Martín Vázquez Jones went from cleaning one square meter of the Suquía to making the UN list
Martín Vázquez Jones, cofundador de Río Sustentable, con remera verde de la organización en la ribera del río Suquía
In 2020, he set out to clean one square meter of the Suquía riverbank. Six years later, Martín Vázquez Jones leads an organization that has restored more than 5,000 meters of riverfront, planted 10,000 native trees and mobilized more than two thousand volunteers. In 2025, the UN selected him as one of its 17 Young Leaders for the Sustainable Development Goals: he was chosen from more than 33,000 applications submitted from over 150 countries. This is the journey of the political scientist from Córdoba who turned a weekend routine into environmental policy.
One square meter as a starting point
The story begins small by design. In 2020, with the city brought to a standstill by the pandemic, Vázquez Jones set himself a modest goal: to clean one square meter of the Suquía riverbank. That minimal, almost domestic gesture eventually became the seed of a collective that now holds weekly cleanup events and that Córdoba’s City Council has described as a citizens’ movement.
Río Sustentable was created without a formal structure, funding or a five-year plan. It grew through accumulation: one weekend, then another, followed by neighbors asking where the next cleanup would take place. By the end of that first year, the initiative had already brought together around two hundred participants. In 2026, the organization marked its sixth anniversary, and he describes it as having reached a far higher level of organization than it had at the beginning.
Political training, hands-on work in the mud
Behind the gloves and garbage bags lies a specific academic background. Vázquez Jones holds a degree in Political Science and works as a project manager specializing in the design of sustainable policies, with declared areas of interest in governance and public administration, disaster risk management and climate change adaptation.
That combination explains much of his method. The NGO does more than collect plastic: it has built institutional relationships with departments of the Córdoba municipal government, the provincial Water Resources agency, universities and private companies. Pollution in the Suquía —sewage discharges, plastic waste and informal dumping sites— cannot be solved through individual willpower, and he knows it. That is why the Sustainable Development Goal he chose as his banner is SDG 17, which focuses on partnerships.
When asked about politics, he quotes Francis: the idea that political activity represents the highest form of service to others. In the same sentence, he regrets how discredited it has become today.
What Río Sustentable has done, by the numbers
The figures included by the UN in his official profile provide a clear picture of the impact:
More than 5,000 meters of the Suquía riverbank restored.
10,000 native trees planted.
Environmental education programs carried out in schools, community centers and universities.
More than 200 volunteers brought together every weekend.
Córdoba’s City Council added another scale to the same story: more than one hundred working days and over two thousand people who have taken part in at least one of the organization’s activities.
The UN and a call that received 33,000 applications
In 2025, the United Nations included him in its group of 17 Young Leaders for the Sustainable Development Goals, a biennial program that recognizes people between the ages of 16 and 33 who promote initiatives related to climate change, environmental sustainability, human rights and inclusion.
The statistic is striking: 17 people selected from more than 33,000 applications submitted from over 150 countries. He described the odds himself as extremely low and maintains that this is the first time an Argentine has joined the group as a representative of the SDGs. His reaction, recounted at the City Council, was one of disbelief: he struggled to understand how an action as small as cleaning the river had taken him that far.
In February 2026, the newspaper El País published an article about him in its América Futura section. In May, the Environmental Management and Sustainability Committee of Córdoba’s City Council —chaired by Mauricio Romero— unanimously approved a resolution recognizing his work. Vázquez Jones attended the meeting alongside councilor Nicolás Piloni and the municipal undersecretary for the environment, Daniel Cardozo.
A river that becomes polluted again: the underlying tension
This is the uncomfortable core of the issue, and no one avoids it. Cardozo put it bluntly during that same meeting: from the municipality’s perspective, it is painful to see a place that has been thoroughly cleaned covered in garbage again just two hours later.
That fact calls the very purpose of environmental volunteering into question. Does cleaning make sense if everything will look the same tomorrow? Vázquez Jones does not respond with decorative optimism. His answer is political: he identified 52 small illegal dumping sites along the riverbanks and made their removal a declared obsession, because he understands that the problem is structural and requires a sustained response from the state. He also proposed, half seriously and half provocatively, that city councilors hold a session on the banks of the Suquía.
He addresses another common criticism of these initiatives —that volunteer work ultimately becomes an excuse for the state to step aside— through institutional engagement. The NGO does not replace the municipality; it pushes it forward and works alongside it. The reforestation project in Villa Warcalde, which helped coordinate work with municipal and provincial agencies, is an example of that method.
Eco-anxiety, a dog and 365 days
In 2026, he set himself a goal that sounds excessive: cleaning the river every day of the year. The motivation he gave during a radio interview was more intimate than heroic. He spoke about easing his own eco-anxiety and the need to do something with that distress.
He goes out to clean with his dog, sometimes accompanied by his mother. He then posts what he has done, hoping to change at least one other person’s way of thinking. And when the day ends as a group activity, there is a third half: pizza, a guitar and people staying behind to talk. That part, he says, is what makes it fun.
The digital side
The more than 100,000 followers on his TikTok channel are not an accessory to the project: they are part of its operating system. There, he translates subjects that would drive most people away in a technical report —water pollution, ecosystem restoration, the circular economy and climate action— into short-form content. It is also where he recruits many of the people who later show up on a Saturday morning wearing gloves.