A change in perspective

This picture was taken in April 2023, when I visited Changdeokgung Palace in South Korea. Like many academics, I used to travel a lot for conferences. Too much really, given the threat of climate change and the way pandemics can spread with unprecedented ease through our frantic moves across the globe.

I combined my travel for work with seeing part of the world. My trip to South Korea was because of a conference I co-organized with Natalja Deng with as theme philosophy of religion in Asia. We had speakers from China, India, South Korea, Singapore, and the Philippines, among others, attend our conference. Some of the papers presented there, such as this one by Hazel Biana on reincarnationism in k-dramas, have since appeared in journals and edited collections.

While the conference had a positive effect in terms of inclusion of scholars who are often sidelined in academia globally (think how difficult it is for an Indian citizen to secure a visa in the UK or US to present research), I keep on feeling conflicted about conference travel.

I think we ought not to travel so much, and have campaigned for more sustainable academic practices, such as online conferences. As a result of joint efforts, we were able (Philosophers for Sustainability) to organize one of our major disciplinary conferences, the meeting of the Central Division of the American Philosophical Association, online.

Still, I feel a sense of loss given my current health situation. It is very iffy (dependent on remission which would require e.g., a successful clinical trial) that I would be able to travel for conferences again. Never say never, of course, and I don’t want to give up hope. But I feel a sense of acute mourning and loss at the prospect of no longer traveling for conferences. It’s one of the many losses that my illness has resulted in.

Our stage in life alters our perspective, and it is not so simple as gaining wisdom with age. For example, congress is filled with people who are in their eighties and beyond (“Congress has become a waiting room for Heaven”). One reason they stick around is, I believe, that they want to continue to be relevant. To be relevant, in our society, is to work and be productive. You simply cannot just “be” (this attitude also results in a lot of ableism). By clinging on to their positions, they futilely keep the reaper at bay. We smirk at Bryan Johnson and his strict regimen to prevent his body from aging. But our quest for immortality takes many different forms.

Ruth Bader Ginsburg was lauded at the time for pushing through with cancer treatment, but meanwhile her legacy has become marred by the undoing of Roe vs. Wade. She, Biden and other clingers-on aren’t wise. They should know when to cede their place.

In light of this, I am not sure if my present perspective really offers wisdom. I am not sure if my current outlook on in-person conferencing would be any better, or worse, now I am unable to do it.

Mortality presents an enduring threat. It either lingers in the background, or for people like me, it becomes more salient. When we try to deal with it we’re not always making wise choices. For instance, it might be tempting for me—sour grapes!—to now say that a lot of conferencing is really just holidaying by those privileged to have won the academic game for the most part (tenure track and tenured professors), that it is expensive and exclusionary, and that we should abandon it altogether in the light of climate change.

When I was part of the two plus one campaign, I thought we should reduce in person conferencing but not abandon it. There are some ways in which it is valuable, for instance, that conference in South Korea really did help foster relationships between academics both in Asia and in the global north. But a lot of in person conferences could be entirely online. So, I would advocate for fewer in person conferences, less in person travel, and more trying to maximize the advantages of in person when we do it. For example, in summer of 2023 I participated in a workshop that combined stiff hiking trips in the British midlands with short informal presentations, and it was wonderful. You can see a picture of me hiking with others here.

I think this view is still right. Or rather, I don’t trust myself thinking about this topic now that I am unable to do in person conferences myself. On the other hand, my perspective is also influenced by irrelevant factors such as the fact I am tenured and have some name recognition, which led to my ability to pay (also through a grant) for the expensive trip to South Korea and led me to be invited to the walking conference.

I do remember when I was a postdoc I felt very different about conference travel. I resented flying to the APA in 2012 across the Atlantic and paying for an expensive hotel room to be able to attend a first-round interview (that was back in the days, now first-round interviews are almost always online via Zoom or Skype). I was invited to give comments at a prestigious conference, and my mentors encouraged me to do it, but travel or hotel was not covered, and I was unable to afford it.

So we have a lot of different perspectives on the desirability of conference travel. I think what I can say with certainty now is that yes, we must acknowledge it’s a fun perk mostly for tenured and tenure track academics and there’s a distinctive feel of pleasure and holiday to it. There would be nothing wrong with that (one’s job shouldn’t especially be miserable!) if it didn’t come at the cost of climate change and huge inequity for people outside of the tenure track.