What we keep missing in the Coogee shark attack is how hard this has been on local property values

I was sitting on the travertine balcony of my Coogee investment property on Saturday morning, enjoying a perfectly extracted single-origin macchiato and reviewing my quarterly portfolio yield, when the tranquility of the coastline was violently, almost aggressively, interrupted. The disruption did not come from the natural ebb and flow of the tides, nor from the gentle hum of premium European luxury vehicles navigating the esplanade. No, the disruption came from a woman in her thirties who had decided that the weekend was the appropriate time to engage in a sensationalist altercation with the local marine wildlife.

Let us dispense with the hysterical sentimentality that usually accompanies these events. The facts, as breathlessly reported by every media outlet desperate to push their breaking news emails, free apps, and daily news podcasts upon us, are mundane. A swimmer entered the ocean. A shark, executing its biological prerogative as the apex leaseholder of the Tasman Sea, bit her. The woman suffered arm and leg injuries. And then, rather than quietly accepting the consequences of her own poor risk assessment, she allowed the situation to escalate into a full-scale civic disturbance.

The resulting commotion was entirely disproportionate to the event. A spokesperson for NSW Ambulance proudly announced that they had dispatched units to the popular Sydney beach, but they completely failed to apologize for the visual and auditory pollution those units inflicted upon the community. The flashing red and blue lights clashed horrifically with the ambient pastel tones of the morning surf. The sirens completely drowned out the curated lo-fi house beats drifting from the coastal cafes. Is this what we pay exorbitant strata fees for? To have our morning meditation shattered because someone could not gracefully evade a three-meter fish?

We must be perfectly clear about the realities of coastal living. The ocean is not a public utility; it is a highly volatile, deregulated aquatic marketplace. When you wade into the surf at Coogee beach, you are trespassing on premium pelagic real estate. To then complain, or worse, to require an emergency road transport to St Vincent’s hospital because you surrendered an extremity to the resident stakeholder, demonstrates a profound, almost staggering lack of respect for the natural hierarchy of asset ownership.

I was discussing this very phenomenon just last Thursday over a light sea urchin crudo with Chris Minns, the Premier of New South Wales. Chris understands, as all serious people do, that Sydney's entire global appeal relies upon projecting a vibe of effortless, uninterrupted coastal luxury. "It is very hard to maintain our status as a world-class destination," I told him, "when pedestrians are thrashing about in the breakwater creating dramatic biological scenes." The Premier simply nodded, chewing thoughtfully, clearly burdened by the same tragic realities of governance.

Our local business leaders are equally exhausted by the entitlement of the casual swimmer.

Let us consider the sheer, unadulterated selfishness of the victim's injuries. It is reported she is in a critical condition. Do you know what else is in a critical condition? The weekend booking rate for short-term beachfront rentals. My property manager spent the entirety of Sunday fielding panicked calls from expatriate tech executives and international tourists wanting to cancel their premium bookings because they saw a minor food-chain adjustment on the evening news. This woman's inability to maintain situational awareness in the shallows has directly, measurably impacted the local economy.

And the NSW emergency services must share in the blame for this economic vandalism. Was it strictly necessary to transport her by road to St Vincent’s hospital during peak weekend hours? Do we have any idea what an ambulance convoy does to the Eastern Suburbs traffic grid? I was attempting to drive my Range Rover from Coogee to a boutique natural wine tasting in Paddington, and the resulting congestion added a full twelve minutes to my journey. Twelve minutes. I am a busy man. I have columns to write, thought leadership to project, and coastal views to aggressively protect. I do not have time to sit idling behind an ambulance just because someone neglected to wear chainmail to the beach.

We must also examine the staggering hypocrisy of how we view the shark itself. In the corporate sector, we constantly praise founders and innovators for "moving fast and breaking things." We idolize the ruthless pursuit of targets. We reward aggressive market capture. Yet, when a magnificent, streamlined biological machine executes a flawless, high-speed acquisition of a swimmer's leg, suddenly it is framed as a "tragedy." The shark was simply innovating. The shark identified a slow-moving, under-leveraged asset floundering in its territory and it took decisive action. We should be inviting this creature to give a TED Talk, not dispatching helicopters to chase it away.

Meanwhile, what preparation did the swimmer undertake? Did she conduct a thorough environmental risk assessment before entering the water? Did she hedge her exposure by swimming next to someone slower and more appetizing? Almost certainly not. She simply waded in, trusting that the universe, and the taxpayers of New South Wales, would subsidize her catastrophic lack of foresight.

This brings us to the unacceptable burden placed upon our healthcare system. St Vincent’s hospital is a premier medical institution. Its resources should be reserved for unavoidable, legitimate tragedies—like when a private equity partner suffers a mild polo injury, or when a property developer requires emergency hydration after a particularly gruelling zoning board hearing. Clogging up the trauma ward because you volunteered to be part of the coastal food web is an insulting misallocation of premium medical staff.

We have spent decades gentrifying Coogee. We have pushed out the undesirable elements, elevated the espresso standards to a globally competitive level, and ensured that only those with a robust, diversified portfolio can comfortably afford to exist near the sand. Yet, despite all this economic progress, we still allow completely unvetted biological entities—both the sharks and the mid-tier swimmers—to interact in ways that disrupt the aesthetic harmony of the postcode.

Perhaps it is time we recognized that the current model is broken. The shoreline should be privatized completely. If access to the Coogee surf required a five-thousand-dollar annual subscription, a rigorous background check, and a mandatory legal waiver indemnifying the state against limb loss, we would see a much higher caliber of ocean user. We would attract people who understand that if you are going to be bitten by an apex predator, you do it quietly, you do it offshore, and you certainly do not drag the NSW emergency services into your personal drama.

Until we implement these necessary, common-sense market reforms, I ask only for a little basic decency from the swimming public. If you absolutely must be attacked by a shark, please have the courtesy to do it during off-peak hours. Better yet, do it on a lesser beach, somewhere far away from the premium real estate. The property owners of Sydney have suffered enough this weekend, and we deserve a chance to heal.