What would Che say?

THE PHOTO of Che Guevara known as “Guerrillero Heroico” was taken 46 years ago by Alberto Diaz Korda, but it still draws controversy. You know it: It is the image that adorns millions of posters and T-shirts around the world, portraying the charismatic, wavy-haired revolutionary staring forcefully out from under his beret.

It is said to be the most reproduced image in the history of photography, and it is the sole subject of the exhibition “Che Guevara: Revolutionary and Icon,” which I created and curated and which opened last week at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.

And already the controversy has started. Having submitted my list of invitations for the opening night celebrations, imagine my surprise when I received an e-mail from the V&A; telling me that my friend, Gerry Adams, the president of Sinn Fein, would not be included on my list because he was considered “unsuitable” and not “appropriate” for the occasion.

It seems that a show of ‘60s fashion was being inaugurated at the same time and, as a later e-mail explained, it would be problematic if Adams were to mingle with the glitterati of the London fashion world also attending.

As the Guardian noted, Jerry Hall was included on the party’s guest list but not Gerry Adams.

I was incensed. Adams is an elected representative of the people of West Belfast, a member of the British Parliament, an internationally recognized peacemaker. The cease-fire in Ireland -- in which his role was pivotal -- remains the longest lasting cease-fire in that nation’s history and has changed the quality of life for people throughout Northern Ireland fundamentally.

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that Gerry might be refused entry or that I would receive a further e-mail a few days later asking for my cooperation on this “delicate” matter. The e-mail explained that “Mark Jones, the director, would be willing to show Mr. Adams around personally” on another occasion -- as long as he did not show up at the party. Finally, in a phone call with the director, I was told that the V&A; has a policy of not inviting politicians to openings -- only to discover subsequently that Ken Livingstone, the radical-left mayor of London, had made the list.

What would Che have made of all this? This is not just any show, after all, but a show about a man described right there in the museum’s press packets as a “revolutionary and icon.” Yet an Irish republican who has fought consistently for peace for more than a decade was deemed too controversial to attend.

How can that be? It makes you wonder whether Guevara himself would have been barred from opening night if he were still alive. (As it happens, Gerry couldn’t have attended anyway; he had already promised to be in Spain to help in the peace process in the Basque territory.)

I also imagine that Guevara would have been disturbed to see his own image marketing finger puppets and lip balm in the V&A; store, which has ignored the wishes of the Korda estate by selling non-copyrighted goods bearing the famous image and supporting the enormous black market of Che tchotchkes.

The V&A; has had a makeover; it no longer trumpets the names of the queen and prince consort who were responsible for its construction. But the fact is that a million people died of starvation in Ireland during the time the V&A; was being built in the mid-1800s, when Victoria was queen of Britain and empress of India. While the famine was raging, food grown in Ireland was exported primarily to feed the British. So it is not without irony that Adams would today be excluded from the V&A;’s party. (Che’s family, by the way, claimed Irish heritage dating to the famine.)

The V&A; has gone corporate in all the worst possible ways, and the party list is the least of it. The museum staff has placed its emphasis on the design element of the image, seeking to turn Che into an amusing pop icon. Much of the text that was supposed to be displayed along with the images -- and that I, as curator, believed was critical -- was removed from the walls or generalized and “dumbed down.”

But can Che be reduced to a commodity? Unlike famous images of, say, Marilyn or Elvis (which remain very much about the individuals pictured), the Korda Che has always been about much more. It is not only a portrait of a man but, more important, a reflection of an idea. I believe the V&A; has misjudged the resonance of the image and the meaning and action it has provoked during the last 40 years. This is what makes the Korda Che so unique.

Ironically, the banning of Adams, which received huge attention worldwide, caused his presence (or absence) to be of far more significance than it would have been had an invitation simply been issued. I suspect it is the V&A; that will have to make a lot of its own changes before the image of the revolutionary leader sits silently and comfortably in its marble halls of culture.