Background - When Sense-Making Fails, Everything Becomes Political

Let us begin with an excerpt from the preface of my recent book, Sustainabilism – Exposing the Sustainability Illusion. It sets the context for this article, not by addressing firearms, but by addressing something far more fundamental: how easily we mistake perception for understanding, and the consequences that follow when we act on that illusion.

“In an age of endless information, we seem to have perfected the art of instant perception – the ability to glance at something, form a hasty opinion and move on with complete confidence that we have understood it. A few lines of a news article, a viral clip, a tweet or a cleverly edited documentary are enough for many of us to feel like we grasp the full picture.

But here’s the problem: what we perceive as understanding is often just a well-wrapped illusion. This tendency does not stop at trivial or minor topics; it extends to how we interpret capitalism, postmodernism, religious scriptures, scientific statements, political movements and even children’s movies. We assume that because we have seen something, we comprehend it. Because we have heard something, we can pass judgement. And because we have assigned it meaning – often one that aligns with our own ideological or emotional biases – it must be true.

Religious believers and non-believers alike claim to know what the scriptures say. Yet studying its content in depth is a rarer endeavour. A surface read leaves only initial impressions or confirms pre-existing biases. In contrast, an intentional read engages the words with the aim of discovery rather than merely validating what is already believed. True depth situates the text in its historical and cultural setting, attends to whether its language is poetic, metaphorical, or literal, and discerns the metacontent beneath the content. It weighs contextual variables – for instance, whether a term such as ‘law’ refers to modern civil legislation or to the principles, norms and practices of a faith tradition. It seeks perspectives from multiple angles to form a more complete horizon of understanding, and it considers the paradigms and schools of interpretation that have shaped meaning across time. A shallow reading may yield only unprocessed impressions, while deeper study works those insights through a process of reflection and reason until they become a coherent argument. 

Capitalists and anti-capitalists speak confidently about capitalism, relying on economic structures far more nuanced than the slogans they parrot. Postmodernism? Ask 10 people, get 10 different answers: each delivered with unshakable conviction. Beyond merely thinking we understand, we act. We pass judgement, create policies, enforce cultural norms and take to activism, all based on interpretations that may be incomplete, distorted or fundamentally incongruent with reality.

These distortions – assumed, reinforced and acted upon – are what I refer to as ‘shadows’. Shadows are lived delusions that shape systems, institutions and ways of being. When left unexamined, they give rise to misery: not as an abstract concept, but as a tangible condition where dysfunction spirals into self-sustaining chaos. When misery becomes deeply embedded, it solidifies into entrenchment: a state where dysfunction feels both inescapable and inevitable. Suffering, then, is the lived experience of distress and hardship that arises from existing within a state of misery, whether consciously or unconsciously.”

In recent days, public conversations around firearms laws in Australia have intensified. Proposals to further restrict ownership or cap the number of firearms a person may possess are increasingly discussed as necessary responses to risk and public safety.

Concern is understandable. Firearms are serious tools, and any misuse carries real consequences. No coherent society treats them lightly.

However, what is striking in the current discourse is not merely the presence of concern, but the quality of sense-making behind it. Much of the debate appears to be driven by abstraction, symbolism, and emotional charge rather than grounded understanding. Many of the most influential voices shaping these decisions openly state that they have never handled a firearm, never participated in hunting or shooting sports, and have had little engagement with the lived realities of those directly affected.

This is not a criticism of intent.
It is an observation about process.

This article is not about persuading anyone to support or oppose firearms. It is about examining how we form opinions, make decisions, and design policy around things we may find irrelevant, unfamiliar, or uncomfortable.

Firearms are used here as a case study. The deeper issue is how distorted sense-making, misconceptions, and incomplete mental models quietly shape outcomes in many domains of modern life. When complexity is collapsed into slogans and symbols, even well-intended actions can produce unintended harm.

Before deciding what should be restricted, banned, or capped, a responsible society must first ask a more fundamental question:

Do we actually understand what we are talking about?

Introduction - Sense-Making Before Opinion

Any meaningful conversation about firearms in Australia must begin with clarity, not assumption.

Firearms are not permitted for self-defence in Australia. This is not a grey area. It is explicit in law. Automatic firearms are fully banned. Semi-automatic firearms are restricted to a very small number of tightly controlled cases, usually connected to professional pest control or exceptional operational requirements. For the vast majority of people, they are simply not accessible.

Stating this clearly matters, because much of the public imagination around firearms is shaped by contexts that do not apply here. When those assumptions are imported into Australian discussions, the result is distorted reasoning rather than informed debate.

The issue under discussion is therefore not the removal of weapons from public spaces, nor the prevention of everyday carry. Those questions have already been settled. What remains is a conversation about lawful, regulated, and tightly controlled use within specific domains such as farming, pest management, and sport.

This is where sense-making often breaks down.

A reductionist approach may simplify conversation, but it undermines understanding and leads to ineffective decision-making and policy design. When complex realities are compressed into single labels, nuance is lost and abstraction replaces reality.

The word firearm functions as a single category in public debate, yet in practice it refers to a wide range of highly specialised tools designed for different purposes, environments, and ethical constraints. Treating them as one undifferentiated object collapses reality into abstraction.

Before forming opinions about bans, limits, or caps, a basic sense-making step is required:

When we say firearms, what exactly are we referring to?

Without answering that question, discussion becomes reactive rather than coherent, and policy risks addressing symbols instead of reality.

Regulation Exists. Understanding Often Does Not

Australia does not lack firearms regulation. In fact, it has one of the most restrictive and layered regulatory systems in the world.

Licensing is category-based, slow, and conditional. Each firearm must be individually registered, justified, and stored according to strict requirements. Police have broad powers to inspect, suspend, and confiscate licences and firearms, particularly where risk is identified. In some cases, licences can take years to obtain, and a single breach can result in total loss of access.

This matters because much of the current discussion implicitly assumes a regulatory vacuum, as if firearms ownership exists in a loosely governed space. It does not.

When failures occur, the sense-making challenge is to distinguish between:

• the adequacy of regulation itself, and
  

• the execution, enforcement, or contextual understanding of that regulation.

Adding new rules without understanding how existing ones function often addresses anxiety rather than reality. It creates the appearance of action while leaving underlying misunderstandings intact.

Before proposing further limits or caps, a basic question needs to be asked:

Is the problem a lack of regulation, or a lack of coherent understanding of what is already regulated?

Firearms Are Not One Thing

One of the primary sources of confusion in this debate is the use of a single word to describe many fundamentally different things.

The term firearm is treated as if it refers to one object with one function. In reality, it refers to a range of highly specialised tools, each designed for a specific purpose, under specific conditions, and with specific ethical and legal constraints.

A key point often missed is that firearms are not modular in the way people imagine. A rifle is manufactured with a fixed chamber designed for one calibre only. Ammunition is not interchangeable. You cannot simply adapt a single firearm to multiple tasks safely or legally.

This matters because different real-world situations require different tools. Treating all firearms as equivalent collapses that reality into abstraction.

Acknowledging this complexity does not negate legitimate concerns about public safety, misuse, or harm, nor does it imply that every use or level of access is justified.

It simply recognises that effective policy and ethical judgment require understanding the actual distinctions involved, rather than reasoning from a single, undifferentiated category.

Sense-making begins when we stop asking whether “firearms” should exist, and instead ask what roles different tools actually serve within regulated, lawful contexts.

Perspective: Standing Where Others Stand

To understand why numerical caps or blanket limits often fail, it helps to step briefly into the lived reality of those who lawfully use firearms. This is not about agreement. It is about perspective.

Imagine you are a recreational hunter, a farmer, or someone managing pests on a rural or semi-rural property, an acreage, or a lifestyle block. Your reality is not abstract. You are dealing with specific animals, under specific conditions, with ethical and legal responsibilities.

Different animals require different tools.

Rimfire Rifles (.22LR)

Rimfire rifles, most commonly .22LR, are used for small pests such as rats, rabbits, and hares. These calibres are appropriate because they minimise unnecessary damage and allow for humane control at close range.

Using larger calibres for these animals is unsafe, unethical, and often illegal. A .22LR exists precisely because larger calibres are inappropriate for this task.

Shotguns (.410, 12 Gauge)

Shotguns, such as .410 and 12 gauge, are used where targets are moving or at close range. They fire multiple projectiles to increase effectiveness when animals are running, such as rabbits or foxes.

In rural and semi-rural settings, .410 shotguns are also commonly used for snake management, where snakes pose a very real risk to pets, livestock, and human safety on properties.

A key limitation of shotguns is range. Depending on conditions and ammunition, they are generally effective only up to around 30–40 metres. Beyond that, they are unsuitable.

Shotguns are also traditionally used for bird hunting, such as ducks and quail, under specific licences and seasons. In sporting contexts like clay shooting, shotguns are used under strict rules, often limiting capacity to two shells at a time for safety and tradition.

Medium Calibre Rifles (.223, .243)

When dealing with foxes, feral goats, or smaller pigs, a .223 calibre is commonly required. A .22LR is often insufficient, leading to injured animals rather than humane outcomes.

The purpose of stepping up in calibre is not power for its own sake, but ethical responsibility. The aim is a clean, humane result, not prolonged suffering.

Large Game Calibres (.270, .308, .30-06, 7mm Rem Mag, .300 Win Mag)

For larger animals such as pigs and various species of deer, significantly more powerful calibres are required.

Deer species vary greatly in size. Some may weigh around 50 kg, while others, such as mature sambar deer or red deer stags, can exceed 300 kg. In these cases, calibres such as .270, .308, .30-06, 7mm Remington Magnum, or .300 Winchester Magnum are necessary to ensure ethical and humane outcomes.

Using an underpowered calibre on large animals is irresponsible and could be unlawful in certain jurisdictions, such as Victoria. Using these large calibres on much smaller animals, such as chital or axis deer, results in excessive meat loss and is equally inappropriate.

Why One Firearm Cannot Do Everything

Each rifle is manufactured with a fixed chamber designed for only one calibre. Ammunition is not interchangeable. One firearm cannot safely or legally perform all of these tasks.

If you are managing rats, rabbits, foxes, goats, pigs, and multiple species of deer, the minimum practical requirement is:

• a rimfire rifle,
  

• a medium calibre rifle,
  

• a large calibre rifle,
  

• And at least one shotgun.

At this point, it is reasonable for someone unfamiliar with this domain to conclude that four firearms should be enough. From a purely abstract perspective, that may appear sensible.

However, this conclusion still assumes a static world: tools that never fail, bodies that never change, circumstances that remain fixed, and systems that function without friction. Real life does not operate that way.

Trying to manage all of these situations with fewer tools leads either to unethical outcomes or unsafe practices. Yet even meeting this minimum does not account for how reality actually unfolds over time.

This is where sense-making must move beyond categories and numbers and into lived conditions.

Practical Realities Often Ignored

Firearms are mechanical tools. They wear, break, and require maintenance. This reality is almost entirely absent from public discussion.

Australia has a very limited number of experienced gunsmiths, combined with chronic shortages of parts. It is not unusual for repairs to take many months, and in some cases over a year or even two. During that time, a firearm is simply unusable or extremely risky to use.

For people who are active in hunting, pest management, or sport, this creates a practical need for backups. This is not accumulation for its own sake. It is continuity.

Circumstances also change. Injury, surgery, or physical strain can temporarily limit what recoil a person can manage. In those periods, lighter-recoiling firearms may be necessary until recovery allows a return to normal use. These shifts are common and responsible.

Static numerical limits assume fixed lives and unchanging bodies. Real people do not live that way.

Sense-making requires acknowledging that lawful, active participation in a domain involves redundancy, adaptation, and flexibility, not just possession.

Learning, Ballistics and Responsible Progression

Firearms use is not intuitive. It is a complex domain that involves ballistics, trajectory, distance, wind, recoil, shot placement, safety protocols, and ethical decision-making. Competence is not acquired quickly, and responsibility is learned over time.

People who engage in hunting or shooting sports do not begin with full certainty about what works for them. Over years of practice, they encounter different calibres, rifles, and configurations. They learn what is appropriate for specific tasks, what fits their physical build, what recoil they can manage, and what delivers ethical outcomes in real conditions.

It is common for people to acquire firearms and later change them. This is not recklessness. It is part of learning. As with any complex discipline, understanding develops through experience, not abstraction.

Ballistics alone is a deep field. The same calibre behaves differently at different distances, in different environments, and with different loads. What is suitable for one person, terrain, or purpose may be unsuitable for another. Responsible users adapt as they learn.

Over time, most people refine their choices. Some firearms are sold, replaced, or retained for specific roles. This is why ownership patterns change and why static numerical caps fail to reflect how learning actually works.

A person who has never entered this domain may see accumulation. Someone inside it sees progression.

Sport, Discipline and Specialisation

Even when firearms are used purely for sport, the same sense-making issue appears.

Target shooting is not a single activity. It involves different distances, disciplines, and performance requirements. A rifle optimised for short-range shooting is unsuitable for longer ranges. In some cases, a .223 may be sufficient; in others, flatter-shooting calibres such as 6.5 Creedmoor are required. Each serves a different purpose, and each rifle is built around a fixed chamber.

This reduction also ignores basic economic realities. In competitive shooting, for example, precision calibres such as 6.5 PRC are used in competition, yet their ammunition is significantly more expensive. A competitive shooter may fire hundreds or even thousands of rounds in preparation. As a result, many train with less expensive calibres and reserve the competition rifle for specific use. From the outside, this can look like excess. From within the domain, it is simply economic necessity and responsible preparation.

Clay shooting is a separate discipline altogether. It uses shotguns under strict safety and tradition-based rules. Many clubs limit firearms to two shells at a time, often using break-action or double-barrel shotguns, particularly when multiple shooters are present under range supervision. These restrictions are not arbitrary; they are part of a long-established safety culture.

These sporting contexts are highly regulated, structured, and supervised. They exist precisely because firearms use has been formalised into disciplined environments rather than left to improvisation.

Again, what appears from the outside as excess often reflects specialisation inside the domain.

Ownership Is Not Always About Utility

Another dimension often erased by reductionist thinking is that not all firearms are held purely for functional use.

Some are inherited. A rifle or shotgun passed down from a parent or grandparent may no longer be the most efficient or modern tool, yet it carries historical, familial, and symbolic significance. It represents continuity, memory, and stewardship rather than performance.

Others are held under recognised collector categories. These firearms are often rarely used, sometimes not used at all, and are maintained for their craftsmanship, historical relevance, or technical uniqueness. They exist within a regulated framework that already distinguishes collection from active use.

When ownership is reduced to a single question of utility or risk, these realities disappear. Meaning, heritage, and lawful stewardship are flattened into abstraction.

This is not an argument for exemption or indulgence. It is an observation about sense-making: when policies are built on simplified assumptions, they struggle to align with the layered ways people actually relate to the things they own.

This Is Not Really About Firearms

At this point, it should be clear that firearms are not the true subject of this article. They are simply a visible example of a deeper pattern.

The same breakdown in sense-making appears whenever people form strong conclusions about domains they have never entered. What is unfamiliar becomes simplified. What is uncomfortable becomes threatening. What is complex is reduced to a symbol that can be easily condemned.

We see this pattern repeatedly. People judge lifestyles, professions, cultural practices, or minority activities they do not understand and conclude that they should be restricted, removed, or reshaped to fit a narrow conception of normality. In most cases, this is not driven by malice. It is driven by ignorance, arrogance, misconception, and abstraction.

When we do not take the time to understand a domain, we replace reality with assumptions. When those assumptions are shared widely enough, they harden into policy positions.

Sense-making, as a discipline, asks something very simple but often avoided:
Have I understood what I am judging, or am I reacting to a caricature?

Firearms merely expose this question because they sit at the intersection of fear, ethics, responsibility, and law. But the mechanism at work here is far more general.

Difference, Democracy and Responsibility

A healthy democracy does not require uniformity of belief, preference, or ethics. It requires the capacity to live together despite difference.

People hold genuinely different views about animals, food, land use, and sport. Some oppose eating animals altogether. Some accept only domesticated farming. Others see ethical hunting as a legitimate and even responsible practice. These differences are real, and they are not going away.

Democracy exists precisely to hold this plurality without collapsing into domination by the majority or fear-driven exclusion of minorities. Lawful practices do not need to be popular to be protected. They need to be understood well enough to be governed responsibly.

This is where sense-making becomes a civic duty. When decisions are made without understanding, restriction replaces responsibility. Symbolic action replaces thoughtful governance.

Australia often speaks of defending its values. At the centre of those values is not agreement, but fairness, proportionality, and restraint in the use of power. Protecting lawful minority practices, even when they are misunderstood or uncomfortable, is part of that commitment.

Sense-making does not ask us to approve of everything. It asks us to govern without distortion.

Closing - Sense-Making Comes First

This article has not argued for or against firearms ownership. It has used firearms as a case study to examine how easily sense-making breaks down when unfamiliarity, fear, and abstraction replace understanding.

Before deciding what should be banned, capped, or restricted, a responsible society must first understand what it is regulating. Without that understanding, even well-intended action risks producing harm it never intended to create.

Sense-making does not require agreement. It requires accuracy. It requires recognising where our mental models are incomplete and where symbols have replaced reality.

Firearms expose this challenge clearly because they sit at the intersection of risk, ethics, responsibility, and law. But the same failure of sense-making appears across many social debates, often with quieter consequences and broader reach.

The deeper question is not about firearms at all.

It is whether we are willing to pause long enough to understand domains we may never enter, practices we may never adopt, and realities that do not resemble our own, before reshaping them through policy and power.

A society that makes decisions without sense-making does not become safer.
It becomes less coherent.