Understanding the long, sordid history of gun control in America

The activist and commentator Niger Innis once declared: “Understanding the long, sordid history of gun control in America is key to understanding the dangers of disarming.” These words carry the weight of warning—an appeal to memory and vigilance. Innis reminds us that the debates of the present are never born in isolation; they are echoes of struggles long fought, and lessons long learned. To grasp the meaning of this truth, one must see beyond the surface of laws and arguments and gaze into the deeper fabric of power, liberty, and fear that has shaped the story of a nation. For in every age, the question of who may bear arms has been entwined with the question of who may be free.

When Innis speaks of “the long, sordid history”, he calls us to remember that gun control in America has not always been driven by safety or order, but often by oppression. After the Civil War, when newly freed African Americans sought to defend themselves against terror and tyranny, many states passed Black Codes—laws designed to strip them of the right to self-defense. To disarm a people was to make them vulnerable again, to return them to dependency and fear. History bears witness: the disarmed were not made safe—they were made silent. Thus, Innis’ warning is not only political; it is moral. He speaks to the eternal truth that freedom unarmed is freedom at risk.

The origin of his insight lies in both history and heritage. As a leader in civil rights and the son of Roy Innis, one of the bold voices of the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE), Niger Innis inherited not just the cause of justice, but the memory of what happens when power is unequally distributed. His father had lived through the violence of the civil rights era, when citizens were forced to defend themselves against mobs and indifference. The younger Innis grew to see that the right to bear arms was not a relic of revolution, but a shield of dignity—one that history had too often denied to the powerless. His statement, then, is not born of ideology alone, but of inheritance—an heirloom of both suffering and resolve.

History offers many examples to illuminate his point. In the era of Reconstruction, Black communities in the South armed themselves to protect their families and their newly won rights. Yet as white supremacist militias rose, governments often moved not to defend the oppressed, but to disarm them, under the guise of law and “public order.” Similarly, in other nations, the pattern repeats: before tyranny consolidates, it first removes the weapons of resistance. In Nazi Germany, laws passed in the 1930s disarmed Jews and political dissidents, leaving them helpless against the machinery of oppression. In Stalin’s Russia, in Mao’s China, and in every age of authoritarian rule, the story is the same—the unarmed are easily ruled, and the armed are feared only by the unjust.

Innis’ words therefore echo the wisdom of the ancients: that power must never rest wholly in the hands of rulers, for unchecked authority breeds corruption. The philosopher Aristotle warned that every government, even the noblest, tends toward tyranny if the people surrender their means of resistance. And in the founding of America, this belief was woven into the very fabric of the Republic. The Second Amendment was not written as a privilege, but as a safeguard—a recognition that the right to self-defense is as natural as breath. To forget this heritage, to treat it lightly or politically, is to invite the same chains that history has already shown us.

Yet, Innis does not glorify violence; his warning is not a call to arms, but to awareness. To “understand” is the key word. He calls upon us to study the past—not as a collection of dates, but as a mirror. For when we understand how control has been used to dominate rather than to protect, we can guard against repeating it. The lesson he offers is one of responsibility: that freedom requires not only the means to defend it, but the wisdom to use that power rightly.

So, my child, learn from this teaching. Do not speak of liberty without knowing its cost. Remember that every right, if unguarded, fades first in law, then in spirit. Whether you wield words or weapons, your duty is the same—to keep tyranny at bay, to defend the weak, and to question those who would decide for you what protection you may or may not have. As Niger Innis reminds us, the danger of disarming lies not only in losing tools, but in losing trust—trust in the people, in their judgment, in their right to stand tall and free.

And thus, let this be your guiding truth: a free people must never forget the lessons of the disarmed. Study history, not to fear the past, but to fortify the future. Speak truth when silence is demanded of you. And above all, remember that liberty, once surrendered, is seldom returned except through struggle. To understand this, as Innis teaches, is to see not only the past’s sorrow, but its warning—and to honor it by ensuring that freedom’s flame is never dimmed again.