Australia’s gun laws are a lesson, not a miracle

In the weeks after the 1996 massacre, Canberra and the states struck the National Firearms Agreement (NFA): bans on civilian semi‑automatic rifles and many shotguns, a national buyback that removed more than 650,000 guns, licensing with a “genuine reason” test, and a 28‑day wait. The package remains popular and, in broad strokes, intact, although states have since diverged on details.

Australia’s firearm death rate fell after 1996, and mass shootings stopped. Non‑firearm deaths fell too.

Those two sentences, held together, are the crux. A 2016 study in JAMA found “a more rapid decline in firearm deaths between 1997 and 2013 compared with before 1997,” but also observed a larger decline in non‑firearm suicides and homicides over the same period, making clean attribution difficult (JAMA 2016). A 2010 analysis by Andrew Leigh and Christine Neill reported steep declines in firearm suicides and homicides following the buyback, while acknowledging broader social trends were moving the same direction (American Law and Economics Review 2010). Other scholars, including Sandy Suardi and Wang‑Sheng Lee, found little evidence of an independent homicide effect from the NFA alone. This is what a mixed literature looks like.

Zoom out and the 1990s through mid‑2010s are defined by a striking crime decline across many rich countries. The United States, with a far higher baseline, saw its murder rate fall from 9.4 per 100,000 in 1990 to 4.5 in 2013, a 52 percent drop, according to FBI data. Australia’s homicide rate fell from roughly 1.9 to about 1.1 over a similar span, a 42 percent decline. Today, Australia’s homicide rate hovers near 1 per 100,000; the U.S. remains several times higher despite parallel long‑run drops. Percentage changes can mislead when starting points diverge.

On mass shootings, the Australian record is stark. Using the Australian Institute of Criminology’s threshold of four or more fatalities, the country has had no mass shootings since 1996. That absence is real, although the small numbers make statistical inference fragile. It is also true that mass killings by other means did not vanish. Australians remember the Childers hostel arson that killed 15, the Quakers Hill nursing home fire, and the Cairns stabbings of eight children. Means matter, but intent sometimes finds substitutes.

“There was a more rapid decline in firearm deaths between 1997 and 2013 … but also a decline in total nonfirearm suicide and homicide deaths of a greater magnitude.” — JAMA, 2016

Violent crime comparisons between countries are treacherous. Australia’s “recorded violent crime” rose in the late 1990s and 2000s, but counting rules changed and sexual assault reporting improved. The U.S. and Australia do not tally “violent crime” the same way, and recorded incidents reflect reporting behavior as much as offending. Homicide is the cleanest cross‑national yardstick, and there Australia looks safer, before and after the NFA.

Suicide, which accounts for a majority of firearm deaths in many countries, illustrates the complexity. Australia’s overall suicide rate was 12.6 per 100,000 in 2015, up from 10.2 in 2006, according to the Australian Bureau of Statistics. The U.S. rate stood at 13.0 in 2014, the CDC reported (CDC Data Brief 241). Firearm suicides fell in Australia after the NFA, but researchers also documented rises in hanging, consistent with some method substitution. That does not make access irrelevant, especially for impulsive acts, but it complicates the sweeping claims on either side.

Meanwhile, the supply side shifted. Two decades on, police were still confronting illegal firearms in criminal networks. A 2016 national amnesty targeted “grey market” rifles that slipped past the 1996 buyback and reinforced trafficking penalties. In Melbourne, the Age described a mid‑2010s surge in gun incidents tied to the drug trade, many involving illicit handguns, and called for tougher enforcement and another buyback of certain pistols (The Age editorial).

Policy is still evolving. In 2024, national cabinet endorsed building a long‑promised national firearms register after police were ambushed in Queensland, a move supported by both major parties and slated to take years to complete (NFA overview). These are reminders that even in a country often cited as “solved,” the work of tracing and controlling guns never really ends.

The hard, honest conclusion is that no single policy explains the 1990s‑to‑2010s crime drop, in Australia or anywhere else.

Lead abatement, demographics, policing, incarceration, economic growth, the crack era’s rise and fall, even security tech that made cars harder to steal, all played roles in different places at different times. Australia layered strict licensing and bans atop that macro trend. The U.S., with looser access, saw a larger percentage fall from a higher peak, then a pandemic‑era spike and partial reversal. Both facts can be true.

There is a fair counterpoint from Australian gun‑rights advocates: if murder fell in similar fashion elsewhere, perhaps the NFA gets too much credit. There is a fair reply from public‑health scholars: if mass shootings ceased and firearm suicides fell faster than other methods, perhaps the NFA gets too little. The best reading of the evidence is modest. The NFA likely reduced access to rapid‑fire weapons, helped reduce firearm suicides, and may have contributed to the end of mass shootings as defined by four or more fatalities. It did not, on its own, remake human behavior.

So what should cross borders? A few lessons travel well.

• Target the illegal market. Focus on trafficking networks, stolen guns, and illicit handguns. Amnesties and better registries make sense if enforcement follows.
• Invest in suicide prevention. Safe storage, crisis lines, and clinical access matter regardless of method. Lowering lethality saves lives.
• Fix data. Comparable, timely statistics are the precondition for serious debate. Australia’s national register and the U.S. struggle with police reporting show how far we have to go.
• Address violence at its roots. Domestic violence flags, alcohol and drug treatment, and community‑led interventions reduce risk in ways gun bans cannot.

Debates that devolve into “Australia proves X” or “Australia proves nothing” miss the point. The NFA was a democratic decision taken in grief, and it reshaped what kinds of guns civilians can own. It coincided with, and probably nudged along, trends that were already pushing violence down. It could not make crime vanish, and it did not make Australia a utopia. What it did do, unmistakably, is change the conversation about acceptable risk and responsibility.

Back at Port Arthur, that is not a fairy tale. It is a reminder of what policy can do, and what it cannot, when the public insists on both safety and evidence.