Paper Title: Statistically significant chuckles: who is using humour at scientific conferences?

Author(s) and Year:: Mammola S, Fontaneto D, Santangeli A, Oswald KN, Correia R, Meierhofer MB, De Santis V, Stout V (2026)

Journal: Royal Society Publishing (open access)

TL;DR: A study of 531 scientific talks found that humour is rare, often falls flat, and its success depends less on the joke itself, but on who tells it. Men told more jokes than women. Men and native English speakers were significantly more likely to get laughs. The findings reveal that humour at conferences is not just about communication; it is a marker of privilege, shaped by gender, language proficiency, and perceived authority. 

Why I chose this paper: I chose this paper because it reveals something uncomfortable: even in moments of levity, inequity quietly plays out. And if we want scientific communication to be truly inclusive, we cannot ignore who gets to be funny, who gets to be heard, and who gets to bring their full, authentic self to the stage. Because until we reckon with that, humour will remain a privilege rather than a choice.

Ask scientists whether humour belongs in conferences, and the responses vary. For some, humour feels out of place in a setting defined by rigour and professionalism. Others argue that the stakes are too high, particularly for early-career researchers, for whom a misplaced joke could risk credibility. There is also a practical concern: humour is difficult to execute, and scientific audiences do not come to conferences expecting to laugh. 

Others disagree. Some view humour as an underused asset, one that can make complex ideas more engaging, memorable, and human.

These conflicting perspectives raise an important question: how is humour used in scientific talks, and what shapes who can use it and succeed without risk?

The Background

Scientific conferences are often marked by long hours of dense presentations. Anyone who has sat through a morning session knows the feeling: your attention starts to fade, and your mind wanders straight to lunch. 

In this context, humour has clear value. It can boost attention, make information more memorable, and increase the speaker’s approachability and likability. Studies show that nearly 99% of students in STEM courses appreciate a lecturer’s humour, while popular TED speakers use it far more frequently than their less engaging counterparts.

Despite these benefits, humour in scientific talks remains a double-edged sword. It has the potential to improve communication, but it also carries professional risks. And these risks that are not experienced equally across speakers.

For early-career researchers, PhD students, and other emerging scientists, the decision to use humour might not be casual at all. A conference presentation is not just a talk; it is a job interview, a networking opportunity, and a moment to establish credibility in a competitive field. While a well-placed joke may make a speaker more memorable, one that falls flat or is perceived as unprofessional can undermine their authority. As a result, avoiding humour is a strategic choice rather than a reflection of personality: when the stakes are high, it feels safer to stick to the science.

For women in academia, this calculation is further complicated by gendered expectations. Research suggests that women, particularly those in leadership roles or early in their careers, often limit their use of humour to maintain credibility and professional authority. This reflects a well-documented double bind: while men may use humour to project confidence or reinforce authority, women who adopt similar approaches risk being judged as inappropriate or unprofessional. 

What led to this “better safe than sorry” situation? Scientific communication has long been shaped by the expectation that it should remain strictly serious, facts only, no frills, and certainly not a comedy show. Within this framework, humour can be seen as a deviation from established norms, carrying the risk of undermining credibility. For those already navigating questions of belonging or authority, this risk is further amplified.

Collectively, these dynamics suggest that acceptance of humour depends on the speaker’s social and professional privilege.

Despite its recognised benefits and perceived risks, little is known about how humour is actually used at scientific conferences. To address this gap, researchers examined how humour is used in scientific talks, in terms of frequency, timing, type, and delivery, and whether bias affects how an audience reacts to humour, depending on the speaker’s gender, career stage, or language proficiency.

The Methods

Between 2022 and 2024, the authors of the study attended 14 international, English-language biology conferences, observing 531 scientific talks. Seated as regular audience members, they recorded every instance where a speaker attempted humour, whether through speech, visuals, or physical gestures.

Humour was identified through observable cues: changes in tone, timing, punchlines, or the use of images or cartoons. A single researcher scored each conference session, meaning the study could not formally test whether different scorers would have agreed. To promote consistency, the research team discussed and clarified all definitions before data collection, provided illustrative examples, and kept measurement categories broad, using only three levels for joke effectiveness (low, medium, high). This approach reduced the risk of inconsistent interpretation across observations.

For every joke, several features were documented.

First, when the joke occurred within the talk. They then classified the type of joke, including:

• jokes about shared scientific experiences (e.g. fieldwork or data struggles);
• situational humour tied to the moment (e.g. technical difficulties with the pointer or slides or presenter’s anxiety);
• inside jokes related to the conference or academic community;
• references to popular culture; and
• or other unclassifiable forms of humour.

Next, the mode of delivery: speech alone, visual aids (slides or videos), or physical gestures and impressions.

To assess impact, each joke was rated based on audience response:

• low (minimal or polite laughter to no response);
• medium (audible laughter from about half the audience); and
• or high (enthusiastic, room-wide laughter).

In addition, to examine potential bias, basic speaker characteristics were documented: 

• native English proficiency (assessed through perceived fluency and, where necessary, external sources);
• career stage: student, early career (less than 10 years), or late career (more than 10 years); and
• gender identity (based on observable cues), which the authors acknowledge may not be accurate, as perceived gender may not reflect the speaker’s self-identified gender.

The Results

Overall, humour was uncommon. A substantial proportion of speakers (41.9%) told no jokes at all, and the median was one joke per talk. Only a small number of speakers attempted humour more than once

Most jokes were impromptu (42.2%), emerging from real-time events such as technical difficulties with a pointer, slide or presenter anxiety. A smaller proportion (18.5%) centred on shared scientific experiences, including challenges related to research or academic life. In contrast, references to popular culture (5.9%) and inside jokes specific to academic communities and conferences (3.4%) were relatively rare. Nearly 30% of jokes were unclassified and labelled “other.” 

In terms of delivery, humour was mostly verbal (81%), while a smaller fraction incorporated humorous visual elements such as slides or cartoons (15.2%). Physical gestures or impressions were seldom used (3%).

The timing of humour followed a clear pattern. Jokes were most frequently placed at the beginning of presentations and, to a lesser extent, at the end. These positions may serve as what the authors call “safe zones”, where humour does not undermine the perceived seriousness of scientific content. The one exception was students. They tended to save their jokes for the end, perhaps because they felt more relaxed once the hardest parts were behind them. 

Despite these efforts, successful humour was rare. The majority of jokes (67%) resulted in only minimal or polite chuckles, while strong, room-wide reactions occurred in just 9% of cases. This highlights the challenge of eliciting genuine laughter in formal academic settings, where audiences may not expect or readily respond to humour.

The most effective jokes, i.e., those that elicited stronger audience responses, peaked midway through presentations, suggesting that experienced speakers may strategically use humour to re-engage attention during more technical content.

The study revealed clear evidence of bias in who gets to be funny and whose humour lands. Male speakers were approximately 9% more likely to elicit audience laughter, while native English speakers were 10% more likely. Factors such as joke type, delivery method, and career stage showed no significant effect on success. This suggests that the impact of humour may depend more on who delivers it.

The same bias appeared in frequency. On average, men told more jokes per talk than female speakers. Longer presentations were also associated with a slight increase in humour use. However, career stage and native language status did not significantly influence the use of humour. 

The Impact 

This study shows that humour, when delivered thoughtfully and appropriately, is a beneficial tool. It connects the speaker to the audience and makes listeners feel part of an inclusive community. This challenges the long-held view that humour is merely a distraction from the seriousness of science.

It also reinforces that inequalities quietly play out in scientific communication. Men and native speakers can get away with using humour, while women, early-career researchers, and non-native speakers face the risk of losing credibility. In this way, humour continues to favour the privileged, while those struggling to maintain credibility would rather not have theirs tainted by a joke that falls flat.

A joke does not have to be flawless to be powerful; it simply needs to feel natural, authentic, and human. It also identifies why humour lands or crashes: unlike at a comedy show, scientific audiences do not expect to laugh. Speakers must deliberately set the stage for humour by preparing their audience, whether through a playful presentation title or strategic changes in pitch and speech rate.

Ultimately, the researchers are calling for a gradual shift in scientific communication. Even though risks exist, humour should have a place in scientific presentations. All scientists, they argue, should be allowed to bring their authentic selves into professional spaces.

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Alt text for featured image: An auditorium with attendees listening to a presentation.

Written by Abigail Ayodele Agbaze

Edited by Holly Dear, Katelyn Miyasaki, Sarah Ferguson, and Mykyta ‘Nik’ Kliapets

Featured image credit: Cystal710 from Pixabay (CC0 license).