What are mako sharks worth? It’s an almost impossible question to answer. These days, particularly in conservation, it’s important to quantify something in economic terms. Emotion only gets you so far. It’s sad, but that’s the world we live in. Without a value, many people fail to see a reason to conserve. In the case of the mako, it’s true value comes not from its own flesh, but for what it does in the ecosystem it exists within. Mako sharks are the major predator for many tuna species. Science has demonstrated that the absence of an evolutionarily significant predator can result in trophic cascade and a collapse in population structure, often of the prey species. If the global mako shark population were to collapse – which it is on course to do without immediate intervention – there is a real and serious possibility it will adversely affect tuna stocks. So what are mako sharks truly worth? Due to the critical role they play in maintaining certain tuna stocks’ health in what is a global USD $42 billion industry, the answer, in quantifiable terms, is likely billions of dollars.

For many, of course, makos are priceless, their value unquantifiable. A beautiful apex predator that has evolved over millions of years simply cannot be summed up in only monetary terms. As a shark biologist and freediver, I agree with that sentiment, but I also recognise the importance of numbers in generating action. For people disconnected with the ocean (including decision-makers who work within government), the loss of a shark species might not register as a globally significant issue; the potential decline of a multi-billion dollar industry on the other hand… that’s something everyone understands.

Whether your focus is ecology or economy, the conclusion is the same: mako sharks need protection. The good news is that the international community will soon be presented with an opportunity to do exactly that, by legislating against global trade in the species – the primary factor in its continued population decline. The Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Flora and Fauna (CITES), a United Nations body of some 180-member nations, will shortly convene (August, 2019) to discuss awarding the mako shark an Appendix II listing. Such a listing would recognise that “trade must be controlled in order to avoid utilisation incompatible with [a species’] survival”. Given that CITES is the only international treaty with binding provisions upon member nations to protect threatened and endangered species from unsustainable trade in their body parts, the listing would represent a huge victory for the mako. It is moments like this that photographer Shawn Heinrichs and I have spent a great deal of our professional lives working towards. Our desire to protect sharks comes from a position of understanding – an understanding, we hope, that will have been communicated effectively to CITES decision-makers (in conjunction with countless other ocean scientists and conservationists) via an expansive media campaign in the run-up to the conference. Through connecting people with the biggest issues facing our ocean, including the facts around specific issues such as that of the mako shark, those in power can create change from positions of understanding. It’s a process – and one I am all too familiar with, as someone who once misunderstood sharks and their importance to this planet.

I’ve always been a keen waterman. While marine science is now my focus, it was once surfing. As a young kid surfing off New Zealand’s south coast city of Dunedin – great white territory – sharks terrified me. My relationship with sharks – all sharks – was one of complete fear. Like so many people of my generation (and the generation before me), I had been impacted by the era-defining cultural wrecking ball that was JAWS. Every time I hit the surf, as far as I understood it, I was getting in the water with monsters. I was rolling the dice. Then, one day, while in the remote Fiordland region of New Zealand completing some fieldwork for my marine biology degree, I had a shark encounter that would change my life.

Fiordland is a wild place. Deep, abyssal waters twist and turn through towering peaks. I was actually studying dolphins at the time, but encountered a shark while in the water. As it powered up from the deep, I panicked and jumped to safety. It was only then that I realised the shark was just a foot long. In that moment I realised that I – along with much of society – had a serious problem with how I perceived sharks. I realised I knew nothing about them, and I wanted to change that.