Shark conservation is not a field for the faint of heart. It pits biology against commerce, sentiment against symbolism, and science against entrenched bureaucracies. Sharks themselves—apex predators honed over hundreds of millions of years—are now among the most imperiled inhabitants of the oceans. Vilified in pop culture, sliced up for their fins, and managed more like commodities than living creatures, they have few allies in high places. One of the more persistent is Stefanie Brendl.
Brendl didn’t arrive at shark advocacy through academia or institutional science. Her background was in scuba diving and ecotourism, and her immersion in conservation began not in a lab, but in the ocean itself. What started as fascination became a calling, catalyzed by a single free-diving encounter with a tiger shark—an experience she describes as transformative, almost mythic. But what followed mattered more: within a week, she was in Hawaii’s legislative chambers, helping craft the first major U.S. ban on the shark fin trade.
That campaign became a model. Hawaii’s success reverberated outward, helping inspire similar laws across the U.S. and in parts of the Pacific. Brendl founded Shark Allies to institutionalize her advocacy, combining policy work, public education, and coalition-building to push for stronger protections for sharks and rays.
Still, she’s clear-eyed about limits. Fin bans help, but the global machinery of shark exploitation grinds on. Demand is falling in some regions, rising quietly in others—especially where economic growth fuels luxury consumption.
Brendl’s approach is pragmatic, unsentimental, and shaped by years in legislative trenches. She emphasizes sharks’ ecological importance and economic value: a live shark, she argues, can generate far more income through tourism and ecosystem services than a dead one. She’s developing valuation models to show governments exactly that—line items and projections, not just photographs and passion.
Yet for all the data and policy wins, sharks remain deeply at risk. Brendl knows the tide hasn’t turned. Villainous media portrayals still shape public views. Social media has brought attention—but also distortion. Even well-managed sanctuaries struggle with enforcement.
What emerges is a portrait of an advocate who’s traded the thrill of encounters for the grind of policymaking. Brendl doesn’t ask lawmakers to love sharks—only to understand their role. She doesn’t chase headlines, only legislative traction. And she doesn’t pretend awareness alone is enough.
In this interview, Brendl reflects on the origins of her work, the architecture of a successful conservation campaign, and the trade-offs involved in trying to shift public perception. The movement, she makes clear, isn’t nearing resolution. It’s recalibrating—learning what works, what doesn’t, and how to keep pressing forward even when the ocean’s most iconic predators remain misunderstood and undervalued.
