Why Photography Is a Powerful Tool for Justice Movements Across the World
Photographs documenting social, ecological, and economic struggles expose hidden truths, counter societal amnesia, and inspire action toward a more just future.
Introduction
Photographs have long played an instrumental role in shaping people’s understanding of injustice—and how they choose to respond to it. From iconic images of civil rights protests in the U.S. to scenes of Indigenous resistance across Latin America, photography has served not just as documentation, but as a form of testimony. It bears witness to what is often hidden or denied: the violence of displacement, the defiance of frontline communities, the toll of the extractive industry, and the courage of those who resist. In moments where official narratives fail or are manipulated, the lens serves a vital counterpoint, preserving truth and amplifying voices that might otherwise be silenced or erased.
More than a record of events, social documentary photography—pioneered by Jacob Riis’s work on New York City slums in the 1880s—builds bridges. When viewers see the faces and places behind struggles for land, dignity, and climate justice, the images can spark empathy, outrage, and ultimately, action. Photography connects seemingly disparate movements across borders and generations, revealing the shared stakes of resistance—from forests under siege in Brazil to neighborhoods fighting pipelines in the U.S. South. This visual storytelling doesn’t just inform; it mobilizes. In an era of intensifying ecological crisis and authoritarianism, images of struggle and resilience remind us that people everywhere are pushing back—and that their efforts are not isolated, but part of a global chorus demanding change.
For more than five decades, I’ve documented moments of resistance—acts of courage, defiance, and collective hope, around the world. Portraits of Struggle is the product of those years. Spanning six continents, these photographs document people, communities, and movements fighting for justice—social, ecological, and economic—often in places overlooked or erased by dominant narratives.
The journey began in 1969, when, as a high school student in Missouri, I participated in protests against the Vietnam War. That war—with its staggering toll on human life and the environment—revealed the interlocking systems of colonialism, imperialism, racism, war, and environmental destruction. Over time, photography became a means of tracing those connections.
My training at the International Center of Photography in New York introduced the influence of Cornell Capa and the concept of the “concerned photographer.” That philosophy continues to guide my work—not simply to observe but to participate, to document injustice with respect, to build trust with subjects, and to share their stories truthfully. These are stories that power often seeks to bury.
The people and places featured form a global mosaic of resistance. From the Amazon to Appalachia, from anti-war protests in Miami to Indigenous land occupations in Chile, the photographs capture struggle—and hope—on the front lines of social and environmental change.
North America
In the U.S., early images in the book depict Vietnam Veterans Against the War and mass protests at the 1972 Republican National Convention. Later documentation includes climate actions, anti-globalization demonstrations, and frontline efforts by Indigenous and Black communities defending land and life.
In Union Hill, Virginia, a historically Black rural community founded by formerly enslaved African Americans, residents successfully resisted a proposed pipeline project. Judi Bari, an environmentalist, is also featured, photographed after surviving a car bombing while working to unite timber workers and environmentalists to protect California’s ancient redwoods.
In Canada, Cree and Inuit communities resisting Hydro-Québec’s dam projects offered insight into traditional knowledge and the enduring truth that land is life.
Central America
In Nicaragua, Indigenous Mayangna communities were photographed as they defended the Bosawás Rainforest from illegal logging. After Hurricane Mitch devastated the region, a refugee camp became a focal point—thousands displaced, many buried by mudslides worsened by deforestation and climate change.
South America
In Brazil, Indigenous communities mobilized against laws threatening their land rights. Quilombola communities—descendants of enslaved people who escaped—resist toxic eucalyptus plantations and genetically engineered trees. The Landless Workers’ Movement (MST) is shown converting industrial plantations into agroecological farms.
In Paraguay, protests targeted Monsanto’s devastating GMO soy operations and the forced displacement of the Ayoreo people from the Chaco forest, one of the fastest disappearing forests on Earth.

In Chile, Mapuche communities resisted hydroelectric projects, timber monocultures, and incinerators. During the 2019 People’s Uprising, young leaders pushed for a new constitution. Demonstrations demanded land justice, climate action, and an end to police violence—especially against women.
Mexico
In Chiapas, the Indigenous Zapatista uprising of 1994 mobilized against the North American Free Trade Agreement and the dismantling of communal land rights. Years later, images show communities in the same region resisting carbon offset projects threatening to remove them from their jungle homes. Despite military threats, they prevailed.
And though I did not witness it, I will never forget South Korean farmer Lee Kyoung Hae, who took his life as I stood meters away during World Trade Organization protests in Cancún. His death shocked the world and forced people to confront the human cost of free trade with the slogan “WTO Kills Farmers.”
Europe
In London, 90-year-old Dolly Watson refused to leave her lifelong home, slated for demolition to make way for a new motorway. In Germany, 80,000 people gathered at the G8 Summit behind razor wire and riot police. In Copenhagen, African delegates walked out of climate negotiations, chanting “Two degrees is suicide!” after leaked documents exposed deals that ignored vulnerable nations.
Africa
In South Africa, mass protests against the UN Climate Conference—what many called the “Durban Disaster”—were held, as real solutions to climate change were sidelined in favor of corporate deals. Nigerian poet Nnimmo Bassey’s words echo in my ears: “Progress is the destruction of the real world in favor of a comfortable way of life for a few.”
Asia
In Bali, Indigenous delegates protested their exclusion from UN forest carbon trading talks—decisions with direct consequences for their territories. Samoan leader Fiu Mata’ese Elisara-Laula condemned these schemes as “blood money.”
Australia
In Tasmania, forest defenders occupied logging offices to halt the clear-cutting of forests. After a tense standoff in a local pub later that day, a protester sang an old union song, bridging the gap between environmentalists and workers—a reminder that connection, not conflict, offers the way forward.
Photojournalism Conveys the Power of Resistance
Across continents and decades, the struggles captured in these images form part of a global resistance. These movements are not isolated. Shared values, shared threats, and shared hope connect them. The photographs serve as evidence, invitations, and sparks—meant to ignite solidarity, action, and change. Inspired by the credo of Cornell Capa, the intent is not only to expose what is unacceptable, but also to fuel the drive to change it.
In a world facing accelerating climate collapse, systemic inequality, and rising authoritarianism, resistance is more vital than ever. The lives and movements documented in this collection offer more than a historical archive—they offer a call to action. Documentary photography not only prompts us to see what is happening in distant places, but also to recognize our role in the web of struggle and solidarity. They remind us that injustice anywhere is part of a larger system of inequity, and that transforming that system requires both bearing witness and taking part.
As visual records, these images preserve moments that power would often prefer to erase—from grassroots revolts to victories won in courtrooms, on highways, in forests, and on the streets. They document both pain and resilience—despair, but also imagination. Through them, we see how resistance evolves—not only in response to violence, but in pursuit of healing, restoration, and justice. This is not just the story of what people are fighting against—it’s also a record of what they are fighting for.
As George Orwell warned, “Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past.” These images stand as a challenge to reclaim both. They insist on remembering. They demand participation. And they offer an urgent message: another world is not only possible—it’s already being built, frame by frame, in struggle.