About a month ago, Florida's new "guns-at-work" law went into effect. The law allows employees with valid concealed weapons licenses to keep their guns in their cars while at work.
I would be comforted by this news, but the law makes an explicit exception for educational institutions. In fact, by both state law and university regulations, our campus is theoretically a "gun-free zone." Similar restrictions are in place at practically every major American university.
Such restrictions have sadly grown even more widespread in the wake of the Virginia Tech and Northern Illinois University massacres. These murderous rampages were perpetrated in the face of numerous laws and regulations barring firearms from both campuses. Despite the fact that both gunmen acted in complete disregard for the law, universities across the nation have decided that the appropriate response to these unspeakable tragedies is to strengthen their campus gun restrictions instead of allowing students the means for basic self-defense.
To me, these events point to a simple conclusion: Students and faculty with concealed weapons licenses and legal possession of a firearm should be allowed to carry their guns on campus. But opponents of such a policy argue that doing so would only add another layer of unpredictability to unstable situations or that campus police are already able to properly respond and sufficiently protect students.
Such arguments represent a chronic and potentially lethal nanny-state mentality. To obtain a concealed weapons license in Florida and most other states, one must undergo extensive safety training and a thorough background check. Anyone with demonstrated psychological instability or significant prior criminal activity, characteristics of most spree shooters in the past, is simply denied a license. Period.
Campus response strategies have undeniably improved since the Virginia Tech shootings, but there are still innumerable situations for which campus police are not and cannot possibly be prepared. There is only so much they can do if a gunman barricades himself in a classroom building, as at Virginia Tech, or enters a packed lecture hall, as at NIU.
Perhaps this reality would be better illustrated with an example. On January 16, 2002, a gunman roamed the halls of Appalachian School of Law, executing at point-blank range the dean of the law school, a professor and another student. He then entered the school's common area, still brandishing his weapon.
Upon hearing the gunfire, though, two off-duty police officers taking classes at the school ran to their vehicles to retrieve their guns. Returning to the scene, they were able to subdue the gunman, ending his spree long before campus police were able to respond to the scene.
But what if Appalachian School of Law had been a "gun-free" zone and the students had been forced to leave their guns at home? What if the gunman had brought a backpack full of ammunition or a more powerful weapon to the scene? What if he locked himself in a building full of students and faculty? It's these questions that haunt me when I hear arguments against concealed carry on campus.
Joshua Simmons is an economics senior and the executive director of the Florida Federation of College Republicans. His column appears on Tuesday.
