As the 2024 white shark migration begins and a fresh wave of misleading information is already emerging, it’s imperative to dispel the persistent and unfounded notion that the presence of the white shark and most other shark species in the St. Lawrence is either recent or predominantly linked to climate change.

In our interconnected world, where information travels at the speed of light, the spread of disinformation can have far-reaching and lasting impacts. Well-meaning but misinformed individuals often contribute to this problem, particularly when it comes to explaining complex scientific phenomena. One such case involves the presence of the white shark (Carcharodon carcharias) in Atlantic Canada and Québec—a topic that has been muddled by inaccurate and pervasive claims attributing its presence solely to climate change.

The white shark, often misunderstood as a purely warm-water species, has been a seasonal resident of Atlantic Canadian waters for millennia. Historical and scientific evidence, as well as Mi’kmaw knowledge keepers, confirm that this apex predator has always migrated to the region, drawn by its rich food sources and suitable habitat. Yet, a significant number of people, including ocean experts of all backgrounds and the media, have incorrectly attributed the presence of the white shark and other species to recent climate change, perpetuating a false narrative that contaminates our understanding and public discussion.

The increasing number of white sharks in the St. Lawrence is more likely due to its protected status, more abundant food sources, and population dynamics, whereby juvenile sharks spread out over large areas to avoid competition with larger, mature individuals. This natural behaviour ensures a balanced distribution of the shark population, which is essential for the stability of marine ecosystems.

Unlike some species that are closely tied to warmer waters, the white shark is remarkably adaptable. It inhabits a wide range of temperatures and is well-suited to the temperate waters of the North Atlantic. The misconception that it is only a warm-water species found elsewhere overlooks this adaptability and the historical records of its presence in colder regions, including Atlantic Canada and Québec.

“In contrast to the indigenous peoples of the Maritime Peninsula, who have respectfully incorporated the white shark into their respective cultures for millennia¹, the current knowledge gap stems from generational shortsightedness and a fundamental misunderstanding of the white shark’s ecological niche and longstanding migration patterns.”

The role of climate change in the behaviour of the white shark is more nuanced. While it may indeed affect the timing and duration of its migrations by altering ocean temperatures and prey availability, it does not explain its presence in regions where it has long been established, such as the Gulf of St. Lawrence. The overemphasis on climate change as the primary factor thus oversimplifies a complex ecological reality and detracts from a broader understanding of marine ecosystems.

This intellectually lazy distortion, along with other white shark misconceptions—such as it isn’t a fish or it can’t distinguish humans from established prey²—originate from all sectors of the maritime community. Yet, as knowledgeable, experienced, and respected as they may be in their respective fields, marine biologists, fishers, and scuba divers aren’t universally proficient in all aspects of ocean science and ecosystem dynamics. Even scientists, particularly those who do not specialise in shark research, should exercise caution when making statements to the media, as unsubstantiated claims—though lacking evidence—can be perceived as credible due to the scientist’s perceived expertise, and thus mislead the audience.

No matter the source, the dissemination of misinformation does a disservice to science, public understanding, and ultimately, to sharks. When self-proclaimed or perceived experts spread incorrect information even with the best of intentions, they contribute to a false narrative that can persist for years, clouding scientific discourse and policymaking. It is thus crucial to approach such topics with a foundation in verified scientific research, recognising the long-standing ecological patterns that predate contemporary climate concerns.

For more than two decades, the St. Lawrence Shark Observatory, formerly known as GEERG, single-handedly endeavoured to set the record straight about sharks in the greater St. Lawrence ecosystem. However, a growing number of individuals, mostly with good intentions but lacking expertise in shark biology or behaviour, have recently taken to the podium, unwittingly propagating lies. We at ORS are by no means perfect or all-knowing, and we are happy to share or even give up the media spotlight to a new generation of researchers, but bogus information on the sharks of Atlantic Canada and Québec needs to be exposed and rectified before any more damage is done.

As for the media, it has become increasingly apparent that fact-checking is a lost art. This responsibility extends to virtually all mainstream media outlets in Quebec, which have spread inaccurate information about sharks, often misquoting ORS staff to compensate for our disdain for hyperbole and sensationalism. Consulting experts to avoid publishing biased or baseless claims about sharks, or any other animal species, is essential to upholding journalistic integrity and ensuring accurate reporting. Moreover, countless examples of dubious information circulate on social media, all too often shared by individuals, influencers, or institutions that should know better. This misinformation targets impressionable youth and TikTokers who may lack the discernment to differentiate fact from fiction. The proliferation of false explanations and over-exaggerations not only misguides public perception but also hampers effective conservation efforts. Accurate knowledge is essential for crafting policies that address the real challenges faced by marine species. By sharing bogus ‘facts’ such as misattributing the presence of the white shark to climate change alone, we risk neglecting other vital concerns, such as bycatch, habitat degradation, and the need for marine protected areas.

“Once inaccurate claims take root online, they can be frustratingly difficult or impossible to correct.”

To make things worse, the longevity of misinformation in the digital age cannot be underestimated³. Once inaccurate claims take root online, they can be frustratingly difficult or impossible to correct. Articles, social media posts, videos, and even museums posting slanted memes and statistics on sharks to generate attention can perpetuate false narratives, leading to widespread acceptance of incorrect information. This digital contamination undermines the efforts of scientists and educators who strive to promote accurate and evidence-based knowledge. And as a personal pet peeve, I would be grateful if unique information sources, including content blatantly ripped from the ORS website—which has always been maintained and meticulously vetted by a dedicated team of volunteers—were correctly cited.

In conclusion, while human-accelerated climate change is an undeniable and critical factor affecting marine environments, it is not the catch-all explanation for the long-established presence of the white shark in Atlantic Canada. We must instead rely on accurate historical and scientific evidence to inform our understanding and avoid the pitfalls of well-intentioned but uninformed disinformation. By doing so, we honour the complexity of marine ecosystems and ensure that our efforts to protect and conserve them are based on solid, accurate foundations.

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As a side note pertaining to notable instances of contentious or outdated information often referenced in the media, it’s worth noting that many scientists and government agencies have transitioned away from using the archaic term “great” white shark. The epithet ceased to have any meaning when the oppositely named “lesser” white shark became known as the oceanic whitetip shark (Carcharhinus longimanus). Also, frequent descriptions of the white shark as an exclusively offshore pelagic species, which are usually meant to reassure beachgoers, are complete nonsense. In fact, the white shark spends much of its time just a stone’s throw from shore where it hunts for seals with very little to no interest in humans. For more on this, please visit the Canadian Shark Attack Registry.

¹ Betts, M. W., Blair, S. E., & Black, D. W. (2012). Perspectivism, mortuary symbolism, and human-shark relationships on the Maritime Peninsula. American Antiquity, 77(4), 621–645. http://www.jstor.org/stable/23486482
¹ Keenlyside, D.L. (1999). Glimpses of Atlantic Canada´s past.
¹ Martijn, Charles, A. (1986). Les Micmacs et la mer. Recherches amérindiennes au Québec, Montréal. 343 p.
¹ Adney, Edwin Tappan and Chapelle, Howard I. (1964). The Bark Canoes and Skin Boats of North America. Bulletin of the United States National Museum. 1–242, 224 figures.
² Ryan LA et al. (2021). A shark’s eye view: testing the ‘mistaken identity theory’ behind shark bites on humans. J. R. Soc. Interface 18: 20210533. https://doi.org/10.1098/rsif.2021.0533
³ William R. Casola, Justin M. Beall, M. Nils Peterson, Lincoln R. Larson, & Carol S. Price. (2022). Influence of social media on fear of sharks, perceptions of intentionality associated with shark bites, and shark management preferences. Frontiers in Communication, 7. https://doi.org/10.3389/fcomm.2022.1033347