Democratizing Conferences

Me attempting to look cool but feeling very pleb on the inside (Photo: Jesper Berg)

I spent the past two days at The Conference, an event (equally vague synonym for conference) held annually here in Malmö for the last eight years. Explaining what The Conference is is about as specific as its name. Essentially, it is a series of talks centering around digital trends and the status of our digital past, present, and future. Its featured speakers this year ranged from a Saudi actress to a programmer turned children’s book author to a guy who really liked mentioning that he had a wife.

Fresh off a dishearteningly hypocritical experience at Copenhagen’s MAD Food Symposium, my expectations for The Conference were low. As a first time attendee, I didn’t quite grasp exactly what The Conference was. Having sat through two days of talks that ran the gamut from colored poo to the fake #1 restaurant in London according to Trip Advisor, I realized that the vagueness of The Conference’s name stems from its topical flexibility — it is tough to describe the overall theme of the talks let alone to do so concisely.

As I mulled over the excess of information I had consumed in the last 48 hours, a tinge of hypocrisy lingered that I also experienced in some capacity with MAD. This is not to say I did not enjoy The Conference. I did, immensely. However, its attendance, for me, also came with a sense of guilt.

A recurring theme in many of The Conference’s diversified talks was democratization. Whether they worked with space exploration or business innovation, many of the speakers touched upon a similar notion, summarized accordingly:

“Currently system X exists in the world today. It is flawed for reasons A,B, C. The underlying reason for said flaws is that system X is designed and managed by a small, privileged elite. Therefore, we must democratize system X so everyone can participate! Pause for applause”

The call for the democratization of the world’s physical and digital systems is an honorable one. But, ultimately, these ideologies are being preached to the very elite who govern today’s flawed systems. How can the call to be better mean anything when the people it is intended to affect aren’t present?

To say that The Conference and other events like it are exclusive is an understatement. For example, tickets for the Conference ballpark around 6000 SEK (~660 USD). Furthermore, the attendees list is comprised of individuals representing national media stations like SVT, city government like Malmö Stad, and industry giants like IKEA. There are other non-Swedish examples, but you get the point.

I especially struggled to rectify my own participation in The Conference. While I don’t necessarily work for an industry giant and definitely don’t have any money to warrant me being there, I do work for a co-working space called The Ground. It is associated with some of Sweden’s most successful start-up entrepreneurs. The way I came to work at The Ground still baffles me — it was a combination of nepotism, networking, and pure luck. I can assure you that hard work or competence had nothing to do with how I came to be employed (Although I do not think the same can be said for how I have stayed employed.)

In an attempt to quell my own guilt, I took two workbooks worth of notes and lightly harassed The Conference Q&A Twitter hashtag with a bevy of questions. In other words, I engaged.

The attention and, more importantly, the engagement of some attendees was questionable, however. The moderator encouraged the very important people attending to use their phones during talks to send very important emails or do very important work from a designated workstation in the lobby.

During the first morning of talks, I observed the man in front of me play Fortnite, oblivious or bored by whatever was happening on stage. I bet the company that sent him there paid full price for a ticket too. Money well spent.

In this sense, I think engagement, or lack thereof, was the core source of the hypocrisy and guilt I felt during The Conference. It is an event that is costly in more ways than just finances. It also asks people of their time. If your time is better spent sending off emails in the lobby or tweeting at#theconfQA or playing video games, what is the point of being there other than bragging rights? “Is this your first Conference? I’ve been three times, it’s sooo inspiring!”

If conferences are worth an individual’s time and money, should they not also be worth their engagement? More importantly, how do we encourage meaningful engagement from attendees? A few of this year’s speakers actually had suggestions whether they realized it or not (I took notes, remember?).

The first is building equitable engagement. One of my favorite speakers was NRKbeta’s Ståle Grut, who proposed including quizzes at the end of articles that users must complete in order to be allowed to leave comments. While this approach was originally aimed to “take the edge off the rant” within social media, why not apply it to attendees? Pushing the responsibility of attendance back onto attendees might, at the very least, motivate them to put the Fortnite down.

The second is democratizing conference accessibility. Shu Yang Lin, co-founder of Public Digital Innovation Space (PDIS) in Taiwan, spoke about using open hack challenges to modify government policy through a decentralized platform called g0v. The example of tearing down walls between government and the civilians they serve can be applied to a lot of different institutions. Dare I say, a conference?

These suggestions open up an interesting discussion about access and exclusivity within conferences, particularly in regard to admission processes. MAD Food Symposium requires an application first, followed by a 3500 DKK (~545USD) ticket price if you are accepted. While The Conference requires no application, its ticket price alone acts as an informal application (better yet, elimination) process of sorts.

If conferences that preach democratization are to democratize themselves, taking example from their speakers is probably a good start. Why not subsidize or allot a portion of tickets for those interested in attending, but are limited by factors like time or, especially, money? If mere interest is not sufficient enough in the eyes of conference organizers, I’m willing to bet that said motivated individuals would not mind filling out an application to secure their free or discounted ticket.

There are many solutions for increasing meaningful engagement and democracy among the elite conference circuit. Some conferences have already done so, like Techfestival in Copenhagen, which only costs 200 DKK ( ~30 USD). Regardless of the solution(s), the point is that conferences need to create better thresholds for engagement.

Written by

Anthropologist looking for new work opportunities. Sweden's favorite misfit & occasional purveyor of shitty pictures of beer @systembeerlaget

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