Article

Fugazi Banter: Urban Design

A couple walks on a sparsely-lit park path lined with barriers at night.
Barriers at the National Mall. July 2, 2019.

Mike Maguire, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

By Dr. Rami Toubia Stucky

Introduction

Explore the Series

Between the late 1980s and early 2000s, punk band Fugazi played several times at DC-area parks. Many of their live shows were recorded by fans and then made available. These recordings not only capture Fugazi’s music. You can also hear bandmembers Ian MacKaye, Joe Lally, Brendan Canty, Guy Picciotto, and Jerry Busher address the crowd. Sometimes they prepared monologues or spun off into impromptu musings. Other times they invited guest speakers and activists such as Mark Andersen on stage. What was said was almost always political, though.

Check out the Rest of the Six-Part Series

This page is part of a six-part series that looks at the concerns of DC punks firsthand. Use the links to the right to explore the rest of the series.

Stay here to listen to band members talk about DC’s urban design after 9/11 and hostile architecture towards the homeless.

Surveillance in the Aftermath of 9/11

  • Fugazi: Surveillance after 9/11 | July 1, 2002 - Fort Reno Park

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        An excerpt from the banter in between songs at a July 2002 Fugazi concert held in Fort Reno Park. Singer Ian MacKaye protests the United States' "War on Terrorism."

        Audio Transcript

      “I’m so sick of hearing about the War on Terrorism. To me it feels a lot more like a war of terrorism. I feel like every day the people in this country are having a war waged against them by the media and by the White House and by the government in general. It’s just insanity. And then fifteen years from now, I can almost guarantee we’re gonna all sit around and say ‘what the f**k was that about? What was happening?’ What was that? What?’ They put fences around everything. There’s a cop on every corner. What happened? What––what happened to us? This is insane. We should set up. We should stand up. We should go downtown and say ‘take down the fences. Take down the walls. Trust us. Trust us. We’re the people who live here. This is our home.’ And when they take down all the walls and fences they can also stop dropping bombs on other countries. This is disgusting. Who’s making the money anyways?”

      Explanation:

      A surveillance camera mounted on a stop-light at an intersection.
      Surveillance Camera At Connecticut Avenue, NW & Nebraska Avenue, NW. January 7, 2007

      takomabibelot from Austin TX / Rochester, NY, USA, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons.

      On September 11, 2001, Al-Quaeda carried out four coordinated attacks on the United States. Nineteen terrorists hijacked planes and crashed two into the World Trade Center. Another one struck the Pentagon and the fourth crashed in rural Pennsylvania. Around 3,000 people died. Thousands more received mortal illnesses as a result of the attacks.

      What transpired would have been familiar to Fugazi. Like they witnessed in 1991, the United States was waging a war on two fronts. In October 2001, the first coalition forces touched down in Afghanistan. Meanwhile, the military industrial complex turned inward.

      A whole new architecture of fear, security, and surveillance emerged within the United States. Planters, thigh-high cement bollards, and Jersey barriers cropped up overnight. Security officials installed metal detectors in buildings. Teachers remember taking their classes to sit on the Capitol steps. Before September 11, there was hardly security in sight and one could merely walk into the building. No more.1

      In March 2002, the National Park Service announced it would begin round-the-clock video surveillance at all major monuments on the National Mall. Fourth of July celebrations there used to be statements of freedom. The celebration that would occur three days after the Fugazi concert at Fort Reno would change all that. It was the first Independence Day since September 11. Double lined fences were set up in preparation for another attack. Metro stations were closed. Roads were blocked. Checkpoints cropped up and security searched for bags and parcels. Individuals were subjected to pat downs. More than fifteen hundred police officers patrolled the premises.2

      Hostile Architecture

      • Fugazi: Hostile Architecture | August 7, 1993 - Sylvan Theater

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            An excerpt from the banter in between songs at a July 2002 Fugazi concert held in Fort Reno Park. Singer Ian MacKaye asks attendees to climb down from something.

            Audio Transcript

          “Uh, excuse me. You all have to get down from there. The cops say you must get down, okay? Sorry to screw up a good party. But figure it like this, you got like half the show up there, so that’s pretty good. Watch it, watch it, watch it! ... You know, originally, they were designed for people to sit on, but, in this changing nature––in this changing society that we live in––they decided they weren’t for people to sit on anymore.”

          Explanation:

          A photo of spike strips lining the top of a brick wall aklong a fence.
          Hostile architecture in Washington DC with pins to prevent pedestrians from resting on ledge.

          Valereee, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons.

          Another type of urban design exists alongside architectures of fear and security. It is called hostile architecture. This is a type of design practice that strives to deter unwanted behavior from “undesirable” persons. Urban planner Robert Moses famously put this idea to work during the construction of his Southern State Parkway. The parkway was intended to shuttle New Yorkers to Long Island to visit the many beach towns and parks. However, Moses did not want all New Yorkers to flock to these summer resorts. He therefore ordered engineers to make the bridges that pass over the parkway low. This would keep buses, and therefore poor people of color who primarily used them, out.1

          Many visible examples of hostile architecture are directed towards the unhoused. In 2018, students at American University found over 70 instances of hostile architecture throughout Washington, D.C. Three years later, students writing for Georgetown University’s student newspaper conducted similar research. They found slanted heated grates and benches whose designs made sleeping on them difficult. Public restrooms and other amenities were hard to come by. They also identified a heating grate at the intersection of Wisconsin Avenue and M Street. In cold weather, heating grates provide lifesaving warmth for those at risk for hypothermia. But this one was angled at 45 degrees, thereby preventing people from sitting or lying on it. Between O Street and Glover Park, WMATA Metrobus stops have slanted benches. These likewise prevent people from lying down on them.4

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          Last updated: March 20, 2025