Memes and Martyrs: How the online world of 3D-printed weapons has cemented itself in the terrorist milieu and the questions this raises

Since their invention in 1986, 3D-printers have gone from an inaccessible fringe technology to attainable consumer products. This was accelerated in 2009 when the patent for Hull’s original SLA-1 3D-printer expired, allowing for companies to begin producing mass-market models. The arrival of 3D-printed technology came in a big, and generally positive, way. It found its way into diverse sectors such as medicine, food, sports, and even housing to name but a few. Yet, as the technology has become more and more commonplace, controversial implementations in the form of 3D-printed firearms have begun to dominate the discourse surrounding it.

Originating with simple designs for 3D-printed replacement weapon parts and accessories, 3D-printed firearms have advanced dramatically over the last decade to the point where near-complete firearms can be printed at home. The most notorious of these are the FGC (“Fuck Gun Control”) weapons, designed by the late pseudonymous JStark specifically for European markets to counter stringent firearm regulations. These weapons, the FGC-9 and FGC-22, are designed to be made primarily out of 3D-printed parts, with only a small number of required components utilising easily self-manufactured metal parts, and readily available springs, screws, nuts, and bolts. Assuming one already owns a 3D-printer, they take only a few weeks to make and, according to some estimates, can be produced, untracebly, for as little as £160. 

Due to this, 3D-printed weapons have become widespread in terrorist and paramilitary groups, as well as on an individual level worldwide. Not all 3D-printed firearm owners have violent intent; in certain US states where 3D-printed weapons are legal, they have inspired hobbyist groups. However, these individuals are in the minority and the implications of these weapons becoming widespread is concerning. Already, historically violent groups have begun to adopt 3D-printed firearms. Recently, the Irish republican paramilitary group Óglaigh na hÉireann (ÓNH), published a video brandishing 3D-printed weapons in what has been described as a “show of strength.” Equally, lone extremists have also turned to 3D-printed weapons. Stephan Balliet, a German white nationalist who in 2019 killed two people in Halle, Germany with improvised homemade weapons incorporating 3D-printed parts, was active in the online community that surrounds 3D-printed guns and published his own designs and manifesto aiming to prove the “viability” of such weapons.

The centrality of the online space to the growth of these weapons is a recurring theme. Beyond the online posturing of these weapons by groups such as ÓNH, one of the most well-known groups currently using 3D-printed weapons in combat is the Karen Liberation Army (KLA), a paramilitary group currently fighting the military junta in Myanmar. They have  publicised their use of the aforementioned FGC-9s as well as homemade drone strikes and mortars as a way of bringing attention to their cause. Fueled by the novelty of 3D-printed weapons, the KLA has achieved somewhat of a cult status through combattant-owned pages such as ‘theboysinmyanmar’, grassroots media groups such as Popular Front, and campaigns such as #whatshappeninginmyanmar. Although the KLA may be justified in their use of 3D-printed weapons against an oppressive regime, the online glorification of these groups and their firearms by radical elements, as well as the difficulty in restricting online, open-source information on how to produce these weapons, has dangerous potential. 

Open-source materials, meaning freely accessible public materials, have been central to 3D-printing since its boom in 2009. The earliest affordable desktop 3D-printer, Makerbot, was entirely buildable with parts that could be downloaded online for free. This has carried over into the world of 3D-printed guns as designs are often made available online, free of charge. This means anyone can produce them, even in areas where conventional firearms are highly restricted. As a consequence of this, 3D-printed weapons have become a beacon for online firearm activists who believe in the unconditional right to bear arms and thereby not only make designs for weapons available but actively promote their construction as well as adherence to the cause of anti-gun-control.

This opens up some interesting moral questions regarding terrorism and arms production. As is becoming evident, 3D-printed weapons are dangerous in the hands of terrorists and extremists and are likely to become even more so as the technology progresses further. However, we must ask ourselves, at what point do those who enable terrorist activities become terrorists themselves? In 2020, the aforementioned JStark was interviewed by Popular Front for a documentary about 3D-printed weapons in Europe. This interview took place around a year before JStark’s death from a heart attack following a police raid on his apartment in which nothing incriminating was found, a series of events treated with suspicion by many semi-conspiratorial anti-gun control groups online. Although the interviewer approached from a generally pro-gun control stance, the interview, which currently has over 2.9 million views, was key in memorialising JStark to the status of a martyr within certain groups. Yet, some have characterised him as a terrorist. Whilst the debate around at what point someone should be considered a terrorist has been going on for some time, there is something very particular about JStark’s case that demonstrates the apparent moral grey area surrounding 3D-printed weapons and terrorism.

In his interview, he stated his belief that “the advancement of technology has no politics.” From his perspective, he held no responsibility for any crimes committed with weapons he designed, published, and promoted as he had never advocated for their use in any sense other than in the pursuit of protecting one’s own liberty. Such a standpoint raises a key question surrounding the double standard in arms production. JStark’s argument is that he is merely advancing technology, this implies a separation between his actions and their consequences, that he is merely a creator, motivated solely by freedom. This draws a parallel with other, more traditional forms of arms production. Can one implicate those who create and drive military technology as terrorists, even when it’s in a more formal, traditional capacity? More importantly, should we aim to implicate arms producers whose weapons are used in this capacity in order to spread responsibility and maintain the standard across all forms of arms production? For example, in the legal proceedings following the 2018 Tree of Life shooting, victims have sought to implicate Colt, who produced and promoted the weapon used in the shooting, as having some responsibility for the attack. This seems unlikely to go ahead, but following the logic used regarding 3D printed weapons, perhaps it should. 

The analogy, however, falls short when one considers the extent to which JStark, and more broadly the online community surrounding 3D-printed firearms, promoted the acquisition of such weapons. By pushing for people to use his designs and create, often illegal, weapons of their own for the political motive of fighting arms control, there are parallels that appear with traditional conceptions of terrorism in that JStark promoted violent tools for a political goal. So, whilst 3D-printed weapons aren’t exclusive to only one group or branch of terrorism, it could be argued that the groups involved in their promotion are themselves terrorist groups, and the act of promotion and design implicates them as being passively guilty of aiding terrorist activities whilst also actively guilty as the diffusion of arms, as both a means and an end, spreads terror for a political goal. Yet, here a double standard emerges, conventional firearms companies promoting their weapons, admittedly when legal, to private individuals who have the same, if not greater, capability as those with 3D-printed weapons to commit terrorist activities with them. Whilst the political rhetoric is not so explicit from the arms companies regarding the protection of arms-bearing rights, should this change the implication of promotion so drastically as to abstain traditional manufacturers from blame?

Which leads us to the final question of whether one can equate the open source nature of 3D printed weapon designs to actual supply in the way we would for the physical supply of traditional arms. Of course, it is not entirely equal. The action and agency of people choosing to print their own weapon is more sinister than simply buying a weapon, requiring much greater deliberation and forethought as well as a conscious desire for the untraceability of 3D weapons. Equally, it’s accessibility raises questions surrounding firearms regulation and the motivation of users to circumvent such regulation. However, on a practical basis, if one was to consider the diffusion of 3D-printed weapon designs as equal to the supply of weapons, this would have some major implications for their enforcement. Whilst it would certainly not entirely abate the distribution of designs, it would allow a more stringent framework for restricting and also convicting those who share such designs freely. Whilst there are difficult considerations due to the trans-national nature of the online space, it would certainly be a strong starting point for the restriction of what are currently near-unrestricted blueprints and could deter those who are innocently tempted or curious from entering the online world of 3D-printed firearms. Furthermore, it would work both ways, allowing for greater shared responsibility in the world of conventional arms, following in the footsteps of the Tree of Life case.

These questions have enormous implications in the fight against terrorism. As more and more of our world moves into the online space, it is vital that we do everything we can to ensure that space is used for good. Therefore, whilst 3D printing has broadly been a positive technology, even 3D-printed firearms are being used for some subjective good, in the case of Myanmar for example, they enable the general public with no vetting to manufacture a firearm. The question of their usage has moved beyond the hypothetical following terrorist attacks that implement these weapons, notably the Halle 2019 attack. We must act accordingly, no longer is this debate centered around the freedom of information but rather about their potential to enable violent actors. Technology will inevitably march on, but we must ensure that in doing so it serves us, rather than destroys us.