This is part of a series on nonviolent protest methods, which explains approaches and provides inspirational examples from history. For additional resources, please explore the Museum of Protest’s activist guides and view items in the collection.

Displays of Portraits is a nonviolent protest method in which activists publicly show images of specific people – often victims of injustice, missing loved ones, or revered leaders – to make a political statement. The idea is to put a human face on the cause: instead of abstract slogans, protesters hold up portraits that personalize the issue and evoke empathy. This makes the struggle feel immediate and relatable to onlookers, rallying public emotion and moral support.

Such symbolic protests are powerful precisely because they are peaceful yet poignant – “the practice of achieving goals through symbolic protests while refraining from violence.” A single photograph can convey a story or injustice that words alone might not, and regimes often fear these images for that reason. In Iran, for example, the circulated video and photos of a dying Neda Agha-Soltan galvanized the opposition movement, as “images of her death have galvanized the opposition” and gave the regime’s brutality “a bloody face and a name.” In sum, displaying portraits is an effective symbolic act because it humanizes the protest, draws widespread sympathy, and can shame or pressure authorities without a single word being spoken.

Best Practices for Effective Use

To use this method strategically, activists must plan what image to display, where, and when for maximum impact. Here are some best practices for effective portrait displays:

Choose a Powerful Portrait

Select a person who symbolizes the cause. This could be a beloved figure or an innocent victim whose story resonates widely. The portrait should immediately convey the message – for instance, a missing person’s photo to demand their return, or an iconic leader’s image to signal solidarity. Using a face that the public recognizes or can empathize with makes the protest’s purpose clear at a glance.

Strategic Location

The location of the display should reinforce its meaning. Protesters often gather at symbolic sites – outside government buildings, in central plazas, or at places linked to the person in the portrait. For example, families of the “disappeared” have displayed photos of missing relatives right in front of presidential palaces or military headquarters, forcing officials to literally face the human cost of their policies. A well-chosen location (such as a courthouse for a justice campaign or a town square for a memorial) helps ensure the portrait will be seen by the community and media, amplifying its impact.

Timing and Occasion

Time the display to coincide with moments that heighten its emotional power. Anniversaries, memorial days, or public events can provide a potent backdrop. Activists often hold up portraits during vigils, marches, or on significant dates (e.g. the anniversary of a massacre or International Human Rights Day) when audiences are primed to reflect on the issue. For instance, unveiling a martyr’s portrait on the date they were killed can galvanize crowds with a sense of remembrance and urgency. Aligning the protest with current events – such as an ongoing trial, election, or visit by international dignitaries – can also draw more attention to the message conveyed through the image.

Clear Message and Presentation

Ensure the meaning behind the portrait is clear. Often the image itself speaks volumes, but protesters may also include text or context with the display – for example, wearing T-shirts with the portrait, adding a caption (“Where is ___?” or “Justice for ___”), or chanting the person’s name. The demeanor of the protest should underscore the symbolic intent: holding portraits peacefully and respectfully (often above the head or against the chest) signals reverence and moral high ground. This dignified presentation can move observers and shame those in power. By contrast, regimes that respond harshly to a simple photo in someone’s hands risk a backlash, as violent repression of a nonviolent, compassionate image tends to outrage the public and garner sympathy for the protesters. In short, pair the portrait with a straightforward demand or narrative, and let the person’s face become the embodiment of the cause.

Notable Historic Examples

In 1986, Filipinos protesting Ferdinand Marcos’s dictatorship held up photographs of victims of the Escalante Massacre, turning the faces of the dead into symbols of resistance. In this rally, each portrait served as a silent indictment of the regime’s brutality, demanding justice for those lost.

Missing Persons Under Authoritarian Regimes

One powerful use of portrait displays has been by families of people who have been “disappeared” under repressive regimes. A famous example is the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo in Argentina. During the 1976–1983 military dictatorship, thousands of critics and young activists were abducted by the regime and never seen again. The grieving mothers dared to protest by gathering in Buenos Aires’ main square, each carrying pictures of their missing children.

Week after week, these women held up portraits of sons and daughters who had vanished, forcing the public to confront the human faces behind the regime’s dirty war. The simple act of displaying a loved one’s photo – often a small black-and-white snapshot pinned to their clothing or held aloft – was profoundly subversive: it made the “disappeared” visible in a society that the government wanted cowed and silent. “They made signs with photos of their children” and wore white headscarves marked with their children’s names, refusing to let the victims be forgotten. This visual protest was highly effective in drawing international attention and sympathy.

It inspired similar actions elsewhere; in Chile, Sri Lanka, and other countries, families of the disappeared have likewise marched with portraits of missing relatives, leveraging global human rights networks for support. By displaying portraits of loved ones, these protesters send a poignant message: each face represents an unresolved injustice. The tactic highlights the personal tragedies behind political repression and puts pressure on authorities to answer the agonizing question printed on many of those photos: “Donde están?” – Where are they?

Iconic Portraits in Resistance Movements

Protesters throughout history have rallied around portraits of inspirational figures as a form of symbolic allegiance. In fact, displaying a leader’s image can be both a unifying signal to fellow protesters and an act of open defiance against authorities.

A striking early example comes from Hawaiʻi in the 1890s: after the Hawaiian monarchy was overthrown in 1893, Native Hawaiians showed their loyalty by publicly displaying portraits of their deposed king and queen. “From 1893 on, the display of portraits of King Kalākaua and Queen Liliʻuokalani was an act of protest and signaled loyalty to the monarchy” despite the new provisional government. Even when actual photographs were not available, people used substitutes (like royal symbols on quilts) to represent their beloved leaders. This demonstrated that a simple portrait could become a quiet rebellion, asserting the legitimacy of the old order in the face of an imposed new one.

In modern times, the practice continues in various movements. During the Iranian Revolution of 1978–79, crowds famously carried posters of Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, the exiled cleric who became the revolution’s figurehead. Photographs of Khomeini – then banned by the Shah’s regime – were smuggled into the country and appeared at nearly every anti-Shah rally. Contemporary accounts note that “demonstrators [held] up a poster of exiled leader Ayatollah Khomeini as protests in Tehran grew larger” in late 1978. Showing his portrait was a bold statement of unity and rejection of the Shah’s authority.

Similarly, during Myanmar’s long struggle for democracy, Aung San Suu Kyi’s portrait became a rallying banner. Suu Kyi, a pro-democracy leader under house arrest for years, was a living symbol of hope; her face on posters and T-shirts signified the people’s unwavering support for her and their cause. Even outside Myanmar, activists have brandished her image – from Myanmar communities abroad to supporters in other countries – calling for her freedom. For example, after a military coup in 2021, protesters in cities like Bangkok and Tokyo marched with Suu Kyi’s portrait held high, demanding her release. At a demonstration in Bangkok, hundreds of Myanmar expatriates waved flags and held portraits of their jailed democracy heroine, Aung San Suu Kyi, as a “loud but peaceful” show of anger at the junta. Such displays send a clear message: “We stand with her.” They personalize the abstract ideals of democracy and courage in the figure of a single beloved leader.

Whether it’s images of Mahatma Gandhi carried by freedom marchers, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s photo on posters at civil rights rallies, or a dissident’s face on placards in Belarus or Hong Kong, the effect is similar – iconic portraits inspire and unify movements. By displaying a leader’s likeness, protesters claim the moral authority of that individual’s legacy or vision.

Activists in Paris hung a large portrait of Myanmar’s Aung San Suu Kyi on the Place de la République monument (seen here in 2010) to demand her release. Even in exile or imprisonment, a leader’s image can serve as a focal point for resistance, reminding onlookers of the values and hopes that person represents.

Martyr Imagery Galvanizing Support

Perhaps the most emotionally charged use of portrait displays is to honor martyrs – individuals who lost their lives in the struggle, becoming posthumous icons. History shows that a martyr’s photograph can ignite public outrage and strengthen a movement’s resolve.

A notable example is Khaled Said in Egypt. In 2010, Khaled Said, a young Egyptian man, was beaten to death by police in Alexandria. Graphic images of his battered face circulated online and fueled widespread anger at the Mubarak regime’s brutality. When the 2011 Egyptian Revolution began, protesters held banners and signs with Khaled’s portrait – a smiling photo of him while alive – under slogans like “We are all Khaled Said.” Indeed, “many people on the square carried banners of the photograph of Khaled Said” during the early Tahrir Square demonstrations. By displaying his face, Egyptians broadcast a collective message: that Khaled’s fate could have been any of theirs, and that his death would not be in vain. This martyr imagery personalized the fight against police torture and helped galvanize the public into action, contributing to the eventual fall of the regime.

During the 2009 protests in Iran (the Green Movement), the death of 26-year-old Neda Agha-Soltan became an international symbol. Amateur video footage captured Neda’s final moments after she was shot at a protest, and within hours her image spread around the world. Protesters inside and outside Iran soon held up Neda’s portrait at rallies, elevating her as a martyr of the democracy movement. As media reported at the time, “the 26-year-old’s death has come to symbolize Iranian resistance… she had become the iconic victim of the government crackdown.” Pictures of Neda – a young woman with hopeful eyes, now forever frozen in martyrdom – gave the opposition a deeply resonant rallying point. Chanting her name and displaying her photo on placards, protesters underscored the human cost of tyranny and drew global sympathy to their cause.

Likewise, throughout the Arab Spring of 2011, images of martyrs were omnipresent: from Tunisia’s Mohamed Bouazizi (whose self-immolation sparked uprisings) to Bahrain and Syria, where demonstrators brandished photos of those killed by security forces. Martyr portraits serve to memorialize the fallen and motivate the living. Each time a face of someone slain – whether a student, a protester, or an innocent bystander – is lifted up in a crowd, it reminds everyone what is at stake. It can turn funerals into protests and victims into enduring symbols. As one observer noted about Neda, she “gave the regime’s brutality a bloody face and a name,” transforming public perception and steeling the resolve of the opposition.

Modern Applications and Continued Relevance

From historical struggles to today’s movements, the display of portraits remains a vital tool for activists championing democracy, justice, and human rights. In an age of social media and instant communication, one might think holding up a paper photograph or poster is outdated – but on the contrary, it is more relevant than ever. Modern protesters continue to harness the unique power of portraits in both physical and virtual spaces, often combining the two.

Around the world, we see this method used in contemporary causes large and small. Campaigns for political prisoners frequently involve supporters holding the prisoner’s picture at demonstrations. A recent example occurred during the 2023 COP28 climate summit in Dubai: in a rare protest allowed in the UAE, about 25 activists held up photos of imprisoned human-rights defenders – including Emirati dissident Ahmed Mansoor and Egyptian activist Alaa Abdel Fattah – demanding their release. The sight of those faces behind bars, displayed in a public forum, sent a powerful appeal to the world for their freedom.

Similarly, in authoritarian countries like Belarus or Russia, opposition activists have staged flash protests holding portraits of jailed leaders or journalists, even though doing so risks immediate arrest. The fact that regimes often ban or crack down on such portraits (for instance, China’s longtime prohibition on displaying the Dalai Lama’s photo in Tibet) is testament to their impact. Authoritarians fear the rallying effect of a revered image – it can quickly become a lightning rod for dissent.

Portrait displays also play a key role in movements against racial or social injustice. During the global Black Lives Matter protests in 2020, marchers in many cities carried large photographs of individuals who had been killed by police, such as George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and others. These images, often emblazoned with phrases like “Justice for ___,” personalized the demand for change and helped viewers around the world connect with the victims as real people rather than anonymous statistics. In marches against gun violence, students have held pictures of classmates lost in school shootings; in feminist protests, women carry portraits of murder victims to protest femicide. Each of these is a modern echo of the same principle: show the world who has suffered, so their story cannot be ignored.

Even digital activism leverages the power of portraits. Online, supporters change their social media profile pictures to a photo of a jailed activist or a victim, effectively creating a virtual mass display of that portrait. This was seen after Neda Agha-Soltan’s death, when “I am Neda” avatars spread on Facebook and Twitter, and in the #WeAreAllKhaledSaid campaign on Facebook which helped organize Egypt’s protests. While the Museum of Protest focuses on physical demonstrations, it’s worth noting that the symbolism translates to the internet age – a reminder that the human face remains a potent messenger on any medium.

In summary, Displays of Portraits continue to be a rich and accessible form of protest because they appeal to our shared humanity. They require no elaborate tools – just a printout or drawing of a face – yet they can silence a crowd or move a nation. Whether it’s a mother in Buenos Aires clutching a faded photograph of her disappeared daughter, or a throng of young protesters in Hong Kong holding candles and images of a fallen peer, the act speaks volumes. It says: Here is an individual who matters. Here is a life that was affected by what we are fighting against.

By focusing the public’s attention on personal narratives, portrait displays cut through propaganda and fear. They unite protesters in solidarity (as they literally hold the same image in their hands), and they often win the hearts of those watching. In nonviolent movements, this tactic exemplifies how symbolic acts can sway opinion and empower the powerless. Faces tell stories, and stories spur action. As long as injustice and oppression exist, activists will continue raising portraits for all to see – keeping memories alive, demanding accountability, and inspiring others to stand up. The method’s enduring presence in protests today underscores its effectiveness. A picture truly is worth a thousand words, and in the language of protest, the right portrait can shout for justice without ever uttering a sound.