Opinion by Carle Jasmin (Photo : Gay Globe Media)
A Controversial TV Report on Valorists in Montreal
A TV report recently broadcast by a national channel highlights a well-known phenomenon in Montreal and several cities in Quebec, but to which a more appealing, trendier name has been given: valorists, previously more commonly called garbage bag rippers.
In this jovialist-toned report, which frankly feels like it’s taking people for fools, the activities of people recovering glass bottles, plastic bottles, and all consignable items are filmed. Their methods are shown in such a staged manner that it becomes almost revolting.
What is valorism?
Valorism is the name now given to a reality as old as cities themselves. It involves recovering what still holds value in our waste, especially consignable containers, in order to resell them. Behind this modern, eco-friendly vocabulary are mostly people digging through garbage bags and recycling bins to make ends meet.
Presented as a civic and virtuous act, this practice certainly fits into a logic of waste reduction and circular economy, but it remains above all a survival strategy linked to precarity. By rebranding this activity as “valorism,” its image is softened, making it more socially acceptable while avoiding confronting what it actually reveals: the very real poverty traversing urban spaces.
As an old lady used to say in my youth: “You can dress a pig as a priest, but it will never be a priest!”
The Ravages of the Deposit System
Often presented as an ecological way to recover what can be recycled, the deposit system is, in theory, a good idea — if it hadn’t become a means of subsistence for the most vulnerable or homeless people.
The photo at the top, taken by Gay Globe on Sainte-Catherine East Street in the Village, has not been altered to exaggerate the facts. That day was not exceptional: this is how the deposit system appears every garbage collection day, especially the day before.
People literally rip open every bag they find, rummage through them, and extract contents hoping to find a small “gold nugget,” so to speak. They empty the bins of their contents and, obviously, never put anything back. Giving value to our waste is the direct cause of the dirty state of our cities.
Consequence: the city is littered with trash scattered in all directions, which the garbage collectors will not pick up because it is not part of their duties.
The Example of Barcelona and Several European Countries
In Barcelona, the deposit system as known in Quebec does not exist as a structured and centralized monetary system. There is no generalized automatic refund system for bottles and cans, which radically changes the dynamic in public spaces.
Recovery is mainly done upstream through mandatory selective sorting, and downstream by an informal network of often precarious or migrant collectors called recogedores. These collectors do not systematically rummage through garbage bags as seen in Montreal. They collect consignable containers directly from bars, restaurants, or tourist areas, often tacitly agreeing with the merchants.
Bottles are stored in bags or carts and sold to private recycling centers at low but sufficient prices to provide additional income. This practice limits visible overflow: domestic bags are less torn open, and bins generally remain intact.
The city relies more on sorting infrastructure than on individual financial incentives. Sorting containers are ubiquitous, clearly identified, and emptied frequently, reducing the incentive to rummage through household waste. The result: recovery exists but is less chaotic, less invasive to residential neighborhoods, and above all less spectacular. In Barcelona, people recover, but they don’t turn the city upside down for a few cents.
And in Nice on the French Riviera?
In Nice, as in the rest of France, the deposit system has practically disappeared from daily life for decades. There is no generalized refund system for bottles and cans, except for a few very limited circuits, notably for certain reusable glass bottles in the restaurant sector.
Waste management mainly relies on selective sorting and a tightly regulated municipal organization. In Nice’s public spaces, recovery is much more discreet. Sorting bins, often buried or semi-buried, are designed to limit direct access to their contents, reducing the possibility of rummaging through household waste.
Informal collectors exist, as everywhere, but their activity focuses mainly on tourist areas, beaches, and around festive venues where bottles and cans are abandoned on the ground rather than in sealed bags.
Resale is done through scrap dealers or private recycling centers for modest amounts, without direct public incentives. Due to the lack of clearly established deposit value, there is no rush for garbage bags nor massive bag-ripping scenes as seen elsewhere. The Nice model prioritizes visual cleanliness and urban space control, even if it invisibilizes recovery and those who practice it.
In Nice, unlike Montreal and Quebec, people sort, collect, and clean, but they don’t turn the street into a can-hunting ground.
The Deposit System: A Mistake That Is Not Irreparable
We have no choice, seeing the state of our streets and cities, but to conclude that giving value to waste, even recyclable, is not an ecological solution. As shown in the photo above, our streets are neither less polluted nor cleaner thanks to the deposit system.
In Quebec, it is the Government of Quebec that legislates on the deposit system. This legal framework defines which containers are subject to deposit, the amount of the deposit, producers’ obligations, and the general operation of the system.
In other words, Quebec decides and regulates, producers finance and operate, and cities pick up the pieces.
A reform of the Environmental Quality Act, a name that is ironic to say the least, has become necessary. Looking beyond one’s own belly button could help the state better manage waste so that our cities stop being open-air dumps, as is sadly the case everywhere.