The Port Arthur tragedy in 1996 is one of the saddest moments in contemporary Australian history. On April 28, a gunman wreaked havoc at a tourist attraction in Tasmania, killing 35 people and wounding dozens more. The raw extent of the violence shook the nation to its foundations—and prompted a reckoning with the country’s gun laws.
In the weeks that ensued, Australia did something very few nations have ever done: it acted. Quickly. With unanimous leadership from then-newly elected Prime Minister John Howard and unprecedented accord across party lines, the nation enacted comprehensive gun reforms that would reshape the national landscape for generations to come.
At the heart of these reforms was the National Firearms Agreement (NFA). This groundbreaking policy provided a coordinated approach to the laws surrounding firearms in Australia. It banned civilian ownership of automatic and semi-automatic shotguns and rifles, implemented a 28-day waiting period for all firearm purchases, and enforced gun registration and licensing in every state and territory. Significantly, it eliminated self-defense as a valid rationale for firearm possession.
One of the most ambitious aspects of the reform was the national buyback scheme. Paid for by a short-term tax, the government reimbursed owners for surrendering weapons that were made illegal under the new law.
Some 650,000 guns were gathered and dismantled — roughly one in every five privately held firearms in the nation at the time. A second buyback in 2003 brought another 68,000 handguns into the total. In specified amnesty periods, individuals were allowed to surrender weapons without punishment.
The effect was startling. Homicides with guns plummeted and have not come back down since. Gun ownership in the home decreased by approximately 75%. Surprisingly, though, more individuals do not own guns; those who do typically own more than one, suggesting that although gun culture did not go away, it was more strictly controlled and less common.
Australia’s experience can be compared to other countries with profoundly dissimilar relationships to guns. Where the right to bear arms is interwoven within national identity and law, reform has been much more difficult — even when confronted repeatedly with tragedy. Political standoff, judicial obstacles, and cultural divisions too frequently block agreement.
But Australia was in a special situation. With no constitutional right to bear arms and with strong public opinion, the government could move forcefully. Although there were groups of people who rejected the changes, many Australians viewed them as a necessary step for public safety — and eventually, for a way to prevent future catastrophes.
One of the clearest signs of the reforms’ success is the near disappearance of mass shootings. In the 18 years before the NFA, Australia saw 13 mass shootings. In the two decades following, there were none. While some researchers argue over the exact influence of the reforms on broader gun crime, few dispute their effect on preventing large-scale shootings.
All that being said, the trek isn’t finished. Over the last few years, a few states have relaxed some of the limitations, and gun sales — though still comparatively restricted — have started growing once more. The effort toward an all-encompassing National Firearms Register, raised decades ago, is at last taking hold as a means of bolstering regulation and filling in current holes.
The Australian tale is a strong testament to the potential of what can be achieved when a country chooses to focus on safety and act collectively. It doesn’t pretend to have addressed all the concerns around guns and violence, but it does demonstrate that real change is an achievable goal. The Port Arthur legacy is both a warning and a map — lessons for any nation looking to strike a better balance between public safety and individual liberties.