Volunteers step up to clean up France’s dirtiest city

As garbage bags dangle from their gloved hands, Maïa and Nour scour the bushes on the steep, rocky slopes below Notre Dame de la Garde, a glittering hilltop church in France’s second largest city. They pick up the usual – beer bottles, face masks – as well as some unexpected finds, like a gray, mouse-shaped cat bed.

The high schoolers volunteered to collect trash after Marseille’s garbage collectors went on strike in January, a stoppage that lasted more than two weeks and left over 3,000 tons of trash on sidewalks and streets; some ended up littering its Mediterranean beaches.

“I was very worried,” says Nour. “It was so dirty and when it rained, it was horrible.” 

“I know the unions were striking for a good reason, but there are huge environmental consequences,” says Maïa, who wears large-framed glasses and an oversize puffer jacket. “Everything ends up in the sea.” 

The garbage collectors eventually reached an agreement with the municipality on Feb. 2 over working hours. But Marseille’s garbage problems are far from over. Trash collection has long been a bargaining chip for unions – cleaners at the city’s train station recently stopped emptying trash cans in a work dispute – and many think Marseille deserves its unofficial title of “France’s dirtiest city.”

At the same time, general frustration and exasperation over littering is building. There is a sense that environmental issues have become too pressing to ignore, and that if the city can’t clean up its act, citizens must step in. From collective efforts to individual actions, residents like Nour and Maïa are working to beautify their city, one piece of garbage at a time. This surge in volunteerism has the potential to chip away at Marseille’s reputation for grime and amplify a sense of pride among residents.

“The people of Marseille love our city, but sometimes we don’t treat it very well,” says Eric Akopian, co-founder of Clean My Calanques, an environmental nonprofit. “We’re trying to use that pride to help people see that they can make a difference. It’s not about yelling at them or giving a moral lesson, but showing them they have the power to make change.” 

A rough-and-tumble image 

Founded by Phoenicians around 600 B.C., Marseille has long been a hub for trade and immigration, and a multicultural melting pot. Its rough-and-tumble image inspired the 1971 crime drama “The French Connection” and has fed a folkloric view of a mafia-run city, though it also inspires a strong sense of identity and attachment among the roughly 1.6 million residents in its metropolitan area.  

“We live well with less here. We enjoy the simple pleasures in life,” says Marilou Mathieu, a retired socio-anthropologist who lived in Africa for many years before moving back home. She was visiting the city’s famous fish market on the Vieux Port on a recent Sunday. “We can hear all different languages, see people from everywhere, and feel free. I love my city.” 

Part of Marseille’s grittiness comes from its problem with littering and trash collection: Garbage collectors have used strikes to air grievances for decades, including in 1986 when they spectacularly dumped tens of tons of debris on the front steps of city hall. Since 2014 they have staged near-annual walkouts.

Locals have grown less sympathetic to their cause, however, as concerns over the environmental impact of strikes grow.   

“They have their reasons for striking, but maybe they need to do things another way, instead of creating an additional health and sanitation crisis,” says Natacha Grimaldi, spokesperson for 1 Déchet Par Jour, the nonprofit that organized the cleanup at Notre Dame de la Garde. “Because of it, we have an explosion of rats, bed bugs, and roaches. It’s a very tense situation.”

But it is la bonne mer – the Mediterranean – that residents are keenest to protect. When the mistral kicks up – generating winds of more than 60 mph – garbage is scattered along beaches and hillside walking trails, and into the water. Previous strikes have led to uncollected debris sinking to the seabed, according to surveillance flight data from local authorities.

“We have to focus on the litter problem in the sea, of course, but it’s just as important to clean up on land,” says Marie Dalbouse, regional field manager of another environmental nonprofit, Wings of the Ocean. “By the time plastic and other garbage ends up in the sea, it’s already too late.” 

Young people step up 

Local groups say they are encouraged by the participation of French youth in climate and environmental advocacy, since Swedish activist Greta Thunberg began leading the Europe-based youth movement, Fridays for Future.  

Clean My Calanques is one of several groups that goes into schools to teach young people about recycling and the effects of plastic pollution. Last year, it released a rap video featuring local hip-hop artists to reach students who may not necessarily be interested in environmental issues.  

“When we come into class, the kids already know who we are. They’ll say they saw us on YouTube with their idols,” says Mr Akopian. “The bond between us comes much more easily after that. ... Teachers will tell me later that the kids are asking them to clean up the playground during recess.” 

Environmental aid groups in the region point to an explosion in volunteers joining cleanup efforts – around 1,000 took part in two events held in February. As last month’s strike wound down, nonprofits partnered with city hall to set up distribution points in the city to hand out gloves and garbage bags to volunteers who helped remove trash from the streets.

The city’s tourist office is also stepping up: In 2020 it launched a sustainable development program that labels eco-friendly hotels and promotes green event management. “We’ve even changed our consumption habits within [our office] when it comes to electricity or water,” says Estelle Le Bris, head of tourism monitoring and sustainability at the Marseille tourist office. “We want to set a good example.” 

Despite Marseille’s anecdotal award wins as the country’s dirtiest city, it has also received several official prizes, such as the European Commission’s European Capital of Culture in 2013. This past September, it became the first French city to host the IUCN’s World Conservation Congress, thanks to its rich natural resources.

The Marseillais love to complain about the maddening quality of their city, but retailers run a brisk business selling T-shirts and hats branded “Proud to be Marseille” – a common refrain here – to residents and visitors alike.

“Marseille is rebellious, a city of excess, and garbage is unfortunately one of our distinguishing features,” says resident Rolland Viti, who participated in the February cleanup. “We have those who are not civic-minded, but luckily we also have those who care about the public good. And they are trying to correct bad behavior.”