A world away in New South Wales, Australia, lawmakers are urgently passing new laws to tighten gun control and restrict public protests following a tragic mass shooting. The move, however, is splitting political allies and raising sharp questions about the balance between state security and individual freedoms.

For Kenyans, this is more than a foreign headline. It is a case study in the complex dilemmas facing our own nation—how to manage legal and illegal firearms, the power we grant our police, and where to draw the line on the constitutional right to assemble.

The Australian bill, expected to pass this week, gives police the final, unappealable say on who gets a gun licence. It also introduces strict limits on the number of firearms an individual can own and slashes the renewal period for licences from five years to two. Simultaneously, it grants the police commissioner authority to ban protests for up to three months following a declared terrorist incident.

A Familiar Debate on Kenyan Soil

The changes down under present a stark contrast to Kenya's own rigorous, multi-stage firearm licensing process, governed by the Firearms Act. In Kenya, applicants require a certificate of good conduct, a psychiatric evaluation, and must be vetted by local and county security committees before the Firearms Licensing Board gives approval. Yet, challenges persist, with concerns over the misuse of legally held firearms and the vast number of illegal weapons in circulation.

The decision in NSW to grant police ultimate authority over licensing is particularly resonant. In Kenya, the debate over police accountability is a constant national conversation, with institutions like the Independent Policing Oversight Authority (IPOA) created to provide civilian oversight and investigate police misconduct. Granting unchecked power, as critics might argue, runs counter to the spirit of such reforms.

Echoes in the Right to Assemble

The new Australian protest laws also strike a chord. The NSW police will now have powers to ban gatherings and demand the removal of face coverings. This mirrors recent legislative efforts in Kenya, such as the proposed Public Order (Amendment) Bill, which seeks to create "no-protest zones" around key government buildings like Parliament and State House.

These proposals in Nairobi have been met with fierce resistance from civil society groups, who argue they unconstitutionally limit the right to peaceful assembly guaranteed under Article 37 of the Constitution. Key concerns raised in Kenya include:

• Proposals to hold protest organisers legally liable for property damage.
• Bans on face coverings, which activists note are used for protection from teargas or to prevent police reprisals.
• Giving authorities excessive discretion to ban protests on vaguely defined grounds.

Even within the Australian government's coalition, the gun laws have faced opposition. The Nationals party, representing rural interests, argues the firearm limits unfairly punish farmers who use guns for pest control and managing their properties. Their leader, Gurmesh Singh, noted the changes would not have stopped the attack and fail to address the root causes.

As Australia charts a new course on security, its debates offer a valuable reflection for Kenya. The core question remains the same in both Nairobi and Sydney: How does a nation protect its citizens without sacrificing the very freedoms that define it?