631: So a Monkey and a Horse Walk Into a Bar

David Slater

I'd gone a whole day just following them into the thick of the forest, through the tangles and the vines and the muddy undergrowth and the cobwebs and the poisonous snakes.

David Slater

You name it, I had to go through it. And it was just so amazing just to be like a monkey. I was a monkey honestly. I had met monkeys before, like I said, all over the world. And I know a little bit about monkey etiquette and showing your teeth-- not to show your teeth, not to stare them in the face. Yeah, this is one of the secrets, actually, of being able to get good photography is making the animal relaxed.

David Slater

And of course when it got pressed, they automatically looked into the lens. And the fact that it's going ch, ch, ch, ch, ch, it's monkey language.

David Slater

So I had monkeys on my back whilst I'm trying to keep my camera from being knocked, while some monkeys, or two or three monkeys, are trying to play with the button. And all of a sudden, I heard the camera going off. And I didn't dare. I knew that if I looked up at them, they would probably look away. So I let them click it, click it, click it. And I sort of very carefully looked up to see them pulling these amazing contorted faces, like howling mouths, and the smiling mouth, and more besides.

David Slater

I just wanted it to go on forever really.

David Slater

I just saw it on the front cover of National Geographic or something like that. And I just thought, I need to get this to my agents.

David Slater

Within an hour, it was all over your country, Australia, Germany. I was getting emails everywhere. My inbox went crazy. People wanting to know the story, wanted to use the image. Literally, my phone was hot with calls.

David Slater

I started to just search crested black macaque one day in the Google. And there was Wikipedia, top of the list as always. I clicked on that, and there's my image. And I thought, where have they got this from? Have they been to Caters News Agency and paid a license fee for it?

David Slater

So I sent them a letter. Sent them a letter saying, I think you're using this without a license fee. Could you show me one, or would you pay? They wrote back, saying, this image we believe is public domain.

David Slater

Because the monkey pressed the button.

David Slater

Well, surely I've got the copyright. I set it all up. I've got the intent. I had the creativity. All the monkey did is press the button.

David Slater

I soon got to know, from the good Wikipedians out there, that Jimmy Wales and many of the delegates were mocking me by printing out my image on great big boards that were placed all over the conference facility. And Jimmy Wales and various other people were encouraging the delegates to take selfies with my selfie.

David Slater

There's quite a few of these images around the place on the internet, but the one with Jimmy Wales is particularly odious.

David Slater

Yeah.

David Slater

Jimmy Wales Wikimania.

David Slater

Well, it's like a duck face. I don't know where that comes from.

David Slater

But a lot of people seem to do this duck lips.

David Slater

So angry.

David Slater

There it was. Photographer being sued by a monkey.

David Slater

Yeah. Just as I found out Wikipedia was stealing it because I stumbled across it, I also stumbled across the fact that I was being sued by a monkey.

David Slater

Look. Have you seen what's happening now? What can we do? And they said, Dave, this is clearly an April Fools'. Somebody is having you on. They said, just sit back. Let's see what happens. But do not respond to it. And you can't-- you've got nothing to worry about until you get served papers. Let's see what happens.

David Slater

And sure enough, one afternoon I was at home. And there's a knock at the door. And a man in a black suit was standing in my porch way. I opened the door. He thrust a large A4-sized white envelope in my hand. And he says, I've been instructed to pass these to you. So I said, what are they?

And I opened it in front of him. And I took it out. And I said to him, do you know what this is? And he said, not really. I said, I'm being sued by a monkey. And I showed him. And he started laughing. And we had a little chat. Because he was just a local from a local firm down the road from me. And he went on his merry way.

David Slater

That's just the same as if it was a baby or a disabled adult who couldn't speak or represent himself.

David Slater

That's not unusual in human law.

Jeff Kerr

We first saw the monkey selfie in approximately 2014 when the dispute between Mr. Slater and Wikimedia became international news. Our view was immediately that Naruto, who created the photograph, should own the copyright to it.

Jeff Kerr

That's what the law is. And our argument, very simply, is that that should apply equally to him, even though he simply happens not to have been born human.

Jeff Kerr

But that's not required under the copyright law. All that's required is that-- the copyright law simply provides that the author, the creator of the image, is entitled to own it. It doesn't say that the author has to know that he or she is making a photograph. If somebody gives you their camera and asks you to take a photograph, and you arrange them and you take the photograph, under those circumstances, you technically would own the copyright.

David Slater

I was advised by talking to these attorneys that I really did need to follow this through, because there would be a chance, an outside chance albeit, of it just going the monkey's way if I didn't challenge it.

David Slater

Yeah. Well, it was in the court in California. And everybody has the opinion that anything can happen there. I don't know how true that is. But I was being told I can't take that risk. But of course--

David Slater

Well, no.

Andrew Dhuey

No, I read about it. And I don't remember where I read about it. But I got pretty excited when I saw that it was filed in San Francisco federal court because I'm right across the bay in Berkeley. So I thought, wow, I would be perfect for this case.

Andrew Dhuey

Well, I think the case kind of lent itself to making monkey puns and things like that. And I just thought that would be-- I kind of like to do that. I like to joke around. I don't know if you've seen my LinkedIn profile. I'm in a Chippendales costume.

Andrew Dhuey

All these years-- I've been practicing for like 25 years, and I've never been able to joke around in anything I filed in court. So I was like, hey, this would actually be a case where I could do that.

Woman

Calling civil matter 15-4324, Naruto v David John Slater, et al. Counsel, please come forward and state your appearance.

Judge

In the vast history of common law prior to the Copyright Act, was there-- do you have an example of where an animal was granted a copyright?

David Schwarz

I do not have an example where an animal was granted a copyright. We could make the counterargument as to how other humans were denied protection under that law due to the color of their skin. One could see the contradiction in a statutory interpretation where we see that problem in the antebellum days. But when you look at the cornerstones of--

Judge

That's quite a stretch, Mr. Schwarz.

Judge

That's quite a stretch, Mr. Schwarz.

David Schwarz

Pardon me?

Judge

That's quite a stretch. But go ahead.

David Schwarz

And I certainly wouldn't make it the centerpiece of any argument here today. But it is fair to say that before the adoption of the 14th Amendment, the concepts of property ownership in the area of patents foreclosed the ability of a slave to claim ownership to a patent.

Jeff Kerr

We're not. We are just another member of the animal kingdom. And it doesn't-- it's just prejudice and hubris that prevents us many times from seeing that.

Jeff Kerr

That property status is something that we think is just an abomination. Like Naruto, these animals are feeling, sentient beings. They should be entitled to fundamental legal rights beyond simply food, water, veterinary care, and shelter.

David Slater

That's one of the greatest shames on them is that they've attacked somebody who is trying to achieve the same goal as they are. Saving animals from suffering is a very noble cause. But I think sometimes they get carried away with their power.

David Slater

No. I've had to think very carefully about what my philosophy is. Because the book, my Wildlife Personalities book, that's part of the court case, I argue for animals having more fundamental rights, like dignity, and access to their ancestral forests, and access to food. So I am an animal rights advocate.

David Slater

We just took it very casually. We just said, yeah, of course. Of course that's going to get thrown out. Andrew Dhuey said this all along to me. There's no way that this is going to go anywhere.

David Schwarz

Good morning, Your Honors. And may it please the court, David Schwarz on behalf of the appellant.

Judge

Mr. Schwarz, before we get there, there's a preliminary question which I'd like you to address.

Judge Randy Smith

Well, what's your injury? There's no way to acquire or hold some money which the copyright would give. There's no losses to reputation. There's no even allegation that the copyright could have benefited somehow Naruto. What financial benefits apply to him? There's nothing.

David Schwarz

But, Your Honor, the redressability issue doesn't necessarily turn on the compensation. It could be--

Judge Randy Smith

Well, I want to know what then is the injury. There's no case that says copyright infringement itself is injury. So what injury do we have?

Judge Randy Smith

I mean, if you give me a case that says copyright infringement itself is injury, I'll believe you. But I don't think you've given me one. What's your injury?

Andrew Dhuey

Monkey see, monkey sue will not do in federal court.

Angela Dunning

Naruto can't benefit financially from his work. He's a monkey.

David Slater

When I watched it-- and you see three judges there. And then one attorney comes up, and then my attorney comes up, Andrew and then Angela, and they started talking about monkeys. It made it real all of a sudden.

David Slater

Naruto is a male. I distinctly remember it being a female. I distinctly remember that pink rump which the female macaques have.

David Slater

Yes. It's the wrong monkey in court.

David Slater

Yeah. And I think the feminists amongst us should start to protest.

Woman 1

Every morning we meet in the kitchen and unsheathe our needles. My roommate Serena delicately peels down her underwear. I count to three, hold her hip to steady her trembling frame, then jab, thrusting the handle until the fluid disappears.

Then it's my turn. We're in this together, at least for now. The two needles look identical, although their contents are different. We have different goals. Serena wants to become a mother. I want to become a horse.

Woman 2

What does it mean to be a horse? First, it means not being a person-- no credit cards, no fad diets, no existential questions, no more boring meetings or family dinners, no political allegiances or disappointments, no responsibility to anyone but yourself. How do I become one? It's quite simple. State your desire in writing, and we'll take it from there.

Is it expensive? No. Why not? Because there's not yet sufficient demand for the procedure. All the more reason for you to try before it becomes pricey and exclusive. Right now, it costs less than a Pilates vacation in Tulum.

Woman 1

I wanted something human existence couldn't offer. As I neared my 40th birthday, I felt increasingly constricted by daily postures-- sitting in a chair at my desk, cocking my head with feigned interest at a party, stirring spaghetti sauce over the stove. I started taking expensive vacations to engage in extreme physical challenges-- mountain climbing, skydiving, snowboarding.

These pursuits all induced a feeling of mastery and freedom, but only after learning a complex set of rules regarding harnesses, buckles, and straps. I wanted to do away with constraints entirely. Then I learned about becoming a horse.

Woman 2

How does the process work? The process now known as equinification was discovered by Janus Belacek, a Hungarian doctor, transforming human DNA into horse DNA. The process requires only a simple series of shots.

Why does it only work on women? We're not sure, but we think it's because they want it to. Where do these horse women live? Atalanta Ranch, which occupies an entire island off the coast of Florida, and has been built expressly for this purpose.

What do the horses on the ranch look like? They look like horses, tall, graceful animals designed for running and grazing, muscles rippling beneath a shiny coat of fur, hair flying in the wind. They look like they're doing nothing other than actively being themselves.

Woman 1

Of course, I went to visit. The ranch was just as they described. The horses looked healthy and vibrant. Their hooves pounded across the plains making a sound like rainfall. "Do you think this is some kind of modern version of the lesbian separatist utopia?" I mused that night to Kathy, one of the other women on the tour, over gin and tonics at the island's guesthouse. "Except not just for lesbians?"

She laughed. "Old fantasies die hard." She gave me a meaningful look. "Can I ask something? What's your reason?" "Boredom," I said without hesitation. She nodded. "What about you?" I said. "What are you escaping?"

She replied with a long story about her body, which had endured nearly every tried and true form of female trauma-- abuse, rape, abortion, endometriosis, hysterectomy. "I guess," she said, "I want a different body with a clean slate." They kept refilling our drinks without our asking. And soon we were very drunk.

Somehow, we found ourselves in my room stripping off our clothes. This sex was like a competition. Who could manage to escape her body using the other's body first? Later, embarrassed, we turned away from each other. Just then I sensed movement behind the window. I got up stark naked and pulled aside the curtain.

One of the horses was standing right outside, staring in with her dark liquid eyes. I felt the bed creak behind me then heard Kathy gasp. She saw it too. The horse gave a deep, slow nod. Then she turned and disappeared into the night.

Woman 2

When I become a horse, will I still have human consciousness? You will simultaneously be your human self and not be your human self when you become a horse. You will think the same thoughts, but in a horsey manner.

Your personality will have the same attributes but horsily expressed. Your thoughts will take on a horsey cadence. Your feelings will pulse and throb with thick, horsey blood. We cannot guarantee that you will continue to inhabit your human identity in any recognizable way.

Woman 1

Serena went to the doctor and found out that her second attempt at IVF had failed. "We don't say failed," the doctor said kindly. "We say unsuccessful." "It's almost as bad," said Serena. Serena and I became friends in a PhD program. I dropped out after our third year when I realized that the most pleasurable part of my life was my summer waitressing job.

But it got old. I tried a few other restaurant jobs then finally settled for freelance copyediting, for which my half degree apparently qualified me. Serena graduated with honors and won an award for her thesis on 18th century women's novels. But after graduation, despite her accolades, she couldn't find a job.

I encouraged her but privately ascribed her failure to her meekness with strangers. In the end, she got a job teaching English at an all-girls high school. To her surprise, the girls recognized her quiet power and obeyed her, surrounded her with a mute halo of reverence. She became one of the school's most beloved teachers. Yet no matter how deeply the work absorbed her, she always felt like a failure.

Woman 2

Isn't this really a glorified form of suicide? We prefer to think of it in the opposite way, as a kind of birth. But your friends and relatives may not see it this way. You may have to prepare them for your transformation as you might for your death. Will I need to make out a will then? Yes. You may not bring anything with you to Atalanta Ranch beside your body.

Woman 1

It started happening right after my 40th birthday in June. I woke up in the middle of the night with a strange feeling in my feet-- not pain exactly, but pressure so intense it absorbed my whole attention. I cried out in surprise, and Serena rushed into my room.

And then we pulled back the covers to see that my feet had been replaced by perfect horse hooves, black and stone-like, cloven in the middle. As predicted by the pamphlets, I felt disgust then wonder. The pamphlet said--

Woman 2

The transformation of your own body will be a spectacle arousing both revulsion and awe.

Woman 1

I got up and tried to walk around. Serena and I both giggled manically. My hooves were tender, and it hurt to walk on them, like when my feet used to ache at the end of a night on high heels. I felt lopsided and clumsy. These hooves weren't made to carry a bipedal organism.

But hearing their clop, clop, clop around the floors of the apartment, I grew excited. We couldn't sleep the rest of the night. We stayed up rereading the informational pamphlets, speculating on how quickly the rest of me would start to turn. As if by magic, by some prearranged signal of the gods, Serena peed on a stick the next morning and discovered she was pregnant.

Woman 2

Are the horses tame or wild? The horses at the ranch are wild. We provide nothing but acreage for running and grazing. We do nothing to break them. There are no harnesses, no bridles, no whips. Among other purposes, the ranch exists in order to cultivate wildness.

What is wildness? And may wildness be cultivated? Isn't that a contradiction? That is what we're trying to find out. All we can say is either you personally resonate with this desire, or you don't. Either you like the idea of shaking off your restraints and are willing to give up everything you know in the attempt to do so, or you're like most people, comforted by language, by clothing, by laws.

Woman 1

Walking around town with my hooves, I gained a new kind of attention. Women regarded me with disgust or envy, men with disgust or desire. My first night out at a bar with some friends, I was the object of many stares. But I sensed a particular heat coming from one man at a corner table.

He wore the distinct, recognizable look of a graduate student-- floppy hair, and a lanky frame, and a too-large cotton hoodie. Every time I looked over at him, he turned away, red-faced. Eventually, when he approached the bar to get another drink, I addressed him.

"Hey," I said. He blushed again, flicked his eyes down to my hooves, then back up, then blushed deeper. "Hey," he said. "Am I the first you've seen?" "Yeah," he said. "Sorry, I guess I was staring." "It's OK." "Is that-- is that the only part of you that's--?" "So far, yes."

He nodded, swallowed. I grabbed a pen from my purse, scribbled my number on a napkin. I wasn't particularly attracted to him, but I had been horny since my hooves had appeared. "My friends and I are about to head to another bar. But if you want to meet up later, text me. I'll be free by midnight."

Later that night, in his spartan studio apartment, he stared at me as if he'd never seen a woman before. I felt his gaze lingering on the spot where the slope of my ankle gave way to the ashen density of the hoof. But as he reached out to touch me, a violent, molten feeling welled up within me. I recognized it as rage.

But it was too late. It had already happened. I had kicked him. He jerked backward, his hands to his face. Blood seeped out between his fingers. He said something or tried to, but all I heard was, [GROANING]. The old me would have gone and fetched him a towel, called him a taxi, accompanied him to the hospital.

But the sight of his bloody face only increased my rage, tinged it with contempt for his weakness. I fought the urge to kick him again, harder. It was all I could do to get out of the house. I hurried down the stairs of his walk-up, pushed open the door, and ran through the streets of Somerville, awkward on my hooved limbs but propelled by the heat his near touch had unleashed.

I ran past university gates, over the bridge, through Boston at full sprint. At some point, I realized my awkward gait had been replaced by something graceful and rhythmic and, well, horse-like. I had stopped noticing the strangeness of my hooves. I was using them as they were meant to be used. I was cantering.

By the time I approached my own neighborhood, I'd slowed to a trot, but I felt elated. My very nature was changing. I was becoming wild. The man's touch had been a bridle, and I'd kicked it away.

Woman 2

What symptoms might I experience during my transformation? The same symptoms you would experience during any transformation-- mood swings, growing pains, strained relationships, the occasional blinding toothache. To find a centaurite support group near you, consult our website.

Woman 1

Over the next few months, the change slowly inched upwards. My human ankles became horse ankles. I grew coarse, caramel-colored hair on my legs. My femurs stretched and thickened. Occasionally, I felt sharp pains in my bones, growing pains. But other than that, the physical transition felt invigorating.

My rage, however, only grew. I was energized by aimless, volcanic fury 100% of the time. Perhaps I wasn't changing my nature but recognizing something that had always been there. My boredom had never really been boredom but rather a deep, deep anger.

Where had this come from? Did everyone have it? My anger was obvious now to everyone I met. I responded to routine rudenesses, catcalling, crowding on the subway by snarling, flashing my eyes, baring my teeth. People's eyes grew wide. They stepped back. They treated me like the dangerous animal I was. I loved it.

Serena, too, was changing. The pregnancy had rooted in her body, and she blossomed. The first sonogram showed not one but two fetuses in her belly. Every moment she wasn't teaching, she was at the computer researching the development of the strange creatures inside of her.

I, on the other hand, found myself unable to sit still. I'd sit down, get through one paragraph, then feel it kick through me, the wildness, the aimless rage. Then one evening, I got so frustrated with my work that I stood up and kicked a hole right through the kitchen cabinet.

Serena appeared in the doorway, pale, one hand on the swell of her belly. We stared at each other, gripped by the same mute question. How much longer could we go on like this sharing the same space? That night, lying in bed, I heard the unmistakable sound of muffled weeping.

I got up, knocked lightly on Serena's door. I walked in, sat on the edge of the bed, lightly stroked her hair. "What's the matter?" I said. "Nothing," she choked out. But before I could respond, she corrected herself. "I'm terrified. This is the biggest thing I've ever done, and I'm doing it totally alone."

"You have your family," I said. "You have your friends." "Yeah, except for you." "You can come visit me," I said. "Bring your kids to the ranch." "Tell them what?"

"This is your aunt Cassie. She was restless and turned herself into an animal." "That's supposed to be an example of some sort? Things get hard, and you just leave? Just peace out of human life entirely?"

In the greenish light coming through the window, Serena seemed distinct and alien, like someone I had never seen, really seen, before. The protrusion of her belly was impossible to ignore. There were two whole people in there. For the first time, the terrifying marvel of this fact hit me full force. Perhaps her transformation was even stranger, even wilder than mine.

Woman 2

Is the change reversible? No change is ever reversible. What happens if the process doesn't work on me? You'll get your money back. And we may ask you to participate in an ongoing scientific study of long-term centaurite health outcomes, for compensation. But you may decline.

That's it? It's not possible for us to do more. Our hope is that the centaurites living among us will be viewed not as freaks or as failures, but as courageous-- female animals who gathered up all the uncertainties of their existence into one single, massive risk.

Woman 1

I went for a checkup with the Atalanta doctor. The visit was routine, had been scheduled for months. But I was nervous. My progress since the last visit seemed to have stalled. She examined me all over and said "hmm" a lot. I grew increasingly worried.

When I got home from the doctors, I saw that yet another delivery of baby stuff-- hand-me-downs from friends, large Amazon boxes full of equipment-- had arrived at the apartment and completely taken over the living room. To reach the couch, I had to pick my way over and between the boxes, stepping as delicately as possible with my horse legs, legs that were not made to do anything delicately.

Even when I got there, I couldn't sit down. It was piled high with baby clothes. I lost it. I whirled around and began kicking with an aimless violence that startled me with its force. I had not intended this. I was beyond intention. Like if I stopped kicking and hurling things, I would cease to exist.

By the time I managed to stop, I had wrecked not only most of the new baby equipment but also the large flat screen television and the coffee table. I looked around at the torn baby blankets strewn with broken glass, the mutilated breast pump, the mangled stroller. Just then, a key turned in the lock, and Serena stood in the doorway.

She looked from me to the mess, from the mess back to me. Her face hardened. I could offer no defense or consolation. I had only one option. "I'm going to leave now," I said. "I'll find someplace else to stay." She nodded with no expression.

I walked aimlessly, vaguely in the direction of the downtown hotels. My muscles grew leaden with shame. I felt like I was walking underwater. What pained me was not the notion that my wildness, my horseyness, had finally overtaken me.

It was the suspicion that my violence had been entirely human. That night, under a scratchy hotel blanket, I contemplated my situation. For the first time in nearly a year, I cried-- sobbing into the lumpy pillow, mourning the grotesque monster that I was, howling at my failure, my loneliness, my inadequacy as woman and as animal. Eventually, from sheer exhaustion, I slept.

When I woke in the morning, I saw that during my few hours of sleep the fur had finally reached upwards. My breasts were gone, replaced by a fine equine torso. I raised my hands to touch it, then realized that they had been replaced by another set of hooves. I felt practically ambushed by relief.

I went downstairs to the concierge, asked her to use her human fingers to make a phone call. Red-faced and excited, she rang Atalanta. They would send someone that afternoon, they said, to pick me up.

Woman 2

Can my loved ones visit me at the ranch? Yes. Will they recognize me? Most of them claim to, but it's impossible to determine how much this recognition depends upon wishful thinking. Can they ride me? We don't recommend it. So far, every attempt has ended in tragedy.

Woman 1

I have four horse legs, and a horse torso, and a horse head. Outwardly, at least, I am all animal. I believe I still have a human brain mostly. But every day, its language grows rougher around the edges. For minutes at a time when I'm running or eating in the pasture, I have no thoughts.

My brain is not empty exactly. It's as though a hot wind blows certain textures through my mind. My rage has diminished, but I am neither contained nor calm. I feel many emotions now, but they don't quite fit the words I know. I would describe them mostly as variations of active receptivity, of alert acceptance.

Somewhere soon, Serena will be teaching her children the words for things. This is a table. This is a chair. This is a horse. Meanwhile, my language is slowly departing, the words replaced by syllable and breath-- yes, mm, yes, huh, no, mm, [WHINNYING].

Maybe she'll come visit me one day. Perhaps in my absence her hard judgments of me will soften, turn into questions. They will lead her to me across the long grass. And I'll look at her and nod. She won't try to ride me, but I'll let her approach, put a hand on my forehead. We'll both feel a sudden snare of recognition-- wildness face-to-face with itself.

David Slater

This is one of the secrets, actually, of being able to get good photography is making the animal relaxed.