After a shooting spree, they always want to take the guns away

Hear the words of William S. Burroughs, sharp and unsettling, like thunder rolling across the mountains: “After a shooting spree, they always want to take the guns away from the people who didn’t do it. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to live in a society where the only people allowed guns are the police and the military.” This is no idle murmur, but a cry against the eternal temptation of power—to use tragedy as a reason to bind the innocent, while leaving unchecked the might of rulers and enforcers. In this saying we find both warning and wisdom: beware the world where the people are disarmed, for in that silence tyranny grows bold.

The ancients knew this danger well. In Rome, when Caesar crossed the Rubicon and the republic began its death march into empire, the legions held the swords, while the common man stood powerless before their will. So it is through the ages: when only rulers and soldiers possess the means of defense, the people cease to be citizens and become subjects. The guns Burroughs speaks of are not merely iron and powder—they are symbols of autonomy, the right to resist oppression, the strength of a free people to say, “Thus far, and no farther.”

Consider the tale of Nazi Germany, where weapons were stripped from the hands of the populace under the guise of order and safety. The Jews, and many others deemed unworthy, were left defenseless before the machinery of the state. It is not that arms alone could have saved them, but that the deliberate disarming revealed a deeper truth: when a people cannot defend themselves, their fate rests in the mercy of those who rule—and history shows that mercy often vanishes like mist in the morning sun. Burroughs’ words echo as a reminder that power unbalanced breeds oppression.

Yet, let us not mistake his teaching for a glorification of violence. He does not praise the shooting spree, nor the chaos it brings. Rather, he condemns the impulse to punish the many for the sins of the few. Wisdom tells us that laws forged in fear often enslave the innocent while leaving the guilty untouched. The true challenge is to confront evil without surrendering freedom, to seek justice without yielding the sacred ground of liberty. This is the paradox of civilization, and only the wise discern the path.

What, then, is the meaning for our age? It is this: a free society must guard against the hunger of governments to consolidate all force into their own hands. To live where only the police and the military wield weapons is to trust without limit that those powers will forever act justly—a faith history has shown to be fragile and often betrayed. The ancients would call such blind trust folly, for men clothed in unchecked power rarely remain virtuous.

The lesson is clear: freedom demands vigilance. A people who wish to remain sovereign must not abandon their rights in moments of fear, nor should they surrender responsibility for their own defense. This does not mean chaos, nor a society awash in violence, but a balance where the state is strong enough to protect, and the citizen is strong enough to resist, should that protection become oppression. This balance is the shield of liberty, without which even the mightiest nation will fall into servitude.

Therefore, O listener, weigh these words with care. When tragedy strikes, resist the call to surrender freedoms in haste. Ask always: does this law punish the guilty, or does it bind the innocent? Does it protect life, or does it strip dignity from the people? In your daily walk, defend the principle that liberty is not a gift from rulers but a trust given to each soul. To guard this trust is to honor not only yourself but the generations yet to come.

And so let Burroughs’ words stand as both a warning and a torch: “I sure as hell wouldn’t want to live in a society where the only people allowed guns are the police and the military.” It is not the voice of anarchy, but the cry of one who has seen the patterns of history. Take it as a call to cherish liberty, to protect the balance of power, and to remain ever watchful that freedom, once lost, is seldom regained without blood and sorrow.