Marseille is neither a drug hell nor a tourist paradise: it is the city that captures France at its best | Cole Stangler

EEarlier this month, two brutal murders occurred in France's second-largest city, appearing to be the latest in a long list of tragedies caused by drug-related turf wars. In a place where groups have been fighting for coveted “selling points” for years, many in the city's impoverished northern neighborhoods, the ages of those involved in the recent killings were particularly disturbing. Marseille prosecutor Nicolas Bessone described how, following the recent gang murder of a 15-year-old, a 14-year-old was hired to commit a revenge killing. A prisoner recruited the teenager, the prosecutor said, and “organized the logistics so that he could be picked up by car and taken to a hotel room in Marseille.” The 14-year-old is said to have shot the taxi driver, who had nothing to do with the drug trade, because he had not waited for him.

Unfortunately, dark stories like this have become one of the main reasons why Marseille makes headlines not only in France but also in the English-language press. They not only put the spotlight on personalities who call for more police violence and harsher prison sentences, but also fuel a particular image of the port city in the right-wing imagination: Marseille as the ultimate symbol of French decline, a once great metropolis of lawlessness and immigration torn apart by decades, that have become so dangerous that they are practically no longer worth living in. Somehow this reactionary fantasy hasn't hurt a radically different image of the city that's gaining traction: Marseille as a promised land for twenty- and thirty-somethings seeking sunshine, natural beauty and just the right amount of urban “stud.”

These competing visions of the city are enough to make your head spin. But like all clichés, the reality is far more complicated.

According to police, there were a record 49 drug-related killings in Marseille in 2023, but the numbers are expected to be lower this year. And while the drug trade does indeed involve younger participants, talk of “cartels” or the alleged “Mexicanization” of the business is entirely inappropriate. As award-winning author and chronicler of the city's drug trade, Philippe Pujol, told me earlier this year, drug gangs in Marseille do not control production. Instead, they fight over distribution in a local market. Forget Pablo Escobar or El Chapo. The situation here is much more like something out of The Wire: In many poor neighborhoods lacking jobs and opportunities, the drug trade has filled the void, exploiting the labor of teenagers at the behest of a privileged few.

But perhaps the Marseilles paradox can be better viewed by imagining one of these distorting mirrors at a carnival. Seen from a certain angle, the city can actually reflect an uglier version of France. It suffers from racial social segregation, with poverty and drug violence concentrated far from the wealthiest areas. Basic public services may be unreliable or completely absent. These problems could get worse as the French government prepares for an austerity budget with 40 billion euros (£33 billion) of spending cuts. Given the lack of jobs, the local economy is heavily dependent on tourism. The “war on drugs” is a complete failure.

And yet, from a slightly different perspective, Marseille can resemble a more attractive version of France. On the one hand, it is a place where people of different origins live together. Despite segregation, many Marseillais are used to living among people who don't look or talk like them. This is the legacy of a port city with a long tradition of welcoming visitors and newcomers from abroad: particularly from Italy, Armenia and the Maghreb, but in recent years also from West Africa and the Comoros.

It may not be a huge melting pot, but the sheer diversity that residents have encountered over the years has created a certain tolerance. “It's a city that is very welcoming to people who come from everywhere,” Driss Benattia, 58, the son of Algerian immigrants who grew up in Cité Busserine, a housing project in the northern neighborhoods, told me. “It's a city where you can have a place as long as you accept it. If you adopt Marseille, you will be adopted by Marseille.”

As Benattia pointed out, affordability is another closely related historical advantage. “Even if you didn’t have much, you could always find a way to make ends meet,” remembers the musician and craftsman of his youth. “You could find a place where you can live and survive.” Rents are rising slightly, but the average rental price in Marseille is still half that of Paris and remains lower compared to other major French cities.

This open-minded spirit and relative affordability largely explain why Marseille has attracted a flood of newcomers in recent years, including creative professionals such as chefs, artists, musicians and writers. (For full disclosure: I could be considered part of this cohort, having fled Paris two years ago, in part for the reasons stated above.) This newer wave of transplants has added to the city's trendy aura and undoubtedly contributed to a rise in the real estate prices in the process.

But something else seems to explain Marseille's appeal: France is arguably the most centralized country in Western Europe, and in the capital, cultural production is highly stratified and highly codified, staffed by gatekeepers whose influence extends across the world of politics and economics . Looking back in the distorting mirror, Marseille appears to offer a different path forward. Shouldn't the barriers to entry be lower for hopeful artists? Shouldn't people be able to create without the snobbish gaze of those who think they have it all figured out? Shouldn't France be more decentralized in general?

I originally reached out to Benattia for this story because he's the most Marseille-ish person I know and was hoping he'd wax poetic about his hometown. But then he shared the terrible news: his nephew Nessim Ramdane was the taxi driver killed in the crime that recently rocked the city. “It always seems like it’s a long way away before you’re directly affected,” he said.

When I asked what he thought of all the calls to increase law enforcement, Benattia said he was skeptical. “We’re going to talk about policing and turn the page quickly. And then it will be like this Vive l'OM [the football team Olympique de Marseille], live Marseille with all its parties and festivals, but the root of the problem is not being addressed. If you don’t treat the wound, it will become infected again.”

Fantasy and predictions aside, Marseille is a poor city in desperate need of investment and a different approach to the failed war on drugs. Unfortunately, France appears to be moving in the wrong direction on both fronts.