2026 Portrait/Personality Singles

Pastor Pan Yongguang, right, and his son Paul, members of a Chinese church living in exile after fleeing from China, are illuminated by cellphone infrared facial recognition beams while sitting for a photo on the ranch compound where they’re living in Midland, Texas, Oct. 11, 2025. Over the past decade, facial recognition and surveillance technology has gone from science fiction fantasy to worldwide reality, nowhere more so than in China, home to more security cameras than the rest of the world combined. For many, such technology has offered convenience and safety, seamlessly woven into the backdrop of their lives. But for some, it's become an intrusive form of state control. Our investigations have found that such surveillance systems in China were to a large degree designed and built by U.S. companies, playing a far greater role in enabling human rights abuses than previously known. Many described being tracked and monitored by vast networks of cameras that stud the country, hampering their movements and alerting the police to their activities. In this photo, an infrared filter was used on a modified camera converted to capture the full spectrum of light, including ultraviolet, visible, and infrared. This filter, which cuts out some visible light to better reveal infrared, is red by design in order to block certain light wavelengths. It’s an example of how these beams are used in surveillance technology to enable facial recognition - and ultimately, assert digital control.

Firouzeh Firouzabadi holds a photo of her son, Reza Zavvar, who was apprehended in a suburban Maryland neighborhood by at least five federal immigration agents in tactical gear who told Zavvar they had been waiting for him to take Duke, his dog, out for his regular morning walk. Zavvar left Tehran alone when he was 12, arriving in Virginia in 1985 on a student visa secured by his parents as a way to escape conscription into the Iranian army. He eventually received U.S. asylum, and then a green card. In his 20s, Zavvar’s guilty pleas in two misdemeanor marijuana possession cases jeopardized his immigration status. In 2007, an immigration judge issued a withholding of removal order, determining it was unsafe for Zavvar to return to Iran. He built a life, went to college and has been working as a white-collar recruiter for a consulting firm. But now, President Donald Trump’s ramped-up immigration enforcement has left families like Zavvar’s with what feels like a random and sudden disappearance, facing an unpredictable road ahead as the administration deploys tactics in ways immigration lawyers say they haven’t seen before. Firouzeh said she tries to visualize his return. She sees him dropping to the living room carpet to play with Duke, the hug she’ll give him, the party she’ll throw in the driveway, the slap she’ll deliver for all the trouble he caused. Every night, Duke sleeps on his bed. Every morning, she goes down and remakes it, just in case.

Serhii Tumanovskyi, a Ukrainian soldier of 114th territorial defence brigade shows FPV drones near the frontline in the Kupiansk direction, Kharkiv region, Ukraine, Feb. 10, 2025.

Fanny Nunez and her son, Nestor, sit for a portrait in their room in New Brunswick on Monday, Dec. 8, 2025.. One October morning in New Brunswick, Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents stopped Néstor Luis Rivera Chavez while he was running errands for his family and took him into custody. He never made it home. His detention left his wife, Fanny Jakelinne Núñez, alone with their eight-year-old son, Néstor Josias — a medically fragile child who requires constant care to survive. Since her husband’s arrest, Núñez rarely leaves the small room they rent. Her days are spent monitoring oxygen levels, feeding her son through a gastric tube, administering medication, and responding to seizures and breathing crises. Her husband had been the family’s sole source of income and the only person physically able to carry their son and manage medical appointments. His absence immediately unraveled the fragile stability the family depended on. The family came to the United States after their son’s health deteriorated in Honduras, where adequate medical care was unavailable. In New Jersey, Néstor Josias gained weight and began receiving the treatment that keeps him alive. Now, with his father detained at Delaney Hall in Newark, Núñez struggles to afford rent, food, transportation, and medical visits. She fears that if her husband is deported, returning to Honduras would put their son’s life at risk. Despite exhaustion and fear, Núñez continues caring for her child around the clock.