As 2026 begins, it is easy to become consumed by national politics and international headlines. Those stories dominate cable news and social media feeds, often creating the impression that the most significant threats—or protections—to individual rights come from Washington, D.C.
In reality, some of the most consequential decisions affecting the Second Amendment are made much closer to home.
As former House Speaker Tip O’Neill famously observed, all politics is local. In January, newly seated city councils, township trustees, and school boards across the country begin their work. Many of those bodies will quietly revisit gun-related issues, often under the banner of “public safety,” even in states where local gun control is explicitly prohibited by law.
Ohio offers a clear example of how this dynamic plays out.
Major cities such as Cincinnati, Cleveland, and Columbus have repeatedly attempted to impose restrictions on law-abiding gun owners despite clear statewide preemption. These efforts persist even after the Ohio Supreme Court affirmed in 2010 that state law—specifically Ohio Revised Code 9.68—prevents municipalities from enacting their own firearms regulations. The problem is not legal ambiguity so much as the lack of consequences. Without personal or financial penalties for officials who violate preemption, local governments can engage in symbolic gun control at taxpayer expense.
That may soon change. Legislation currently moving through the Ohio General Assembly aims to add real teeth to preemption enforcement. Senate Bill 278 would allow individuals to seek punitive or exemplary damages against municipal governments that knowingly pass gun control measures in violation of state law. Sponsored by Senator Terry Johnson, the bill has already received committee hearings and reflects growing frustration with local officials who treat preemption as optional.
One of the persistent misconceptions in gun policy debates is that party affiliation reliably predicts support for the Second Amendment. Recent history suggests otherwise.
In early 2023, the city of Norwood, a suburb of Cincinnati, passed an ordinance prohibiting the sale or auction of surplus firearms, mandating their destruction instead. The measure passed 6–1, supported by a mix of Democratic council members and at least one Republican. Only one council member opposed the ordinance, openly acknowledging it for what it was: a symbolic gesture with no measurable public safety benefit.
The city’s mayor reinforced that symbolism by using a taxpayer-funded safety class to publicly disparage firearms, underscoring how local government platforms are sometimes used to promote ideology rather than policy outcomes.
That lone dissenting voice on the council later lost his reelection bid. The episode serves as a reminder that local elections—often decided by narrow margins and low turnout—can have outsized effects on gun rights.
School boards, while more constrained by state law, are not immune from similar pressures. Although they lack the authority to regulate firearms broadly, many adopt “zero tolerance” policies that extend to harmless conduct or even non-functional replicas. At the same time, few boards are willing to acknowledge or support state laws that allow trained teachers or staff to carry firearms for school defense.
For gun owners and Second Amendment advocates, vigilance starts with awareness. State sunshine laws require public bodies to publish meeting agendas in advance. Reviewing those agendas is often the first indication that a council or board intends to revisit firearms-related issues. The process is rarely dramatic. It is procedural, incremental, and easy to miss—until a vote is taken.
Local officials are not solely focused on roads, zoning, or school curricula. Firearms policy routinely appears in discussions of public health, emergency planning, and municipal liability. When those conversations occur without public input, rights erode quietly.
The pattern is consistent: local governments continue to test the limits of preemption, knowing that enforcement is uneven and public attention is limited. They persist because, historically, it has cost them little to do so.
That reality underscores a broader truth. An armed citizenry has always been understood as a check on concentrated power, whether exercised at the federal, state, or local level. Those who seek to restrict that principle rarely stop after a single attempt.
If 2026 has a lesson for gun owners, it is this: the most important fights are often the least visible. Watching local government is not optional. It is essential.
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