13.1 Communicating knowledge

The art of public presentation in the academic world and well beyond has improved considerably in recent years. Dotty professors, who could not tell the time of day, are seriously out of fashion. These days, lively engagement and professional presentation have come to be expected.

All speakers recognize the need to communicate knowledge effectively. Explaining the fruits of historical research is not only a socio-cultural good in its own right but is also a great means of clarifying one’s thoughts and getting productive feedback. Indeed, in this era of ever-expanding mass communication, the role of public presentations is ever-rising in importance in the historian’s range of routine tasks. (See also chapter 8 on social media.) As a consequence, there is now a goodly literature of advice, both online and in print, with many practical suggestions.¹

Talking about historical knowledge to a live audience is putting thought ‘into action’. And today’s audiences participate warmly. There is a positive boom in public demand for historical talks – and new degrees in public history have been crafted to cater for an apparently insatiable interest.²

At an earlier stage, in the 1960s and 1970s, there was a cultural pretence that lectures were always boring and had at best to be endured. Speakers would make facetious remarks like: ‘Of course, we’d all rather be in the pub’. But such would-be matey comments are annoying and suggest a lack of confidence. Today’s audiences, both at public lectures and academic seminars, have opted in and made an effort to attend. If they really want to be in the pub, they probably will be. If not, however, they want and deserve the speaker’s best efforts.

By way of encouragement to individual presenters to find their own preferred personal styles, the following sections offer friendly advice, culled from experience.

13.2 Preparing

It’s vital, as a starting-point, to check the scheduled timing for every presentation and then make every effort to stick to it. Sometimes it happens that there has been a change of plans – or perhaps one speaker on a panel has overrun. In such cases, chairs these days are usually firm and call the proceedings to a close. If that happens, speakers should not attempt to gabble the remainder of their talk at high speed. Much the best advice is to switch immediately, and with good grace, into a short conclusion. At least that way, the audience is left with the main message.

Another starting-point is to check out the room layout in advance. It’s good to look quickly for oneself (whether virtually or in person), or to get a brief description from the event organizer. Having a sense of the room dynamics allows for excellent subliminal preparation.

Similarly, it’s also wise to ask in advance about the available technology. It’s pointless arriving to lecture with PowerPoint if there’s no suitable screen. These days, organizers are usually good at advance preparation; and they expect guest speakers to be well prepared likewise. Hence it goes without saying that it’s essential to learn how to operate PowerPoint before the talk, rather than during it.

Particularly important also as advance preparation is to check the academic level at which the presentation should be pitched and to organize the material accordingly. So an audience of newcomers to the subject needs a good general introduction and key definitions before getting into the detail. But, with experts, it’s good to aim high. They quickly become bored if told at length about things they already know well.

A mixed audience of experts and non-experts is the most difficult to handle. It’s useful to cover key definitions, or otherwise those not familiar with the material will be stranded. So it’s a good challenge to present the basics in a sharp and interesting way, to keep the experts happy. Then phrases like ‘let’s just recapitulate for those unfamiliar with the material’ help to reassure those who already know the subject well that they are not being underestimated. It’s a question of tone. By the way, the advance preparation should always include lightly revising the material if it has already been given before. Each presentation should be delivered as freshly minted.

13.3 Style of delivery

Fortunately, the human voice is a tremendous instrument for communication. Speakers should take encouragement from that – and find their own personal style within the spectrum. A variety of tone and pitch is always helpful. By contrast, a droning monotone will numb listeners’ brains. In addition, a variety of gestures and terminology adds colour and excitement. Live speakers can also make good use of the occasional significant strategic pause. (But not on radio, as producers detest a blank silence.)

As a general rule, clear and expressive voices appeal to audiences. Moreover, a special slow diction, clearly but not mechanically demarcating one word from another, is good to cultivate for lectures to polyglot international audiences with very diverse levels of linguistic attainment.

Standing to lecture or to give a seminar presentation is generally more successful than sitting. Audiences can see and respond better and vice versa. Sometimes a panel of speakers will be seated at a table together. It’s still good advice to stand up when invited to speak, even if the others don’t. Standing allows speakers to use the diaphragm to control the volume and timbre of speech more easily. Walking around the stage is also fine, if it comes naturally. But the wandering should be kept under control, and should be avoided altogether if a session is being filmed. Speakers have been known to patrol the aisles of the hall, or even to dive under a desk. Such manoeuvres make amusing talking points afterwards but, at the time, audiences often feel, uncomfortably, that the speaker has ceased to concentrate on them.

Expressive body language is eminently helpful, including appropriate hand gestures; but not to the point of distracting audiences from the message. ‘Historian’s hands’ – waving wildly to emphasize a point – should be avoided, especially on TV.

Those new to academic presentation generally prefer to start with a fully written text. That’s understandable, since quotations have to be accurate, and the sequence of points made clear. A formal text can also be revised for publication or inclusion in a thesis. However, it’s vital to keep the voice very expressive – and the pace varied. Some presenters manage to craft their texts into their own natural ‘speaking’ style. Others start by incorporating chunks of free speech into the presentation. Experienced lecturers can manage entirely from notes. It’s a technique that can be learned incrementally. Thus it’s easy enough to look up and speak directly to the audience when switching from one section of an argument to the next. Even a short break from reading from a prepared text renders the voice more natural – and keeps the audience on its mental toes. Then over time, the amount of free speaking can be expanded. But there’s no absolute rule. Speakers should find a style with which they feel confident and at ease.

Looking up from a written text enables those who are really intent upon communication to undertake another key manoeuvre. It entails from time to time moving one’s gaze slowly and deliberately around the room. That ecumenical signal indicates a desire to communicate with all – and not just to talk to the front row of the audience – or to the speaker’s shoes. This circulating gaze is like a ‘lighthouse beam’. Of course, it must not turn into a rude or pointed stare. But the round-room gaze is an excellent way of ‘collecting’ a roomful of disparate people into one meeting. It underlines the unspoken compact of reciprocity between speakers and audiences.

In all circumstances, it’s best to appear smiling and affable. Even speakers who are having a bad day should put aside their woes and focus cheerfully upon the audience, who will immediately respond. It’s fine to use humour when appropriate. Shared laughter bonds groups together. But there is no need to force matters if the subject under discussion (such as trends in the price of grain) is not a natural rib-tickler. It’s enough to radiate good cheer. By the way, it hardly needs saying that speakers should not pre-fortify their courage with alcohol. That tactic doesn’t work. Alcohol promotes incoherence and a false bonhomie, causing speakers to perform worse while thinking that they are doing better. Sober goodwill and smiles will more than suffice.

13.4 Structuring contents

At the very start of a presentation, it’s an excellent idea for the speaker to gaze lightly round the entire room and then deliver an opening salvo with great conviction. Attention is immediately caught, and a sense of excitement communicated. Audiences like an element of performance, although they do want a presentation to have scintillating contents too. By contrast, it’s uninspiring when speakers start by mumbling: ‘Um, err, thank you for inviting me to talk’. Or ‘How do I operate the PowerPoint?’ Or even ‘Can you hear me at the back?’ (Both speakers and organizers should have checked the acoustics beforehand.) Even worse are half-hearted apologies: ‘I’m sorry that it’s so cold this evening/that you’ve had to come out in the rain/that you’re missing a great TV programme’ … or whatever. Disastrous.

Then, after a smart start, it’s helpful for speakers to explain briefly the structure of the talk that is to follow. Providing such a framework is one of the most important arts of public presentation – and too often the most unduly neglected. Clear structures indicate that speakers are well prepared. They also allow audiences to follow the train of thought and simultaneously to understand how the details fit into a bigger argument. Not only are hour-long presentations greatly improved by clear structures, but so too are even short five-minute interventions. It’s always possible to announce something like: ‘I have three points to make’ or ‘four examples to give’ or ‘five errors to denounce’ or whatever. Then, as the talk unfolds (whether at length or briefly), speakers can indicate when they are moving from one section to the next.

Such frameworks assist those in the audience who are taking notes, and they encourage all to remember key points. By contrast, an unstructured stream-of-consciousness presentation may start well but quickly sags – and is very hard to summarize afterwards.

How the contents of a presentation are organized will vary according to the material in hand. A list of numbered headings will suffice. Or the points can be grouped to advance an argument. One classic option is to adopt a binary division: ‘on the one hand’ … ‘on the other’. That structure enables a legal case to test systematically the prosecution against the defence.³ It works well when there are two clearly opposing viewpoints.

Yet it’s not helpful to cram complex discussions into binary divisions that don’t do justice to the issues. So three-part arguments constitute another often-favoured option. Three headings provide scope for complexity (not everything is either black or white), while still offering a manageable structure that audiences can recollect. This viewpoint is contrasted with that viewpoint, while both are compared with a third, which may contain elements of both.

However, flexibility and clarity are the key requirements. There’s no need to follow a pre-set pattern. Speakers should organize their material as best helps an argument to unfold – and signal the chosen route to the audience.⁴

While unfolding an argument, it’s important to keep track of time. One useful tip is to insert timings into the text or notes. It is okay to digress briefly at various points, particularly when following a new train of thought which has been triggered by free-style speaking. But it’s essential not to let a bright digression take over the entire talk. Hence, if following a new strand of ideas, it’s good to ensure that the audience knows that the argument is going into a relevant by-way – and that it knows too when the main route has been resumed. Speakers and audiences are sharing the journey together.

13.5 The sense of an ending

Endings of spoken presentations should be strong, clear and memorable, as already recommended for written work (see section 7.7). These days, there is a folksy style abroad in both politics and academic life that concludes very simply, by thanking the audience for listening. That tactic has one advantage, in that it signals to the audience that it’s time to clap. Yet the formula is weak and uninspiring. Much better to sign off with something not meek but memorable.

Conclusions to academic presentations certainly should not come as bolts from the blue. Instead, they offer summations of the accumulating verdict to which the entire presentation has been leading.⁵ Precisely how the last words are fashioned is a matter of personal choice – and will depend also upon the nature of the material. At times, a considered statement will be appropriate. At other times, a snappy dictum. Nonetheless, whatever the format, the finale should be delivered with the same force and intensity as the opening.

Without asserting dogmatically that a short summary statement (the ‘snappy dictum’) should always be used, it’s worth noting that a brief but telling summary can be particularly useful at the end of a live talk. It encapsulates the argument. It provides the audience with a memorable finale. And it shows that the speakers have managed successfully to distil their complex thoughts into a format akin to an aphorism or an epigram, of up to (say) ten words. That ability is itself a valuable one. Indeed, the art of summarizing pithily is as challenging in its way as is the art of expounding lengthily.

Interestingly, too, this skill is not a recent invention. Classical Latin was capable of being used with admirable brevity. Many choice phrases survive, not just in heraldry but also in everyday exchanges:⁶ ‘Caveat emptor’ (Let the buyer beware); ‘Nil Desperandum’ (Never despair); ‘Carpe diem’ (Seize the day/enjoy life while you can).

Moreover, since 2006, the skill of brevity has become immensely popularized by the successful social networking service known as Twitter – now matched by a host of parallel systems (see chapter 8). This format allows users to communicate in snappy posts of not more than 240 characters including spaces. The impact of this terse style is already great and (in 2021) still unfolding.⁷

Whether the skills of laconic brevity are satisfactory in public life when divorced from the skills of in-depth analysis is becoming an urgent political as much as socio-cultural question for the twenty-first century.

Yet, for academic communicators, it remains good – although not imperative – to round out an impressive exposition with a memorable ending. And, of course, the better the content of the prior analysis, the more definitive the concluding dictum or statement will be.

13.6 Summary: using the opportunity

Researchers should always welcome the chance to convey their research to the wider world. Meanings are often made in the course of communicating, and messages clarified by the exercise. All the above advice about preparation, lecturing style and structured contents applies equally when apprentice historians launch into their first teaching of undergraduates.

Summarizing advanced research for non-experts is a great challenge, as is answering the questions of keen and critical student audiences, or engaging the less critical ones. It is truly rare that the subject fails to excite interest.

History is human and therefore … hot! So here’s a summary twelve-word dictum for all speakers: Sharing history with attentive audiences is a privilege – so use it well!

13.7 Coda: a historic example of a bad paper, and a great response (personal testimony from TH)

Not all lectures go as planned. As an early career scholar I was asked to contribute to a one-day conference on the history of social welfare, and rather rashly decided that I would take the opportunity to engage with the work of an established scholar in my field, Joanna Innes.⁸ And to do so by name.

It was a small conference and I saw the lecture as a chance to try out new ideas and approaches before a friendly audience. I also thought that I was approaching the issues about which Joanna Innes and I disagreed in a spirit of friendly debate. What I didn’t expect was that Joanna would be sitting front and centre when I went up to the podium. I gave the paper as written, finding it hard not to notice Joanna’s surprised expression. And when I had finished, she raised her hand and made the first intervention from the floor: ‘I believe Tim Hitchcock and I disagree about many things, but do not believe he has identified a single one’. Joanna Innes then went on to dismantle my paper, point by point, leaving me entirely flummoxed, and drowning in public. I know that she recalls the occasion with great clarity, even thirty years later.

What I learned is that it is always better to build a positive case, based on clear evidence, than to try to tear down the work of others. Disagreements must be aired, but the historical content should be front and centre, rather than the historian. I also learned that you should never make assumptions about who is going to be sitting in the front row.

1. 1  J. Rendle-Short, The Academic Presentation: Situated Talk in Action (London, 2016).

2. 2  For debates, see A. Curthoys and P. Hamilton, ‘What makes history public?’ Public History Review, i (1992), 8–13; P. Ashton and H. Kean (ed.), People and Their Pasts: Public History Today (Basingstoke, 2009); J. B. Gardner and P. Hamilton (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Public History (New York, 2017); P. Ashton and A. Trapeznik (ed.), What Is Public History Globally? Working with the Past in the Present (London, 2019).

3. 3  M. Pirie, How to Win Every Argument: the Use and Abuse of Logic (London, 2015); W. Huhn, The Five Types of Legal Argument (Durham, N.C., 2014).

4. 4  There are many studies of the art of rhetoric, from Aristotle onwards: see S. J. Coopman and J. Lull, Public Speaking: the Evolving Art (London, 2012).

5. 5  See, classically, F. Kermode, The Sense of an Ending: Studies in the Theory of Fiction with a New Epilogue (London, 1967; Oxford, 2000).

6. 6  E. Ehrlich, A Dictionary of Latin Tags and Phrases (London, 1987); J. Parker, Living Latin: the Heritage of Latin Phrases and Quotations in English (Portlaoise, Ireland, 2016).

7. 7  For debates, see Z. Tufekci, Twitter and Teargas: the Power and Fragility of Networked Protest (New Haven, Conn., 2017); V. Forrestal and T. Vella, Using Twitter to Build Communities: a Primer for Libraries, Archives and Museums (Lanham, Md., 2018); but see also C. Fuchs, Digital Demagogue: Authoritarian Capitalism in the Age of Trump and Twitter (London, 2018).

8. 8  Key publications of Joanna Innes, who was appointed to a post at Somerville College, Oxford, in 1982, include Inferior Politics: Social Problems and Social Policies in Eighteenth-Century Britain (Oxford, 2009); and, as editor with Mark Philp, Re-Imagining Democracy in the Age of Revolutions: America, France, Britain, Ireland, 1750–1850 (Oxford, 2013).