So a man has been killed by a shark off the coast of Western Australia. Tragic, of course. The Foreign Office, in its infinite and paternalistic wisdom, has now warned British tourists to ‘stay vigilant’. As if we needed a government pamphlet to remind us that the sea contains large, toothy predators. One almost expects a follow-up advisory: ‘Warning: the sun is hot. Apply sunscreen.’
Let us step back from the immediate horror and consider what this episode reveals about our age. We live in a society that has become morbidly obsessed with the elimination of all risk. We have sanitised our public spaces, padded our playgrounds, and filled our legislation with caveats and warnings. And yet the ocean, that vast and indifferent expanse, will not be tamed. It remains the last bastion of genuine, untrammelled danger. A shark attack is a reminder that nature does not care about your travel insurance.
But here is the contrarian thought: perhaps this is not a bad thing. Perhaps the very existence of such risks is what gives a holiday its edge, its authenticity. The Victorian traveller knew this. They went to the Orient with the understanding that dysentery, bandits, and shipwrecks were part of the package. Today’s tourist expects a bubble of safety from the moment they leave Heathrow. When that bubble bursts they are shocked, outraged. ‘Why was I not warned?’ they cry. But to be warned is to have the experience mediated, diminished.
I am not callous. I do not dismiss the grief of the man’s family. But I do dismiss the assumption that such tragedies are wholly avoidable. The sea is not a swimming pool. It is a wilderness. And when we enter a wilderness, we accept its terms. The Romans understood this. They saw the arena as a place where fate could strike without warning. The modern beach is its own arena.
What would the Victorians say? They would probably note that the decline of empire is marked by an obsession with safety. As Britain’s global power wanes, we retreat into a fortress of caution. We issue travel advisories. We ban things. We seek to control the uncontrollable. This is decadence. This is the mark of a people who no longer believe in their own capacity to face danger.
The real question is not how to prevent shark attacks. It is whether we are willing to accept that some dangers are inherent to life itself. If you swim in the sea, you might meet a shark. If you climb a mountain, you might fall. If you live, you will die. The attempt to eliminate all risk is a flight from mortality. And it is a flight that can never succeed.
So by all means, be cautious. But do not mistake caution for virtue. The man who died in Western Australia was not a fool. He was simply a man who went into the water. That is something we have all done, and will do again. And if the Foreign Office wants to issue a warning, let it be this: life is dangerous. Live anyway.
