The path military rifles travel from the battlefield to civilian life has always been a complicated one—a one where politics, technology, and culture meet. Exhibit A: the Howa Armalite AR-180. Produced in the 1960s by Eugene Stoner and Arthur Miller, the AR-180 was created as a cheaper, more rugged alternative to the AR-15. Produced in Japan by Howa Machinery, the AR-180 was lightweight, rugged, and easy to produce because of its stamped steel receiver and short-stroke gas piston system. While initially intended for military use, it ended up in civilian hands too, just one of several military-style rifles to find their way there.
This is not a uniquely American story. From across the globe, countries have all been faced with the same questions about what happens when military-grade weapons find their way into civilian markets. What is different about the United States, though, is the number of guns that are in private ownership. While Americans make up less than 5 percent of the world’s population, they own nearly half of all civilian-owned guns globally.
Secured by the Second Amendment, the right to bear and keep arms is a controversial topic, especially in the aftermath of mass shootings, many of which have included rifles of a military type like the AR-180 or similar weapons available today. American firearms laws are a patchwork labyrinth.
While there are some federal statutes—such as the Gun Control Act of 1968 and the Brady Act, which included background checks and age limits—there is still no federal ban on semiautomatic rifles or high-capacity magazines up to 2022. Such measures receive their largest boosts after tragedies in Uvalde, Parkland, or Las Vegas, but have always stalled in Congress, even when public opinion seems to be in favor of action. The outcome is a policy climate in which military-type firearms are still readily available to civilians, supporting an ongoing discussion about where public safety starts and civilian rights end. Canada has followed a much different path.
While gun ownership is fairly high there compared to international norms, gun violence is considerably less than it is in the U.S. Canadian law puts firearms on three lists: non-restricted, restricted, or prohibited, and most semiauto rifles are on the restricted or prohibited lists. Reforms are likeliest to follow in the aftermath of tragedy. After the 1989 École Polytechnique shooting and again after the 2020 Nova Scotia massacre, Canada banned firearms, tightened controls, required training, and enacted buybacks. These reforms express a need to reform and prioritize safety, particularly when firearms with military features are used. Australia also offers an influential example of rapid reform.
After the Port Arthur massacre in 1996, 35 people were killed, and the government responded rapidly. The National Agreement on Firearms introduced strict licensing, banned automatic and semiautomatic rifles, and instituted a massive buyback program removing hundreds of thousands of firearms from circulation. The country saw a spectacular drop in gun deaths and zero mass shootings of similar magnitude in the following years, demonstrating the potency of forceful policy action in bringing about lasting change. And then there is Israel, where military service is de rigueur and guns are an everyday part of existence in a fundamentally different environment.
In this close association with guns, though, Israel maintains strict control over civilian gun ownership. One gun can be owned by a citizen, but they have to establish the necessity of owning it, undergo rigorous background checks and training, and renew their licenses periodically. Assault-style weapons are prohibited in the private sector outright. In Israel’s situation, it looks to equilibrium, considering security needs in the state, but preserving strict management so as not to present unnecessary danger. Both the United Kingdom and Norway, which have a low rate of gun violence prevalence, took strong positions in reaction to mass shootings.
The UK banned most handguns and several semi-automatic rifles after the Hungerford and Dunblane massacres. Norway, which was initially slower to act, did the same after the 2011 Utoya and Oslo attacks, subsequently banning semiautomatics as well. In such countries, police officers are rarely equipped with guns, and instead of relying on the involvement of the public, they follow a policing model that is based on it. And then there is Japan—a country often quoted as the paragon of strict gun control.
Firearm availability to civilians is extremely rare, and even when civilians do have access, it is only for very specific types, i.e., shotguns and air rifles. Would-be gun owners go through extensive background checks, psychological tests, training classes, and written and practical exams.
Japan’s low rate of gun-related violence isn’t coincidental but rather the result of firmly ingrained social norms and some of the tightest gun control laws on the globe, set against a backdrop of decades of demilitarization and trust in law enforcement. Looking at these varied approaches across the world, what is clear is that there is no one solution to balancing the history and technology of military guns and the safety and rights of citizens.
The AR-180’s journey—from a Cold War rifle made in Japan to an American civilian-owned gun—is only part of an enormously large international mosaic. Each country struggles with its own social circumstances, values, and history as it tries to answer the same fundamental question: how do we allow individual freedom and yet not allow futile violence? Stakes are high. These tragedies or policies born of caution touch real individuals. By grand overhaul or by small adjustment, the choices nations make in managing weapons—especially those with a military source—will always be all the more deep. And opinions can differ, but the lessons are there for those who will learn from them.