Boris’s story: Bringing “positive deviance” into the fight for ocean and climate health

(Image: Boris Worm at his home in Halifax)

Science for all

My love for the ocean began when I was just a child, growing up near the North and Baltic Seas in Germany. I spent hours exploring the shoreline, marvelling at the life beneath the waves. Those early days sparked a curiosity that never left me. I found myself asking questions—how does the ocean work? What keeps these ecosystems thriving? That curiosity set me on a path that led to where I am today.

After studying marine biology in Germany, I earned my Ph.D. from Kiel University, focusing on marine ecosystems and their complexity. It was during those formative years that I began to understand just how interconnected everything in the ocean truly is. That understanding only deepened when I moved to Canada and joined Dalhousie University in Halifax, where I’ve now been working for over two decades. My work here has focused on everything from global fisheries and biodiversity to marine protected areas—an opportunity that has allowed me to not only conduct research but also help shape ocean policy and conservation efforts worldwide.

(Image: Boris and Laurenne’s oceanside home near Halifax)

Throughout my career, I've always believed that science shouldn’t exist in a vacuum. It’s not enough to simply gather data. We have to share our findings in a way that empowers people to understand and act on the information. This is why I’ve dedicated so much of my work to advocating for ocean literacy—helping people appreciate the critical role the ocean plays in our lives. The more that people understand, the more they can become part of the solution.

Positive deviance in practice

It’s this drive to connect science with action that has led me to my current focus: positive deviance. This is the idea that within any community, individuals or systems can succeed by doing things differently—which has the potential to revolutionize how we address the climate and ocean crises. After years of studying fisheries, marine ecosystems, and human interactions with the sea, I’ve come to realize that the most innovative solutions often emerge from those unexpected outliers. This approach shifts our focus from traditional problem-solving to learning from communities or ecosystems that are already thriving in spite of environmental pressures. In my opinion, positive deviance could reshape how we tackle environmental challenges on a global scale.

(Image: Boris has worked on fisheries issues throughout his career)

Take our work with fisheries, for instance. In Canada, where we have some of the world’s most regulated fisheries, we’re governed by the same sustainable fishing laws and frameworks across the country. Yet, despite the same policies, some fisheries outperform others. To understand why, we developed a computer model. This model factored in variables we know affect fisheries, such as catch volume, species value, and fishing gear. What we discovered is that while most fisheries perform predictably, outliers exist—fisheries that thrive even under less-than-ideal circumstances. But the model alone couldn’t explain everything, which led us to an essential realization: the human side of the equation plays a much larger role than we initially thought.

In an effort to uncover what made these outliers succeed, we began interviewing fishers, other experts as well as managers at Fisheries and Oceans Canada (DFO). We wanted to understand the personal and community factors that contributed to success—things like leadership, trust within the community, and balanced stakeholder involvement. These were critical elements that couldn’t be captured in a traditional model. The complexity of human systems—the way people collaborate, make decisions, or balance community interests—proved to be as vital as ecological or economic factors in explaining why some fisheries thrived. As a result, we were able to see how much these human dynamics influenced environmental outcomes.

(Image: Connecting with the local Halifax community)

The next step, which we’re working toward right now, is perhaps the most critical. It’s about reverse-engineering these outliers’ success and applying those lessons to areas where other fisheries struggle. If we find that a balanced portfolio of stakeholders leads to better outcomes, this insight could benefit the DFO to help them rethink their management approach. This is the essence of positive deviance—not just identifying what works but figuring out how to replicate those successes elsewhere. If this can work with fisheries, the question then becomes: where else can this be applied across marine science, conservation, and restoration?

Overcoming challenges

One of the challenges in applying positive deviance on a larger scale is the idea that solutions should come from within communities. This is rooted in the history of positive deviance, which originated in international development. I always share the example from Vietnam, where researchers found that certain children in malnourished communities were thriving while others weren’t. They discovered that families with healthy children practiced small, unique behaviors, like handing out food in more frequent, but smaller meals or adding small shrimp gathered from the rice paddies for extra nutrients. These simple practices were overlooked by organizations parachuting in with external solutions. The idea of learning from local knowledge and scaling those practices transformed how development work was done. The same principle applies to environmental conservation—solutions often need to come from within the community, not from outside experts who don’t fully appreciate the local context.

When applied to fisheries or broader environmental issues, positive deviance can help pinpoint solutions that are often overlooked by top-down approaches. Instead of foreign experts bringing in “answers,” we need to spend time in communities, listening, observing, and collaborating deeply to find out what’s already working. It's about building trust and tapping into the lived experiences of people who know their place best.

This approach is still in its early stages when it comes to environmental work, but in my opinion, the potential is enormous. We’ve already seen examples of success when science intersects with local knowledge. When these two worlds merge, there’s often a deep respect for the value that each brings to the table. This idea is central to how we need to approach the ocean and climate crises going forward. It’s not about helicoptering in to “fix” the problem—it’s about listening, learning, and collaborating on a much deeper level than we’ve done before.

(Image: Discussing the principles of positive deviance)

But this isn’t easy work—which is why I’m dedicating more of my time to it as I move forward in my career. And I’m not at it alone: I’m working closely with my partner, Laurenne Schiller, who is coming at this from a much different angle than me, even though we are both trained as marine scientists. The complexity of the human systems involved in environmental management often goes unappreciated by natural scientists. Historically, fisheries models have treated fishers as a homogenous group, assuming they all behave rationally and predictably. In reality, their decisions are influenced by a mix of motivations, pressures, and cultural norms—which is where Laurenne’s expertise comes into play. Positive deviance forces us to recognize that complexity and learn from it in order to make better decisions, together.

(Image: Laurenne Schiller is a major collaborator in the ongoing work on positive deviance)

As I’ve applied this approach to my work, I’ve seen firsthand how much we can learn from unexpected places. The biggest challenge now is scalability. How do we take these insights from outliers and apply them elsewhere? There’s a danger in assuming that one solution can work across all contexts, and we need to be mindful of local differences. For example, a successful fishery in one part of the world might owe its success to cultural factors that don’t exist elsewhere. But that doesn’t mean we can’t learn from it—it just means we need to adapt our solutions thoughtfully.

A message to the world

In many ways, the work that lies ahead reminds me of my own early experiences with ocean conservation. Back in 2009, I was deeply involved in efforts to end overfishing, traveling to Washington, D.C. and Ottawa, to advocate for scientific consensus we had reached on rebuilding fisheries. The optimism was high—we really thought we were going to end overfishing. But that didn’t happen. When I asked a trusted politician why, he told me that we simply hadn’t repeated our message often enough. That realization was a turning point for me.

I started a radio show called "Surf & Turf" in 2010, focusing on ocean literacy and the deep connection between people and the ocean. The show’s purpose was to get people to care about the ocean by helping them understand how it affects us and how we, in turn, affect it. Then, I started Ocean School, a program designed to educate youth around the world on the ocean’s significance and the impact of human activities on our planet. I realized then that simple awareness was half the battle—and needed to span audiences, from children to adults. Positive deviance takes that idea further—showing that while we may have big, global issues to solve, we can find solutions in the most unlikely places.

(Image: The coastline around Halifax)

As I move forward with my work, I’m increasingly convinced that positive deviance will play a pivotal role in addressing the climate and ocean crises. It’s not just about science or policy—it’s about community, leadership, and trust. It’s about finding what’s already working and using that knowledge to make a difference on a much larger scale. Whether it’s fisheries, marine protected areas, or even agriculture, this framework could be a key tool to drive meaningful change. My hope is that positive deviance can help us unlock new ways of thinking about the environmental challenges we face, and that it will inspire more scientists, policymakers, and communities to work together in ways we haven’t yet imagined.