Picasso’s mural from the Spanish Civil War speaks to us now

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Pablo Picasso is famous for “breaking the mold” in the art world, but one overtly political painting is arguably his most famous work: Guernica. This 25-foot mural represents the best of Picasso’s style as well as his passion for world peace. He painted it in the immediate aftermath of an “experiment” conducted by Hitler’s forces during the Spanish Civil War. 

In April 1937, German and Italian bombers targeted the Basque town of Guernica, home to about 7,000 for destruction. Estimates vary, but at least 150 civilians were killed in one of the first deliberate uses of “terror bombing.” 

From that moment on, the tactical use of aerial bombardment became a standard tool in the arsenal of every nation that could dominate the skies. Militaries have been “improving” upon the art of destruction ever since: first with high-altitude bombers, then missiles launched from land or sea, and now high-powered drones.

Picasso’s painting delivers a blunt message: This type of long-distance warfare—indeed, any type of warfare—has no place in a “civilized” society. One can almost hear the agonized screams of the Basque people, of the dying horse, of a terrified bull.

A replica of Guernica occupies a prominent position in the lobby of the United Nations in New York; the original is in the Museo Sofia Reina in Madrid. Stretching 25 feet in stark black, white, and gray, it confronts every visitor with the destructive power of aerial bombardment.

It was just after midnight on Feb. 26 when the news flashed across my screen: We are going to war in Iran. Some of my first thoughts went immediately to Guernica. 

I try to see this war as the Iranian people must see it: An intense, sustained campaign of aerial bombardment that can only deepen their hatred of America—and of Israel. Our attempt to pound Iran into submission is perfectly designed to have the opposite effect. Ninety-eight million people are digging in, literally and figuratively, with no intention of surrendering.

Only a day after we launched this bombardment, we learned that a missile—later verified to be a U.S. Tomahawk—had slammed into a girls’ school in Minab, southeastern Iran. The death toll from that single strike was more than 170, mostly children. Was this school misidentified as part of a nearby naval facility, based on obsolete maps—or worse, faulty AI? Will we ever know?

Within days, thousands of munitions had been fired, including the 30,000-pound “bunker buster” bomb known as the “Massive Ordinance Penetrator.” We are told, repeatedly, that these weapons are “precisely targeted,” that this war is being conducted with “surgical precision.” White House videos proudly display the effects of each missile, each explosion, as if they were advertising clips for the latest consumer tech. And still, officials deny responsibility for destroying the girls’ school in Minab. 

As I see those videos, my mind paints new images of black-and-white Guernica. We see Iranian missile strikes on Israel, Israeli attacks on Lebanon, of civil wars flaring again in Iraq. Oil refineries are burning furiously in the Persian Gulf—in places like Kuwait, Dubai, Qatar, Iraq, and beyond. This region, so critical to energy markets throughout the world, is being torn apart before our eyes.

That is the dreadful reality. Yet too many Americans seem concerned only with rising gas prices and the continuing crisis of “affordability” as Iran’s stranglehold on the Strait of Hormuz continues unabated. The human cost barely registers in the news—the lives shattered, the children buried, the futures erased.

In succeeding weeks and months, millions of Americans will be glued to their screens watching a sanitized version of this war. We’ve already seen this movie, and too many times: The tragedy of war transformed into spectacle.

I try to see this war as the Iranian people must see it: An intense, sustained campaign of aerial bombardment that can only deepen their hatred of America—and of Israel.

As for me, I’m looking forward to seeing Mr. Nobody Against Putin, starting Friday at the Palm. This film won the Oscar for Best Documentary Feature. It tells the story of Pavel Talankin, a humble Russian teacher who refused to teach only official state propaganda about the war in Ukraine. Talankin is now a refugee from Putin’s long reach, living under constant threat from Russian goons.

As the filmmakers accepted their Oscar, they turned the microphone over to the real “Mr. Nobody.” 

“For years, we look at the sky for shooting stars to make a very important wish. But there are countries where instead of shooting stars they have shooting bombs and shooting drones. In the name of our future, in the name of all of our children, stop all of these wars now,” Talanka said. 

Those words brought me back, once again, to Guernica—as I’m brought back every time I see images of war, especially this war. I see the agony etched on the faces of Iranians, Israelis, Palestinians in Gaza, families evacuating southern Lebanon—every victim caught up in this widening catastrophe. ∆

John Ashbaugh no longer indulges his childhood dream to become a “Top Gun.” Send a response for publication to letters@newtimesslo.com.

This article appears in Spring Arts Annual 2026.