Fifth Avenue to Expand Sidewalks as Private Cars Shift to the Margins

As New York debates the future of its most storied boulevard, the struggle over Fifth Avenue’s redesign reveals deeper questions about urban priorities, mobility and the soul of the city.

In the winter shadow of Rockefeller Center, where street vendors hawk roasted chestnuts and tourists flock for holiday snapshots, a single block of Fifth Avenue can host up to 23,000 pedestrians per hour—outnumbering the entire capacity of Madison Square Garden. It is here, among the glittering facades and iconic window displays, that New York’s latest skirmish in the war over public space is playing out. At stake: who, or what, Fifth Avenue is really for.

Mayor Eric Adams has thrown his weight behind a reshaping of the thoroughfare, touting wider sidewalks to ease pedestrian congestion. Yet his plan, crafted in partnership with the Fifth Avenue Association and announced late last year, drew fire for its conspicuous omission of a protected bike lane and for preserving two lanes for private cars (while trimming dedicated bus infrastructure). Critics, including the newly elected Mayor Zohran Mamdani’s allies and transit advocates, decry what they see as a tepid compromise—a sop to retail barons and drivers at the expense of sustainable mobility.

The numbers are telling. Pedestrians account for nearly 70% of traffic along this corridor, yet walk on sidewalks that make up only 46% of the available surface; private cars, with a paltry presence in terms of users, still guzzle a disproportionate share of the asphalt. The city’s 2023 Pedestrian Mobility Plan notes that 31% of city trips are made entirely on foot, and every journey entails at least some walking. New Yorkers, it seems, are as bipedal as ever—logging three times more steps daily than the average American.

Beyond mere geometry, the redesign debate portends sweeping changes to Midtown life. Champions argue that expanding footpaths and raising street crossings, as the plan suggests, would not only enhance safety but inject new life into a retail ecosystem buffeted by online shopping and stubborn office absenteeism. They envision a grand urban salon, where shoppers, commuters, and flâneurs might finally coexist without rubbing shoulders or dodging honking taxis.

Yet not all are convinced the current plan does enough. For bus riders, the prospect of losing a priority lane on a key north-south artery smacks of regression. Cyclists, long treated as urban interlopers, find themselves—once again—shunted to the margins. Meanwhile, the business lobby assures all that aggrieved drivers will simply melt away, their lanes sacrificed to a higher purpose.

There is some international precedent for such trade-offs. Paris and Barcelona have reallocated swathes of prime roadway to walkers and cyclists, with economic and civic dividends. Manhattan’s own 14th Street busway, implemented in 2019, saw bus speeds rise and surrounding streets unchoked by the predicted traffic Armageddon. Evidence suggests that a world-class city need not be held hostage to the tyranny of the private automobile.

Learning from elsewhere, but minding New York’s own idiosyncrasies

Still, the politics of space in New York are nothing if not fractious. Every lane closed to cars is a turf war won—and lost—between retailers, commuters, tourists, transit operators and the 1.3 million drivers who persist in navigating the city’s congestion. The Fifth Avenue Association, mindful of its luxury tenants, frames the redesign as a win-win, promising that “benefits gained by pedestrians will not come at the expense of bus riders or cyclists, only private vehicles.” In the real world, however, such arithmetic rarely satisfies all parties.

For the city, the economic rationale is plain enough. Foot traffic undergirds the Fifth Avenue shops, hotels and cultural institutions that together pay billions in taxes. A pedestrian-first approach is a bet that, in an Amazon age, exclusivity can be replaced by experience. Whether that bet pays off will depend not just on widened sidewalks, but also on the ability to manage bus flow, protect vulnerable cyclists, and—inevitably—rattle the comfort of those still clinging to their steering wheels.

Nationally, New York’s dilemma mirrors that of other global cities grappling with 20th-century car-centric legacies. London’s pedestrianisation of Oxford Street still sputters forward; Los Angeles dabbles in “open streets.” Yet few cities face Midtown’s density, or the daily ballet of commerce, tourism, and commuting that crests on Fifth. The stakes are higher: here, the battle for every inch reflects what kind of metropolis New York wishes to be.

We reckon the Adams compromise does what such plans inevitably do—split the difference and risk pleasing no one. The city has been bold before, as with Times Square’s pedestrianisation under Mayor Bloomberg and the 34th Avenue Open Street in Queens during the pandemic. Bolder still would be to trust the numbers and let foot and bus traffic—not car throughput—lead the allocation of public space. Data, not nostalgia, should pave the avenue.

For now, the fate of Fifth Avenue stands as a microcosm of New York’s eternal tension between commerce and commons, the past and the possible. If this city is to remain vibrant, attractive and globally competitive, it must remember that every New Yorker is a pedestrian first—and act accordingly.

■