When New York City’s congestion pricing plan launched on January 5, 2025, the sky did not fall—but traffic did. After months of political struggle and years of public debate, the policy delivered what its advocates promised: Vehicle entries south of 60th Street have decreased by 11 percent, delays by 25 percent, and revenue generated for the Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA) from the program is set to reach the predicted $500 million this year. Despite this success, just nine months later, 41 percent of New Yorkers think the policy should not remain. In contrast, when London implemented its own congestion pricing plan in 2003, public approval rose to 50-60 percent within months; New York’s rollout seems to be delivering London-style results but not London-style acceptance. In a political culture where trust in government is at an all-time low, congestion pricing will continue to be viewed as an outrageous fine unless paired with tangible, near-term improvements in infrastructure and an administrative structure New Yorkers trust.
Here is how congestion pricing works: Most vehicles entering Manhattan south of 60th Street now pay a nine-dollar toll once per day—a policy meant to cut traffic, noise, and emissions while funding transit and infrastructure improvements. But suburban commuters, especially those traveling across state lines, have fueled a major political pushback. New Jersey sued to delay implementation, and the Trump administration even sought to revoke federal approval before the program began.
This policy, while novel for the United States, is not unique on the global stage—cities like London, Stockholm, Singapore, and Milan have upheld similar programs for decades. With such a wealth of historical precedents, proponents of the New York model should look to their international counterparts for inspiration. Understanding how London moved from skepticism to normalization offers New York a roadmap for turning technical success into political acceptance.
In 2003, Mayor Ken Livingstone spearheaded London’s congestion pricing program, staking his political future on a controversial attempt to reduce London’s record-high pollution and traffic. Despite low popularity, on February 17, 2003, London began the five-pound (£) charge. At its inception, only 40 percent of Londoners supported the program, and Livingstone’s policy brainchild seemed more like political suicide than infrastructure ingenuity. Within a year, central London saw a 15 percent reduction in traffic and a 30 percent reduction in travel delays. Following its promising rollout, public opinion rose 10 to 20 percentage points, and the program was deemed a success. New York’s story reads similarly—until the ending.
New York’s congestion pricing implementation was hobbled from the start by fractured governance. The program was authorized by the state legislature in 2019, with a new state Traffic Mobility Review Board setting the tolls and exemptions. The MTA, a public benefit corporation of New York State, built the system itself—gantries, cameras, billing—subject to the board’s sign-off. Because federal funds had been used on some of the roads, the plan also required the US Department of Transportation’s approval before the governor gave the final sign-off. In other words, nearly every level of government touched the plan, except for the municipal government and the New Yorkers who ended up footing the bill. This confusing and stalled rollout gave New Yorkers ample reason to doubt the program’s sincerity.
Although London’s congestion pricing was unpopular at the outset, its implementation felt uniquely honest. The program had a singular champion in Mayor Ken Livingstone, who had staked his political career on the risky policy. Notably absent was the federalist nightmare that permeated the New York case. Practically all of the details were handled by Transport for London (TfL), and both Livingstone and TfL conducted an extensive 18-month public consultation process before launching the program. It was undoubtedly easier for Londoners to trust the program when they could point to a singular figure leading the charge, while being comforted by a consultation process that provided representation many New Yorkers feel they were not given. While New York also went through the motions of public consultation, it was so poorly received that the state was sued for excluding outer-borough residents from the conversation. New York’s arguably anti-democratic rollout shows how its approval gap with London stems from a lack of trust.
Trust came not just from how London governed the program but also from how it spent the money. In London, Livingstone ensured that hundreds of new buses hit the streets before the charge even began. Routes were extended, headways shortened, and the improvements were unmistakable: Pay the fee, ride a better bus. In New York, every dollar of congestion pricing revenue is legally earmarked to fill a $15 billion hole in the MTA’s capital plan. The resulting funds would finance projects such as subway station accessibility or new electric buses. The problem is timing: These projects will take years, leaving New Yorkers feeling like their tolls vanish into budget sheets rather than fund improvements. London’s decision to frontload direct upgrades helped stabilize public support, while New York’s choice to funnel revenue into a capital plan has left the toll louder than the improvements it funds.
New York cannot rewrite its governance structure overnight, nor can it untangle toll revenue from the MTA’s capital plan. It can, however, still make congestion pricing feel less like a bill and more like a bargain. This process needs to center the New York riders who were left out of congestion pricing’s rollout, restoring public confidence. Creating an independent oversight body that includes representation from both individual riders and borough leadership would give the program visible stewards and a localized focus. This oversight body would rebuild trust through annual public hearings that focus on riders from all five boroughs—something the city’s earlier public consultation process failed to do. Public trust could be strengthened by implementing participatory budgeting—something New York already utilizes to allow communities to direct how some of their district’s capital discretionary funds are used. Participatory budgeting would leverage localized expertise to turn an abstract toll into visible neighborhood improvements, countering the fear that state bureaucrats are wasting the revenue generated by congestion pricing. If trust is the price of progress, participatory budgeting is how New York begins to earn it.
Initiating these changes would not erase the toll’s unpopularity, but it would give New Yorkers proof that the toll is both accountable and worth the cost. London’s lesson is clear: Technical success is meaningless without political trust. To endure, congestion pricing must make New Yorkers feel their tolls buy something real—because it is trust, not traffic, that will decide its future.