by Imran Sabir
“If you want to understand society, don’t read theory. Watch people striving for a shady spot at 3 pm on a bright sunny day.” – Through the analytical eyes of a sociologist, Imran Sabir meticulously observed everyday public sitting habits and activities revolving around public benches in the city of Essen. In this humorous blog post he shares his observations, revealing the social fabric and dynamics behind seemingly random behaviour. By establishing a ‘sitology’ in its own right, he undoubtedly raises the benchmark (!) for further investigation into public sitting.
Imran Sabir is Associate Professor of Sociology at Quaid-i-Azam University (Pakistan) and a Senior Fellow at the College during summer term 2025.
Welcome to Essen, Germany: home to 586,608 people, 94 bakeries, 17 varieties of Döner, and exactly 1,246 public benches. Probably. I didn’t count them all because, believe it or not, I have a life. But trust me, there are benches. And if you, like me, have spent an unhealthy number of hours staring at them (only to prove that you’re an observation genius), you’ll begin to notice something scandalously remarkable.
It turns out, the humble public bench (yaya! that same glorified wooden plank with legs) has a lot to say about our social fabric, particularly the fraying bits between generations. Oh, you still believe that sociology is only about dusty old books and people nodding seriously over coffee, pretending to listen to each other? Wrong. It’s also about sitting. And who sits where, when, with whom, and how aggressively they claim the corner spaces.
I call this ground-breaking field ‘sitology’ (trademark pending). It is the study of passive postural dynamics in shared municipal contexts. Or, if you insist on being a buzzkill: the sociology of sitting. And in Essen, these benches are talking. You just have to sit and listen.
Let’s start with the undisputed monarchs of the bench kingdom: the elderly. These are not mere retirees; they are warriors of the post-war generation, trained in patience, knitting, and the strategic placement of observational gaze.
They arrive early. By 9 am, the prime benches are colonised. Bench near the fountain? Claimed. Bench with partial shade, full view of foot traffic, and a few meters away from the bar or bakery? Occupied. How do they manage this? I suspect there’s a WhatsApp group. Possibly a drone system.
Their bench behaviour is ritualistic. They sit with purpose. One leg sometimes crossed. Hands resting on canes, shopping bags or trolleys nearby. They don’t just sit – they possess. Young people walk by and know better than to challenge the sovereigns.
Intergenerational contact? Unfortunately, it’s minimal. Unless you count long, withering stares as contact. Or the occasional muttered complaint about (I guess) how "kids today don’t even sit properly."
Approximately around the afternoon each day, a curious transformation takes place. The parks of Essen become overrun by teenagers – a species defined by erratic movement, unnecessarily loud laughter, and an addiction to smoking, scrolling (mobile screens) and talking about each other.
The benches that were once quiet observation decks of the elderly are now occupied by three teenagers sitting and four more kind of hovering, because apparently, they don’t believe in armrests or personal space.
Important: they rarely sit facing forward. Often it's side-saddling, squatting backwards, or laying full-body across three seats.
Conversation topics (reportedly) include:
Their relationship with other generations? Full of ambivalences. The elderly glare? Teenagers are blissfully unaware, as their eardrums have been numbed by bass-heavy earbuds. And adults passing by pretend they’re not remembering their own cringe phase.
Now, where do you find the 35-to-60 crowd? Trick question. You don’t. They do not sit quite often.
Sociologically, this is fascinating. Here is a demographic with chronic back pain, stress, and orthopaedic inserts, yet they treat benches like radioactive waste. They’ll stand near benches. They’ll rest their coffee cups on benches. But sit? Not unless forced by an unusually long wait or a dramatic existential crisis.
I once observed a man in his early 40s circling a bench three times before finally perching on the very edge, phone gripped like a lifeline. He lasted six minutes. Then stood up and walked away, as if he was muttering: "I just can’t sit still."
Why? Probably guilt. Sitting looks like slacking. And if you’re middle-aged in a capitalist society, rest is a sin.
Their interaction with other age groups is largely passive-aggressive. Teenagers are too loud. The elderly are too judgemental. Children are too sticky.
Ah, the diaper-hauling Sherpas of society. Young parents treat benches like emergency landing strips. Not destinations, but temporary pit stops in the endless marathon of child herding.
It is my professional conclusion that dogs are the only successful bridge across generational divides. A fluffy golden retriever can turn a silent bench cold war into a scene from a Disney movie. Teenagers put down their phones. The elderly smile.
Benches near dog parks are neutral zones. Here, humans temporarily remember they share a species. Words are exchanged. "What’s his/her name?" I guess this has been the starting line of most of all known intergenerational dialogues in Essen.
Dogs don’t judge sitting posture, fashion choices, or political opinions. They just exist. Like benches.
They often share benches with the elderly (accidentally), resulting in intergenerational micro-dramas. The old man who was enjoying a peaceful pretzel suddenly has to endure a toddler crying directly into his ear.
Some retirees tolerate this. Others abandon ship immediately, believing: "in my days, children were silent until adulthood."
You think the people on benches are interesting? Let’s talk about the benches themselves. Designed by municipal sadists with a grudge against comfort, many benches in Essen are acts of passive-aggressive architecture.
Sloped seats. Some have dividing bars and anti-sleep spikes. The underlying message? "You can sit, but don’t enjoy it too much."
This affects generational use, of course. The elderly bring cushions. Teenagers sit on top of the backrest. Parents hover. Adults avoid.
Who thrives in this environment? Pigeons and ducks.
What have we learned from this overly detailed, questionably necessary exploration into bench sociology?
That a public bench in Essen is more than wood and metal. It’s a stage. An observatory. A confessional. A throne. A cold, unforgiving metaphor for who we are and how we (barely) tolerate each other.
If you want to understand society, don’t read theory. Watch people striving for a shady spot at 3 pm on a bright sunny day. That’s the real social contract being tested.
So next time you walk by a bench, don’t just ignore it as a place to rest. See it as a microcosm of human expressions: a quiet revolution in wood and steel. And maybe sit down, if you dare absorb what I observed. And emancipate yourself from the iron cage of frenzy reel world to enjoy sitting in the real world.
Imran Sabir is Associate Professor at the School of Sociology, Quaid-i-Azam University, Islamabad, Pakistan. With a PhD in sociology from the University of Paris-Saclay, France, and over 15 years of academic experience, his research focuses on intergenerational relationships, social inequalities, and the sociology of knowledge.
Imran Sabir’s work bridges theoretical rigour with empirical depth, examining complex social phenomena through comparative frameworks, particularly between the Global North and South. As an applied practitioner of sociological methods, he translates theoretical frameworks into actionable solutions, deploying empirical evidence to contemporary social problems. As a public sociologist, Imran Sabir frequently writes for national newspapers, bringing sociological perspectives to public discourse on issues such as education reforms, urban planning, and social inequalities.
Imran Sabir is a Senior Fellow at the College for Social Sciences and Humanities from March until August 2025. In his collaborative project with Martina Brandt (TU Dortmund University), he investigates intergenerational support dynamics in ageing and non-ageing societies, offering insights into family structures, socio-economic dependencies, and cultural norms.
Photos: © College UA Ruhr / M. Wachtling
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