The New York City subway is often the first thing people complain about. It’s loud, old, crowded, confusing, and at times uncomfortable. Even many New Yorkers admit they love to hate it. And yet, after living here, I’ve come to a different conclusion.
The subway is not just part of the city. It is its soul.
Not because it is beautiful or symbolic, and certainly not because it represents some romantic idea of New York. It is the soul of the city because of what it enables. Its true value lies in its connectivity and in how deeply it shapes everyday life.
The subway makes the city function as a single organism. It connects neighborhoods that would otherwise feel worlds apart. It allows people from completely different backgrounds to share the same space, the same routines, and the same rhythm of movement. In a city defined by scale and density, this level of access is extraordinary.
What fascinates me most is how much social life happens because of it. Friendships, relationships, work opportunities, cultural exchanges, and daily rituals all depend on this invisible network beneath the city. The subway is where lives overlap briefly but meaningfully. It compresses distance, time, and social boundaries.
As an architect, this has changed how I understand urban infrastructure. The subway is not just a transportation system. It is a social framework. It dictates how people experience the city, how far they are willing to go, and how connected they feel to places beyond their immediate neighborhood.
Many people judge the subway by its flaws. I’ve learned to judge it by its impact. Despite its imperfections, it holds the city together in ways that no landmark or skyline ever could.
New York does not breathe above ground alone. It moves, connects, and lives underground.
