Model United Nations--A Brush With Greatness
by Mark Samuels (mgs98@hampshire.edu)
The negotiations seemed to go on forever, but by 4PM it looked like the enemy might fold. Under the fluorescent lights of the General Assembly, I rolled up my sleeves and dabbed my forehead with a handkerchief. In my right hand was the document that could change forever the lives of a million peasants fishing under Chinese dominion in the South Pacific.
Sovereign Fishery Rights in the Pacific -- China Accord:
Resolved--
Whereas, Chinese hegemony has long encroached on internationally recognized small-vessel fishing borders, and
Whereas that brunette chick from the Security Council is hot, and was looking at us during lunch recess, not Iran, and
Whereas Micronesia and the Philippines have respected all extant laws of the seas, and
Pursuant to that one chick’s phone number, as well as her referendum,
The developing nations of Oceania maintain that
China’s sovereignty will be recognized only once all internationally binding laws of the sea are respected both economically and militarily, and
New for syntax language is found English replacement immediately the.
I was pleased with the document, as was my team. It extended the olive branch while still brandishing the sword. After a final round of quid pro quo, the Chinese broke down and signed. This was a joyous victory for the Federated States of Micronesia, affirming our long-debated placard slogan: ‘Size Doesn’t Matter’ (this narrowly beat out ‘Who Nesia? We Do! Join the Federation’).
Six of my friends and I were completing the last day of Wisconsin’s statewide Model United Nations simulation. Over 400 nervous and precocious high schoolers had gathered in a Milwaukee lecture hall, seeking a cultural intercourse that would breach once sacred borders. And so far, the experience was a triumph.
Over the weekend, Zach and I had secured two free meals and over a dozen novelty nation-flags. We learned volumes about the procedures of international policy, not to mention the finer points of Robert’s Rules of Order: motions, recesses, movements to adjourn, how to lay a motion on the table, how to postpone There was a vast and meandering galaxy of bureaucracy that awaited us beyond high school, and we all got an advanced screening.
We even learned about limits of diplomatic immunity. My good friend Carl was on the Greenland delegation and had authored a piece of legislation over Canadian sea-boundaries. At some point, the Secretary General (a grad student in government who put up with our charade for whatever reason) was reading this document at his podium, and objected to the demand that Celine Dion be extradited to the Hague for Art Crimes Against Humanity. He censured the document’s author, saying that although a simulation, this meeting was to be regarded in all seriousness: "In the minutes I am noting the rejection of your draft, citing an irregular motion."
"I’ll show him an irregular motion," said Carl, rising from his table and reaching for his belt. He was restrained by some sober-looking Swiss boys. For his comments, My teammate was asked to leave the Assembly during the weekend’s remaining hours. While he smoked Pall Malls, I scored a Security Council seat. It was indeed an honor and a privilege, as I pointed out to every member with whom I held counsel. Here, the underrepresented Pacific islanders would get a chance to negotiate crucial nuclear policies with the astute, and incidentally busty envoy from Italy.
But before such a chance presented itself, I was accosted by diplomacy nerds from the OPEC council who had borrowed my copy of Robert’s Rules of Order. It looked important, as their geeky brows were furrowed in confusion.
"Did you know that you’re missing section IX on Councils and Tribunals? It’s been torn right out of the booklet."
Wow, this really couldn’t wait.
"I don’t know what to say. It’s possible that the guys from West Jefferson did that to spite me after.. you know--that short-order resolution."
"Which resolution was that?"
"That Chile only sides with Turkey if she goes with Swiss on the Kaiser."
"Oh." Deadpan. No sense of administrative irony.
My theory on the missing pages, of course, was a bald-faced lie. The fact was that we (Micronesia and Syria) had smoked section IX last night. An Austrian rep we had met in the hotel lounge acquired some fresh Maine pot, but had nothing with which to smoke it. My classmates and I needed action, but had spent all of our money. In a compromise that would have brought the Joint Chiefs to tears, twelve of us hot-boxed a bathroom (using Roberts for rolling papers) and shared a cold pizza. It was all coming back to me now, amidst some other details.
As the final hour of negotiations wrapped up, the most heated policies were coming onto the table. Just as I thought I could leave, Gerald--that obstinate bastard with the Japanese--sat himself at my table. Big G actually found this stuff pretty fascinating. He had waxed idiotic on the bus ride all the way from Madison to Milwaukee, and would not break from character (this was his fifth year at Statewide).
"OPEC wants your final word on the foreign-shores drilling agreement. All the first-world’s are down, and we’ve basically got our two-thirds. You can veto this one if you want to be stalwart. But it’ll still pass. What’s it gonna be? Bottom of the ninth, champ."
I narrowed my eyes.
"Come on, Mark. This is your chance to show you can run with the big dogs."
The room had quieted as reps finished up their obliged bickering. Anyone expecting to make it here next year had signed on board some form of legislation. That’s how it went; if you didn’t dance, you walked. I offered my gambit:
"That guy Kip. He’s on the Developing Nations Board, right?"
"Yeah."
"I saw him in the cafeteria after lunch recess. He was sweeping food into Ziploc bags and hiding them in his backpack. He got puddings, jello, garlic bread, most of the cookie tray, too."
"Get to the point."
"You drop the oil embargo Palestine thing and get me some Nutter Butters. Otherwise, I walk."
Gerald paused, then turned to the crowd and walked back to his delegation. He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no either.
This is what democracy was all about.
