"But can we make guns with it?"

3D printing needs to get away from this question.

For a particular type of entrepreneur, the first question asked about any innovation is: “Can we make weapons using it?” Self-styled crypto-anarchist and founder of Defense Distributed (DefDist) Cody Wilson, is one such individual. Recognising the potential of increasingly affordable 3D printing technology, not to mention his desire to "defend the civil liberty of popular access to arms," thus presumably spreading crypto-anarchy, the 25-year-old law student at the University of Texas made the plans for the gun available online.

Anyone familiar with Airfix kits will be familiar with the appearance of the component parts of the Liberator, minus the surplus plastic flash from popping them out of the sprue. Just 15 plastic elements make up the weapon, plus two metals ones – the firing pin and a single screw – including complex structures like springs. Designed to fire standard handgun rounds, the gun is also fitted with an interchangeable barrel to handle a broad spectrum of calibre rounds.

3D printers use a digital design to create a solid object by depositing tiny droplets of molten plastic layer upon layer until the shape is complete. They were originally the preserve of design studios and prototyping and testing laboratories, but now prices have dropped to £1,000 for a domestic model, purchasing one is no longer unattainable by the general public. DefDist distributing the gun plans meant anyone could print gun parts at home in less than an hour.

Wilson’s scheme created a stir in Europe, where gun control law in many countries makes weapon acquisition a deliberately bureaucratic process. However, the Liberator was skating on thin legal ice even in the US, where the Undetectable Firearms Act of 1988 makes it illegal to manufacture a firearm that is not detectable by walk-through metal detectors.

As a workaround, DefDist incorporates a 170g piece of steel into the body of its gun design, making it legal, but who is to say people who download the design to print their own would do the same? It may be argued that the gun’s inability to be detected using metal detectors is negated by the fact it uses a metal firing pin and regular ammunition, and modern airport scanners would detect the shape enclosed in clothing anyhow.

However, all arguments regarding its legal status became moot when, a week after its test firing results were made public, the US Department of State ordered DefDist to remove digital blueprints for the Liberator and to cooperate with an investigation to check whether the files comply with the International Traffic in Arms Regulations (ITAR).

The company complied with the order, and a disclaimer on DefDist's website now reads: "This file has been removed from public access at the request of the US Department of Defense Trade Controls. Until further notice, the United States government claims control of the information."

The order is believed to have come too late as the gun specs had already been downloaded 10,000 times between going online on 6 May and the issuing of the mandate.

DefDist took on pushing the boundaries of firearms law and freedom of information and lost. Plastic guns manufactured using 3D printers are significantly inferior to the real deal, which even those aiming to acquire one for nefarious purposes can get hold of much cheaper and more easily.

For now, the only significant role 3D printers hold in the weapons industry remains creating tangible prototypes for ergonomic testing and functionality trials such as wind-tunnel experiments.

Photograph: Getty Images

Berenice Baker is Defence Editor at Strategic Defence Intelligence.

Photo: Getty
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What happened when a couple accidentally recorded two hours of their life

The cassette tape threw Dan and Fiona into a terrible panic.

If the Transformers series of movies (Transformers; Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen; Transformers: Dark of the Moon; Transformers: Age of Extinction; and Transformers: the Last Knight) teach us anything, it is that you think your life is going along just fine but in a moment, with a single mistake or incident, it can be derailed and you never know from what direction the threat will come. Shia LaBeouf, for example, thinks everything is completely OK in his world – then he discovers his car is a shape-shifting alien.

I once knew a couple called Dan and Fiona who, on an evening in the early 1980s, accidentally recorded two hours of their life. Fiona was an English teacher (in fact we’d met at teacher-training college) and she wished to make a recording of a play that was being broadcast on Radio 4 about an anorexic teenager living on a council estate in Belfast. A lot of the dramas at that time were about anorexic teenagers living on council estates in Belfast, or something very similar – sometimes they had cancer.

Fiona planned to get her class to listen to the play and then they would have a discussion about its themes. In that pre-internet age when there was no iPlayer, the only practical way to hear something after the time it had been transmitted was to record the programme onto a cassette tape.

So Fiona got out their boom box (a portable Sony stereo player), loaded in a C120 tape, switched on the radio part of the machine, tuned it to Radio 4, pushed the record button when the play began, and fastidiously turned the tape over after 60 minutes.

But instead of pushing the button that would have taped the play, she had actually pushed the button that activated the built-in microphone, and the machine captured, not the radio drama, but the sound of 120 minutes of her and Dan’s home life, which consisted solely of: “Want a cup of tea?” “No thanks.” And a muffled fart while she was out of the room. That was all. That was it.

The two of them had, until that moment, thought their life together was perfectly happy, but the tape proved them conclusively wrong. No couple who spent their evenings in such torpidity could possibly be happy. Theirs was clearly a life of grinding tedium.

The evidence of the cassette tape threw Dan and Fiona into a terrible panic: the idea of spending any more of their evenings in such bored silence was intolerable. They feared they might have to split up. Except they didn’t want to.

But what could they do to make their lives more exciting? Should they begin conducting sordid affairs in sleazy nightclubs? Maybe they could take up arcane hobbies such as musketry, baking terrible cakes and entering them in competitions, or building models of Victorian prisons out of balsa wood? Might they become active in some kind of extremist politics?

All that sounded like a tremendous amount of effort. In the end they got themselves a cat and talked about that instead. 

This article first appeared in the 20 July 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The new world disorder