In the 1980s the New York subway system was in terrible shape: constant delays, trains being taken out of service, inaudible public address announcements, graffiti everywhere (some of it pretty good but most of it terrible). All of these conditions contributed to the sense that "no one was in charge" and to the perception of danger, including fear of crime. Of course, this perception was heightened by lurid tabloid headlines.

Whether the perception of danger and crime matched the reality I cannot say. But the situation certainly was a case study in how a degraded physical environment shapes public perceptions -- and to some extent -- leads to a self-fulfilling prophecy of heightened danger and disorder. In other words, the so-called "broken window" theory as applied to public transit.

One experience that I vividly recall was when all of the interior lights in a subway car were not working. The subway car was entirely dark. When the dark car traveled through the tunnel, the shifting illumination of the tunnel lights on the subway passengers in the car was -- depending on your perception -- either a source of extreme apprehension, a wild amusement park ride in a fun house-like setting or an extraordinary urban art installation. (Unfortunately, I did not capture on film the phenomenon of unlighted subway cars – it just seemed too technically difficult at the time – given the low-light levels and the limitations of film in recording these low light levels. In retrospect, I regret not making the attempt.)

Beginning in the late 1980s two things happened: the MTA was placed under new management and the agency received a lot of new money for capital projects, including new subway cars. The new management was MTA Chairman Robert Kiley and Transit Authority president David Gunn. Kiley and Gunn are given much credit for helping to turn around the system. The subway car graffiti disappeared in a matter of months around 1987 -- after blanketing almost every subway car for over ten years. The introduction of hundreds of new subway cars -- and the resulting fewer breakdowns and their improved maintenance -- made a huge difference in both perception and reality.

Later, the introduction of public message boards for train schedules, train announcements in the cars and in stations emergency call phones in stations also contributed to a reassuring sense of order and control. Of course, in recent years the drastic increase in homeless people on the subway undercut some of these positive perceptions. And the pandemic interjected a whole new source of fear and danger.

By its very nature, the New York subway will never be a fear-free zone. For many people, the inherent claustrophobia of a subway car packed with people establishes a baseline of fear. And the inability to control whom you travel with each time the subway car doors open is enough to alienate some people from ever stepping foot in the subway. Keep in mind that 95 percent of Americans who live outside of New York travel exclusively by private car. That means they are able to control their own personal space while traveling. Virtually the only time these Americans are forced to share their personal space in a contained environment is when they ride an elevator. That is how most Americans live.

In any event, for the same reason that the New York subway will never be a fear-free zone the New York subway is the source of what makes New York distinctive and vital and great. The intense and arbitrary mixing of people is the very essence of what a city is ... and how a city differs so drastically from other less populated places. And the New York subway is probably the most intense mixer of heterogeneous groups of people -- by race, ethnicity and income -- in North America ... and quite possibly the world. How one responds to this reality -- as a matter of general political outlook and also on a visceral and emotional level -- will determine one's comfort level with the subway.