The bench in the park is an endangered species

New York – As a child growing up in a gray suburb of London, I loved the adventure of searching for the perfect bench in the park, wrote writer Jonathan Lee for The New York Times Magazine. In our local park, there were only five, and one was broken. Occasionally, my dad would be convinced to take us to another park on a Sunday morning. We would kick a ball around, share a bag of Doritos, inspect all the benches nearby, and read the inscriptions, dedications, and graffiti on them.

Benches in the park are an excellent medium for conveying valuable information – and this applies not only to CIA movie agents. It can be a gold plaque dedicated to a deceased relative or perhaps an admirably concise, poetic declaration that reads, "From Andy to Sharon."

Perhaps therein lies the greatest power of a park bench: in its ability to preserve and inspire the art of noticing and observing. A good bench catches us in our quietest, most vulnerable moments, when new stories might be born in our minds or old ones replayed. On the bench, we take off our masks and hang them on the wrought-iron backrest while a mother lets her infant burp on the adjacent bench.

However, I have recently found myself on many cramped metal benches that do not invite longer sitting or on rough concrete slabs that are cold both literally and metaphorically. The reason is that public seating spaces are becoming an endangered species. If park benches aren't disappearing entirely, at least there's a backup plan – to make one's stay on them uncomfortable.

This "hostile architecture" – an urban strategy aimed at preventing "antisocial" behavior – is spreading around the world. In 2014, The Guardian reported that in Jentai Park in China's Shandong province, they introduced paid benches with timers. If someone exceeded their paid time, small spikes emerged from the bench, beginning to poke them in the back.

A few years ago, students at the London School of Economics protested against modifications to benches that involved attaching armrests spaced roughly the width of one person. These armrests were not intended to make sitting easier but rather to prevent lying down – and the students labeled their installation "heartless."

Another trend besides added armrests is the removal of backrests. Hostile architecture seemingly envisions a model citizen, hooked on expensive caffeine, sitting upright as if they have swallowed a ruler, poised, never needing anyone or anything to lean on; ever-ready to get up, go earn, and spend.

Jerold S. Kayden, a professor of urban planning at Harvard University, has documented many instances of disappearing benches in New York, which are part of a broader trend: mass privatization of public space, as officials decided that sitting outside is unhealthy.

In cities like San Francisco, the removal of public seating has become a primary alternative to meaningful public policy on homelessness over the last three decades. After all, we don't want to look at the less fortunate – that doesn't bode well for business.

Our cities are beginning to resemble Disneyland, quietly removing public seating and replacing it with a greater number of spots in restaurants. If you want to take a moment to rest in 21st century America, you must reach into your pocket and pull out your wallet.