The Logo of Dissent

We all know Che Guevara, even if we don’t know Che Guevara. He has become one of the defining symbols of an entire demographic, of repeated generations of young, liberal, idealistic men and women across the world. We know him not because of his historical significance, not because of the things he did or said, not because we happen to have a particular interest in Latin-American history. We know him best of all from his face: usually captured in a stark red-and-black contrast, staring into some unseen distance, unshaven, hair tangled loose around a beret, looking handsome and strong and prepared to lead the revolution. We see it on t-shirts and posters. We see it on university campuses, hanging on the walls of gift shops, on the streets, in concerts. For an avowed anti-capitalist, Che’s likeness finds its way onto a remarkable amount of commerce.

The image is a perfect demonstration of cool, it is the essence of rebellion. The steely gaze, the dual-color, the hair, the revolutionary communist zeal—it all speaks to a certain yearning, a desire to strip away the first-world upbringing, the good education, the wealthy surroundings, and to charge out into the jungle, to change the world! All this in a simple t-shirt.

The original photograph, taken in 1960 by Alberto Korda, was modified eight years later by the Irish artist, Jim Fitzpatrick, who designed the original red-and-black contrast often seen today. Seven years after Guevara’s death, the photograph was made famous when the Italian publisher Giangiacomo Feltrinelli used the image as a large poster. Since then, it has been adopted as the trademark of countless student protests, branded into popular culture through the sales of Che-themed merchandise, and even named “The most famous photograph in the world and a symbol of the 20th Century.”? Che’s image is not only an icon. It’s a logo.

But it seems that there is something irresponsible about tapping into someone’s legacy in such a casual way. It makes me wonder how many of those who display Che’s likeness actually know anything about the man behind the image? Guevara played an indispensable role in the social upheavals of Latin America and Africa. He was part of a struggle against inequality and authoritarianism. He possessed tremendous compassion for the poor and the oppressed in undeveloped nations. Yet he also personally founded the Stalinist “labor camp”? system in Cuba, which was used to imprison and execute dissidents, intellectuals, and homosexuals. In one essay, he paid tribute to the “unbending hatred for the enemy, which pushes a human being beyond his natural limitations, making him into an effective, violent, selective, and cold-blooded killing machine. This is what our soldiers must become.”?

This mixed legacy does not necessarily mean that it is wrong to admire Guevara or his ideas. Che has become a potent symbol for millions of people across the world: of justice, of revolution, of equality; but also of militarism and rigid ideological fervor. Che Guevara was a figure of incredible complexity, which can never accurately be represented by a poster or a coffee mug. This doesn’t mean that there’s anything inherently wrong about the classic Che image. But perhaps we should know a little more about our icons before we wear them on our t-shirts.