A cull won't change the risk unless you completely remove white sharks from the ocean.
At Coogee beach in Sydney, a great white shark attacked Leah Stewart, a 35-year-old teacher and mother, leaving her in critical condition and reigniting one of the oldest tensions in coastal life — the question of how human beings should share the ocean with its apex predators. Former prime minister Tony Abbott's call for a shark cull drew swift and unified rejection from marine scientists, who argue that fear, however justified, is a poor architect of ecological policy. The incident has become a mirror in which Australians are asked to examine not just their safety, but their relationship with wildness itself.
- Leah Stewart remains in critical condition after suffering severe injuries to her leg and arm in a great white shark attack at one of Sydney's most beloved beaches.
- Tony Abbott's social media call for a shark cull ignited a fierce public debate within hours of the attack, amplifying fear and political pressure on state authorities.
- Marine scientists from Macquarie and Bond universities rejected culling as both scientifically baseless and ecologically destructive, warning it would require eliminating great whites entirely to have any measurable effect.
- NSW Premier Chris Minns held the line against a cull, citing the shark's protected status and the futility of targeting animals that migrate thousands of kilometres across the Pacific.
- Drone surveillance is emerging as the credible alternative — CASA lifted flight restrictions over Coogee and Surf Lifesaving NSW is deploying aerial monitoring across multiple beaches this week.
- Shark bite rates in NSW have risen from 0.6 incidents per year in the 1980s to over four annually today, driven by more people in the water and growing whale populations drawing great whites closer to shore.
Leah Stewart was swimming at Coogee beach on Saturday morning when a great white shark attacked her, inflicting severe injuries to her leg and arm. By Monday, the 35-year-old teacher and mother remained in critical condition after multiple surgeries. Her family described her as someone full of life and energy, now fighting for survival.
The attack had barely registered before former prime minister Tony Abbott posted a video calling for sharks to be culled — arguing Australia was wrong not to kill them after such incidents and suggesting a dedicated fishery to do so. It was a familiar political reflex in the aftermath of something rare and terrifying.
Marine scientists responded with rare unanimity. Rob Harcourt of Macquarie University's Marine Predator Research Group called it a kneejerk reaction untethered from evidence, explaining that a cull would only reduce attacks if great whites were removed from the ocean entirely — neither feasible nor ecologically survivable. His colleague Culum Brown was more direct, dismissing the calls as naive political theatre. NSW Premier Chris Minns agreed, noting that great whites are a protected species and that the sharks appearing off Sydney may have travelled from New Zealand or across the Pacific — they don't stay put, and a cull wouldn't keep them away.
The response gaining real traction was drone surveillance. Harcourt argued that aerial monitoring, with swimmers cleared from the water when sharks are spotted, would genuinely reduce risk. The Civil Aviation Safety Authority temporarily lifted its drone ban over Coogee — which sits near Sydney airport's flight paths — and Surf Lifesaving NSW confirmed drones would patrol several beaches through the week.
Dr. Daryl McPhee of Bond University suggested the technology might have prevented Saturday's attack entirely, noting that bites on well-watched beaches are extremely rare. The broader data he cited was striking: NSW averaged 0.6 shark bites per year between 1980 and 1999; the current rate is 4.16, driven by more people in the water and growing whale populations attracting great whites to the coast. Marine biologist Lawrence Chlebeck added that culling by baiting would likely increase shark activity rather than reduce it — and that NSW shark nets had killed over 250 sharks since 2012 without stopping attacks.
The debate distilled into a single question: when something rare and terrible happens, do we respond with blunt force or with precision? The scientists were unified. Stewart's family, meanwhile, kept vigil, waiting for her to recover.
Leah Stewart was in the water at Coogee beach on Saturday morning when a great white shark attacked her, tearing into her leg and arm. By Monday, the 35-year-old mother remained in critical condition at the hospital, having undergone multiple surgeries in the days since the bite. Her family released a statement describing her as a passionate teacher and devoted local, someone full of life and energy, now fighting for her survival with injuries that doctors called severe and life-threatening.
Within hours of the attack, former prime minister Tony Abbott posted a video on social media calling for sharks to be culled. He argued it was wrong that Australia didn't kill sharks after attacks, and suggested establishing a fishery to catch them. The statement was straightforward and politically pointed—a familiar response to a rare but terrifying incident.
But the marine scientists who study sharks for a living pushed back hard. Rob Harcourt, an emeritus professor at Macquarie University who leads the Marine Predator Research Group, told The Guardian that Abbott's position revealed a fundamental misunderstanding of both risk and science. A cull would make no meaningful difference to shark attack rates unless great whites were completely removed from the ocean—something neither feasible nor ecologically survivable. Harcourt called it a kneejerk reaction untethered from evidence. Culum Brown, another Macquarie researcher who studies fish behaviour, was blunter still, describing calls for a cull as naive political theatre dressed up as policy.
Even the state's political leadership rejected the idea. NSW Premier Chris Minns pointed out that great white sharks are a protected species and noted that culling would likely be ineffective anyway. The sharks that appear off Sydney's coast may have traveled from New Zealand or crossed the Pacific—they don't stay put. Without evidence that a cull would actually keep them away, Minns said, the state wouldn't pursue it. Instead, he signaled a shift toward new technology and rethinking how the state manages shark protection.
The alternative gaining traction was drones. Harcourt argued that aerial surveillance over beaches, with swimmers called in when sharks are spotted, would genuinely reduce bite risk. On Monday, the Civil Aviation Safety Authority temporarily lifted a ban on drone use at Coogee, which sits near Sydney airport's flight paths. Surf Lifesaving NSW confirmed drones would be deployed across several beaches for the rest of the week to give the community a sense of safety as people considered returning to the water.
Dr. Daryl McPhee from Bond University, who researches shark bite trends, suggested the technology might have prevented this attack entirely. He noted that bites on patrolled beaches are extremely rare because of the sheer number of eyes watching the water. The data he cited was sobering: between 1980 and 1999, New South Wales averaged 0.6 shark bites causing injury per year. The current rate is 4.16. Most of that increase has occurred in the north of the state, driven partly by rising population—more people in the water means more potential encounters—and partly by growing whale populations, which attract great whites to the coast.
Lawrence Chlebeck, a marine biologist at Humane World for Animals, added another reason culls fail: sharks migrate across thousands of kilometres. Any cull would likely rely on baiting to attract them, which he argued would only increase shark activity and risk. Since 2012, he noted, New South Wales shark nets had killed 174 great white sharks, along with 40 bull sharks and 42 tiger sharks—a toll that hadn't stopped attacks from happening.
The debate crystallized around a single question: when something rare and terrible occurs, do we respond with blunt force or with precision? The scientists were unified in their answer. Stewart's family, meanwhile, waited for her to recover, supported by the lifesavers and medical staff who had fought to save her life.
Citas Notables
Tony Abbott doesn't understand risk, he does not understand climate change, and he doesn't understand the science when he calls for a cull.— Rob Harcourt, Marine Predator Research Group, Macquarie University
Had drones been able to fly, this is one bite that could have been avoided.— Dr. Daryl McPhee, Bond University shark bite researcher
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does culling sharks seem like such an obvious response to people, even if it doesn't work?
Because it feels like action. When someone is hurt, we want to eliminate the threat. But sharks aren't a threat you can eliminate from the ocean without destroying the ocean itself. They're migratory, protected, and part of a system we depend on.
So the real problem is that we're sharing space with them more than we used to?
Partly that, yes. More people in the water, more whales coming back to the coast—which brings sharks. But also, we've gotten better at spotting attacks when they happen. The rate has gone up, but it's still extraordinarily rare.
And drones actually work?
They work because they give you information in real time. You see a shark, you clear the beach. It's not about killing anything. It's about coexistence with better eyes.
Why did Abbott's call get so much pushback from scientists specifically?
Because it was presented as common sense when it's actually the opposite of what the evidence shows. Scientists have to say that out loud, or the conversation becomes about politics instead of what actually prevents bites.
What happens now to Leah Stewart's beach?
Drones are flying this week. The state is rethinking its whole approach to shark protection. But the real question is whether people will feel safe enough to go back in the water, and whether that fear will fade or become permanent.