On a brisk October morning, I found myself counting benches along Orillia’s waterfront trail. What began as a curious observation during my visit to this Central Ontario community revealed something more profound about how we measure civic health.
“We’ve lost four public benches in the downtown core this year alone,” explains Eleanor Mackenzie, head of the Orillia Community Advocacy Network. “It’s not just about somewhere to sit—it’s about who gets to exist in public space.”
The “Bench Index,” as local advocates have dubbed it, has become an unexpected barometer for understanding urban accessibility and inclusion across Canadian municipalities. In Orillia, the recent removal of public seating has sparked heated debate about who public spaces truly serve.
City officials cite maintenance costs and “loitering concerns” as primary reasons for the bench reduction program. Meanwhile, seniors, young families, and those with mobility challenges report increased difficulty navigating downtown areas without adequate resting places.
The tension highlights a growing national conversation about invisible barriers in our urban landscape. Municipalities across Canada are grappling with similar decisions that balance public access against concerns about unhoused populations using these amenities.
“When we remove benches, we’re essentially saying some people don’t belong in our public spaces,” notes Dr. Thomas Herrington, urban policy researcher at Lakehead University. “It becomes a form of hostile architecture that targets vulnerable community members while inconveniencing everyone else.”
The issue resonates beyond Orillia’s city limits. In Vancouver, community groups recently mapped public seating availability against neighborhood income levels, finding stark disparities between affluent and lower-income areas. Similarly, Halifax conducted a “sit-ability” audit that revealed concerning gaps in public accommodation for seniors and those with disabilities.
Orillia’s situation feels particularly poignant given its reputation as a tourist-friendly lakeside community. The contrast between welcoming visitors while making the downtown less accessible strikes many residents as contradictory.
“I’ve lived here for 43 years and suddenly find I can’t walk to the pharmacy anymore,” says Margaret Chen, 78, who uses a cane and depends on regular seating to navigate her weekly errands. “They’ve taken out the bench where I used to rest halfway.”
The economic implications extend beyond individual inconvenience. Business owners like James Thornhill, who operates a small bookshop downtown, note measurable impacts on foot traffic. “When people can’t comfortably spend time in an area, they simply don’t shop there,” Thornhill explains. “We’ve seen our browser traffic drop about 15% since the benches disappeared.”
Orillia’s city council remains divided on the issue. Councilor Patricia Westmoreland defended the removals, citing a 23% decrease in reported “nuisance calls” to police in affected areas. However, her colleague Councilor David Nguyen counters that the city has simply displaced existing challenges rather than addressing them.
“We’re treating symptoms rather than causes,” Nguyen told me during a phone interview. “The absence of benches doesn’t solve homelessness or addiction issues—it just makes them less visible to tourists and shoppers.”
The bench controversy ties into broader discussions about public space equity occurring across provincial legislatures. Ontario’s Ministry of Municipal Affairs recently published guidelines encouraging “inclusive urban design” but stopped short of mandating minimum public seating requirements.
Budget documents reveal Orillia saved approximately $12,800 annually through reduced maintenance costs by removing fourteen benches since 2021. However, a community impact assessment commissioned by local advocates estimates the “social cost” at nearly triple that amount when factoring in reduced mobility, isolation of vulnerable residents, and business impacts.
Some communities have found creative middle ground. Kingston implemented divider armrests on benches that prevent sleeping while maintaining seating function. Barrie partnered with local artists to create distinctive seating that enhances public spaces while incorporating subtle design elements that discourage extended occupation.
The debate raises fundamental questions about what makes a community truly livable—and for whom. Public spaces serve as the living rooms of our civic life, where chance encounters build community fabric and accessibility determines who participates.
“The bench index reveals our priorities,” observes community organizer Mackenzie. “Are we designing cities for everyone or just those with certain privileges? Can you exist in public if you need to rest frequently?”
As I concluded my reporting in Orillia, I watched an elderly man with a walker carefully navigate the waterfront path, stopping frequently where benches once stood. The small, daily negotiations of public space rarely make headlines, but they profoundly shape who feels welcome in our communities.
The bench index offers a simple yet revealing metric: count the places where people can pause, rest, and participate in public life without financial barriers. The answer says more about our communities than many traditional economic indicators ever could.
For Orillia and communities across Canada facing similar pressures, the question remains: how do we balance legitimate maintenance concerns with the fundamental need for truly public spaces that serve everyone? The answer may determine whether our cities become more inclusive or increasingly segregated in the coming years.
