Remote but not isolated

Abstract

I helped organized an online seminar series for 1500 people with no planning. Here are some thoughts on how it went, what we learned, and how it might shape in person meetings in the future.

Standing on the shoulders of giants. The phrase often used to describe the academic process, with most of us hoping our fleeting ideas and discoveries build a little more knowledge on top of what has come before. Truth be told there are very few ‘giants’, and even those who are considered as such, the prize-winning scientists we oddly christen ‘rock stars’ are in reality the sum of many trainee's hands and laborious hours that built their reputation. One of the draws of in-person conferences has always been the chance to see these giants speak, and I still remember my sense of awe as a junior trainee when putting faces to the author names on the coffee-stained papers I had almost completely highlighted and scribbled all over. Maybe they would come to my poster? Maybe they would ask a question at my talk? Maybe I will be able to ask my own question and not make a fool of myself? Maybe I'd learn what magic dust had been sprinkled on these deep thinkers, maybe some of it would rub off on me? Maybe I would meet their lab members, get a postdoc there even?

But that conference reality, as wonderful as it really can be, in actuality is only the reality for the lucky few. The few with a lab that can afford the flights and fees, or that get a scholarship. The few with the connections and data to get those talks, to be introduced to a passing giant by a connected advocate. Despite all of our efforts, ‘who’ you are or know still counts too much. Then, the lucky few are further narrowed down to the few who are perhaps extroverted enough to make connections, to ask questions, the few for whom that post-talk bar setting is natural or even possible. Those who don't need to look after children, to avoid alcohol etc.

In reality, conferences can be incredible sources of new knowledge and collaboration, and I myself deeply miss them. But even before Covid19, for many of us there was a growing sense that these grand scientific gatherings, these movable feasts travelling around the world, were not as inclusive as they needed to be to warrant their carbon footprint. And those giants? Well, many give the same talks over and over at different conferences as the 20 named speakers, while the supporting cast and venue switches out. We also all know that only a few mentoring minded giants really go to poster sessions, or even stay the full course of the meeting. Before Aging Science Talks, I'd never been to an online conference, but with little forward planning, this series evolved to offer a glimpse of how we can connect better, and of how many of us really want to – lots!

When our labs abruptly shuttered, Covid19 was pitched as the great leveler. It affected everyone. We know this was so sadly not true, but for research to some extent, it was. Giant or beanstalk climber, your lab was doing nothing but collecting dust, as we all scrambled to find some way to keep going. As we all begun to grip the reality of the WFH lockdown, my 2020 calendar full of wonderful conferences I was lucky enough to be going to emptied to nothing. As I scrambled to adjust to my own reality – no child care for our 9-month-old, both of us trying to work, a sudden switch to remote teaching and mentoring - I found, like many, that I went through peaks and valleys of being able to function, then not, to focus, and then not. I tried to work out how to support my lab in between bouts of stress eating and disbelief. One thing we talked about, is that it was ok to not be productive, that you did not have to feel like you should be able to just switch into some online version of the previous you. As a manager I have learned (via my own failures) that you should try hard to not assume reasons behind people's actions, as so much goes on in people's lives that you know nothing of. The coronavirus pandemic only exaggerated this – everyone had different home life struggles, worries about loved ones, personal safety fears. One commonality, however, was that we went from some structure to none. Labs often feel like a family, you spend as much time with them as you do your related family, and the friendships you make last beyond the thesis defense. This lab family was also abruptly taken from everyone.

As I sat and wondered what to work on, I had a strong sense of not wanting to do the same things I was doing before, just less well. To try to use this time to build something, rather than wait for building to begin again. Aging Science Talks provided that outlet for me. And the beauty and surprise of it was how easy it was to build organically. Dudley Lamming and I did not sit down to plan, we just had the same idea and decided it was best to cooperate (imagine that!). In many ways the whole thing reminded me of the Seinfeld episode where George decided to do the opposite of all of his instincts and his life turned around. Our plan was the opposite of what a conference does. We didn't advertise. We didn't charge. We didn't invite any giants to speak. We didn't impose any barrier to who gave a talk, or what they talked about (loosely aging but we didn't even police that). We didn't care ‘who’ you were or where you worked. We didn't write a grant. We just set up a twitter account, a free Slack community, and a Google sign-up sheet. And within days we had daily talks lined up for months. Slack gave us a free upgrade, and the Glenn Foundation kindly gave us some funding for a Zoom account that could stop Zoom bombing (for the record it happens, and no one ever sees it…). And now we have organizers in Europe and Australia running sister accounts for those time zones. Initially, we chose not to record talks to try build a community that came together at the same time, but that was not inclusive to all, so we now record them, but we don't even require that if a speaker is not comfortable with it.

This unstructured format for me has broken down a lot of old ideas. Conference organizers agonize about getting balance in speaker composition, about not getting too many ivy league talks, about getting trainees to want to present and to ask questions. How many times do we hear desperate pleas for student questions from session chairs, as the giants line up at mics to ‘giantsplain’ the speaker's data back to them? As we all knew, most of the issues of speaker composition were not the result of a lack of diversity in the science community: post a Google sign-up sheet and then watch as your speaker list reflects the community. Ask your students and postdocs if they want to help run something and watch as they do it not only gladly, but better than you do.

As I write, our Slack community has over 1500 members, who can post anything, message each other in the background, chat, reconnect, post jobs, find jobs, collaborate, and break down the zero-sum fallacy of academia. The Aging Science Talks community is not a bad online version of a real thing. It is its own real thing. I hope it is not only something that gives structure and community in a time of need, but that it brings the field together and outlasts this vicious virus. That it allows the many who still cannot get the most from in-person conferences when they resume to feel part of the field, and that we keep the talks going in some format, passing on the organization to new groups. I also hope we can perhaps take some of the things that work from Aging Science Talks and apply it to in-person meetings.

As our labs reopen, nothing can replace that magic of being the first person in the world to discover and know something new, as you sit at your microscope or expose that gel. We all want to get back to that. To stand on the shoulders of giant discoveries that preceded us. As someone who loves the face-to-face interactions of seminars and meetings I can't wait for their return, and yes, I like being blown away by the keynote address by that giant I'm still too scared to talk to even as an Associate Professor. But Aging Science Talks will continue as long as people want it, as it provides something fresh and different. And if you are a giant, you know where that Google sign-up sheet is. We accept you too.

Declaration of competing interest

I declare no conflict of interest.