Tag Archives: COVID19

Zoomplitudes 2020

This week, I’m at Zoomplitudes!

My field’s big yearly conference, Amplitudes, was supposed to happen in Michigan this year, but with the coronavirus pandemic it was quickly clear that would be impossible. Luckily, Anastasia Volovich stepped in to Zoomganize the conference from Brown.

Obligatory photo of the conference venue

The conference is still going, so I’ll say more about the scientific content later. (Except to say there have been a lot of interesting talks!) Here, I’ll just write a bit about the novel experience of going to a conference on Zoom.

Time zones are always tricky in an online conference like this. Our field is spread widely around the world, but not evenly: there are a few areas with quite a lot of amplitudes research. As a result, Zoomganizing from the US east coast seems like it was genuinely the best compromise. It means the talks start a bit early for the west coast US (6am their time), but still end not too late for the Europeans (10:30pm CET). The timing is awkward for our colleagues in China and Taiwan, but they can still join in the morning session (their evening). Overall, I don’t think it was possible to do better there.

Usually, Amplitudes is accompanied by a one-week school for Master’s and PhD students. That wasn’t feasible this year, but to fill the gap Nima Arkani-Hamed gave a livestreamed lecture the Friday before, which apparently clocked in at thirteen hours!

One aspect of the conference that really impressed me was the Slack space. The organizers wanted to replicate the “halls” part of the conference, with small groups chatting around blackboards between the talks. They set up a space on the platform Slack, and let attendees send private messages and make their own channels for specific topics. Soon the space was filled with lively discussion, including a #coffeebreak channel with pictures of everyone’s morning coffee. I think the organizers did a really good job of achieving the kind of “serendipity” I talked about in this post, where accidental meetings spark new ideas. More than that, this is the kind of thing I’d appreciate even in face-to-face conferences. The ability to message anyone at the conference from a shared platform, to have discussions that anyone can stumble on and read later, to post papers and links, all of this seems genuinely quite useful. As one of the organizers for Amplitudes 2021, I may soon get a chance to try this out.

Zoom itself worked reasonably well. A few people had trouble connecting or sharing screens, but overall things worked reliably, and the Zoom chat window is arguably better than people whispering to each other in the back of an in-person conference. One feature of the platform that confused people a bit is that co-hosts can’t raise their hands to ask questions: since speakers had to be made co-hosts to share their screens they had a harder time asking questions during other speakers’ talks.

A part I was more frustrated by was the scheduling. Fitting everyone who wanted to speak between 6am west coast and 10:30pm Europe must have been challenging, and the result was a tightly plotted conference, with three breaks each no more than 45 minutes. That’s already a bit tight, but it ended up much tighter because most talks went long. The conference’s 30 minute slots regularly took 40 minutes, between speakers running over and questions going late. As a result, the conference’s “lunch break” (roughly dinner break for the Europeans) was often only 15 minutes. I appreciate the desire for lively discussion, especially since the conference is recorded and the question sessions can be a resource for others. But I worry that, as a pitfall of remote conferences, the inconveniences people suffer to attend can become largely invisible. Yes, we can always skip a talk, and watch the recording later. Yes, we can prepare food beforehand. Still, I don’t think a 15 minute lunch break was what the organizers had in mind, and if our community does more remote conferences we should brainstorm ways to avoid this problem next time.

I’m curious how other fields are doing remote conferences right now. Even after the pandemic, I suspect some fields will experiment with this kind of thing. It’s worth sharing and paying attention to what works and what doesn’t.

Thoughts on Doing Science Remotely

In these times, I’m unusually lucky.

I’m a theoretical physicist. I don’t handle goods, or see customers. Other scientists need labs, or telescopes: I just need a computer and a pad of paper. As a postdoc, I don’t even teach. In the past, commenters have asked me why I don’t just work remotely. Why go to conferences, why even go to the office?

With COVID-19, we’re finding out.

First, the good: my colleagues at the Niels Bohr Institute have been hard at work keeping everyone connected. Our seminars have moved online, where we hold weekly Zoom seminars jointly with Iceland, Uppsala and Nordita. We have a “virtual coffee room”, a Zoom room that’s continuously open with “virtual coffee breaks” at 10 and 3:30 to encourage people to show up. We’re planning virtual colloquia, and even a virtual social night with Jackbox games.

Is it working? Partially.

The seminars are the strongest part. Remote seminars let us bring in speakers from all over the world (time zones permitting). They let one seminar serve the needs of several different institutes. Most of the basic things a seminar needs (slides, blackboards, ability to ask questions, ability to clap) are present on online platforms, particularly Zoom. And our seminar organizers had the bright idea to keep the Zoom room open after the talk, which allows the traditional “after seminar conversation with the speaker” for those who want it.

Still, the setup isn’t as good as it could be. If the audience turns off their cameras and mics, the speaker can feel like they’re giving a talk to an empty room. This isn’t just awkward, it makes the talk worse: speakers improve when they can “feel the room” and see what catches their audience’s interest. If the audience keeps their cameras or mics on instead, it takes a lot of bandwidth, and the speaker still can’t really feel the room. I don’t know if there’s a good solution here, but it’s worth working on.

The “virtual coffee room” is weaker. It was quite popular at first, but as time went on fewer and fewer people (myself included) showed up. In contrast, my wife’s friends at Waterloo do a daily cryptic crossword, and that seems to do quite well. What’s the difference? They have real crosswords, we don’t have real coffee.

I kid, but only a little. Coffee rooms and tea breaks work because of a core activity, a physical requirement that brings people together. We value them for their social role, but that role on its own isn’t enough to get us in the door. We need the excuse: the coffee, the tea, the cookies, the crossword. Without that shared structure, people just don’t show up.

Getting this kind of thing right is more important than it might seem. Social activities help us feel better, they help us feel less isolated. But more than that, they help us do science better.

That’s because science works, at least in part, through serendipity.

You might think of scientific collaboration as something we plan, and it can be sometimes. Sometimes we know exactly what we’re looking for: a precise calculation someone else can do, a question someone else can answer. Sometimes, though, we’re helped by chance. We have random conversations, different people in different situations, coffee breaks and conference dinners, and eventually someone brings up an idea we wouldn’t have thought of on our own.

Other times, chance helps by providing an excuse. I have a few questions rattling around in my head that I’d like to ask some of my field’s big-shots, but that don’t feel worth an email. I’ve been waiting to meet them at a conference instead. The advantage of those casual meetings is that they give an excuse for conversation: we have to talk about something, it might as well be my dumb question. Without that kind of causal contact, it feels a lot harder to broach low-stakes topics.

None of this is impossible to do remotely. But I think we need new technology (social or digital) to make it work well. Serendipity is easy to find in person, but social networks can imitate it. Log in to facebook or tumblr looking for your favorite content, and you face a pile of ongoing conversations. Looking through them, you naturally “run into” whatever your friends are talking about. I could see something similar for academia. Take something like the list of new papers on arXiv, then run a list of ongoing conversations next to it. When we check the arXiv each morning, we could see what our colleagues were talking about, and join in if we see something interesting. It would be a way to stay connected that would keep us together more, giving more incentive and structure beyond simple loneliness, and lead to the kind of accidental meetings that science craves. You could even graft conferences on to that system, talks in the middle with conversation threads on the side.

None of us know how long the pandemic will last, or how long we’ll be asked to work from home. But even afterwards, it’s worth thinking about the kind of infrastructure science needs to work remotely. Some ideas may still be valuable after all this is over.

This Is What an Exponential Feels Like

Most people, when they picture exponential growth, think of speed. They think of something going faster and faster, more and more out of control. But in the beginning, exponential growth feels slow. A little bit leads to a little bit more, leads to a little bit more. It sneaks up on you.

When the first cases of COVID-19 were observed in China in December, I didn’t hear about it. If it was in the news, it wasn’t news I read.

I’d definitely heard about it by the end of January. A friend of mine had just gotten back from a trip to Singapore. At the time, Singapore had a few cases from China, but no local transmission. She decided to work from home for two weeks anyway, just to be safe. The rest of us chatted around tea at work, shocked at the measures China was taking to keep the virus under control.

Italy reached our awareness in February. My Italian friends griped and joked about the situation. Denmark’s first case was confirmed on February 27, a traveler returning from Italy. He was promptly quarantined.

I was scheduled to travel on March 8, to a conference in Hamburg. On March 2, six days before, they decided to postpone. I was surprised: Hamburg is on the opposite side of Germany from Italy.

That week, my friend who went to Singapore worked from home again. This time, she wasn’t worried she brought the virus from Singapore: she was worried she might pick it up in Denmark. I was surprised: with so few cases (23 by March 6) in a country with a track record of thorough quarantines, I didn’t think we had anything to worry about. She disagreed. She remembered what happened in Singapore.

That was Saturday, March 7. Monday evening, she messaged me again. The number of cases had risen to 90. Copenhagen University asked everyone who traveled to a “high-risk” region to stay home for fourteen days.

On Wednesday, the university announced new measures. They shut down social events, large meetings, and work-related travel. Classes continued, but students were asked to sit as far as possible from each other. The Niels Bohr Institute was more strict: employees were asked to work from home, and classes were asked to switch online. The canteen would stay open, but would only sell packaged food.

The new measures lasted a day. On Thursday, the government of Denmark announced a lockdown, starting Friday. Schools were closed for two weeks, and public sector employees were sent to work from home. On Saturday, they closed the borders. There were 836 confirmed cases.

Exponential growth is the essence of life…but not of daily life. It’s been eerie, seeing the world around me change little by little and then lots by lots. I’m not worried for my own health. I’m staying home regardless. I know now what an exponential feels like.

P.S.: This blog has a no-politics policy. Please don’t comment on what different countries or politicians should be doing, or who you think should be blamed. Viruses have enough effect on the world right now, let’s keep viral arguments out of the comment section.