Giving a conference paper is daunting. Dealing with questions can be even worse, if you face a deluge of condescending statements, rambling monologues and thinly veiled attempts to show off superior knowledge.

Some people avoid giving papers to escape this horror. One of us remembers the joy she felt at a conference when the fire alarm went off just as she finished presenting, saving her from questions altogether. But we need other researchers’ questions to make our efforts worthwhile – they are the lifeblood of conferences. We want to test our direction, our findings, and our approach.

We give papers to think things through and to learn. Audience members are there for the same reasons. This puts us all on the same team, not opposing sides, even when we hold alternative views. Questions should be about personal and collective development, not scoring points.

These are the kinds of questions that are most likely to prompt constructive discussion and leave egos unbruised:

The supportive question

Audiences can be silent for lots of reasons – exhaustion, hangovers, hunger, or the need to get a train – so we appreciate the kindly souls who break the ice. We like questions that show you have actually listened to the presentation and those that address a specific point. Don’t be afraid to ask for clarification – this gets the speaker to engage and explain, and can be particularly useful for researchers at the start of a project.

The selfless question

To the egotistical academics out there, why not see conference questions as an opportunity to help others? We’ll be eternally grateful. The questioner who focuses on a speaker’s research is immeasurably more helpful than one who dwells on their own. Even better are questions that compare the work of several panellists. These turn the conversation into a three-way discussion between the questioner, the speakers on the panel and the audience. We can all learn something then.

The tough-but-fair question

These are the most rewarding ones. Tough makes us explain and clarify, and it can point out holes and inconsistencies. It can turn our research around. But it must be fair. If evidence poses problems, ask us to say a few words about solutions. Or try offering an exception to the case and ask us to reflect on it.

The practical recommendation

Everybody loves this question: we need to know what we have missed in the primary and secondary sources. But phrase it positively, please. Don’t demand to know why the speaker has omitted classic work a, b, or c. It’s far better to ask: “Have you consulted such and such? It reinforces your argument.”

The think-outside-the-box prompt

We like to look at our work from new perspectives, so these questions are always welcome. It shouldn’t feel like an attack, however. Nor should it be about the questioner’s own work. Ask us to think about a specific comparative case, or comment that our findings may be reflected in other fields or time periods – not only does this challenge preconceptions in a useful way, it may help us to think about expanding our work in new directions.

The tell-me-what-else-you-know question

We all cut lots out of our papers. Very often, speakers comment on this while delivering a paper, partly because we are so desperate to point out that we haven’t missed something obvious. So we love an opportunity to flesh out details and demonstrate the depth of our research.

Sometimes, however, you’ll be sorely tempted to unleash your inner Jeremy Paxman on some hapless speaker. Try to rein yourself in when you ask…

The I-couldn’t-disagree-more question

What should you say when your disagreement is genuine and large – so much so that downplaying it would be an injustice to your intelligence and the speaker’s?Staying civil is hugely important in this situation, so keep it brief. Try, as Jane Austen put it, to “unite civility and truth in a few short sentences”.

Register your dissent and the reasoning behind it without taking up too much time (or unleashing strong emotions). If your point is widely shared in the room, you won’t need to labour it; if it is not, a lengthy intervention will not win you many converts. You can always discuss your issues after the session.

We don’t necessarily want everyone to agree with us and praise us (although that can be nice). We want the audience to take us seriously, whatever career stage we are at. That means not dismissing speakers because they are in the early days of their research and have not yet read seminal works. Similarly, those of us at the other end of the spectrum need to be challenged on new approaches and techniques. Early-career scholars can offer much here, even if nervous about questioning senior academics.

And for the speakers...

When you’re the one in the spotlight, how should you respond when faced with a question that feels inappropriate or hostile? Remember that a bluntly worded question is not necessarily a malicious one. Audience members have little time to prepare their questions. It may be helpful to respond in a tone and style that is slightly friendlier than the questioner’s. In some cases, this is all that is required to smooth the waters and enable dialogue.

You should also be sensitive to the ways that acerbic questioners may be imitating aspects of their own rough treatment at the hands of (anonymous) peer reviewers or (named) book reviewers. You cannot expect a Rivendell of civility at conferences to last for long if the trolls have taken over elsewhere.

Joanne Begiato is a professor of history at Oxford Brookes University; Lorna Campbell is digital education manager at Edina at the University of Edinburgh; Steven Gray is lecturer in the history of the Royal Navy at the University of Portsmouth; Isaac Land is an associate professor at Indiana State University.

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