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.

This method involves altering or creating signs, names, or symbols in public spaces to reflect the protesters’ message. It can mean “erecting signs where there have been none or replacing old street names with new ones of symbolic significance.” These acts are peaceful but potent: they redefine the meaning of a place or object in line with the movement’s cause, asserting a new narrative in the space shared by all.

Such symbolic renaming is far more than a prank or aesthetic change. It’s a form of nonviolent resistance that can rally public attention, empower the oppressed, and unsettle those in power without using threats or harm. By changing a street sign or naming a plaza after a cause or martyr, activists send a clear signal of dissent. These signs and names become rallying points, keeping the issue in the public eye and reminding everyone of the protesters’ demands and values. In a complicated world, a simple symbolic act can convey a complex message. As one analysis noted, to convey a message in a memorable and visually arresting way, nothing is more elemental than a striking symbol or name. This is why symbolic public acts like “new signs and names” can be so powerful: they hook our attention, stir emotion, and often spread virally through media.

How This Method Strengthens a Protest Movement

Claims Space Visibly

Renaming a street or putting up a new sign essentially claims territory for the movement’s ideas. It visually marks a place as linked to the cause – for example, installing a protest banner or unofficial street plaque can turn an ordinary corner into a site of significance for the protesters. This public visibility can force bystanders and authorities alike to confront the message daily.

Builds Unity and Identity

Adopting a shared symbol or name gives a movement an identity. Whether it’s a color, a slogan, or a renamed square, it becomes a shorthand for the cause that supporters immediately recognize. Wearing a symbol or rallying at a renamed location fosters solidarity. It tells participants “we’re in this together” and signals to observers that the movement is organized and here to stay.

Challenges the Official Narrative

Changing signs or names is an implicit challenge to whoever originally named them – often the authorities or prevailing powers. It’s a way to peacefully subvert authority. For instance, replacing a dictator’s name on a street sign with the name of a resistance hero is a bold statement that the public rejects the old regime’s honor. Even if done unofficially or temporarily, it can embarrass officials and inspire citizens by showing that the regime’s control over public space and history is not absolute.

Raises Awareness and Morale

Symbolic acts attract attention from the media and community because of their creativity. They often have an element of surprise or humor (as many nonviolent tactics do), which can captivate people more than plain speeches. In repressive situations, small acts like graffiti or sign changes can have an outsized effect on morale – they signal that “the resistance is still alive” even when open protest is dangerous. Every such sign can be a psychological boost to oppressed people and a psychological hit to oppressors, who realize their narratives are being challenged in the open.

In the sections below, we explore several historic instances where “new signs and names” made a tangible difference. These examples – from World War II Poland to the streets of American cities – show how powerful this method can be in practice. Each story illustrates a different way protesters have used symbolic naming to resist injustice and drive change, all in a nonpartisan spirit of public expression.

Defiance in Occupied Poland: Symbols of Hope on the Streets

During World War II, Nazi-occupied Poland became a hotbed of clandestine nonviolent resistance. One striking tactic was the use of symbolic graffiti and signs to undermine the occupiers’ propaganda and boost Polish morale. In 1942, the Polish underground introduced the now-famous “Kotwica” symbol – a graffiti emblem combining the letters P and W to form an anchor shape, standing for Polska Walcząca (Fighting Poland).

Over just a few weeks that spring, teams of brave Polish scouts and resistance members painted this emblem on walls and signposts all around Warsaw. Suddenly, on city streets controlled by the German army, new signs appeared everywhere: the Polish anchor, a quiet announcement that the spirit of Poland was unbroken.

These covert sign campaigns were a classic example of “new signs and names” in action. The underground didn’t have the power to officially rename streets under Nazi rule, but they effectively rebranded public space with their own symbols. They even engaged in satirical sign sabotage – for instance, posting German-language signs like “Nur für Deutsche” (“Only for Germans”) in absurd places (such as cemeteries or gallows) to mock Nazi arrogance.

Such minor sabotage was nonviolent but psychologically potent. Its impact was twofold: it emboldened Polish citizens by reminding them that others were actively resisting, and it unsettled the occupiers by exposing their inability to fully control the narrative. As historians note, the purpose was largely psychological – to show Polish civilians that the resistance remained active and to wear down the occupier’s confidence.

Indeed, these simple painted symbols kept hope alive. Each new sign or slogan whispered that the invaders’ dominance was not total, and that one day the true names and symbols of Poland would prevail again.

“You Are Now Entering Free Derry”: Claiming Space in Northern Ireland

One of the most iconic protest signs in history was born in the tumult of Northern Ireland’s civil rights struggle. In January 1969, in the city of Derry (Londonderry), Catholic residents protesting discrimination boldly declared their neighborhood autonomous from British authority. A local activist painted in large white letters on a gable wall the now-famous message: “You are now entering Free Derry.” This unofficial sign gave name to a self-declared liberated zone, “Free Derry,” and that name stuck.

For several days, residents manned barricades and effectively kept security forces out of the Bogside area. Every person who passed that corner saw the proclamation on the wall, leaving no doubt that they were crossing into a community in resistance.

The Free Derry Corner sign, as it came to be known, was much more than graffiti – it was the banner of a movement. By naming their district “Free Derry,” the residents asserted their rights and identity in a single phrase. The bold public declaration shamed the authorities by spotlighting the fact that a segment of their city’s citizens felt so alienated and oppressed that they had “freed” themselves.

Over the next several years of conflict known as the Troubles, the area of Free Derry became a focal point of civil rights and Irish nationalist activism. The painted slogan on the wall became an enduring symbol of defiance, seen in countless news photos and spreading the protesters’ message worldwide.

Even as violence and clashes unfolded, that sign remained a nonviolent expression of a political truth – it articulated the community’s demand for dignity and self-determination. Importantly, the Free Derry sign continued to inspire long after the barricades were gone. The wall still stands today, preserved as a monument. Over the years it has been repainted to mark various causes and memorials, from honoring Bloody Sunday victims to showing solidarity with global movements (one could see murals of George Floyd or messages supporting Palestine added alongside the original words in recent times).

In this way, a simple renaming of a place – achieved with paint and conviction – created a powerful legacy. It demonstrates how claiming a name can galvanize a movement and carve its story into the physical landscape. The words “Free Derry” turned an ordinary street corner into hallowed ground for civil rights, illustrating the lasting force of symbolic public acts.

People’s Park: Turning a Vacant Lot into “The People’s” Space

Not all examples of “new signs and names” come from conflicts with armies or police. Sometimes the battle is over public space and who gets to define it. A classic case is People’s Park in Berkeley, California – a protest that literally put a new name on the map.

In 1969, a group of students and community members, frustrated by the University of California’s plans to develop a vacant lot, decided to take matters into their own hands. Inspired by the era’s spirit of activism, they seized the empty, trash-strewn lot and transformed it into a community park, complete with lawns, gardens, and play areas. In doing so, they gave it a deliberately chosen name: People’s Park.

It was a symbolic rechristening – this land would belong to the people, not the university or the state. The creation of People’s Park was a form of protest against authority and “business as usual,” and naming was central to its impact. By calling it People’s Park, the activists asserted a vision of a more communal, bottom-up approach to public land.

The new name caught on immediately, appearing in sympathetic newspapers and spoken by hundreds of locals who came to help build the park. This put significant pressure on the university. When officials attempted to reclaim the lot by force a month later, tearing down the makeshift park, it sparked a massive confrontation. Protesters rallied to defend People’s Park, chanting its name. In what came to be known as “Bloody Thursday,” police and National Guard troops deployed force, killing one bystander and injuring many as they cleared the area.

Yet the public outrage and continued protests that followed proved the power of that name. The community’s attachment to “People’s Park” was so strong that the authorities eventually backed down – the university halted construction plans and allowed the site to remain a park.

More than five decades later, People’s Park still exists (albeit continually contested), a living reminder of that 1969 movement. Its very presence in city maps and consciousness is a victory for the protesters’ method. The episode shows how symbolic naming coupled with direct action can produce tangible change: an idle piece of university property was turned into a lasting public commons.

The name itself became a rallying cry that drew diverse supporters (students, neighbors, even folks well outside Berkeley following the news) to the cause of community control. To this day, People’s Park is synonymous with grassroots protest and the idea that ordinary people can reclaim urban space. In a broader sense, the story of People’s Park demonstrates how “new signs and names” can crystallize a protest’s goals – here, the goal of a more participatory, people-centered city – and push authorities into conceding real, physical ground to a movement.

Black Lives Matter and George Floyd Square: Modern Signs of Resistance

In recent years, protest movements have continued to use symbolic renaming to amplify their messages. Two powerful examples emerged from the Black Lives Matter protests against racial injustice in the United States.

In mid-2020, as millions demonstrated after the killing of George Floyd, activists and sympathetic city officials turned to literal street writing and renaming to keep the call for justice highly visible. In Washington D.C., the local government painted the slogan “Black Lives Matter” in enormous yellow letters down a long stretch of 16th Street leading to the White House, and ceremonially renamed that portion “Black Lives Matter Plaza.” Overnight, a public space in the nation’s capital took on a new identity honoring the movement. A new street sign went up, and the location became a gathering point for protesters and a backdrop for global media reports.

This act — essentially a giant sign on the pavement and an official plaza name — signified recognition of the movement’s importance and put its message quite literally on the map of the city.

Even more organically, protesters in Minneapolis transformed the very intersection where George Floyd was killed into a sacred protest space now known as George Floyd Square. Community members and activists erected their own street barricades and unofficially dubbed the intersection “George Floyd Square” in the weeks after his death, refusing to let city traffic resume as usual. They placed homemade street signs bearing Floyd’s name and filled the area with murals, memorials, and artworks dedicated to the cause of racial justice.

What had been a mundane corner of Chicago Avenue and 38th Street was reimagined as a living memorial and an ongoing protest site – effectively renamed by the people. For over a year, this occupied space functioned as a forum for grievance and hope, with an impromptu sign at its entrance listing demands for change. The unofficial name caught on so widely that the City of Minneapolis eventually approved it as an honorary name for that stretch of road, even while negotiations continued about how to reopen and memorialize the area.

The “George Floyd Square” action shows how symbolic naming can keep momentum in a protest. By naming the intersection after the victim, activists ensured that the conversation did not fade away once the immediate unrest subsided. The square became a symbol of continued protest for justice — a place where people could gather, reflect, and insist that accountability and reform were still needed.

It also demonstrates the dialogue between grassroots and institutions: a spontaneous protest sign can evolve into an official city-recognized name, as the values of the movement permeate public consciousness. Across many U.S. cities in 2020, similar street murals and renamed plazas sprang up (from Black Lives Matter Plaza in D.C. to murals on New York’s Fifth Avenue and Oakland’s 15th Street), showing the resonance of this tactic.

These symbolic public acts did not by themselves change laws, but they created an environment where change became more possible – lawmakers and the public could quite literally see the urgent call for justice in front of them daily. Indeed, within months, Minneapolis and other cities instituted police reform measures, and the ongoing presence of these sites serves as a constant reminder of the work still to be done.

Why Symbolic Public Acts Matter in Nonviolent Resistance

All of these narratives – whether from 1940s Europe, 1960s America, or the 2020 global wave – underscore a fundamental point: symbolic acts have real power. Nonviolent movements often succeed or fail based on their ability to capture the public’s imagination and moral conscience. By using “new signs and names,” protesters frame the story on their own terms. They shine a spotlight on injustice (as with a memorial name like George Floyd Square), or they point to an alternative future (as with the hopeful creation of “People’s Park”).

There is a strategic wisdom in this method. Opponents may hold superior force, but they cannot as easily control the meaning of symbols. A well-placed sign or a resonant renaming can slip past censorship and lodge itself in the popular mind. During the struggle against apartheid in South Africa, for instance, anti-apartheid activists would sometimes unofficially rename streets that honored colonial figures, substituting names of Black leaders or freedom concepts – a quiet repudiation of apartheid values.

In Eastern Europe, dissidents under communist regimes frequently referred to cities and landmarks by their pre-communist or native names, refusing to legitimize imposed Soviet-era names. These were subtle, nonviolent ways of saying “we do not accept your version of reality.” The impact of such acts may not be immediate, but over time they erode the authority’s narrative and bolster the protesters’ cultural influence.

Furthermore, symbolic public acts are highly accessible forms of protest. One does not need a large organization or resources to put up a new sign – only creativity and courage. A few individuals can start a campaign by renaming a park or plucking down oppressive signage. If the idea resonates, it can spread rapidly.

The visual nature of these tactics makes them perfect for the age of social media as well: a photograph of a defiant street sign or banner can go viral and inspire people far afield. For example, the image of the “You Are Now Entering Free Derry” wall traveled well beyond Northern Ireland, encouraging other communities to declare their own zones of freedom in times of turmoil.

In Hong Kong’s 2014 pro-democracy protests, activists created a “Lennon Wall” covered in colorful sticky notes calling for rights – effectively turning a public staircase into a mosaic of demands, a new landmark of dissent. The idea caught on and was revived in 2019 with entire footbridges plastered in messages. Such is the contagious inspiration of symbolic acts.

Finally, in a museum of protest – a setting like ours that looks at these events with a nonpartisan, historical lens – “new signs and names” stand out as reminders that the essence of protest is communication. These signs and renamed spaces communicate grievances and hopes across barriers of language, time, and politics. One doesn’t need to take a side in the politics to appreciate the human drama of a Free Derry Corner or a Black Lives Matter Plaza. They are expressions of people seeking justice, using wit and art in place of weapons. They invite us to reflect on the values being fought for: freedom, equality, community. And they often become lasting monuments. Long after the conflict has passed, the names sometimes remain changed (or at least remembered), proving that ideas outlast the empires and injustices they opposed.