When it comes to bad conference behavior, I’ve seen it all: Presenters who go well over their allotted time, while everyone agonizes about the minutes slipping away. Presenters who close by saying, “Well, I don’t have time for the last 10 pages of my talk, where I really make my argument, but I’ll be happy to address it in the Q&A.” Speakers droning in sonorous tones, apparently unaware that they even have an audience. Audience members who answer their cell phones in audible stage whispers, “Can I call you back? I’m at a conference. I said: I’M AT A CONFERENCE ….” I’ve even seen more blatant violations of conference etiquette: An audience member noisily eating a burrito in the front row, directly in front of the panelists. Another audience member who brought a large dog that barked and whined throughout the presentations (not, apparently, a service dog). Flavia has very appropriately termed these behaviors acts of conference terrorism.
But by far the most annoying, distracting, and troubling behavior I have witnessed is notable for the absence of its perpetrators, those presenters who subject the audience to their talks without actually attending the conference. To my alarm, it is becoming all too common for a panel to open with the chair stating regret that So-And-So was unable to attend the conference for [fill in the blank your choice of excuse: illness, death in the family, bad weather] but had requested that the chair read his/her paper in his/her absence. While I’ve been subjected to in-absentia presentations before, it was the cumulative effect of being forced to listen to several at the recent Big Literature Conference From Hell that set me to thinking about the practice. Indeed, I spent most of the time I was listening to the reading of these conference papers pondering – and, frankly, feeling steamed about – the absence of the author.
I would like to make a modest proposal to my fellow academics: if you cannot present your own conference paper, no one can or should present it for you.
Here’s why:
* The audience immediately disengages because they know there is no reason to listen. The know they will not be able to discuss the topic with or make suggestions to the author.
* The individual reading the paper invariably does so badly – after all, it’s not written in her voice, she doesn’t know where to place nuance or humor, and so forth. I, myself, was cajoled into reading a paper for a missing panelist many years ago, only to discover that it included numerous phrases and names in a language I do not speak and both I and the audience were forced to suffer through my garbled attempts. (Really, it was a horror show.)
* Moreover, in-absentia presenters seem to feel themselves free of all constraints and, without an audience to shame them into concision, every paper I saw went over the time limit, straining the patience of audience and reader alike. (I still inwardly cheer for the panel chair who abruptly stopped her reading with several pages still to go, stating brusquely, “That’s enough of that.”)
* Finally, although it is difficult to quantify the value of academic work, the fact is that it often comes down to a basic measure: a line on the CV. The question that preoccupied me throughout the in-absentia presentations I witnessed was this: do these scholars plan to include this presentation on their CVs? There I sat – having spent hours in uncomfortable travel conditions, hundreds of dollars on airfare and hotel bills, and the less tangible expense of my mental energy and collegial effort – and yet someone who was snug at home, having sent their paper off like a missive to the world, would be able to “count” their labor the same as mine? It galls.
In the end, the responsibility surrounding this practice falls upon panel chairs who agree to support in-absentia presentations; the chair must exercise the authority to say, “I’m so sorry you can’t make it because of your Very Good Reason, but if you cannot attend the conference, your paper cannot be presented.” Consider it as a gift to the audience, a release for yourself, and a reminder that there is a reason we meet in person and do not simply email each other our pages of brilliant prose. A conference is a social occasion as much as an academic one and papers should be presented by their authors, or not at all.
And, to those of you who failed to make it to your last speaking engagement and yet planned to include it on your CV – shame on you.
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January 3, 2008 at 4:47 pm
Dr. Bad Ass
This kind of behavior (having someone else read your paper) while you’re snug at home) is not only conference terrorism, but it is needless. Because really, if your paper is on the conference schedule — has been accepted after being reviewed by whoever does that — then who will know if it was actually presented or not?
Perhaps a better alternative would be for the panel chair to put up information about the paper, along with contact information for the author, so that interested parties can contact the author for a copy?
January 3, 2008 at 5:08 pm
Flavia
I commented on this phenomenon on my blog, too: three of the eight or nine panels I saw included an absent presenter, and given that I don’t think we’re in the same field. . . that’s a hell of a lot of absences! Curiously enough, all of the chairs I heard read papers did a good — and in one case, a truly exceptional — job. I’ll admit to tuning out more readily, though, for the reasons you mentioned.
But in fairness, the absent presenters I was informed about seemed to have had genuinely unexpected emergencies (one had been admitted to the ER a few hours earlier), and quite a lot of flights *were* delayed or snowbound; that’s what comes of having the convention in a) late December, and b) Chicago. So though I found the whole thing a bit irritating, it didn’t occur to me that anyone was working the system. As you note, the convention is as much a social occasion as an academic one, and I would imagine that many presenters would be sincerely sorry to miss that.
(But since I really *like* this conference, it’s possible that I’m giving others too much credit!)
January 19, 2008 at 4:36 am
k8
Recently, I was at a conference where this happened several times, but it was because some freak weather closed some major airports. Some presenters actually emailed their papers while at airports to people at the conference. The one occasion of one person reading another’s paper that I experienced was actually very good. But then, the reader was familiar with that person’s work and is the editor of a journal that recently published an article by the absent presenter that is related to the presentation.
I suppose the only other thing I would add is that if a person is reading another person’s conference paper, then s/he should read through it at least once – it is really obvious when the presentation is the first time the reader has read the material.
January 30, 2008 at 3:52 pm
servetus
I think there is another issue involved, too, which is the question of what happens if you are really unable to attend for whatever reason, you are fortunate enough to work for a university that reimburses conference expenses, but you can’t go. It’s possible that some people in that situation would still be reimbursed if their paper were read by someone else, i.e., if they could say that they still made their contribution. Just a thought.
January 30, 2008 at 5:02 pm
Notorious Ph.D.
I’m going to be presenting for a panel this spring in which the organizer and one of my co-presenters has already announced that she won’t be able to make it. Now, the reason is that, since organizing the panel, she became pregnant, and the conference will be very close to her due date. Utterly understandable. But dammit! I only did this conference because she asked me to, and because I wanted to be collegial with another young scholar in my subfield. Gah.
My own conference sin? About a year ago, I presented at Major Disciplinary Meeting with a horrendous cold that I came down with the day before flying. While my co-panelists were presenting their papers, I drained both of the pitchers of water provided for panelists, and blew my nose in disgusting fashion between each paper. I grossed myself out, and can only imagine how rude the others found me. But really, what could I have done?
February 1, 2008 at 1:04 am
bsgirl
Servetus, I am about as jaded as they come and even I had not thought of the possibility that someone would try to defraud their university out of conference funding. But, I think that would be difficult because generally you have to provide receipts to get refunded … hard if you didn’t actually make your flight, etc.
February 2, 2008 at 8:18 pm
servetus
Would it be defrauding if you asked only for the ticket that you had purchased in advance as reimbursement, and your paper were read? Incidentally, my university has never asked me for boarding passes. The ticket receipt, which you can get without flying, is enough.