What the Suppressor Debate Says About a Civilization’s Willingness to Listen
By Mark Maxwell
In a rare act of sober deliberation, the U.S. House of Representatives has passed the Hearing Protection Act, a piece of legislation long delayed by tragedy, misinformation, and political expedience. If passed by the Senate, it would remove suppressors, yes, suppressors, not “silencers”, from the National Firearms Act, ending a bureaucratic chokehold dating back to 1934.
This isn’t simply a victory for gun owners or sportsmen. It’s a symbolic shift, a moment that might suggest we are, at long last, rediscovering the difference between fear and prudence, between hysteria and hearing, between noise and signal.
A long silence, interrupted by tragedy, let’s remember: this legislation was poised for movement twice before.
First, in 2012—then came Sandy Hook.
Then, in 2017—then came Las Vegas.
Both horrific tragedies. Both invoked and halted discussion., but neither had anything to do with suppressors. No suppressor was used in either massacre. And yet, the very act of association was enough to derail the legislative process, twice.
Coincidence? Perhaps. But the timing is uncanny enough to warrant reflection.
More concerning is the rhetorical sleight-of-hand that followed. Media outlets and politicians swiftly resurrected the term “silencer,” a Hollywood-derived misnomer, invoking images of secret agents and assassins.
In truth, suppressors reduce decibel levels much like a muffler reduces engine noise. They don’t make gunfire “silent.” They make it hearing-safe, which is to say less likely to cause permanent ear damage to hunters, range shooters, and anyone nearby.
If we can’t agree on that basic fact, what does that say about the state of public discourse?
Civilization begins with the ability to hear, and the very notion of “hearing protection” is, at its core, a civilizing impulse. It’s the idea that even in the context of training for defense, or hunting to sustain one’s family we should mitigate the collateral damage of noise, especially the kind that causes irreversible hearing loss.
Suppressors are legal in 42 states, owned by hundreds of thousands of Americans, and virtually never used in crimes. Yet, for decades, they’ve been classified under the same law that regulates machine guns and explosives.
Why?
Because fear is easier to manufacture than understanding. Because symbolism trumps substance in politics. Because too many in power would rather score points than concede that maybe, just maybe, a nation of free men and women should be allowed to protect their own hearing.
What is the price of misinformation we must ask ourselves why such a simple, useful tool became so controversial. Why do we allow fiction to dictate policy, and tragedy to halt reform, even reforms unrelated to the tragedy itself?
Suppressors were first regulated under the National Firearms Act during the Great Depression. Not because of crime, but because lawmakers feared poachers might use them to steal game.
Nearly a century later, we know better. Suppressors don’t increase lethality. They don’t turn criminals into predators. They simply make lawful activities safer.
In Europe where gun laws are far more restrictive suppressors are often encouraged or even required for hunting. Why? Because protecting hearing is not considered controversial. It’s considered courteous.
The symbol is beneath the surface, and that is the passage of the Hearing Protection Act in the House that is more than a legislative event. It is a moment when the tide of reason, however briefly, rose above the waters of fear.
It’s an opportunity to remember that freedom is not enhanced by distortion, nor preserved by paranoia. It is strengthened by clarity, by truth, and yes by a willingness to listen.
Suppressors aren’t about making guns more dangerous. They’re about making the use of firearms more responsible.
And maybe that’s the deeper message here: that we should begin, again, to suppress the noise, so we can hear each other once more.
Mark Maxwell is a Marine Corps veteran, firearms consultant, and founder of Texas based RW Arms, Ltd. He writes about tradition, liberty, and the intersection of constitutional law and American culture.