Always arrayed by some unknown superintendent, Stanchions appear when a crowd needs to be mediated, or contained. They suggest enclosure and separation: they either elevate the profane to the sacred, or regulate the dangerous, or perhaps simply test the public's will to obey the arbitrary. Stanchions rely on a facade of the civic, but power is only a step or two behind. "Please don't touch," they say. "Please don't even come near." Stanchions are always easy to surmount, yet never does anyone attempt to surmount them. Wherever there are Stanchions, there is waiting and scarcity; but there is also a calm servility: without this, the Stanchions would need to be Fences.
