firearms were registered; and, thousands of firearms, including those now banned, were relinquished and destroyed. A shooting spree in a public place was now much less likely and, with the imposition of tight restrictions on the private ownership of semi-automatic centre-fire rifles – the type of firearm that had been used to kill so many people in Tasmania – a shooting spree was much less likely to result in substantial casualties.

But Australia also ‘got things wrong’. There were miscalculations and mistakes that have become more apparent with the passage of time. Not everyone was convinced the NFA had made people safer and some, without regard to persisting fear within the community, pledged themselves to amending the NFA. Some of the proposed amendments reflected individual self-interest and overlooked the terrible events at Port Arthur and the need to avoid a repeat. Others were based on important principles and the existence of evidence showing the NFA was deficient and defective. In the shadow of the Christchurch massacre and mindful of resurgent right-wing political extremism, this book also considers the reality of community fears of lax firearm regulation, the reasonable expectation that people are protected from harm but also the entitlement of citizens to conduct their business and enjoy their recreation free from unnecessary government interference. These are vitally important issues that deserve much deeper consideration than the slogans that are usually trotted out by those who advocate or oppose any change to the NFA.

More than two decades after John Howard persuaded the Australian states to accept uniform regulation, Australians continue to avoid or overlook the fundamental issues the NFA raised about personal fears, public concerns and the response of legislators within a democracy. Regrettably, the pro-gun and anti-gun lobbies have dominated an acrimonious and wholly unproductive debate that makes no concession to moderation or balance. Arguing endlessly about the technical specifications of individual firearms and whether they ought to be restricted or prohibited is effectively reducing matters of profound philosophical importance to bickering about matters like magazine capacities and barrel lengths. This criticism applies to both the pro-gun and anti-gun lobbies. Neither seems able to sense the existence of a broader canvas comprising responsibilites and rights and more enduring concerns that deserve deeper and more mature reflection about whether the community is any safer from violent crime and whether individual freedoms are being pointlessly curtailed. This book calls for a more expansive consideration of what is at stake in a world of extreme violence and intrusive government.

My approach to this controversial subject is to begin with the most pressing question that confronted Australia when a deranged man shot and killed 35 people and injured another 23 on 28 April 1996 at Port Arthur in Tasmania: does the government’s ultimate responsibility to keep people safe from harm give it limitless authority to regulate the lives of citizens and the power to ensure their compliance? John Howard responded to the community’s anxiety without hesitating and with absolute conviction. He would insist that the six state and two territory governments accept an unprecedented national agreement. In the days, weeks and months that followed, Howard would overcome all opposition to his plan. The Australian people were entitled to feel safe and the government was determined to ensure they were, albeit with measures that many law-abiding firearm owners considered draconian and oppressive.

Three closely related aims drove the government’s response to the Port Arthur massacre: preventing another random shooting spree in a public place, asserting that the national government could and should insist on uniform firearm laws, and stopping what Howard called the ‘American disease’ from further infecting the Australian people. He and his government believed that lax state gun laws had allowed American ‘gun culture’ to influence Australian attitudes and actions. Without firm action, this ‘disease’ would inevitably spread and lead to more violent crime including sporadic mass shootings. As the federal government had a duty of care it could not delegate to the previously indolent states and which an overwhelming majority of Australians believed it must discharge, the prime minister’s response was swift and substantial. The government could not allow itself, however, to be satisfied with simply preventing another tragedy. The national mood offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to prohibit one American import that Howard felt blighted a nation for which he otherwise expressed great admiration. Howard deliberately used emotive language when referring to America’s gun culture and did so without concern for any adverse reaction across the Pacific. If anyone in the United States took offence at his remarks, so be it. The American attitude to private firearm ownership and the stance of many states on their use in home defence was, by his reckoning, sheer madness.

Following Port Arthur, the Commonwealth Government imposed its political will on the states, territories and the Australian people. The prime minister and his Cabinet were prepared to live with the electoral consequences. Some Australians were implacably opposed to the federal government’s intentions and threatened to use every tool, even civil disobedience, to defeat its plans. But community safety would prevail over individual rights and there would be no concessions. The Commonwealth would assert its authority and, if necessary, secure the constitutional powers it required to override any states and territories that would not comply. If money were needed, the Commonwealth would provide it. Nothing would stand in the way of a national agreement. Howard was adamant: this was the right thing to do and he would not be deterred. The government’s responsibility was unambiguous and its duty was clear. A national problem required a national solution. Australia would lead the way and show the United States and other countries whose public life was disfigured by violent crime that a new day could dawn. The Liberal–National Coalition would demonstrate that legislators could prevent the proliferation of firearms and inhibit the incidence and seriousness of crimes involving handguns, shotguns and rifles.

More than two decades later, both those who advocate and those who oppose tighter government regulation of private firearm ownership around the world cite the Australian experience. Former Leader of the Opposition and Australian Ambassador to the United States, Kim Beazley, noted that Australia had become ‘the poster child for both sides of the argument in the United States. An example feared and often counter-factually traduced by the supporters of unlimited gun ownership. On the regulated side we exemplify nirvana.’¹ The imposition of a national agreement has been hailed by some advocates as a tremendous success and by some lobbyists as nothing more than expensive posturing. Within Australia, the agreement continues to attract controversy. Its supporters believe that even innocuous amendments would ‘water down’ the Howard Government’s ‘gold standard’ laws, contending that the ‘American disease’ continues to threaten the character of Australian democracy and the health of the Australian people. Anyone associated with farming, hunting and sports shooting in Australia knows that 1996 also marked a major turning point for them. The mood changed enormously before and after the agreement. It was, then, a decisive moment with enduring consequences for shooters and the entire nation.

In wanting private firearms ownership tightly regulated, a large majority of the population argued for, and then accepted, an increase in the government’s interference in their everyday lives. Because it made absolutely no difference to the way most people lived and had no bearing on their personal choices, at the time there was little interest in this general principle and what ignoring its importance might mean for other aspects of daily living. Few people felt concern about those affected by the new laws. The minority would have to live with the practical consequences of greater government interference. The bigger question of where to set the limits could be answered at another time. This moment would presumably be when more people were personally affected and felt an important principle was at stake. The period after Port Arthur revealed something significant about Australians: they generally welcomed government interference and would usually accept state regulation. In this respect, most Australians were unlike most Americans, despite sharing a common language and many cultural traits. When it came to firearms, most Australians did not want their country’s experience to resemble that of the United States and seemed willing to accept a range of legislative restrictions that many Americans found tyrannical – then and now.

While the NFA was a watershed in Australian public life, both the drafting process and the final document were flawed, producing unintended consequences and creating legacies that continue to reverberate. The agreement was, after all, a product of political negotiation involving nine legal jurisdictions – the Commonwealth, six states and two territories. The sheer magnitude of achieving in-principle agreement to a single set of words describing a complex problem and dealing with a contentious matter should not be underestimated. But some give and take was necessary. Where and how could the NFA have been improved? Was the Howard Government’s response shaped too much by haste and emotion? Did it pay sufficient attention to identifying the originating causes of the massacre? Should the Australian people have been given a chance to participate in determining the nation’s response to the tragedy, for example via a referendum or plebiscite? Did the Commonwealth’s response encompass the broader principles undergirding the relationship between the government and the governed? Was the government’s challenge simply to address a specific situation requiring a short-term response, or to devise a set of principles that would encourage a new way of thinking? Did the government fully appreciate the dissent its approach would provoke, and the longer-term consequences of angering a previously benign section of the community, alienating law-abiding shooters and turning them into adversaries?

These questions have influenced my thinking and shaped this book which was being written when a lone gunman from Australia allegedly shot and killed 51 people in Christchurch. These evil deeds were a timely reminder of what is at stake when firearm regulations are being discussed. This is not, and never can be, a philosophical exercise. This is a matter of life and death as this work demonstrates.

I am interested in the Howard Government’s regulation of firearms during its nearly 12 years in power and whether it achieved its stated objectives following the Port Arthur massacre effectively and efficiently, then and since. I am also interested in what the Howard Government might have done but did not. I began wondering whether the aftermath of the tragedy might have been a lost opportunity to achieve much more than preventing a repeat of Port Arthur – vitally important though that was. Could the Coalition have recast Commonwealth–state relations perhaps? As I read, researched and reflected, I gradually came to the view that it might have managed the aftermath better in the medium and longer term, both politically and procedurally. John Howard certainly exercised resolute leadership and the government did exceptionally well to secure an agreement few thought possible. There were, however, aspects of Howard’s leadership that would in time prove to be problematic. The agreement itself departed from the conventions of sound public administration and created dilemmas that have yet to be adequately addressed. A short-term response overlooked matters of principle that needed to be considered in developing a long-term solution. The problems that existed in firearm regulation in 1996 have not gone away two decades later. The murderer who unintentionally drew attention to the seriousness of these problems has been locked away and is now hidden from public view; the political problems arising from his actions remain pressing matters because foundational philosophical principles of government and governing have not been given due consideration.

There has not been a repeat of the tragic events of April 1996 on Australian soil. Nor has Australia seen the rise of a radical individualist culture that would place personal freedoms ahead of community safety. But a new approach is needed to discussing the role of government in everyday life and the regulation of private firearm ownership in Australia. The inability to talk sensibly and constructively about reviewing and reforming firearm legislation is perhaps the most lamentable outcome of the Australian experience. I would not want readers to draw from this observation any suggestion that the regulations have not been highly significant. They have. The NFA’s effects are much more profound than many realise.

In 1996, neither the pro-gun lobby nor the gun control lobby recognised what was at stake when the opportunity to draft new laws came about. The community mood changed despite them. In subsequent years both groups have failed to settle the important issues that were raised. Both sides focussed on a short-term practical response when they should have contemplated a long-term political solution. Pragmatics and not principles have ruled ever since, hence the endless bickering associated with attempts to review and amend the agreement. One side seeks too much; the other side concedes too little. Nevertheless, faced with the need to act decisively, John Howard and the Coalition Government got more right than they got wrong.

This book is not intended to be a revisionist account of the Howard Government and its commitment to gun control. I am looking at widely reported events from the perspective of the government’s place in national life, its dealings with those who were subject to its authority, and the functioning of Australian democracy under stress. From this vantage point, the Port Arthur massacre looks very different. I am not interested in the killer or his actions – other than to note that his mental state and motivations for committing mass murder have already been examined. I do not refer to him or any other mass murderers by name, as doing so only feeds the delusions of fame and glory that are known to drive such individuals. I will not recount the terrible events of 28 April 1996, their subsequent commemoration by victims’ families or creative efforts to transcend the horrors inflicted upon the local community. What occurred has been told and re-told many, many times. This is ground that need not be traversed again.

What I am offering is another perspective on what happened afterwards and why both the tragedy and its aftermath deserve the close and continuing attention they have yet to receive. This book broadens the continuing gun control discussion to include a number of pressing issues that need to be addressed to ensure the Australian people are kept safe and the expenditure of taxpayers’ money is not wasted on pointless regulation and bureaucratic red tape. Preventing a repeat of the Port Arthur massacre anywhere in Australia is an enduring tribute to those who died so tragically in 1996.

To declare my own hand: I am a licensed firearm owner but don’t believe that keeping firearms is a right. I was a member of the Sporting Shooters’ Association of Australia but have no time for America’s National Rifle Association. I am a farmer with a cattle property near Goulburn in New South Wales but don’t vote for the Shooters, Fishers and Farmers Party. I think Australian governments intrude too much on everyday life but accept the need for highly restrictive firearm legislation. I would probably own an AR-15 semi-automatic centre-rifle if the law allowed but fully endorse the restrictions preventing me from having one. I believe the 1996 NFA requires substantial recasting but affirm the spirit of the agreement and uphold its underlying principles. I am Director of the Howard Library at Provisional (Old) Parliament House in Canberra and the editor of three volumes of essays on the Howard Government but don’t think the NFA is the Coalition’s finest achievement. I can see all sides of this complicated debate. In wanting to find some middle ground from which to further the discussion, I am confident that those who contend that Australia’s gun laws are too strict and those who think they are too