A charity that took photos of the last fifteen detainees at Guantanamo Bay
A charity program that has produced the only recent images of the last 15 prisoners held at Guantánamo Bay has become an unlikely visual record of America’s longest-running detention operation against terrorism. RadarOnline.com can reveal.
The partnership brings together detainees, the U.S. military and the International Committee of the Red Cross at the naval base in Cuba, where the United States has been holding war prisoners since 2002.
With media access to the prison banned since 2019, the portraits now provide the only contemporary glimpse into a prison that once held nearly 780 men and boys and now holds just 15.
Under the program, detainees voluntarily pose for photographs taken by representatives of the Red Cross or, more recently, by military photographers.
The images are reviewed by the military for security concerns before being passed on to families through the Red Cross, in accordance with communications rights under the Geneva Conventions.
The initiative began allowing photographs in 2009, when approximately 240 prisoners were still held at the site.
The portraits show men dressed in civilian or traditional clothing, sitting on prayer rugs or in front of makeshift backdrops hanging in cells or recreational areas.
Former inmates have said the photos are intended to reassure family members who have not seen them for years and in some cases once thought they were dead.
At least 169 former prisoners took part before being repatriated or resettled, according to the Red Cross count.
One of the latest images is Khalid Shaikh Mohammed, accused of masterminding the September 11 attacks, depicted in a pressed white robe with a painted beard.
Another shows his cousin, Ammar al-Baluchiaccused of aiding the plot, sitting on a prayer rug with beads in his hand, his appearance noticeably changed from the once-classified images taken during his previous CIA detention.
The photos fill what observers describe as an intentional visual void.
“These portraits read differently depending on who is looking,” says Debi Cornwall, a former civil rights lawyer turned photographer who documented the prison in her book Welcome to Camp America.
“For the families of the prisoners, these portraits can be reassuring and allay their worst fears,” she added. But to the broader public, Cornwall said, the images “give the false impression that these Guantánamo Bay detainees have free will. They live under the total control of the military.”
By the time Red Cross visits were temporarily curtailed during the coronavirus pandemic, military photographers had already taken over the task of documenting the prisoners’ changing faces.
Cells are now used as makeshift studios, a stark contrast to the first images released in 2002 showing hooded prisoners in orange uniforms kneeling in cages.
Former detainee Sufyian Barhoumi, who was held without trial for 20 years, said from Algeria that prisoners worked to project calm.
“For them, even little things — for your mother, for your family — when they don’t see you in uniform, it’s something,” he said.
“The family doesn’t know how to suffer just to take the photo,” Barhoumi added, describing sessions where shackles are hidden from view.
The program has also produced striking images of Abu Zubaydah, born Zayn al-Abidin Muhammed Husayn, who was never charged with a crime and was the first person to be waterboarded by CIA agents.
In a 2024 portrait, he appears in a navy blue blazer and civilian clothes, an accommodation provided to inmates not convicted of crimes.
Cornwall said: “We can imagine seeing that man in his navy blue blazer on the street. But as things stand now, that will never happen.”
