In January of 2019 I shared an Ethics Bowl Public Speaking Tips article. Knowing what you’re talking about, being yourself and practicing remain the foundation of smooth, confident delivery. But back then, almost all bowls were in-person. Today, almost all are remote.
I actually wrote a book on public speaking (now also on audiobook), revised it in 2021, and chapter 12: Using Technology, actually has a section on remote presenting. Here’s an excerpt that should help whether you’re an organizer, judge, moderator, competitor or coach. There are even a few ethics bowl references – enjoy!
Whether it’s via Zoom, Citrix, YouTube Live or good old teleconference, the challenge of holding a remote audience’s attention increases tenfold. It’s tough enough for people to resist checking their phones when they’re sitting right in front of you. Imagine the multitasking when they’re out of sight.
You’ll therefore have to up your audience engagement game, but your job as remote presenter is actually easier in many ways. If it’s audio only, you won’t have to worry about your silent message (though you won’t be able to use it to your advantage, either). And while you should still prepare a clear presentation and rehearse, you won’t need to master your material quite as well as if you were delivering it in person—can always pull up reference materials, refer back to your notes, and have a timer in front of you to ensure you stay on schedule (though definitely still rehearse, still know what material is coming before it arrives).
This past January, I was honored to be invited to discuss my Ethics in a Nutshell: The Philosopher’s Approach to Morality in 100 Pages with Chinese Ethics Bowl students. Thanks to tensions over Taiwan, economic competitiveness and the coronavirus (dang, China, you really screwed the pooch on that one), our governments aren’t the closest allies. Many consider an eventual Sino-American war inevitable. So I viewed the session as an opportunity to befriend ethics-minded future leaders, and maybe, in some small way, decrease the chances that my grandkids will be fighting China in World War III.
I asked the host if there was anything I might do or say to express my goodwill and respect, and he suggested a line from a famous Chinese poem. So my first words were, “Sheeyan chew woo yuan tchin, wa leeee, shan weigh lin.” Given my Tennessee drawl and the fact that I know zero Mandarin, I’m certain I butchered this badly. But it was supposed to roughly translate, “People can become friends and neighbors, even when they’re on the other side of the world.” The attendees seemed to appreciate the effort, and I very much enjoyed discussing argument by analogy, why we can’t base morality on legality, and other cool ideas with them. You can actually watch it yourself. Just search YouTube for “Deaton Ethics Bowl China Seminar.”
A couple of months after that, I was asked to kickoff a series of trainings for Ethics Olympiad participants in Australia. Another chance for cultural exchange, I opened by pulling out a globe. “If you were to get on a plane and fly all the way across the Pacific Ocean and land on the West Coast of the US, then drive east for 3-to-4 days, you’d make your way to the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains in the great state of Tennessee, which is where I live. What do Tennesseans do for fun? Well, lots of things, but in addition to soccer and ATV-riding, my own family enjoys trips to the mountains. Here’s a picture of us swimming at Indian Boundary Lake in the Cherokee National Forest.” About that time, I (and everyone else) heard a young man who’d forgotten to mute his mic say, “No, he’s still talking about his stupid family…” Ha! The Zoom screen was filled with faces, and from the look on his, he really wanted to blend in with the crowd. But since his mic was hot, his box lit up, I stopped, squinted to read his name, and immediately called him out. “Mickey Boffsetter? My stupid family? Did you not hear the host explain that I’m a kickboxer?” I rolled my chair backwards to the desk behind me and retrieved my “Fight of the Night” boxing trophy. “Do you see this? Don’t make me come to Australia.”
I was of course smiling and kidding, and he was of course mortified—tried to apologize and make excuses. “Sir, what I meant was…” But I just cut him off and poured it on thicker, which the audience loved—they were rolling with surprised laughter.
Another remote meeting icebreaker example, I once led a series of online workshops for offices interested in improving communication. Some had interpersonal issues (aka they hated each other), so I chose a lighthearted opener: Name That Tune. The first song: a Janet Jackson B-side track from 1984, “Communication.” Some recognized her voice, but no one got the song. The second was Led Zeppelin’s “Communication Breakdown,” which a few middle-aged white dudes knew. And the last was The Beastie Boys’ “Sure Shot” from their Ill Communication album, which no one but me admitted to ever hearing, let alone liking.
By the end most of the attendees were at least grinning, everyone knew the session’s focus would be improving communication, and that I was an approachable host with excellent musical taste.
Another example: I once gave a webinar on business ethics to a mixed group of human resource specialists, website designers and managers. To get them in the ethical thinking mood, I began with what philosophers, attorneys and fans of NBC’s “The Good Place” know as the classic trolley scenario.
Imagine seeing a runaway trolley about to crash into and kill five track workers. You then notice that you’re standing next to a lever that can divert the trolley onto another track, sparing the first five, but killing another worker. What should you do? Stand by and allow the original five to die? Or pull the lever, save the five, but effectively kill the one?
I then asked an open-ended question. “What do you think a person in this situation should do, and why?” This led to a conversation on the differences between psychological predictability, legal permissibility, and moral rightness, and opened the participants’ minds in ways a poll or monologue never could have. When we got to the case study on employee privacy, I had no trouble getting folks to discuss, which was my goal all along.
In cases of remote audience disengagement emergency, one somewhat mean tactic is to ask a question and call on attendees by name (depending on the software, you should be able to see their names right there on the screen). Once you’ve called on a couple, everyone will pay attention so they don’t get caught dozing. But again, this is mean, so if you do it, be gentle, confess a time that you were called on and didn’t know the answer, and mail everyone chocolate afterwards.
However, all the chocolate in the world won’t help if your presentation is bad. So remember to apply the basics: thoroughly research your topic and organize your material, punch up your key points with emotionally potent examples, and practice, practice, practice. Enunciate and speak directly into the mic (confirmation that your audience can hear you is a good idea). If you’re using a webcam, your silent message is back in play, and now includes everything in the background, so make sure the camera is capturing your face and torso—not just the top of your hair and ceiling. Unless you have hair like Vanilla Ice did in the 90s, in which case zoom in on that glorious mane.
Look at the camera as much as you can to simulate eye contact. Looking at the lens rather than your screen will make your delivery feel more intimate, though the audience may not be able to articulate why.
Last, minimize background noise and distractions. With a four-year-old on the loose, my home office isn’t the most silent of studios. But Noah’s noisy playtimes are a blessing and burden I gladly accept, and the rest of the family does an excellent job keeping him quiet(ish) anytime I’m leading an important call.
In fact, the last time someone crashed a remote meeting on my end the culprit wasn’t kids, but livestock. An unseasonably warm February afternoon, I had my office windows open, and when my neighbor delivered some hay (did I mention that I live in the sticks?), his cows thanked him with moos of joy. I thought they were too far away for my mic to pick up. But their bellows of lunchtime joy echoed throughout the valley, all the way to the attendees’ speakers. “Matt, are those cows in the background?” “Yeah, sorry about that. They were hungry.”
For more, see The Best Public Speaking Book, 2nd Edition, available in paperback, Kindle and audiobook. Desk copies for educators are free upon request.
