Table of Contents
- Filling a Visual Vacuum at Guantánamo
- How the Portrait Program Works
- Human Faces Behind the Headlines
- A Glimpse of Khalid Shaikh Mohammed
- Why These Portraits Matter Now More Than Ever
- Sources
Filling a Visual Vacuum at Guantánamo
With media access strictly banned from the U.S. military prison at Guantánamo Bay, the world has been left with few visual records of the last 15 wartime detainees. But an unexpected window has opened—not through journalism, but through a quiet humanitarian effort: the Guantánamo portraits.
These carefully composed images, voluntarily taken by detainees and reviewed by U.S. military officials, are part of a decades-old collaboration with the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC). They serve one purpose: to let families know their loved ones are still alive.
How the Portrait Program Works
Since 2009, detainees at Guantánamo have been allowed to pose for photographs as part of ICRC’s family communication program. These aren’t mugshots or surveillance stills—they’re intentional, dignified portraits.
Detainees often wear civilian or traditional clothing, sometimes even smiling or gazing calmly into the lens. The photos are then sent to families through Red Cross channels, after being screened by prison authorities to ensure no security risks.
This process is grounded in the Geneva Conventions, which guarantee prisoners of war the right to communicate with their families—a right extended, in practice, even to those held without formal POW status.
Human Faces Behind the Headlines
For many families, these Guantánamo portraits are the first visual confirmation in years that their relative is still alive. Some had believed their loved ones were dead—lost to silence, distance, and the fog of war.
Former detainees have described the emotional weight of these photos. One said he posed with a calm expression specifically to reassure his mother: “I wanted her to sleep at night.”
In a facility often portrayed through legal briefs and political rhetoric, these images reintroduce something essential: humanity.
A Glimpse of Khalid Shaikh Mohammed
Even the most high-profile detainees participate. Khalid Shaikh Mohammed—the man accused of masterminding the 9/11 attacks—recently appeared in a portrait wearing a pressed white robe, his beard dyed in traditional style.
His image, like others, doesn’t minimize the gravity of the allegations. But it does complicate the narrative. Here is a man held for over 20 years, still engaging in a ritual of connection, still reaching across oceans to say: “I exist.”
Why These Portraits Matter Now More Than Ever
As Guantánamo nears its 24th year of operation—with only 15 detainees remaining—the Guantánamo portraits have become more than family mementos. They’re historical documents.
They capture a paradox: a prison built on secrecy enabling moments of profound transparency. They reflect a collaboration between captors and captives that few would have predicted. And they remind us that even in the most politicized corners of national security, human bonds endure.
With no journalists allowed inside, these portraits may be our clearest, most honest look at who remains—and why their stories still matter.
