Global Studies

Today, the delegation woke up and had a meeting at 9:30 in the morning. Dr. Abbassi handed out our conference schedules and information packets and also gave us our identification badges (with stern warnings not to wear them outside of the hotel; we might look like tourists, but then I suppose that even without the badges, the frantic picture-taking betrays our identities immediately). As the opening ceremony at the United Nations General Assembly Hall (!) didn’t start until 4:00 PM, we had the afternoon free. Terry, one of my roommates, and I took the subway down to Chinatown. Well, that’s not entirely correct. We actually took the wrong subway, ended up on Coney Island, and then took another subway to somewhere in the general vicinity of Chinatown.

We did eventually arrive, however, and after being assaulted by the delicious smells of food coming from the shops and stalls around Canal Street, we promptly sat down to eat some food in a tiny little restaurant whose name we could not read. The food, though, was fantastic and we drank many cups of hot tea before embarking on our search for souvenirs and other things that we absolutely did not need and yet felt compelled to purchase.

During the course of our three-hour exploration of Chinatown, we met up with one of the other delegates, ate even more food (we couldn’t resist), and then finished it off with some excellent green tea ice cream. We returned to the hotel to change into respectable business attire and meet with the rest of the delegation to walk to the UN. A bit tardy, we emerged from our room with a few other members of the delegation, only to find that the rest of the group had left and we were stranded. This was the motivation behind the mad, six-girl, mock-businesswomen marathon that was run in order to reach the UN in time for the ceremony.

Once there, understandably out of breath, yet still excited, we entered into the building where countless diplomats and world leaders have walked and were, naturally, in awe. We were seated among 1,500 other delegates from across the world, only half of the over 3,000 delegates present at this conference. After the introductions of the conference staff, a key note speaker, Gillian Sorensen, an alumna of Smith College, addressed us and spoke about the unique way in which world governments and the UN can work together to increase the peace and happiness of the entire global community. Particularly interesting to our delegation, as we are representing the organization Socialist International, was the statement she made about the effects that non-governmental organizations might have in influencing states to be transparent and increase the effectiveness and efficiency of the UN. After encouraging us to be diligent in our work in the conference and in our future international careers, Ms. Sorensen sent us off to begin the week’s work.

As we had a dinner break between the opening ceremony and the first committee sessions of the conference, our delegation decided to walk down to the East Village to eat at one of the many Indian restaurants located there. We did, however, overestimate the distance to our destinations and ended up trekking over 40 blocks to reach the Taj restaurant. There we feasted on a meal of naan, somosas, curry, and lassis before making our very full, slightly nervous ways back to the hotel for our committee sessions.

In committee, the chairperson explained the rules and procedures of each of the committee sessions, and we began to get an idea of how the conference would work. Each of the committees deals with three different topics and each delegation represents a country or organizations that holds certain views on those topics. The point of each of the committee meetings is to attempt to gain a consensus on how problems such as protecting the rights of refugees or eliminating female infanticide may be best resolved. When we broke for our first caucus, which gave us an opportunity to discuss our views on the priority of the order in which the topics would be addressed, my partner and I were both slightly anxious, wandering how other states and NGOs would react to our ideas. But we soon found that there were other delegations who agreed with our feelings on the topics and were happy to align themselves with us.

Since the meeting was only two hours long tonight, we didn’t get much done besides setting the order of the agenda and forming alliances, but hopefully tomorrow will be a really productive day and we will see lots of progress on solutions for our first topic. After our meeting, a group of the delegates went walking on Broadway, which is right behind the hotel. We stopped at a diner, where the price of a grilled cheese sandwich was $8.00, and so quickly left in search of cheaper meals. We found that a Ray’s Original Pizza serves slices the size of a human head for a fraction of the price of that poor grilled cheese. Later, after eating all of the pizza, we walked down to a lounge called Faces & Names, which had a really laid back vibe to it and featured giant 3-D oil paintings of musicians and actors like Tom Waits and Willem Dafoe.

We stayed at the lounge until the wee hours of the morning and will have to rise at 9:00 AM to meet the Director of the Democratic Socialists of America tomorrow. I think it’s going to be an even longer week than I had thought!

I was wrong. I’m not sure that anyone could have been ready for the day that I have just had. My committee started at 9.30 this morning and was officially dismissed at 11:00 pm tonight. For hours, I’ve been discussing the importance of lowering the restrictions of sovereignty when cases of extreme need exist and the health and well-being of displaced people is at risk. I have argued with representatives from Amnesty International, the United States, and China on the structure of programs created to address the needs of the vulnerable and the interests of states, while respecting and, at times, redefining international humanitarian legal boundaries. I have wished that people would speak more quietly. I have daydreamed about my mysterious and glamorous role as a smoky-eyed, exotic socialist with high ideals and passionate commitment. I have recognized that this is only a daydream.

Today, I was incredibly impressed and rather seriously intimidated by a guest speaker that addressed our committee, Alice Armani-Sequi. I’m not certain how old she is, but she looked scarcely older than 25. I dearly hope that she is actually older than that because, if she were actually the age that she looks and had accomplished all that she has, I would have to consider moving back home and living on my parents’ couch in despair of the waste I’ve made of my life. She has been an investment banker, has three degrees and is now one of the directors of the tsunami relief effort at the International Federation of the Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies and that organization’s representative to the UN. She basically explained how the Red Cross is structured and the mandate that it possesses to protect and care for those in need, while addressing key issues in humanitarian aid. After all of the high language and exhausting monologues of the day, her speech was very simple and to the point, with a clarity that I greatly appreciated. She encouraged us to seek internships with NGOs and, with her enthusiasm, triggered fantasies in my mind of my future life as a sincere and enthusiastic promoter of humanitarian aid and assistance, flying to distant locales to care for the less fortunate–then my thoughts turned to dinner.

Eating once again at the Indian restaurant that we found on Tuesday (this time we took a cab), we drowned our exhaustion in food and the sounds of the sitar player sitting on a platform, playing renditions of popular Bollywood songs. Terri risked death once again, by ordering her food “very spicy”; she did this before on Tuesday and was only able to eat a couple bites. We introduced Stephenie to the joys of kebabs and rogan josh, and, properly satisfied, we went back to the conference with a great deal more tolerance for the other delegations, content with presence of food in our stomachs.

By the end of the evening’s meeting, my partner and I had signed two more working papers, and composed, with the Third World Network and other partners, a paper on eliminating the root causes of the conflicts that create displacement. The language of diplomacy was so ingrained at that point that, when getting coffee from the street vendor, I was nearly compelled to clear my throat and put forth, “Sir, are you aware of the plight of coffee bean workers in the third world and the manner in which the sale of this cup of coffee, to me, further exacerbates the inhumane conditions under which these people labor? Let me suggest to you the ways in which I believe that this suffering may be alleviated….” I managed to restrain myself.

Dragging ourselves up to the hotel room that is beginning to look more and more like my dorm room, with clothes and papers and wrappers littering every available surface, my roommates and I laid on our beds, thankful for the end of the day and contemplating the future of the evening. Despite our fatigue, we considered it vital that our adventurous exploration of New York continue and set the first location for a popular NYU pub called the Peculier Pub. We resolved that it would be cheaper to take the subway, as the restaurant was in the Village, and thus, rather far away from the hotel. After taking the late night subway to the stop that my directions had instructed, we rose up the steps and back into the city. A decidedly sketchy part of the city. On streets nearly abandoned, we walked towards Bleecker St. and the address written on my notepad. After walking several blocks, deeper and deeper into Greenwich Village, the lack of people became increasingly worrisome. Thirty minutes of walking later, and with no sign of our destination, we gave up and called directory assistance. The reason for our wandering was clear: I’d written the address number backwards and we had been walking further and further away from the restaurant. At this point, unwilling to simply give up and take a cab to O’Neills where a Model UN party was in place, we hailed a cab instead to the pub, which turned out to be rather unsavory and unaccommodating to those without ID.

Over an hour of effort, wasted. Defeated, we hailed yet another cab to the hotel, to contemplate our next move…..while leaving my purse at the booth in the pub. Upon emergence from the cab in front of the hotel, this absence was noted and the decidedly-incorrect assumption was made that the purse had been left in the back of the cab. Fast-forward to twenty minutes later, when a full panic has ensued as the realization that Terri’s passport, digital camera, as well all of my identification and money were all contained within that missing bag. Never before perhaps has a simple, Old Navy bag been given the importance and inspired such fervent quests akin to the search for the Holy Grail as occurred tonight. Calls to the NYC taxi service, the police, and the pub were unsuccessful–the group teetered on hysteria; there was a tension-filled silent cab ride through the city back towards the pub, where by the grace of all that might be or ever has been considered holy, the bag was recovered. Strangely, it was missing the digital camera, but none of the money or the passport. Somewhere in Manhattan, there is a thief possessing pictures of vital MUN delegation importance–crucial documentary evidence of occurrences described in these entries and also in the pages of the lost journals, which, as many state secrets, will not soon see the light of day.

After a quick victory dance and another cab ride to celebrate at O’Neills, as well as an ill-advised late-night trip to the Starlight Diner, where a meatloaf sandwich was partially deconstructed and consumed by myself, we stumbled bleary-eyed into the hotel as the sun was rising.

Tomorrow is the last full working day of the conference, where we will vote on the resolutions which we have been working on all week. Wish me luck…….I’ll need it.

This morning, our delegation climbed groggily out of bed to dress and meet with the president of the Democratic Socialists of America. Faces devoid of makeup and pretense in the early morning, we were blessed with the gift of donuts and orange juice from Dr. Abbassi who seems to understand that nothing cheers grumpy young women more than massive quantities of chocolate, with a helping of extra sugar. The representative arrived and spoke to us about the overall structure and substance of Socialist International, providing us with the viewpoint of the DSA, which is a smaller member party in the organization. He didn’t necessarily fit our preconceived image of him: that of an aging, passionate revolutionist that worked out of a small cramped office, littered with cigarette butts and books–a stereotype, to be sure; but, despite the disappointing lack of that bohemian glamour, the meeting was a true success. Through his comments and perspective, we were better able to understand the manner in which our organization works and the driving principles behind which it acts.

Later that afternoon, after grabbing some falafel from the vendor across the street, my partner and I went to our first committee meeting of the day. While the night before we had only succeeded in setting the agenda and preliminary alliances, at this meeting we began formatting working papers, which proposed solutions for the issue of safeguarding the rights of refugees and IDPs. It was interesting to see the different operating styles of the various delegations. Whether we were dealing with a delegation from Germany who is representing Guatemala, or the American University in Cairo who is representing Spain, it has been clear that while most are well-prepared for the conference, differences remain in their approach. When we are ready to suspend the formal meeting for caucusing, which allows the delegates to meet informally to work on their various papers, the most eager delegates stand on chairs and shout for attention, demanding that their assorted allies join them, “IN THE HALL!” or “IN THE CORNER, IN THE CORNER!” loud calls for a meeting place add to the high stress atmosphere that the very serious and important topics foster but also increase the annoyance factor when the delegations who are getting graded on their performance at the conference yell loudly and repeatedly, often talking for long minutes but actually saying very little. I can hardly imagine a representative from the UN behaving in such a manner, but then again, a representative from the UN would most likely also not be wearing some of the more daring “business” attire found on a few delegates.

One thing that is always interesting to me, on my third year at this conference, is the length to which some delegations take their role-playing. When a member of another delegation in my committee hands me their business card, complete with the name and emblem of the country or NGO they’re representing and their name and room number, and urges me to call them tonight to “discuss these urgent and pressing matters” I can’t help but be a little astonished, and a bit censorious, saying, “Well, um, thanks, but you do realize that you are not actually a real representative to the UN, don’t you?” I’m met with blank stares and thus, I meekly accept the business card, furtively shoving it in my pocket and slinking back to my working group, where things seem tamer and less aggressive.

The R-MWC delegation is certainly well-prepared and each member will attest to the incredible amount of work put into their research for this conference, but it is clear that we are not as reliant upon direct recognition by the dais, which is in charge of judging awards for the delegations in each committee as other representatives may be. I like to think that rather than showmanship, our scholarship speaks for itself in our meetings and thus far, members of our delegation have been instrumental in the composition of a number of working papers.

Throughout the day, we spent hours in meetings, arguing with and persuading other delegations to agree to certain conditions in the potential resolutions on which we have been working. After several hours spent discussing the plight of refugees and the necessity of making available resources such as health care, education, and financial support, our delegation was eager for a dinner break, where such things could be discussed as where we might go tonight, and what sights we were eager to see when we had free time. Conference gossip was also a major topic, of course, with such questions as, “So, what’s ‘so-and-so’ delegation like in your committee? Well, in mine, you wouldn’t believe what they said….” Yes, this may seem a bit immature, but we’ve been discussing gross human rights violations all day. We’ll take whatever levity we can get at this point!

With food in the stomach and minds purged of the frustrations of the prior hours, we returned to our meetings to once again attack the issues at hand. In the Commission on Human Rights, my partner and I lobbied the different caucus groups such as the African Union and the European Union to recognize the importance of assessing the root causes of poverty and conflict that force refugees and IDPs out of their homes. We urged such measures as debt forgiveness and greater governmental and organizational support to building infrastructures and fostering education in impoverished states. Our position as an NGO gives us a unique opportunity to be extremely idealistic in our demands, but it is difficult at times to reconcile the spirit of solidarity and justice with the very concrete reality of differing national interests and commitments to achieving the goals that we have set.

At the end of the night, we had signed one working paper and provided countless suggestions for the improvement of others that were presented to us. Caucuses continued to occur every twenty minutes or so in formal session and twelve hours after our work day started, we were released to run to our rooms, unburden our arms of heavy notebooks and emancipate our feet from the constraints of attractive, but rather painful high heels. After a group meeting with Dr. Abbassi and half-hearted discussion regarding the location of tonight’s extracurricular activities, it was resolved that our energies should be reserved for the marathon of “meltdown” Thursday tomorrow. We all relaxed, put on our pajama pants (oh how I miss the informality of R-MWC right now!) and ordered a delicious example of the famed New York pizza pie. With delivery to the room, a delegate’s Ipod blasting some music, and rain falling down on the busy streets outside, we were content to spend the remainder of our evening among friends, while, in the back of our minds, contemplating the unknown challenges to be faced tomorrow in our longest day of the conference. My energy is restored, I’ve thought up witty comments to make should a particular delegate become too aggressive in their attempts to persuade me to join them, and I believe that I might just be ready.

Today, our delegation boarded a bus to New York City at 9:00 AM. After a lot of frantic last-minute packing and numerous trips up to dorm rooms to retrieve forgotten items, the delegates were finally aboard the bus in time to debate an issue of utmost importance…deciding which movie to watch on the TV in the charter bus.

The arguments were made with respect, eloquence, and calm reason until eventually a consensus was reached – let this be an omen for the rest of the conference.

The Virginia countryside is lovely, yes, although it begins to tire weary travelers after four hours spent in the same state. This did, thankfully, give delegates time to work on homework missed, listen to CDs, and catch up on the latest cinematic entertainment. Through Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland, and New Jersey, the tour bus drove, stopping occasionally at truck stops for the passengers to gaze in awe at the incredible variety of types of beef jerky available for purchase. Finally, nine hours later, when the delegates had ceased other activities to instead stare out the window in hopes of seeing the Manhattan skyline, we arrived at our destination and were immediately met with the sight of neon lights, and men in strange clothing on rollerblades.

Since we arrived a day before the actual conference began, we were able to have the night for ourselves, with pressing issues of human rights and international peace held at bay for a few hours more. Tonight, after unpacking our things and staking our claims on the most favored beds, we dressed and stepped out into Midtown Manhattan. Our destination was an Irish pub that has long been a favorite among MUN delegations and, since it was only about twenty blocks away and we needed to stretch our legs after the long bus ride, we walked.

On the way, we stopped at a place called the New York Luncheonette, which provided an odd array of dining choices. It was possible to order breakfast, lunch, or dinner, although it was ten at night. Among the offerings were spinach pie, burritos, and pot roast, with eggs benedict thrown in for additional variety. After enjoying our meal while talking about the excitement of being in New York and the mixed feelings of anticipation and nervousness over the start of the conference tomorrow, we finally left and walked the remaining block to O’Neills.

Once there, Alex, our delegate from Northern Ireland, proclaimed herself to be at home after hearing the Belfast accents of the servers. We relaxed over a few drinks and some Irish music, while some of the other delegates had coffee and ice cream next door, before making our way back to the hotel. We did manage to peek around the block where the lights of Times Square could be seen in the distance, but have promised ourselves that investigating the excitement to be found there will have to wait until we have free time later this week. It has been a long day.

R-MWC students attended the 2005 National Model United Nations Conference (www.nmun.org) in New York City, March 21 - 26, 2005. Head delegate Ashley Marshall ‘05, an global studies and political science major, kept a journal of the group’s experiences.