An Adelaide University researcher has found that people who know more about sharks fear them less and are much more likely to support conservation efforts. The finding challenges decades of cultural messaging shaped by Hollywood and sensationalist media.
Juliana Gleaves studies conservation psychology. She began with a straightforward premise: public perception drives public policy. Her early research confirmed what wildlife advocates have long suspected. Knowledge changes minds. “People with better knowledge of sharks had less fear and were more likely to support efforts to save them,” the study found.
The stakes are urgent. There are 500 shark species swimming in our oceans, and their overall numbers have fallen 70 per cent since the 1970s. Globally, shark populations have plummeted by more than 70 per cent since the 1975 release of Jaws. The film featured a great white as an unstoppable killing machine. It hasn’t just entertained millions; it’s shaped how an entire civilization thinks about one of the ocean’s most important predators. Gleaves credits Jaws with sparking her fascination with sharks, though she’s candid about the damage it’s done. “The film was not great for sharks’ public relations,” she said.
The Knowledge-Fear Connection
Gleaves’s next research phase will test whether virtual reality can shift attitudes where documentaries and education cannot. She plans to create immersive experiences in which people can “swim” with sharks behaving neutrally: no dramatic music, no predatory framing, just animals in their environment. If it works, the approach could reshape how we handle marine conservation at a policy level.
The research comes as Australia confronts its own shark fatality crisis. Perth recorded the country’s fifth fatal shark attack in 2026 last month. In 2025, Australia experienced five fatal attacks and 23 shark bite incidents in total. The Western Australian fisheries minister ruled out a widespread cull, saying it wouldn’t be appropriate, but issued a “catch and kill” order for the shark responsible. This measured response suggests even policy makers are beginning to distinguish genuine public safety from fear-based overreaction.
Who Actually Understands Risk
People who spend a lot of time in the ocean tend to have a more grounded view of danger. Duncan Chamberlain has surfed for 54 years. At 74, he still enters the Southern Ocean from his hometown beach at Middleton, south of Adelaide, three or four times a week. He encounters sharks, and follows a simple 20-minute rule. “You go in for 20 minutes and you presume they’re cruising along the coast, so they’ve moved on by then, so you go back out,” he explained. Then he offered perspective: “If you look at the statistics, you’re in far more danger driving to the beach on the roads.”
Mal Biscoe has surfed for more than 30 years and runs a surf school. He echoed Chamberlain’s view. Gleaves’s study found surfers were more likely to worry about sunburn than sharks. Biscoe, a firefighter who had just returned from fighting Canadian forest fires, said risk assessment comes naturally to him. Over the years, he’s had approximately eight shark encounters: sharks swimming under or around him, or appearing in the distance. In his closest encounter, a harmless wobbegong climbed onto his friend’s back while they were surfing. “We had a laugh about it,” Biscoe recalled. “But I’ve never had an incident where I feel threatened.”
When students mention sharks during surf lessons, Biscoe explains the actual risk calculus. “They were more likely to step on a ray or be injured by their own board than by a shark,” he said. He isn’t sure whether surfers care more about shark conservation than conservation of other species, but believes ocean-going communities are broadly environmentally aware. “I think surfers and people that live along the ocean are more concerned just about the natural environment itself, whether it be sharks or dolphins, whales or rays or just fish life,” he said.
Why This Matters:
This research reveals a fundamental truth about conservation policy: fear and misinformation obstruct efforts to protect species we depend on. Shark populations have crashed by 70 percent in five decades, yet public support for their protection remains low—not because people have weighed the evidence, but because a 1975 film has shaped perceptions for generations. Gleaves’s work suggests education and immersive experience can counter that cultural messaging. Marine ecosystems face unprecedented pressures from overfishing, climate change, and habitat loss. At this point, shifting public opinion toward evidence-based conservation could determine whether species recover or collapse. The research also shows that communities most directly connected to the ocean—surfers, fishermen, coastal residents—already understand subtleties that broader society lacks. Policymakers who dismiss shark conservation as unpopular may be responding to manufactured fear rather than genuine public sentiment. If knowledge can move the needle on support, investment in public education isn’t just nice to have. It’s infrastructure for survival.