In 2011, a crested macaque in Indonesia picked up a photographer’s camera and snapped a grinning selfie. The photo went viral, and then it went to court. The monkey selfie lawsuit ended up asking a question nobody had needed to answer before, which is whether an animal can own a copyright.

How the Monkey Selfie Happened

British wildlife photographer David Slater traveled to the Indonesian island of Sulawesi to photograph crested black macaques. According to Slater, he set up his camera so the curious monkeys could interact with it. One of them pressed the shutter and captured a series of photos, including a close-up, toothy grin that became famous around the world.

Slater published the photos, and they quickly spread online. For him, they were a big professional opportunity. But the images soon became the center of a long legal fight.

The First Dispute Over Copyright

The first conflict came when the photo was uploaded to Wikimedia Commons, a free media library. Slater asked for it to be removed, arguing that he owned the copyright. Wikimedia refused, saying the photo had no copyright owner because it was taken by a monkey, not a person.

In 2014, the U.S. Copyright Office weighed in indirectly. It updated its official guidance to make clear that it wouldn’t register works produced by animals, and it specifically listed a photograph taken by a monkey as an example. That was a major blow to Slater’s claim.

PETA Sues on Behalf of the Monkey

In 2015, the animal rights group PETA filed a lawsuit in federal court in San Francisco. It sued on behalf of the macaque, whom it called Naruto, arguing that Naruto was the true author and owner of the photo. PETA asked to manage the proceeds from the photo for the benefit of Naruto and other monkeys.

Slater disputed PETA’s claims, including whether Naruto was even the monkey in the photo. He also said the legal fight was draining him financially. The case drew attention around the world as both a serious legal question and a bit of a spectacle.

What the Courts Decided

In 2016, a federal judge dismissed the case. The judge ruled that the Copyright Act doesn’t extend protection to animals. PETA appealed to the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals.

In 2017, before the appeals court ruled, Slater and PETA announced a settlement. Slater agreed to donate 25 percent of future revenue from the photos to charities protecting crested macaques. The parties asked the court to dismiss the appeal.

The Ninth Circuit declined to simply drop the case. In 2018, it issued a ruling holding that animals don’t have standing to sue under the Copyright Act. The court also criticized PETA, questioning whether the group was really acting in Naruto’s interests. Stanford’s Copyright and Fair Use Center has a clear summary of the ruling.

Who Owns the Photo Now?

The lawsuit settled the question of whether the monkey could own the copyright, and the answer was no. Whether Slater owns it is a separate question that was never fully resolved in U.S. court. Under the Copyright Office’s position, a photo taken entirely by an animal isn’t eligible for copyright protection.

Slater has argued that his setup, planning, and equipment made him the creative force behind the image. Copyright law in some other countries might treat his contribution differently. But in the United States, the photo has largely been treated as public domain.

Why the Monkey Selfie Matters Now

The monkey selfie case seemed quirky at the time, but its central question has become much more important. If a work isn’t created by a human, who owns it? That question now applies to art, writing, and images created by artificial intelligence.

The Copyright Office has continued to take the position that copyright requires human authorship. That same rule has come up again in recent disputes over AI-generated works. A monkey with a camera ended up helping set the stage for one of today’s biggest legal debates.

One Grin, Years of Litigation

The monkey selfie lawsuit is one of the strangest cases in modern legal history, and one of the most influential. It started with a curious macaque and ended with a federal appeals court ruling on the limits of copyright law. Along the way, it raised questions about animal rights, creativity, and ownership. It deserves a spot right next to the Pepsi fighter jet case and the Subway footlong lawsuit in the hall of fame of strange lawsuits.

It’s also a fun reminder that the law sometimes has to catch up to situations nobody predicted. A camera, a monkey, and a smile were enough to push courts into brand-new territory. Expect more cases like this as technology keeps changing how creative work gets made.

In 2013, a teenager in Australia posted a photo of a Subway footlong sandwich next to a tape measure. The sandwich measured 11 inches, not 12. That single photo sparked lawsuits across the United States and one of the most memorable class action cases of the decade.

The Photo That Started It All

The photo spread quickly on social media, and people everywhere started measuring their own sandwiches. Many found the same thing, with footlongs coming up short by an inch or so. News outlets picked up the story, and it didn’t take long for lawyers to get involved.

Within weeks, several class action lawsuits were filed against Subway in different states. The suits claimed the company misled customers by advertising footlong sandwiches that weren’t actually a foot long. The cases were later combined and sent to a federal court in Wisconsin.

What the Lawsuits Claimed

The customers argued that “footlong” is a specific measurement, not a vague marketing term. If you pay for 12 inches of sandwich, the argument went, you should get 12 inches of sandwich. They said Subway had shortchanged customers over millions of sales.

Subway argued that “footlong” was a brand name rather than a guarantee of exact length. The company also explained that its bread dough is portioned the same way every time. Any variation in length comes from the baking process, not from an effort to cheat customers.

The Evidence That Weakened the Case

During the case, evidence showed that the amount of meat and cheese in each sandwich was standardized. Every footlong got the same amount of fillings regardless of whether the bread came out a little shorter. That meant customers weren’t actually getting less food.

That point was a big problem for the plaintiffs. It’s hard to claim financial harm when you receive the same amount of food either way. The missing inch was mostly bread and air.

The Settlement

In 2015, the parties reached a settlement. Subway agreed to take steps to make sure its bread measured at least 12 inches, such as providing tools to measure bread and checking compliance in stores. Customers didn’t receive any money.

The lawyers, though, were set to receive $525,000 in fees, and the named plaintiffs were to get $500 each. That imbalance drew criticism from people who argued the lawsuit mostly benefited the attorneys. A class member named Ted Frank formally objected, arguing the deal was worthless to customers.

The Appeals Court Steps In

In 2017, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Seventh Circuit threw out the settlement. The court said the deal gave class members essentially nothing of value while paying the lawyers well, and it described the settlement as worthless to the customers it was supposed to help. Lathrop GPM has a clear breakdown of the ruling if you want the legal details.

The court also pointed out that the bread length couldn’t be perfectly controlled anyway, because natural variation in baking would continue. With no real benefit for customers, the settlement couldn’t stand. The case effectively ended there. Seyfarth Shaw’s class action blog called it a ruling well worth reading for anyone who follows these cases.

What the Subway Case Teaches About Class Actions

The Subway footlong lawsuit is often used as an example of class actions gone wrong. Class actions exist to help large groups of people who each suffered a small harm, and they can be powerful tools for holding companies accountable. But courts are supposed to make sure settlements actually benefit the class, not just the lawyers.

In this case, the appeals court did exactly that. It’s a reminder that judges don’t just rubber-stamp settlements. They’re responsible for protecting the people who aren’t in the room.

More Than Just a Missing Inch

Looking back, the Subway case started with a funny photo and ended with an important ruling about fairness in class action settlements. It also became part of the lore of strange lawsuits, alongside cases like the Red Bull lawsuit and the Pepsi fighter jet case. Each one shows how advertising promises get tested in court.

And yes, if you measure your next footlong, it might still come up a little short. Bread is bread, after all. Now at least you know the legal history behind that missing inch.