Park Bench Politics: The Rise of Hostile Architecture in Public Spaces

The Iron Invitation

To understand the current hostility, one must look back to the Victorian era. The public park movement of the mid 1800s envisioned green spaces as the “lungs of the city,” open to all classes. The archetypal bench from this period was crafted from heavy cast iron and timber. It was long, deep, and inviting. These structures were designed for the promenade, a place to see and be seen. While class dynamics were certainly present, the physical architecture prioritized leisure. The bench was a destination in itself, encouraging the user to linger, converse, and rest.

The Pivot to Defense (2020–2026)

Fast forward to the 2020s, and the design philosophy has inverted. The focus is no longer on how to attract the public, but how to repel specific segments of it. The years following the global pandemic accelerated this trend, normalizing the removal of street furniture under the guise of public health or safety. Data from the 2020 to 2026 period highlights a disturbing correlation between rising homelessness and the erasure of public seating.

In 2021, Toronto officials removed seating from Union Station, citing the need for social distancing. Yet, as the pandemic waned, the benches did not simply return to their former state. Instead, cities globally began replacing comfortable seating with “lean bars” or segmented benches. The $1.6 billion Moynihan Train Hall in New York City, opened in 2021, was widely criticized for offering almost no free public seating in its main atrium. This design choice effectively criminalized the act of resting for anyone who had not purchased a ticket, turning a public transport hub into a privatized fortress.

The Economics of Exclusion

The rationale often cited by urban planners involves maintenance and order, but the financial reality suggests a deeper inefficiency. An investigation by the Guardian and Jacobin in 2024 revealed that cities spend approximately $31,000 per person annually on measures effectively criminalizing the unhoused, including sweeps and the installation of defensive architecture. In contrast, providing supportive housing costs roughly $10,000 per person. Despite this, municipal budgets from 2023 through 2025 show continued investment in “hostile” retrofits.

For instance, in 2024, Michigan City in Indiana removed all downtown benches to displace its unhoused population. This tactic creates a “phantom public space” where amenities exist in theory but are unusable in practice. The 2025 report “The State of Public Space” noted that municipalities were increasingly removing amenities entirely rather than maintaining them, a strategy of “design by subtraction.”

The Camden Effect

The modern standard is the “Camden Bench,” a sculpted block of concrete characterized by its angular, impermanent surface. It rejects the human body. One cannot sleep on it; one can barely sit on it for more than ten minutes. By 2026, this style of minimalist exclusion has permeated not just city centers but suburban transit stops. The message is clear: the public realm is for transit, not transaction; for movement, not moments.

This historical trajectory from the Victorian iron bench to the modern concrete slab represents a loss of civic trust. We have traded the messy, communal risk of the nineteenth century park for the sterile, controlled security of the twenty first century plaza.

The Camden Bench: Deconstructing the World’s Most Famous Anti-Object

At first glance, it appears to be a mistake of the kiln. The Camden Bench is a gray and amorphous slab of concrete, lacking the inviting curves of wood or the familiar slats of iron. It sits on the sidewalk like a dropped weight, heavy and impenetrable. Commissioned by the London Borough of Camden and created by Factory Furniture, this object has become the defining symbol of a design philosophy that shapes our cities through negation. It is not designed for what it offers but for what it forbids. In the years following its 2012 debut, and intensifying through the housing crises of 2020 to 2026, this piece of street furniture has evolved from a local curiosity into a global icon of exclusion.

The genius of the Camden Bench lies in its resistance to the human body. Its surface is undulating and uneven, ensuring that no flat plane exists for a person to lie down. The concrete is cold and sloped, shedding water and sleepers with equal efficiency. Skaters find no edges to grind; drug dealers find no crevices to stash inventory; bag thieves find no voids to exploit. It is an object refined to a point of pure defensiveness. By 2024, as homelessness in England surged, the silent logic of such furniture became louder than any council meeting. It physically enforces the boundaries that laws struggle to police.

The Economics of Exclusion

The proliferation of hostile designs often masks a deeper economic failure. While councils invest in furniture that repels the destitute, the cost of managing the fallout has skyrocketed. Data from 2023 and 2024 reveals a stark contrast between the solidity of the bench and the fragility of the social safety net. Local authorities in England spent a record £2.28 billion on temporary accommodation in the financial year ending 2024. This represents a near doubling of expenditure over five years. As the benches became more fortified, the population they were meant to displace grew larger and more desperate.

In cities like Glasgow and Edinburgh, the strain is visible in the budget sheets. Figures released in 2025 showed that councils there spent over £100 million on hostels and bed and breakfast accommodations for the unhoused in a single year. The Camden Bench does not solve this problem; it merely moves it down the street. It functions as a concrete austerity measure, a capital investment intended to reduce the operational expense of policing and cleaning, yet it exists within a system hemorrhaging billions to manage the very people it pushes away.

Legislation in Concrete

The philosophy of the bench found its legislative echo in 2024. As the UK government moved to repeal the archaic Vagrancy Act, it simultaneously introduced new measures to criminalize “nuisance” rough sleeping. The definitions of nuisance included excessive smell or noise, carrying potential fines of up to £2,500. The Camden Bench is the physical manifestation of this legal shift. It does not judge the intent of the user; it simply makes their presence impossible. It creates a zone where only the active consumer is welcome. If you are not moving or spending, the bench ensures you cannot stay.

Critics argue that this represents a profound shift in the nature of public space. The bench transforms the sidewalk from a shared commons into a transient corridor. By 2026, the influence of this design had spread far beyond London. Variations of the “defensive” seat appear in transit hubs across Europe and North America. They are narrower, harder, and colder. They are objects that demand we keep moving.

To sit on a Camden Bench is to participate in a subtle act of hostility. The ridges press into the thighs, a constant reminder that comfort is conditional. It is a masterpiece of technical design and a failure of human empathy. It proves that we can engineer the perfect object to keep a city clean, provided we do not care where the people go.

Measures Against the Unhoused: Spikes, Dividers, and the War on Sleeping

The transformation of public space often occurs in silence. It happens when a wooden bench is replaced by a slanted metal perch or when a dry alcove is suddenly filled with jagged rocks. Between 2020 and 2026, urban centers worldwide accelerated the installation of physical barriers designed to deter the unhoused from resting. This strategy, known as defensive design, prioritizes the aesthetic of order over human necessity. The result is a landscape where loitering is physically impossible and sleep is treated as a combatant to be vanquished.

The most ubiquitous weapon in this arsenal is the segmented bench. City planners often market the addition of central armrests as a benefit for the elderly or disabled, providing leverage for standing up. However, an investigative review of procurement documents from major metropolitan areas reveals a primary motivation: preventing a human body from reclining. In 2021, the Metropolitan Transportation Authority in New York removed benches from subway stations entirely during the height of the coronavirus pandemic. When seating returned, much of it had been altered or reduced to “leaning bars” which offer no relief for weary legs.

Data from the National Law Center on Homelessness and Poverty indicates a sharp rise in laws prohibiting sitting or lying down in public. Yet, physical enforcement is cheaper than police enforcement. A singular investment in concrete studs eliminates the need for endless patrols. In London, the use of “defensive planting” surged between 2022 and 2024. Councils installed large, immovable planters in doorways previously used for shelter. These installations use botany as a barricade, masking exclusion with foliage.

The Economics of Exclusion

The financial cost of these measures is substantial. In 2023, San Francisco spent heavily on placing boulders on sidewalks to block encampments. The Department of Public Works allotted significant budget percentages to these “hardscape” improvements. Critics argue this funding addresses the symptom rather than the root cause. The price of a single customized defensive bench often exceeds the monthly cost of a supportive housing unit. By 2025, several municipal audits in California showed that cities spent millions on hostile retrofitting while affordable housing quotas remained unmet.

The cruelty of this architecture lies in its indiscriminate nature. A bench with a convex surface rejects the tired nurse, the elderly pedestrian, and the pregnant woman just as effectively as it rejects the person seeking shelter. It creates a “ghost amenity” that looks functional from a distance but proves useless upon approach.

Escalation Following Legal Rulings

The legal landscape shifted dramatically in the summer of 2024. Following the Supreme Court ruling in City of Grants Pass v. Johnson, municipalities felt emboldened to enforce camping bans. While the ruling focused on criminal penalties, it signaled a green light for physical deterrence. Urban design firms reported an uptick in requests for “anti-loitering” street furniture in late 2024 and throughout 2025. The specifications often demand materials that are uncomfortable to the touch, such as steel that retains freezing temperatures or metal ridges that dig into flesh.

Toronto and Seattle have also seen the rise of “sprinkler intervention.” This involves automated water systems programmed to drench sheltered areas at random intervals during the night. While officials claim these are for cleaning purposes, the timing suggests a different intent. It creates a hostile environment through thermal shock, making dry sleep impossible.

As we move through 2026, the war on sleeping has evolved from simple spikes to complex psychological and physical deterrence. The public square is no longer a place to pause. It has become a transit zone designed to keep bodies in perpetual motion, ensuring that no one, regardless of status, can ever truly rest.

Sonic Warfare: The ‘Mosquito’ Device and Loitering Deterrents for Youth

Ghost Amenities: The Systematic Removal of Public Toilets and Water Fountains

The park bench may be the most visible symbol of hostile architecture, but the most insidious exclusion tactic is often invisible. It is the absence of the essential. It is the locked door, the dry spout, and the concrete pad where a convenience once stood. We call these Ghost Amenities. These are public services that exist in memory or on outdated maps but have vanished from the physical city. Between 2020 and 2026, a quiet erasure of public restrooms and water fountains has taken place across major urban centers, effectively purging public spaces of those who rely on them most: the elderly, the unhoused, and the disabled.

This phenomenon is not merely a symptom of neglect. It is a passive aggressive form of policing. By removing the means to satisfy basic biological needs, cities create environments that are impossible to inhabit for more than a few hours. The message is clear: Move along. You are not welcome here.

The Urinary Leash

The decline in public lavatories creates what sociologists call a “urinary leash,” tethering people to their homes. Real data from the United Kingdom illustrates this crisis with alarming clarity. A report released in January 2025 by Age UK London revealed that nearly 100 public toilets in the capital had permanently closed over the preceding decade. The consequences are severe. The same report found that over half of older Londoners deliberately dehydrate themselves before leaving home to avoid the need for a restroom.

In the United States, the situation mirrors this decline. In Washington D.C., a budget crisis in July 2025 led to the abrupt shutdown of six “Throne” public restrooms. These facilities were critical for downtown workers and the unhoused population. While they were later reinstated after public outcry, their temporary removal exposed the fragility of basic infrastructure. Similarly, in May 2025, San Diego officials proposed closing dozens of bathrooms at beaches and parks to bridge a 258 million dollar budget deficit. The justification is always fiscal, but the impact is always social.

The Mirage of Maintenance

Investigative analysis of city records shows a recurring pattern: closures are often disguised as “maintenance” or “renovation” projects that never end. In London, the Tower Hill facilities were boarded up for works scheduled to last until March 2026, leaving a massive gap in service for tourists and locals alike.

New York City provides a stark example of this bureaucratic hostility. A December 2025 investigation by the City Council found that even when restrooms were technically “open,” they were often unusable. The report noted that nearly 9 percent of facilities were locked during posted operating hours. Furthermore, a 2024 study titled “Nature’s Call” discovered that two thirds of inspected park restrooms were either closed or plagued by severe health and safety issues. The city launched the “Ur In Luck” program in 2024 to build new facilities, but the pace of construction pales in comparison to the rate of decay and closure.

Thirst as a weapon

The removal of water fountains operates on the same exclusionary logic. During the onset of the pandemic in 2020, cities across the globe turned off or covered public spigots. Years later, many remain dry or have been removed entirely. While some wealthy districts have seen the installation of high tech bottle filling stations, these are often located in access controlled areas or gentrified zones, leaving traditional public parks parched.

“The dwindling number of public toilets is a health and mobility inequality that we cannot afford to ignore.” — Report on Public Conveniences, 2025.

The systematic removal of these amenities transforms public space into a product to be consumed rather than a common good to be shared. If you must buy a coffee to use a restroom or purchase bottled water to quench your thirst, the public square becomes a private marketplace. For the unhoused, this is not just an inconvenience; it is a denial of human dignity. For the elderly and disabled, it is a sentence of confinement. The ghost amenity is the ultimate tool of hostile architecture because it leaves no physical trace to protest against. There are no spikes to photograph, only a locked door and a thirst that cannot be quenched without payment.

Collateral Damage: The Impact of Exclusionary Design on the Elderly and Disabled

The urban landscape is undergoing a quiet transformation. While city planners often cite public safety or loitering prevention as the primary drivers for new furniture designs, a significant demographic is paying the price. The widespread adoption of defensive urban design, intended to deter the unhoused population, has created a hostile environment for the elderly and those with disabilities. This investigative look reveals how the removal of comfort from public spaces has effectively barred vulnerable citizens from participating in community life.

Park Bench Politics

The Vanishing Bench

The most visible casualty in this war on public resting is the humble park bench. For an elderly pedestrian, a bench is not merely a convenience; it is a necessary infrastructure that allows for mobility. Without frequent places to rest, the radius of independence for a senior citizen shrinks dramatically. Data from the period 2020 to 2025 highlights this disturbing trend.

A 2025 survey conducted by the Clothing Collective revealed that 60 percent of respondents noticed a sharp increase in defensive architecture that made sitting or lying down impossible. Furthermore, 35 percent reported being unable to find a place to rest due to these measures. This removal of seating operates under the guise of maintaining order, yet it strips the city of its function as a shared space for all ages.

The Rise of the Leaning Bar

Where benches have not been removed entirely, they have often been replaced by “leaning bars” or “perch” seats. These angled, narrow ledges allow a person to prop themselves up but do not allow for full relaxation or relief of weight from the legs. For a young commuter, this may be a minor annoyance. For an elderly person with arthritis or a disabled individual with limited balance, these structures are useless.

Research published in 2021 regarding older adults and public seating found that nearly 60 percent of seniors experienced difficulties with modern public seating options. The primary complaint was seat height and the lack of armrests, which are crucial for leverage when standing up. The leaning bar, often set at a height of 86 to 91 centimeters, ignores these biomechanical needs entirely. It forces a posture that many seniors cannot maintain, effectively telling them to keep moving or stay home.

Case Study: The Camden Bench

London provides a stark example of this exclusionary philosophy with the Camden Bench. Formed from solid concrete with angular, sloping surfaces, it is designed specifically to prevent sleeping. However, its rigid geometry also prevents comfortable sitting for any duration. It lacks back support, which is vital for many people with chronic back pain or fatigue issues. Its design prioritizes the deterrence of the unhoused over the comfort of the taxpaying public, creating a space that is theoretically open to all but practically usable by few.

Reports from 2023 indicate that such designs are frequently incompatible with wheelchairs. The lack of adjacent flat space or the awkward height of the structures means that wheelchair users cannot sit alongside companions or transfer to the seat if desired. The “hostile” nature of the object extends beyond its intended target, creating a ripple effect of exclusion.

The Economic and Social Cost

The implications of this design shift extend beyond physical discomfort. They touch upon economic and social exclusion. Data from the Office for National Statistics in 2024 showed that the rising cost of living disproportionately affected disabled adults and those on fixed incomes. For these groups, free public spaces are essential for socialization and mental health. When parks and squares become inhospitable, these individuals are forced into isolation.

The commercialization of resting spots further exacerbates this divide. As free, comfortable seating vanishes, the only alternative is often a private café where one must pay to sit. This effectively puts a price tag on resting, barring those with limited financial means from the public sphere. The privatization of comfort turns the city into a collection of transactional spaces rather than a community hub.

The trend of hostile design represents a failure of inclusive planning. By focusing intently on deterring specific behaviors, architects and officials have made cities unlivable for those with the greatest need for support. The elderly person needing a pause on their walk to the grocery store and the disabled individual requiring a stable seat are collateral damage in a misguided attempt to sanitize the streets. True public safety must include the welfare of all citizens, not just the efficient movement of the young and able.

Transit Architecture: Why Bus Stops and Subway Stations Are Designed to Be Uncomfortable

The transformation of the West 4th Street subway station in New York City marks a turning point in the philosophy of public transit design. In May 2023, the Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA) removed sturdy wooden benches from the platforms of this bustling hub. In their place appeared sleek, black metal structures known as “leaning bars.” These vertical slabs offer no seat, no back support, and no rest for the weary. They are designed strictly for propping oneself up for a few fleeting moments. This shift is not merely an aesthetic choice; it is a calculated engineered discomfort that prioritizes passenger flow and security over human wellbeing.

The Economic Logic of Exclusion

The primary driver behind this shift is often financial, shielded by the language of efficiency. Data from the MTA pilot program reveals a stark contrast in costs. A traditional wooden bench costs the agency approximately $4,000 to install and maintain. The new metal leaning bar costs merely $450. For transit authorities facing budget deficits, the leaning bar represents a savings of nearly 90 percent per unit. However, this austerity measure transfers the cost to the rider. The physical toll of standing for twenty minutes during a delay falls on the pregnant commuter, the elderly tourist, or the exhausted line cook returning from a shift.

Transit officials argue that these designs improve “circulation” on crowded platforms. By removing seated passengers, they claim to create more floor space for those entering and exiting trains. Yet, investigative reports from 2024 suggest that the true objective is often to deter the unhoused from sleeping in stations. The leaning bar makes lying down physically impossible. It is a passive aggressive enforcement tool, built of steel and bolted to the concrete, designed to perform the work of police officers without the monthly salary.

The Illusion of Equity: The Case of La Sombrita

In Los Angeles, the drive for new transit architecture produced a different kind of failure. In May 2023, the Los Angeles Department of Transportation unveiled “La Sombrita,” a prototype intended to bring shade and lighting to bus stops in underserved communities. The design featured a perforated metal panel, barely two feet wide, attached to existing poles. Officials touted it as a solution for gender equity, aiming to make women feel safer waiting for buses at night.

The public reaction was swift and scathing. In a city where temperatures regularly breach 90 degrees, a strip of metal providing less shade than a standard umbrella was viewed as insulting. It highlighted the gap between bureaucratic solutions and the reality of the rider experience. While the city promised 3,000 new shelters through its STAP program by 2025, the La Sombrita debacle exposed a tendency to offer performative minimalist designs rather than investing in robust, comfortable infrastructure that protects riders from the elements.

A Systemic Squeeze on the Vulnerable

The trend extends beyond New York and Los Angeles. In Philadelphia, the Southeastern Pennsylvania Transportation Authority (SEPTA) faced a “doomsday” budget scenario in 2025, threatening service cuts of up to 45 percent. As wait times increase due to fewer trains, the lack of seating becomes punitive. When a ten minute wait turns into thirty minutes, the absence of a bench transforms from a nuisance into a health risk for riders with mobility issues.

Disability rights groups like the Riders Alliance have pushed back, noting that “leaning” is not an option for everyone. A metal bar requires core strength and balance that many seniors and disabled riders do not possess. By designing stations for the “average” able bodied commuter, agencies effectively banish those who cannot stand for prolonged periods from the public sphere.

The Future of waiting

The data from 2020 through 2026 paints a clear picture. Transit architecture is becoming harder, steeper, and less welcoming. The removal of benches is not an accident; it is a feature. Whether through the installation of slanted “perch” seats in London or leaning bars in Manhattan, the message to the public is consistent: Move along. You are welcome to pay your fare and board the train, but you are not welcome to stay. Public space is being redesigned to eliminate the public aspect of lingering, turning transit hubs into conveyor belts for human capital where rest is considered a design flaw.

The Economics of Exclusion: Property Values, Gentrification, and Business Improvement Districts (BIDs)

The architecture of exclusion is often defended as a necessity for public safety, yet a closer examination of the financial ledger reveals a more calculated motivation. The driving force behind the installation of segmented benches and the removal of public restrooms is rarely mere aesthetics. It is profit. In the years spanning 2020 to 2026, the correlation between hostile design and rising property values has become undeniably explicit. City planners and private stakeholders have monetized the removal of the visible poor, transforming public spaces into sanitized assets optimized for high yield real estate portfolios.

At the heart of this transformation lies the Business Improvement District, or BID. These organizations are defined by geographic boundaries where local businesses pay an additional levy to fund services that the city purportedly cannot provide. While these entities frequently cite sanitation and security as their primary goals, their spending patterns suggest a different objective. Data from 2024 indicates that BIDs in major metropolitan areas allocate significant portions of their budgets to private security teams and streetscape alterations designed to discourage lingering. A report from the National Coalition for the Homeless in 2023 estimated that the national cost of such exclusionary architecture reaches into the hundreds of millions of dollars. These funds are used to install leaning bars instead of seating and to deploy private guards, often called ambassadors, who enforce loitering bans that public police cannot legally justify.

The economic logic employed by these districts is stark. The presence of unhoused individuals is viewed as a depreciation factor for commercial assets. Research from the London School of Economics in 2024 found that within the boundaries of London BIDs, residential property prices rose by at least 3 percent following the implementation of district improvements. Similar trends were observed in the United States. In Hudson, Massachusetts, a 2024 economic impact assessment revealed that property values within the local BID had surged by 40 percent since 2016. While residential growth drove much of this increase, commercial property values also saw a distinct 12 percent rise, outperforming neighboring areas without such exclusionary controls.

This manufactured scarcity of public space accelerates gentrification. By making streets inhospitable to those without money to spend, BIDs effectively privatize the commons, catering exclusively to the consumer class. The result is a cycle where exclusionary design raises property values, which in turn increases rent, displacing more residents and creating more homelessness, which then prompts further investment in hostile architecture. It is a self feeding loop of displacement and profit.

However, this strategy is fiscally irrational for the taxpayer. A comprehensive analysis referenced by The Guardian in 2024 highlighted a jarring disparity in costs. The collective expense of sweeps, incarceration, enforcement, and hostile design measures was estimated at approximately 31,000 dollars per person annually. In contrast, the annual cost of providing supportive housing was calculated at roughly 10,051 dollars. Cities are effectively paying a premium of nearly 200 percent to hide homelessness rather than solve it. The cruelty is not just a moral failure; it is an egregious waste of public funds.

The sector has also seen the entry of defense technology firms, further monetizing the control of public space. Anduril Industries, a defense contractor specializing in surveillance systems, reported revenue growth reaching 1 billion dollars in 2024. Their expansion into border and municipal surveillance technologies signals a new era where the hostile bench is replaced by the hostile camera. These systems provide the data that BIDs use to justify further security spending, creating a lucrative market for the tools of exclusion.

As we move through 2025 and 2026, the economics of exclusion have solidified into a standard business model for urban development. The uncomfortable bench is no longer just a piece of street furniture; it is a financial instrument, a tool used to strip the humanity from a neighborhood in exchange for a higher price per square foot.

Legal Landscapes: Constitutional Challenges, the Right to Rest, and Vagrancy Laws

The battle for public space has migrated from the realm of concrete spikes to the abstract, yet equally sharp, domain of jurisprudence. While physical hostile architecture remains a visible scar on the urban fabric, the period between 2020 and 2026 witnessed a profound shift toward invisible fortifications. These legal barriers, codified in city ordinances and affirmed by the highest courts, function just as armrests or bollards do: they dictate who may exist in the public sphere and for how long. The investigative lens must now focus on this bureaucratic architecture, where the penalty for rest is not merely discomfort, but criminalization.

The Grants Pass Pivot

The watershed moment arrived in June 2024. In the case of City of Grants Pass v. Johnson, the United States Supreme Court delivered a ruling that fundamentally altered the constitutional interpretation of homelessness. For years, the Ninth Circuit precedent set by Martin v. Boise held that cities could not punish people for sleeping outdoors if no shelter beds were available. The 2024 decision overturned this protection. By a vote of six to three, the Court declared that ordinances banning camping on public property do not constitute “cruel and unusual punishment” under the Eighth Amendment.

Justice Neil Gorsuch, writing for the majority, argued that such laws regulate conduct rather than status. This distinction allowed municipalities across the West Coast to enforce camping bans regardless of shelter capacity. The immediate aftermath saw a rapid acceleration of enforcement. San Francisco and Los Angeles launched aggressive campaigns to clear encampments by August 2024, emboldened by the removal of federal judicial oversight. The legal spikes were now fully deployed.

State Legislation as a Weapon

While the Supreme Court cleared the path, state legislatures paved it with punitive statutes. Florida provided the most striking example with House Bill 1365. Signed into law in 2024 and effective starting October 1 of that year, this legislation did more than simply ban public camping. It introduced a mechanism for citizen enforcement. The law allows residents and business owners to file lawsuits against their own local governments if those officials fail to remove public campers.

This “legal vigilante” clause forces cities to prioritize removal over assistance, lest they face financial ruin through litigation. In Missouri, a similar attempt in 2022 sought to make sleeping on state land a misdemeanor offense. Although the Missouri Supreme Court struck down the law in late 2023 on technical grounds regarding its legislative structure, the political intent remained clear. These laws transform the park bench from a shared amenity into a potential crime scene.

The Failure of the Right to Rest

In opposition to these restrictive measures, advocacy groups launched the “Right to Rest” movement. Modeled after the “Homeless Bill of Rights,” these proposed acts sought to enshrine the basic necessity of sleep as a protected activity. However, the legislative record from 2020 to 2025 shows a consistent pattern of failure for these initiatives. In California, Colorado, and Oregon, bills attempting to decriminalize rest died repeatedly in committee.

The resistance was uniform. Business improvement districts and municipal leagues argued that such rights would surrender public parks to permanent occupation. The defeat of the California Right to Rest Act in 2023 marked a definitive end to the legislative optimism of the early decade. Without statutory protection, the unhoused population found themselves stripped of the legal right to exist in any stationary capacity within city limits.

A Global Echo

The trend was not isolated to the United States. In the United Kingdom, the government introduced the Criminal Justice Bill in 2024, seeking to replace the archaic Vagrancy Act of 1824. While the original act was viewed as obsolete, the new proposals contained provisions that alarmed human rights observers. The bill included powers to direct people away from public spaces if they caused a “nuisance,” a term vague enough to encompass the mere presence of rough sleepers. The legal architecture of exclusion proved to be a transatlantic phenomenon.

“The law, in its majestic equality, forbids the rich as well as the poor to sleep under bridges.” — Anatole France (Contextualized for the modern era, where the law now forbids the poor from sleeping anywhere at all.)

By 2026, the transformation was complete. The hostile bench with the center bar had been superseded by the hostile ordinance. Cities no longer needed to invest in expensive, defensive street furniture when a simple police citation could achieve the same exclusionary result. The legal landscape had become the ultimate hostile design, invisible to the eye but impassable to the destitute.

The Legacy of the Mattress: From Comfort to Protest

The image of a mattress draped over concrete spikes remains the defining visual of this movement. While the iconic “Space, Not Spikes” campaign originated earlier, the tactic saw a resurgence and evolution during the post pandemic housing crisis. In 2021 and 2022, local collectives in London and Manchester revisited this method, not just to neutralize the metal studs but to transform cold stone into temporary sanctuaries. These interventions were not merely functional; they were performative accusations.

However, by 2024, the resistance had shifted focus. The “guerrilla mattress” morphed from a literal bedding installation into a broader philosophy of “softening” the city. Activists realized that covering spikes was a temporary fix; the real battle was over the narrative of who belongs in public space. This led to the “Stop Homelessness Spiking” campaign in July 2024, a collaboration between artist Stuart Semple and the creative agency TBWA\MCR. Instead of mattresses, they used the spikes themselves as a canvas. They installed bespoke posters depicting sleeping figures directly over the metal studs. The spikes pierced the images, creating a visceral representation of the pain inflicted by these designs. This campaign did not just cover the hostility; it amplified visibility, forcing pedestrians to confront the cruelty beneath their feet.

The Bench Insurgency: 2023 to 2025

While spikes draw the most visual outrage, the quiet removal of seating has been far more pervasive. “Ghost amenities”—where benches are removed or replaced with “leaning bars”—became a dominant trend in cities from Toronto to San Francisco. In response, a wave of “bench insurgencies” emerged, using tactical urbanism to build what the city refused to provide.

In 2023, the Chattanooga Urbanist Society began fabricating and installing wooden benches at bus stops where the city had provided none. Their work highlighted a glaring gap in infrastructure: less than 5% of the city’s 1,200 bus stops had seating. By 2024, this tactic spread to the West Coast. In Berkeley, activist Mingwei Samuel installed DIY benches at stops where elderly residents were forced to sit on curbs. The city of Berkeley, shamed by the public attention, eventually replaced some of these guerrilla installations with official metal benches, proving that tactical urbanism can force bureaucratic action.

The movement reached a peak in 2025 with the “San Francisco Bench Collective.” This decentralized group installed eight wooden benches along Mission Street in June 2025. The data from this period is telling: while the city had removed over 70 benches in previous years to deter loitering, these activists proved that the demand for public seating was universal. Although some neighbors removed the installations within hours, the persistent replacement of these structures signaled a refusal to accept the “hostile” status quo.

Deconstructing Defense

Beyond installation, the period between 2020 and 2026 saw the physical deconstruction of hostile elements. In 2022, a viral movement of “guerrilla repair” documented activists in Europe using angle grinders to remove the central divider bars from park benches, instantly converting them from individual seats back into daybeds for the weary. This direct modification of street furniture carries high legal risks but sends an undeniable message: public property should serve the public good, not police public behavior.

The fight against hostile architecture is no longer just about comfort; it is a contest over the soul of the city. Whether through the installation of a wooden bench in Berkeley or a poster campaign in London, these acts of resistance expose the fallacy of “defensive” design. They reveal that the only thing these structures truly defend is an exclusionary idea of who is worthy of rest.