As the cold intensifies in recent days, Ulaanbaatar City residents continue to face daily frustration caused by heavy traffic congestion and the chronic shortage of parking spaces. On the capital city’s streets, tense glances are exchanged between pedestrians, and drivers freely hurl insults at one another—a scene that has sadly become all too ordinary.

In an effort to ease traffic congestion, the capital city introduced a regulation several years ago to tow and impound vehicles parked in the first lane of main roads. However, misunderstandings and disputes between citizens and towing companies have persisted to this day.

“I was stuck in traffic all day, and by the time I reached my child’s kindergarten, it was already closing time. I couldn’t find a parking spot anywhere, so I left my car temporarily on the east side of the Tenger Movie Theater—it was only for about five minutes. But when I came back, my car was gone. 10 minutes later, I received a text message saying my vehicle had been towed and was waiting at the impound lot. I immediately took my son and walked there, but since there were no taxis available, he got very cold and caught a cold,” said a frustrated woman.

Her car had been towed while she was picking up her child—a typical example of how ordinary citizens in Ulaanbaatar often end up suffering losses when trying to go about their daily lives. Drivers either waste valuable time trapped in endless traffic, damage their vehicles while driving on dug-up and uneven roads, or spend hours circling the city searching for a parking spot. Parking in the capital has become a chronic and painful problem. Especially in the city center, even paid parking spaces have become increasingly scarce, let alone free ones.

Desperate for solutions, some drivers temporarily park in the first lane, only to have their cars towed away. Some even run back to their vehicles upon seeing the tow truck, but the operators quickly seize the car and drive off. Typically, a tow truck has two workers—one driving and the other securing the vehicle.

When we visited one of the impound lots near Bayanburd Toirog, three towed cars arrived almost simultaneously. One of the car owners, visibly angry, shouted at the towing staff, “Because of you, I lost half a day’s work! Aren’t you ashamed to make a living by wasting people’s time and money?” The towing crew, seemingly unfazed, replied coldly, “We’re just doing our job. Pay the fine and take your car.”

STATE-BACKED BUSINESS 

To retrieve a vehicle from the impound lot, owners must pay a towing and relocation fee of 60,000 MNT. However, this is only the service fee—a separate fine for the parking violation is added on top.

Currently, 14 officially licensed towing companies are operating under the association of towing service companies, each with its own impound lot and an average of about 20 tow trucks. If a single truck tows around 10 to 12 vehicles per day, that means roughly 100 to 150 vehicles are impounded daily across the companies, generating an estimated revenue of 6 to 9 million MNT per day.

What remains unclear, however, is how much of this money actually goes to the city budget and how these funds are allocated—information that remains inaccessible to the public. Moreover, when towing operations cause damage to vehicles, compensation is rarely provided.

For example, towing vehicles with rear- or four-wheel drive systems without proper equipment often results in mechanical damage, leaving owners to bear the cost. The lack of clear technical standards and safety procedures for towing has allowed these companies to act with impunity, while ordinary citizens continue to lose time, money, and peace of mind.

What began as a policy to reduce Ulaanbaatar’s traffic congestion has, over time, become one of the main sources of public frustration—and, for towing companies, a profitable business that thrives under weak oversight. In essence, these private operators have turned a public regulation into a lucrative enterprise—one that the authorities appear to ignore, allowing them to act as they please.

DO THEY HAVE THE RIGHT TO INTIMIDATE CITIZENS? 

A heated discussion broke out near the Urt Tsagaan building the other day as a result of the unethical behavior of towing company employees. According to witnesses, the towing crew tried to forcibly tow away a car even though its owner had already returned and was sitting inside. Both the driver and nearby pedestrians expressed their frustration, but this seemed to matter little to the towing staff.

According to official procedure, towing companies must announce the vehicle’s license plate number three times over a loudspeaker before removing it, in order to notify the owner. However, in practice, citizens say that license plate numbers are often not announced at all, or they are called out so unclearly that no one can understand them. As many complain, “it happens like a wolf taking advantage of rain”—people briefly stop their cars, step away for a moment, and when they return, the car is gone.

In some cases, when owners discover their car being towed just a few meters away and offer to pay the 60,000 MNT fee on the spot, the towing staff demand that they record a video “confirming they have no complaints”. The video, which clearly shows the citizen’s face, is then sent to the police. In fact, filming a person in this way violates Subsections 29.1, 4.1.1 and 8.1 of the Law on Personal Data Protection. In other words, the companies save time by avoiding long explanations or paperwork—making shorter trips so that they can quickly move on to towing the next car.

Another citizen shared an experience from the impound lot. When he arrived to retrieve his vehicle, he took a photo of it and sent it to his wife. Immediately, one of the towing employees who was standing nearby said, “Our truck’s license plate number is in your photo. Delete it right now. If you don’t, we will hold you responsible.” This kind of intimidation, citizens say, is a common scene at impound yards.

In recent years, residents of Ulaanbaatar have repeatedly faced such unethical and improper conduct. In some cases, cars have even been towed away with pets—or in extreme situations, children—still inside. Of course, anyone who violates parking regulations should be held accountable. But when towing crews mainly operate around hospitals and residential complexes—areas where people usually stop for short periods—it seems less like law enforcement and more like a search for easy profit.

It also raises the question: Do towing companies really have the right to film people’s faces and threaten them with “legal consequences”?

‘BETTER TO SPEAK TO PEOPLE’S WALLETS THAN TO PUNISH THEM’

When asked how such complaints are handled, towing company representatives explained, “We first inform citizens that they parked their cars in unauthorized areas. If a situation arises where a person or an animal was inside the vehicle while it was being towed, of course we take responsibility and apologize. But such cases almost never happen,” they said.

However, many drivers and citizens hold a different opinion. They describe towing personnel as irresponsible, unethical, and extremely aggressive. “Even when you leave your car for just a few minutes in front of a hospital or near a school for something urgent, they tow it away without hesitation. They show no concern at all. This service should be stopped completely, and only fines should be issued instead. In a modern, globalizing society, instead of intimidating citizens, it’s better to deal with them through their wallets,” said several frustrated residents.

To clarify the towing procedure, fines, and frequent complaints, N.Davaanyam, head of the association in charge of towing service companies, explained, “Our employees always announce the license plate three times before towing a car. But often, when the car has already been lifted, the owner comes running from 100 to 200 meters away, shouting ‘You towed my car!’ and stands in front of the truck. We also receive complaints that some technical workers record incomplete videos, forget to include warning signs, or sometimes damage vehicles during towing. Such cases are resolved between the company and the citizen according to the proper procedure. We always try not to make mistakes. But citizens must also follow the rules. If people don’t park their vehicles in prohibited areas, their cars won’t be towed.”

According to N.Davaanyam, there are currently 14 licensed towing companies operating in Ulaanbaatar under the association. Each company has its own impound lot and an average of around 20 tow trucks. Citizens must pay 60,000 MNT as a towing and relocation fee, in addition to the traffic violation fine. Despite this, many people still complain that the process lacks transparency and that vehicles are sometimes damaged, yet compensation is rarely given.

Although the regulation was originally approved to reduce traffic congestion and maintain order in the capital city, it has now become one of the main causes of public dissatisfaction. Many argue that the policy has been distorted, serving as an opportunity for hidden business interests to grow rather than as a genuine traffic management measure.

Residents say that even if the government claims the goal is to ease congestion, the system now operates more like a business protected by state authority. The towing process is often harsh, rushed, and careless. Citizens lose not only money but also valuable time and sometimes even their sense of dignity. Some also question where the collected fees go and how they are distributed, since official information on this matter is not publicly available.

The ethical issues extend beyond financial concerns. The lack of respect shown by towing staff—threatening citizens, filming without permission, and towing vehicles in ways that may damage them—has eroded public trust. Ulaanbaatar residents say they no longer view towing trucks as part of lawful order, but rather as symbols of intimidation and opportunism.

While towing is meant to enforce traffic discipline, the absence of transparency, accountability, and professionalism has turned it into a daily source of frustration for ordinary citizens. Drivers say they now live in constant anxiety, afraid that stopping even briefly in front of a store, clinic, or kindergarten could end with their car being hauled away.

City authorities emphasize that these rules were introduced to keep main roads clear and reduce congestion. Yet many residents insist that improving parking infrastructure—rather than punishing drivers—would be a more sustainable and humane solution. The city’s lack of parking lots, especially in the central districts, has made compliance nearly impossible.

In the end, while everyone agrees that rules must exist, citizens believe that enforcement should be guided by fairness and respect. As one driver put it, “We’re not criminals, we’re just people trying to live and work in a city that has nowhere to park.”

Until local authorities strengthen oversight, ensure that towing companies respect privacy laws, and create enough parking spaces for residents, these daily conflicts will continue. What was intended as a public service to improve traffic flow has instead turned into an operation that leaves citizens feeling threatened and powerless; a system where ordinary people end up paying the price for the city’s deeper infrastructural failures.