normalnormalnormalModel United Nation committees used to be the epitome for deep thinking, a placewhere students could rehearse the art of diplomacy, sharpen their rhetoric, anddiscover the way you can change the world with words. However, in Chandigarh, thesound of the gavel has been submerged by a baseline. The committee room, with itsplacards and position papers, is just the prelude. The crescendo begins at the socialnight.MUN’s originate from Oxford University. In the 1920s, a handful of students led a‘Model League of Nations’ international assembly. Delegates represented countries,debated about global issues, and collaborated to pass resolutions. Over the followingyears, these assemblies seeped into different countries and cities across the world,representing public speaking, leadership, critical thinking, and a medium of representation of the youth’s voice. Even though MUN’s are meant to be a simulation for a United Nations committee, nowadays they have transformed into a simulation of belonging. Delegates still write draft resolutions and recite speeches, but the clauses are perfunctory. The true energy is reserved for the parties afterwards; neon pulsating lights, playlists curated for Instagram reels, ‘fit-checks’, and teenagers competing for ‘The Best Delegate’ of popularity rather than policy.Take the Agahi MUNs for example. The three-day conferences held at StrawberryFields School attract delegates from all over the Tricity, known as much for itsafterparties as its committees. Despite the high registration fees, many such MUN’sattract teens for their extravagant social nights, topped off with DJ performers andpop music.This shift from the fate of reputations rather than nations, is not accidental butcultural. Chandigarh’s booming MUN culture mirrors today’s youth’s priorities:connection over contention, vibe over verbal negotiations. For most, diplomacy isn’tabout climate change or ongoing wars, but about who sits on which table, whodances with whom, and whose social media post is the most enviable.However, it feels as if something is missing. The intellectual rigor which once guidedthese very committees has thinned into background noise. Resolutions aren’t craftedwith passion and conviction like they should be. These platforms are meant fordiscussion of global crises, but they are treated as fillers till the real crisis, the hungerfor belonging, evolves in the dance halls.Of course, it would be unfair to paint all MUNs with the same brush. Chandigarh hasalso hosted conferences where committees are run with genuine seriousness, wheredelegates spend hours drafting detailed resolutions and debating with conviction.These MUNs remind us that the original spirit of diplomacy is not lost—it survives inpockets of dedication, proving that when structure and spectacle coexist, the resultcan be both intellectually rewarding and socially vibrant. At the same time, even themore socially‐driven events hold their own importance and should not be dismissedas downright destructive.Teens learn the mechanics of networking, the subtle ways of self-presentation, andthe courage to inhabit a role (even if it mirrors an influencer rather than a diplomat).Important skills are passed from one delegate to another: charisma, confidence, andthe ability to navigate yourself through a large crowd. In a world where power oftenoutweighs hard policy, these lessons may prove more practical than any draftresolution. Perhaps, this is a special kind of diplomacy suited for the world we live intoday.From the perspective of a fifteen-year-old, these events have shown me thatalthough MUN’s in the Tricity aren’t fulfilling their true purpose originally crafted bythe students of Oxford, they signify an unspoken union of teens. The gavel and thedisco ball are not opposites, but symbols for the same principles. To be seen. To beheard. To matter. Maybe the Chandigarh MUN culture is a lesson that diplomacy hasalways been a part of performance. We are learning, in our own adolescent way, thattheatre is politics and politics is theatre.Therefore, maybe Chandigarh MUN’s, then aren’t failures of debate but real youthrepresentations that mirror global dynamics. They are reminders that the desire forstatus outweighs real solutions. They show us that popularity may be louder thanpolicy. And they leave us with a question, when the lights dim and the music fades,how can we replace the need for stories posted, by the resolutions passed?In the end, Chandigarh’s MUNs are not simply about debate or disco—they are about identity. They reveal how adolescence itself is a negotiation between seriousness and spectacle, between the desire to influence and the desire to belong. If the committee hall teaches us the language of diplomacy, the dance floor teaches us the language of presence. Together, they remind us that youth politics is not only about resolutions passed but about the stories we choose to live. And perhaps, when we look back years later, we will realize that the disco ball was never a distraction from the gavel, but its mirror—reflecting the same hunger to matter in a world that is always watching.Written by Shreeya Sahi, Grade 9normalnormalThe post How Chandigarh’s teen MUN culture has changed appeared first on Chandigarh City News.