Rarely just for fun

We’ve borrowed this simple but effective joke from a German science platform on the Internet. We laughed when we read it. So it worked with the editors of Horizons. What about you? | Image: wissenschaftskommunikation.de / Bodara

Research is an important human endeavour. It can be conducted with passion, despite tending towards dispassion. It’s hardly a place for jokes. That, at least, is the cliché. But why exactly do so many scientific presentations “have the energy of a sedated sloth”, according to a recent paper by an international group of researchers? “Where are the jokes, the puns, the playful delivery?”, asks Stefano Mammola of Italy’s National Research Council. The article in question is entitled “Statistically significant chuckles: who is using humour at scientific conferences?”, and it was published in March 2026 in ‘Proceedings of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences’.

The answer is that researchers often avoid jokes because they are seen as a distraction from “rigorous, objective scientific discourse”. According to Mammola, humour goes against norms that are deeply rooted in scientific identity: “Scientific professionalism has been closely associated with ideals such as objectivity, rationality, emotional restraint, seriousness”. These qualities have come to be regarded as hallmarks of authority, whereas humour, the emotions and playfulness tend to be seen as belonging to the realm of the personal and are therefore somehow unprofessional.

It’s tempting to invoke Freud here, as one of his essays describes resorting to laughter as “a rejection of any claim to reality”. And there’s nowhere, it seems, that takes this claim more seriously than the world of research. Nevertheless, even science sometimes allows “elements of non-seriousness”, as the Polish linguist Krystyna Warchał claims in a recent paper, where she takes a closer look at comic elements in academic writing. She argues that students ought to be taught to write both in a manner that is formally correct and also with humour, as this can give a “more human face [to the] academic mask”.

Witty lecturers are more popular

And it can certainly make a difference. It’s long been well known, for example, that science can be communicated more effectively if it’s done with humour, regardless of whether one’s dealing with fellow academics or with a wider audience. In 2018, PLOS One published a survey of students on 25 science degree courses that found – perhaps unsurprisingly – that 99 percent of them preferred it when their lecturers added some humour to their lectures. And in 2021, Behavioural Science published an analysis of 2,000 TED Talks that offered similarly clear-cut statistics, showing that the most popular speakers use humour three times more often than their less popular counterparts.

Mammola and his co-authors have observed an interesting asymmetry in the use of humour: women use it less often. This naturally doesn’t mean that men are funnier per se, but suggests instead that it’s somehow deemed riskier for women to bend the norms of scientific seriousness. In a sense, says Mammola, “humour can function as a form of ‘social currency’”. However, he and his colleagues have also observed that, “if some people can use it more freely, and if humour increases likability, audience engagement and memorability, then humour may amplify advantages that already exist”.

In an interview, the Swiss author and cabaret artist Nils Althaus – who also has a Master in biochemistry and molecular biology – has offered a different perspective on the apparently opposing poles of scientific rigour and humour. Referring to the philosopher Karl Popper, he says: “Researchers are constantly trying to refute one another. That only works if their statements are unambiguous”. This, of course, is a highly sober view of the world. “But humour”, he adds, “often requires the opposite: ambiguity and surprise”.

At first glance, it can seem a little surprising that Enlightenment figures such as Voltaire were particularly fond of using satire. But they found it a useful means of exercising criticism of social ills, fanaticism and superstition, and of “cultivating reason”, as it was called at the time. In his book ‘The University in Caricature’, the German art historian Michael Klant has gathered together a huge number of examples, both textual and visual, showing how students, lecturers and scholarship in general have been satirised across the centuries, from both within and without.

Satire against the powerful

It soon becomes clear that anyone who attracts ridicule also has every right to take pride in it. This is because satire delights in targeting those who hold select, powerful positions in society. And when seen in this light, Voltaire’s biting wit isn’t so surprising any more. If research and science continue to feature frequently in satirical formats – such as in assorted late-night TV shows, for example – then it’s actually anything but a criticism of what they do.

Freud also knew that humour has a defensive character alongside its caustic, aggressive aspects. It can serve as a safety valve for us to release pent-up emotions. So when researchers decide to engage in fun, it’s probably not just in an effort to get their message across more effectively, or to get a leg up in the endless struggle for attention. It can sometimes simply be a coping mechanism when dealing with circumstances that are anything but easy.

Absurdities abound in China

This would seem to be the case with a phenomenon currently found in China and reported in Nature magazine in May 2026. Nonsense journals are currently springing up there like mushrooms. The first of them, entitled ‘Rubbish’, was launched by a Master student in biology. His inspiration was a social media comment on a photo of a failed experiment that suggested the results should simply be published as ‘Rubbish’. No sooner said than done.

Since then, writes Nature, there has been a boom in these so-called ‘bottom journals’ – crudely termed to contrast with ‘top journals’. The former are listed on a website called ‘Web of Absurd’ and are assigned an impact factor, just like the reputable ‘Web of Science’ does. And this fact, too, can be seen as further criticism of the system.

Jessica Imbach is a sinologist at the University of Freiburg im Breisgau who’s been taking a closer look at these absurd spin-offs from the academic world. She can see the merit of their approach, not least on the basis of her own experience. And while she believes that this kind of humorous attitude towards the dubious structures and incentive systems of academia isn’t a specifically Chinese phenomenon, she also acknowledges in conversation that “the pressure to publish in good journals is obviously far greater in China than it is here”.

This is all compounded by a sense of disillusionment towards the ‘meritocratic utopia’ that had been promised: that if you study hard, you can have a successful research career, you can earn good money, and you’ll be able to afford a nice flat. Seen in the light of these problems, the mockery involved isn’t necessarily intended to be particularly political. Imbach sees it more as about irony than satire. People are simply taking existing absurdities to an extreme.

So it seems that life as a researcher can become a little simpler and less stressful if you don’t take yourself too seriously. But let’s return one last time to the notion that humour can give science a more human touch and help you attract a broader audience. It also harbours the danger of failure, as Nils Althaus knows all too well: “I find it challenging. One important ingredient of humour is shared knowledge. Jokes about men and women, for example, work reliably because everyone is familiar with the usual gender clichés. But if you want to be funny about scientific topics, you first have to establish that kind of common ground”.

There’s also room for dialogue here. In 2023, in the wake of the Covid pandemic, the physicist and science communicator Jessamyn Fairfield wrote the following in an opinion piece for the journal Physics: “If we scientists wish to be heard, we also have to listen”. And this, she says, is something that comedians know well: “Comedians who don’t listen and respond to their audience are rarely funny”.