Great white sharks face systemic collapse as climate-driven ocean warming disrupts thermoregulation and ecological balance

Indigenous communities have long practiced reciprocal relationships with sharks, such as the Yolŋu’s seasonal hunting bans (*Dhäwu*) that allowed shark populations to recover. These systems treat sharks as kin, not resources, and often include taboos against overharvesting, which modern conservation science is only now 'discovering' through traditional ecological knowledge (TEK). However, colonial land grabs and fisheries expansion have systematically dismantled these practices, leaving sharks vulnerable to climate shocks.

Great white sharks survived five mass extinctions and multiple ice ages, but their current decline is unprecedented in speed and scale, driven by industrial-era pressures. Fossil records show that shark populations have historically fluctuated with ocean temperatures, but never at the rate seen today due to human activity. The last major shark extinction event (Late Devonian) coincided with ocean anoxia and climate instability—parallels to today’s anthropogenic warming and dead zones.

In West African coastal cultures like the Serer of Senegal, sharks are revered as mediators between the sea and the spirit world, with their decline linked to social unrest in oral traditions. Japanese *ryūgū* mythology frames sharks as guardians of the underwater palace, but modern Japanese fisheries have driven some populations to local extinction. Meanwhile, Western media often portrays sharks as 'mindless killers,' a narrative that justifies culls and ignores their cultural significance in non-Western societies.

Great whites are endothermic, maintaining body temperatures 8–10°C above ambient water, which enhances their predatory efficiency but increases metabolic stress under warming conditions. Studies show that marine heatwaves have reduced their hunting success by 30% in some regions, while prey species shift poleward, disrupting energy flows. However, most research focuses on individual sharks rather than ecosystem-level interactions, such as how shark declines exacerbate jellyfish blooms or algal overgrowth.

Artists like Damien Hirst and filmmakers like Peter Benchley have mythologized sharks as symbols of primal fear or ecological fragility, often reinforcing the 'monster' trope. In contrast, Aboriginal Australian bark paintings depict sharks as ancestral beings whose presence ensures waterhole purity and community well-being. Spiritual traditions from the Caribbean to the Pacific frame shark deaths as omens of societal collapse, yet these warnings are rarely integrated into conservation policy.

Climate models project that 90% of current great white shark habitats could become thermally unsuitable by 2100 under high-emission scenarios, with poleward shifts creating new conservation conflicts. Scenario planning suggests that 'shark sanctuaries' in cooler waters may become critical, but these require transnational cooperation and Indigenous co-management to avoid displacing fishing pressure. Additionally, 'assisted migration' of sharks to higher latitudes risks disrupting local ecosystems and genetic diversity.

Small-scale fishers in West Africa and Southeast Asia—who rely on sharks for income and protein—are often blamed for overfishing while being excluded from policy decisions that favor industrial fleets. Women in coastal communities, who process shark byproducts, face heightened health risks from bioaccumulated toxins in shark tissues, yet their knowledge of local shark behaviors is sidelined. Indigenous groups like the Māori have successfully lobbied for shark protections but are frequently outmaneuvered by corporate interests in international negotiations.