1 in 6 Children Live in War Zones. So Why Did I Make Another Poster?
Exploring design’s limits and the weight of witnessing from afar.
War posters historically had the purpose of persuading the public about potential threats, promoting nationalism, or simply recruiting. They were the perfect tool to communicate a dominant narrative quickly and effectively. The message moved in only one direction, with no space for dialogue or dissent.
A war in 2025 is nothing like a war in 1925. Conflict has evolved technologically, strategically, and psychologically. Communication has evolved alongside it, adopting new tools and expanding in scale. Media is no longer just a recounting of war. It has become a weapon in itself.
Today, most of us experience war through an endless stream of media. Opinion posts, news coverage, personal testimonies, state propaganda, malicious actors, sensationalist content, unfiltered combat footage, and clickbait all compete for attention. Every participant in a conflict now produces their own form of propaganda. This overwhelming flow of imagery and information shapes how we react. We have become distant witnesses to devastation, forming our own opinions and biases based on the stories we are exposed to.
This shift changes how we understand the role of the poster. It is no longer a vehicle for a single narrative. As civilians, we have reclaimed the format to bring in new perspectives, express uncertainty, and push back.
What I want to explore with this series is how children, even when forced to adapt to the brutal reality that surrounds them, still carry fragments of their innocence through it. Their presence might seem insignificant in these conditions, like tiny specks of dust after a bomb explodes. Nearly invisible. Seemingly powerless. Carried by the shockwave. But eventually, the dust settles, and from the rubble, war keeps taking new shape.
This is about the endless cycle of war and how it continues to breed itself. Children who grow up in war zones are often doomed to carry that trauma into the future. Over time, their innocence and fear turn into hatred and action. They become part of the next phase of the conflict, caught in cycles of revenge, dominance, and survival.
“Still, designing a poster about war can feel morally uncomfortable.”
War is a versatile tool. It evolves with the times, adapts to new technologies and narratives, and always maintains its servitude to power. It does so at the expense of those who cannot choose.
Still, designing a poster about war can feel morally uncomfortable. At times, it feels like shouting something everyone already knows, from a position of safety and distance. It risks becoming an expressive piece about something I am not living through, something that is not directly affecting me. It can feel like forced empathy. But I have to remind myself that even in its devastation, war carries nuance. It must make space for different perspectives, especially those of often overlooked victims.
Maybe the world does not need another poster series about war. But I needed to make one. It was a way to make sense of it, and to reflect on how my own work relates to something this vast. My goal was to approach the subject with care, and in a way that felt both respectful and unexpected. Posters are, by nature, tools for awareness. And if this work helps someone grasp even a fraction of what the most vulnerable populations in war-torn places are going through, then maybe it can create space, not for answers, but for action.
1 in 6 children worldwide live in war zones. But how many of us are still living in willful oblivion?
This poster series is featured in the new issue of Megáfono Magazine V.4.