Successfully turning society’s moral expectations about right and wrong into a workable legal framework has never been easy. The tension between morality and the law inevitably produces ethical dilemmas, none more persistent than the conflict between individual interests and the welfare of the wider community. Reconciling this conflict is one of government’s most fundamental responsibilities and, in countries like Australia, it has generally been handled reasonably well.
The difficulty, however, lies in the fact that ideas of right and wrong are rarely absolute.
The recent horrific events at Bondi have thrust the ethical question of gun ownership firmly back into the public spotlight. One side argues for “responsible” and “law-abiding” gun ownership, while the other maintains that owning a gun is inherently irresponsible and that existing laws require serious reconsideration. At the centre of this debate sits the key artefact itself: the gun.
The purpose of guns has evolved over time. Initially developed for warfare, they later became tools for hunting, self-defence and sport shooting. Advances in technology have made them more accurate, more powerful and more specialised. Yet despite these changing uses, the fundamental purpose of a gun remains unchanged: it is designed to kill.
There is no denying that guns play a necessary role in certain contexts. Farming, policing, and vermin or feral animal control are often cited as examples where responsible, tightly regulated gun use contributes to community welfare. Even in these circumstances, however, the gun’s essential function is still to kill. On that basis, it is difficult—perhaps impossible—to argue that the widespread presence of guns outside these limited settings, particularly in suburban and urban environments, improves community safety or wellbeing.
Gun advocates frequently assert that “people kill people, not guns”. Yet it is worth asking why those who commit mass killings almost invariably choose guns as their weapon of choice. The answer is obvious: guns are the most effective and efficient killing machines available because they are designed for that very purpose. It is hard to imagine the scale of harm inflicted in incidents like Bondi being replicated with a hammer, a block of wood or a broken bottle. While knives have also been used in violent attacks, knives are not designed to kill, even though they can be used to do so—just as many everyday objects can.
Interestingly, “responsible and law-abiding” knife ownership is never a topic of public debate. Nor are there knife clubs devoted to the enjoyment of knives as objects of fascination. Gun clubs, by contrast, are widely accepted as socially normal. It is difficult to imagine a similar level of community tolerance for clubs centred on other lethal instruments.
Some argue that bows and arrows are also designed to kill and point to archery clubs as a parallel. That comparison falls apart on closer inspection. Bows and arrows have not been significant weapons of war since the 19th century, and it is hard to recall a modern mass killing carried out by a deranged archer. For those whose interest lies purely in the challenge of hitting a target, there are countless alternatives—golf, darts and other sports—that satisfy competitive instincts without centring on a device designed to end life.
Whatever the foundation of one’s moral framework, it is not unreasonable to suggest that guns sit on the wrong side of the right-and-wrong spectrum. Anecdotally at least, Australians tend to be uncomfortable with guns, prefer them to be absent from everyday life, and view personal gun ownership as unnecessary or even perverse, except where required by occupation.
Responsible and law-abiding gun owners may bristle at this characterisation, but some difficult questions remain: Why do I own a gun? Why am I drawn to guns? Why do I enjoy firing a weapon designed to kill? These are not accusations, but moral questions worth honest reflection. A society with fewer guns in circulation is, almost by definition, a safer one.
Governments acted decisively after Port Arthur and are acting again now in response to recent events. Whether those actions will go far enough remains to be seen. Ultimately, however, this is not just a legal issue—it is a moral one. If individuals collectively decided not to own guns, legislative reform would barely be necessary.
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