We spend so much time fixing what is broken that we often miss what is already working

Positive Deviants

“You have six months to make a difference.”

That was the blunt greeting Jerry Sternin received in 1990 when he arrived in Vietnam with his wife and son, working with Save the Children to tackle malnutrition. The foreign minister’s challenge was clear, and the odds were stacked against him. Poverty, poor sanitation, lack of clean water. These were deep systemic issues. How do you solve any of that in half a year?

But Sternin noticed something curious. Not every child was malnourished. Even in the poorest villages, a few children were bigger and healthier than the rest. He asked his team: “Did you find any very poor kids who were healthier than typical?” The answer was yes. “Then let’s see what they are doing.”

Instead of focusing on what was broken, Sternin turned the problem on its head. He and his team sought out the “positive deviants” — families who, despite sharing the same conditions as everyone else, had found a better way. Conventional wisdom said children ate twice a day, from a communal bowl, mostly rice. But these mothers did something different: they hand-fed their children, added tiny crabs and shrimp from the paddies, tossed in sweet potato greens, divided meals into four portions, and encouraged their children to eat even when ill.

The brilliance lay not in importing a grand solution from outside but in amplifying the wisdom already present. Sternin asked the villagers themselves to design the programme. Mothers gathered in groups, cooking together and sharing these practices. Within six months, 65 per cent of children were better nourished. Years later, researchers found the improvements had endured. Even children born after Sternin left were healthier.

This is the essence of positive deviance. On the familiar bell curve, most results cluster around the middle. Every so often, someone, or some group, sits out on the positive tail, quietly defying the odds. The lesson is not to “empower” communities but to recognise and amplify the power they already hold. Too often, whether in aid, business, or social programmes, outsiders arrive with blueprints and jargon, assuming they know best. At its worst, this is hubris disguised as help. What people often need is not empowerment but the dignity of being listened to.

Our psychology does not make this easy. As behavioural psychologists, Kahneman and Tversky showed, we are wired for loss aversion, where threats loom larger than opportunities. We fixate on weaknesses, flaws, and what needs repair. On the savannah, that vigilance kept us alive. Today it can be a liability. In organisations, in communities, and in our personal lives, we spend enormous energy correcting deficits instead of building on strengths. Yet positive psychology shows that flourishing comes from amplifying what already works.

Sternin’s story is a reminder that the seeds of transformation are often already present. Sometimes the most radical act of leadership is not to intervene with answers but to notice what is quietly working and help it spread.

References

DBN in Action

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