Last week, the International Shark Attack File (ISAF) reported 80 attacks worldwide, with seven fatalities in 2012. Don't get me wrong, any loss of life is tragic and deserves attention, but, contrary to popular belief, we're not living in constant danger. In fact, given that humans kill 30m to 70m sharks a year, sharks need to be saved from us.

Just about any argument will take you to this conclusion, from the statistics of individual risk, up through ecology and economics, all the way to pathos. So let's dive in, as it were.

The US had 53 shark attacks last year, the most since 2000; 26 took place in Florida and one ended in a fatality in California. To put this in perspective, dogs killed 38 Americans last year, and lightning killed 28 (five in Florida). Bathtubs, wasps, and collegiate sports are more dangerous than sharks. Fireworks, cataclysmic storms, and being a pedalcyclist (pdf) all pose greater risks.

Only the worst selachophobes need to be reminded that people are more terrifying than fish. Chicago had 506 homicides last year, and a man tried to eat another man's face on a highway (also in Florida). Given that billions of people spend billions of hours in the water, it's amazing how few incidents do occur.

To reach the top of the food chain, a species has to pay the evolutionary price – whether a lion, killer whale, or great white. Apex predators live longer but reproduce less, and naturally have much smaller populations than their prey, making them vulnerable to outside pressures. When an apex predator disappears, a "trophic cascade" follows, which sounds aptly catastrophic.

Without predators, unchecked prey decimate plants, and parasites and diseases run rampant through their booming populations – compromising crops and livestock, and sometimes spreading infections to humans. Often times more species start to go extinct, and we're left pretending we can control populations better than the old predators. Agriculture loses billions of dollars without bats to keep insects away, for example. Apex predators are regulators with teeth.

Fishing is already trying to stave off ecological disarray. With at least 30% of the world's fisheries overexploited, consumers have put a high priority on sustainable seafood, and the industry has responded. NPR's recent series on sustainable fisheries shows how corporations and fishing-dependent economies are trying to cope, but still causing massive collateral damage.

Bycatch, shorthand for unintentionally caught fish, doesn't always register as a requirement for the "sustainable" label – meaning millions of dolphins and sharks, among other animals, are accidentally killed without oversight. In the case of one certified fishery, two blue sharks were killed for each "sustainable" swordfish. The industry may deal itself two crippling blows: overfishing prey-animals, which makes all species more vulnerable to extinction; and cutting out an apex, which throws the survivors into chaos. Eventually, supply will be unable to meet demand, jobs will be lost, and fish and other edibles will cost more. Whether sharks end up as seafood or not, they're still a necessary cog in global economics.

Like any business, the media has to make money to keep itself alive, and accuracy or context will often be the first thrown overboard to keep the ship from going under. We're left with the good, the bad and the Discovery Channel, which fills its annual paean to sharks with such mild titles as Eaten Alive, Sharkzilla and Air Jaws Apocalypse. The network has improved its conservation efforts over the years, but still disproportionately prefers sensation to science.

The context of these attacks goes a long way to showing that by doing things the right way, humans and sharks both go undisturbed. For instance, ISAF sorts attacks between "provoked" or "unprovoked". As crazy as it might sound, some people think grabbing sharks is a good idea. Attacks usually occur at specific times and places: sharks migrate along Florida and western Australia, for instance. Most bites are not life-threatening, and they often occur when a confused sharks mistakes a human for prey. We may think splashing and noise are fun, but sharks see them as signs of distress. It should be no surprise that 60% of attack victims are surfers, who spend more time in the water than most, at depth, and making turbulence. If you know where you are and how to act, the overwhelming likelihood is that you'll be fine.

Animals, even dangerous ones, have never been "killing machines" – only our imaginations turn them into monsters. Director Steven Spielberg used a camera and a puppet to manufacture horror in Jaws. He used the shark as a symbol of something inscrutable and voracious. But I've also seen the other side of the equation: people cutting off shark fins while the shark is alive, dumping dozens of writhing, mangled animals off a boat for the sake of soup.

To protect ourselves, all we need is common sense. The ocean is a wilderness like any other, and we should enter it prepared. Furthermore, we should protect sharks – especially as some species, like hammerheads, already face extinction. There's hope yet: California has made great whites candidates for the endangered species list, the Shark Conservation Act passed in 2010, and several campaigns have gained traction over the years.

Sharks are strange, awe-inspiring and kept the oceans balanced long before people came along. We need them, and they need us.