Since the 1960s, surf gangs have left a significant mark on the culture of the sport, controlling prime surf spots, engaging in criminal activities, and shaping the behavior of surfers worldwide. These groups once dominated coastlines from California to Hawaii and Australia, weaving their influence into the fabric of surfing’s history. But as the sport has evolved, so too has the power of these gangs, with localism and violence gradually giving way to an increasingly mainstream, crowded, and commercialized surfing world.
Joel Tudor, a three-time World Longboarding Champion, offers a unique perspective on the culture of localism and hierarchies within the surfing world. “I get mad when people say, ‘You surfers are so selfish,’” he says. “It’s the same shit in the corporate world. If the guy’s been there longer than you, you can’t say shit—you lose your job. That’s just an office building, but there’s seniority. It’s in everything you do in life, everything. If you don’t want to deal with it, you’re gonna get kicked to the back of the line, every-fucking-time. Unless you’re either über-talented, super connected, or crazy as fuck.”
Tudor’s words shed light on why aggression and localism once ruled the waves: it was simply part of the system. Much like mafia-run businesses, surf gangs operated their own territory, enforcing unwritten rules and protecting their turf. As surfing transitioned from a fringe sport to a mainstream cultural phenomenon, the influence of these gangs waned, but remnants of their presence lingered in some surf spots and local customs.
In the past, surf gangs maintained strict control over their areas, often through violent means, enforcing their dominance through intimidation and criminal activities such as drug dealing. These gangs cultivated a culture of localism—where outsiders were seen as intruders and newcomers were quickly put in their place, often through aggression. But as surfing gained popularity, and with the rise of social movements advocating for inclusivity, these once-feared groups gradually lost their grip on the sport.
Today, while traces of localism persist in certain regions, its power is far diminished. Surf spots that were once off-limits to non-locals or beginners are now more accessible, and although the occasional aggressive surfer may still lurk in crowded lineups, the days of surf gangs policing the beaches with violence are largely over. Cases like the infamous “Bay Boys” of Lunada Bay, who made headlines for harassing non-locals by throwing rocks, have become rarer—and are met with legal consequences.
The shift away from violent localism has had its pros and cons. On one hand, it has opened up the sport to more people and made popular spots less exclusive. On the other hand, the rapid growth of the sport has led to overcrowding, turning some surf spots into chaotic and sometimes dangerous environments. The camaraderie and order that localism once provided is now a thing of the past, and many long-time surfers find themselves longing for a time when surf spots were more manageable, even if that meant dealing with the occasional “turf war.”
The dynamics of learning to surf have also shifted significantly. In the past, surfers had to learn through trial and error, a process that often involved tough lessons in etiquette and respect for the ocean and fellow surfers. Today, however, the rise of surf schools, online tutorials, and readily available surf cams has made surfing more accessible, but also more commercialized. While performance-focused lessons are widely available, there is less emphasis on teaching the proper etiquette that once governed the waves.
This shift is evident in surf destinations around the world, where instructors, often more concerned with making money than fostering a deep respect for the sport, are pushing beginners into waves without regard for the local surf culture or etiquette. This has led to a rise in incidents where inexperienced surfers, lacking the knowledge of surf hierarchy and etiquette, unintentionally disrupt the flow of seasoned surfers. These newcomers often return to well-known spots like Malibu, where they don’t hesitate to drop in on others, unaware of the social and unspoken rules they are breaking.
The legacy of surf gangs, while diminished, has left an indelible mark on the culture of surfing. As the sport continues to grow, the challenge remains to balance its newfound popularity with respect for the ocean, its traditions, and the surfers who have long called it home. With overcrowded lineups and a lack of proper surf etiquette, the question remains: has the decline of surf gangs and localism truly improved the surfing experience, or have we lost something essential in the process?
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