It’s the end of the year, which means many of us are deep in the annual conference marathon. From September to December, our calendars fill with events across Europe and beyond. Every week, somewhere, the “future of media” is being discussed yet again—often on a stage with yet another panel covering the same familiar themes.
This year, I felt something I haven’t experienced before: conference fatigue. And when I mentioned it quietly to some people at the conferences, I realised I was not alone. Many admitted they now attend conferences primarily for the networking rather than for the programme. Some even questioned whether it still makes sense to pay €1,000–€2,000 for a pass when the hallway conversations provide more value than most sessions.
Yet at the same time, I recognise that these events play an important role for large organisations. They create visibility, support industry advocacy, help shape standards, and provide a platform for collaboration. That work matters. But if the content is no longer the main reason people attend, it is not worth asking what this shift tells us about the state of our conferences today?
Are conferences still for learning?
I am a technologist by background, I grew up attending conferences as places where you learned something new. I returned home with pages of notes: real data, prototypes, new use cases, bold predictions. Panels were controversial discussions, not scripted performances. Keynotes challenged assumptions, presentations revealed innovation before it became a press release.
Many conferences still uphold that spirit. But it is also evident that some have drifted from these roots—not everywhere, not always, but noticeable enough to be worth mentioning.
The rise of the moderated monologue
Panels once explored a thesis. Today, they often orbit a predictable loop of buzzwords: consolidation, convergence, transformation, personalisation. Questions are shared in advance, marketing teams polish the responses, and the result can feel more like parallel monologues than conversation.
Especially this year, I noticed audiences increasingly disengaging—emails being answered, LinkedIn being checked, quiet side conversations popping up. It is worth asking: if people aren’t paying attention, is the content failing to capture them?
Vendor presentations: When advertising disguises itself as insight
Sponsorship is essential for many events; it enables organisers to convene the industry and helps support broader advocacy work. But sponsored speaking slots too often become straightforward sales pitches. Feature lists. Product screenshots. Roadmaps.
By the time a presenter reaches slide seven with a UI walkthrough, it’s not uncommon to see rows of people politely slip out of the room. This format may once have served a purpose, but today it risks undermining credibility for everyone involved.
Keynotes without critical content
I still remember sitting in the front row of keynotes that held a room in complete attention. And yes, they still exist—Thomas Riedel’s keynote in Munich this year is a good example of how inspiring a keynote can be when it challenges and energises the audience.
But lately, keynotes have become polished brand narratives: stories of growth, innovation, transformation—but very little is said. They are smooth, safe, and controlled. While the stories are safe, has the audience learned anything?
Where are the young people? Where are the women?
Audiences often consist of highly experienced professionals, but few young attendees. Panels frequently feature senior men discussing the future of an industry in which they will not be the primary architects over the next decades. And still, far too often: one woman per panel. Sometimes none.
Can we really talk meaningfully about innovation or “the future” if the future is not represented on stage?
Fresh perspectives may not be perfectly polished—but that is precisely why they matter. Innovation rarely emerges fully formed. If conferences elevate only the voices that have already succeeded, are they not risking overlooking the voices shaping what comes next?
Is it me—or the conferences?
Maybe I have simply attended too many events this year. But more broadly, conferences seem to be shifting: becoming smoother, safer, more commercial—and at times less intellectually ambitious at a moment when the industry urgently needs critical thinking to reinvent itself.
Yet there are of course conferences that get it right: where debates feel real, technologists speak freely, panellists disagree publicly, and the diversity on stage enriches the dialogue.
Networking, too, has real value. Many of the year’s most productive conversations happen in hallways, over coffee and drinks. Those interactions are part of what keeps this industry connected. And perhaps they would not occur without the anchor of a conference programme and exhibition floor.
But even acknowledging that, I believe organisers might reflect on whether the balance is shifting too far—whether the content is still compelling enough to justify the structure and the cost.
As we reflect on the purpose and value of in-person events, perhaps we should ask ourselves:
Should we not rather have curated debates instead of panels, real case studies instead of vendor pitches, diverse and younger voices instead of the same familiar faces, and provocative keynotes instead of polished corporate showcases?
If conferences are truly intended to support the evolution of our industry, then this may be the moment to rethink not just the content, but the overall experience—so that attendees leave not only well networked, but also inspired, challenged, and eager to return.
