22 Britain The EconomistFebruary 29th 2020
2 for security measures, but not for a large,
ugly barrier in the centre of town: “I mean,
King’s is our most beautiful street. And that
view of King’s College is iconic. Why? Why
would they do that?” Many worry that
“temporary” protections have a habit of
turning into permanent measures. A peti-
tion calling for the barrier’s removal or re-
placement swept past 1,000 signatures,
prompting a debate at the local council.
Yet the choice between beauty and safe-
ty is not always so stark. At their best, barri-
ers may not be beautiful, but they are in-
visible. Local authorities can choose from
any obstacle that meets standards set by
the International Organisation for Stan-
dardisation. And many newer ones are de-
signed to be as surreptitious as possible.
Marshalls, a manufacturer, specialises in
less off-putting barricades, including the
Rhinoguard Giove Protective Planter,
which is, in effect, an enormous plant pot
able to withstand an unladen 7.5-tonne lor-
ry travelling at 50mph. The firm says rev-
enues from its unobtrusive obstacles have
risen by more than 50% since 2017.
It is easier to combine beauty with secu-
rity when designing from scratch. The
“hostile vehicle mitigation measures”
around the Welsh Assembly in Cardiff are,
for instance, mostly disguised as steps. All
of England’s police forces have at least one
“designing-out crime” officer to advise lo-
cal planners on how to integrate security
measures. Their job is harder when it
comes to adapting existing spaces, says
Paul Jeffrey of the Perimeter Security Sup-
pliers Association, a trade group. “Retrofit-
ting is an absolute nightmare,” he notes. It
is something many other places, besides
Cambridge, may be about to discover. 7N
aked fromthe waist up, save for a red
baseball cap, rapper Ard Adz (pictured)
wields an alarming looking assault rifle. In
a video uploaded to social media 14 months
ago, he makes his way around a rudimen-
tary obstacle course, firing at crude cut-
outs. Such were the joys of Full Metal Jacket
Ranges—a “premier outdoor shooting
range” in Waltham Abbey, Essex—until it
shut at the end of 2018, when Daniel Ham-
mond, the operation’s boss, was called in
front of Wood Green Crown Court, accused
of a range of firearm offences.
Britain has some of the tightest gun
laws in the world. Since the Dunblane mas-sacre in 1996, most types of firearm have
been illegal. Shotguns and small-bore ri-
fles are permitted with a certificate. But
one exemption remains. Section 11/4 of the
Firearms Act permits air weapons and min-
iature rifles (of the sort Mr Adz was using)
to persons “conducting or carrying on a
miniature rifle range”. Certification is not
needed. The exemption dates back to the
discovery during the Boer War that the Brit-
ish were lousy shots: ranges were supposed
to improve their aim.
The carve-out formed a key part of Mr
Hammond’s defence. He was tried on a
number of charges, including possessing a
firearm without a licence. This was non-
sensical, Mr Hammond argued, because as
a shooting-range manager he should be ex-
empt from the need for a licence. The jury
agreed, and on February 26th decided Mr
Hammond was not guilty of this charge. A
verdict was due on two remaining charges
as The Economistwent to press.
The decision may end up damaging
Britain’s gentlemanly shooting communi-
ty, which is headed by the National Small
Bore Rifle Association (nsra) and the
country’s very own National Rifle Associa-
tion (nra). Founded in the 19th century to
improve public marksmanship, these go-
verning bodies maintain close ties with the
military, run their own ranges and affiliate
with rifle clubs. They also police new
ranges, issuing certificates to those who
meet their specifications.
They did not think Mr Hammond’s out-
fit was up to scratch. Expert witnesses from
the two organisations argued the exemp-
tion ought not to apply to Mr Hammond as
the range he ran was “untidy” and failed to
meet safety requirements. “Earth moundsthat had been built weren’t high enough,
and bullets were leaving the range,” argued
the prosecution. “Bullets could potentially
go on to the motorway, a café, a hotel and
even a housing estate below.” But although
the practice has been for range-owners to
get certificates from these organisations,
the law does not require it.
The defence believed the real issue was
class. What went on was “no more and no
less than what people are doing up and
down the country,” argues Terence Boulter,
Mr Hammond’s barrister, “though they
might not be dressed like this, they might
be wearing tweeds.” Mr Hammond sees the
court case as an attempt to keep guns away
from the working-class and ethnic minor-
ities. Andrew Mercer, secretary general of
the nra, rejects that interpretation: “I’d
find it hard to believe that the Crown Prose-
cution Service would spend money from
the public purse on the basis of snobbery.”
Regardless of their motivation, the ver-
dict is a problem for the shooting bodies,
since it raises questions about the future of
the exemption on which they rely. “We’ve
never had any problem with this before,”
said an nrsa representative during the
case. “It could potentially be a bit of a mud-
dle, couldn’t it?” The Law Commission, a
quango, has argued for removing the ex-
emption, and the judge in Mr Hammond’s
case is expected to outline his view of inad-
equacies in the law as it stands. Mr Boulter
says the exemption was something people
didn’t want to talk about: “Why? Because it
allows you to do what you want.”
That may not be true for much longer.
Mr Hammond may have unwittingly pro-
voked Britain’s gun lobby to shoot them-
selves in the foot. 7A verdict raises questions about the
future of a gentlemanly pursuitShooting rangesThe legal
battlefield
Packing heat in the Essex badlands