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 The Council of the Throne of Kemet, 1080 BC

Agenda: Governing Lower and Upper Egypt
Freeze Date: 31st December, 1080 BCE

“The suicidal folly of internal division naturally provokes foreign attack."
- George Rawlinson 

Egypt, also known as Kemet, has remained unified for a long time. The concept of Ma’at has helped maintain the throne during difficult times. But now, in the 20th Dynasty period, this fragile peace seems to be eroding.

Under the reign of Ramesses XI, unity is simply an illusion, with the once unquestioned authority of the Pharaoh weakening due to the decay of  economy and administration. On one hand, Lower Egypt remains under the Pharaoh. The traditional taxation bureaucracy still operates, although under growing stress. Tax collectors are dishonest and treasonous. Due to the competing authorities, farmers have halted production, and prefer the temple over the Pharaoh. Economically, this has led to significant damage. Agricultural produce now flows unevenly across local authorities, temple owners and administrators. Farmers pay whoever offers them stronger protection, or impose stronger authority. As royal revenues decline, the Pharaoh’s administration struggles to adequately pay laborers, maintain garrisons, and sustain the large bureaucratic and military apparatus that once upheld imperial Egypt. The administration has also fallen hollow. Due to the rise of intermediate temple powers across the land, royal authority has declined. 

On the other hand, in the south, in the sacred city of Thebes, a different power has risen. Once serving God and the Pharaoh, the High Priest of Amun now threatens to surpass royal authority, claiming stronger religious connections to God. The priest’s strength stems from the belief of the people that he is a more accurate representation of God’s will. This belief stems from the fact that it is the priesthood that conducts rituals, makes sacrifices and reaps rewards. They spend their lives in the service of God and are therefore seen as visible intermediaries who speak the language of God directly, compared to the Pharaoh, who the people view as distant rulers issuing decrees from northern palaces. Many thus see the priest as a guardian and protector, providing steady reassurance when all else fails. 

And therein lies the fracture.

If the gods speak through the temples, what becomes of the king who claims to be their chosen voice?

Between these two powers stands a third force. The military officers and regional authorities, particularly those tied to the territories of Nubia, command control over gold mines and trade routes. These figures, neither wholly loyal to the crown nor the temple, have become wielders of raw power and possess the ability to topple well-established regions. 

What emerges is not open war, but a slow fragmentation. Egypt is no longer a singular entity, but a rather multifaceted land, plagued by various crises that threaten to consume it. 

The foremost of these crises is the question of resources. Grain, the lifeblood of Egypt, is increasingly concentrated within the temples, limiting the Pharaoh’s ability to sustain his administration and military. Gold, from Nubia, gives the military men many advantages over economy and trade. 

Another important crisis is that of legitimacy. The Pharaoh, historically the bridge between gods and men, is now being denied power in the face of both a rebellion and a reinterpretation. If the priests transmit God’s will, then to whom does authority really belong? This strains the very ideological essence of the state.

Meanwhile, the people of Kemet: farmers, artisans, labourers, traders find themselves caught up in this evolving order. As officials misuse their powers by assuring closeness to God, law and order breaks down.

Within the council, delegates take on the characters of key figures across the fractured landscape of Kemet: royal officers, priestly authorities and military officials. In a fragile Egyptian land, even the smallest of missteps could land in chaos. 

Here, deliberation is more than governance. The outcome shapes the very essence and identity of power. Should the Two Lands of Egypt be reunified under a single monarchy restoring the power of the Pharaoh? Or should the authority be restructured and divided for the priestly influence? Will divine order be upheld, or redefined by those who claim to interpret it?

Every decision carries consequences. To empower one faction risks alienating another. To preserve balance may require sacrifice. Egypt is at a critical juncture, and in a place where the divine and the monarchy have always been intertwined, who, now, truly rules Kemet? 

Letter from the Director

Dear Delegates, 

 

It is with great pride and an indescribable sense of honour that I welcome you to the Council of the Throne of Kemet, 1080 BC, a committee that will warp the fabric of history and place you at the epicenter of a new age. My name is Nandini Pangal, and I have the privilege of serving as your Director for this committee. 

 

The authority of the Pharaoh, once absolute and divinely ordained, now faces unprecedented challenges. The unity of Kemet is strained as power fractures between the northern court and the increasingly influential priesthood of Amun in the south. Economic instability, declining central control, and competing claims to legitimacy threaten to dismantle the very foundations of divine kingship.

 

In this committee, we will deliberate the systems of governance of Egypt, examining whether unity can be preserved or whether division is inevitable. Discussions will revolve around political structures, stability, legitimacy, and the establishment of control. Remember, delegates, each dawn, Ra renews the world. It is up to you whether that world remains in order or whether it descends into chaos.  

 

The first time I took the podium, my fingers trembled, the mic held precariously between an index and a thumb that wouldn’t stop quivering. Every vein in my hands vacillated, blood rushing to my head as I read off the opening line of my GSL.

 

“This committee meeting was called to deliberate on an incident that never should have happened. To create solutions for a catastrophe that could have easily been avoided. Careless, negligent, reckless.”

 

Somewhere between the first syllable and the end of the hook, the shaking subsided. The room stopped spinning, a sea of faces became clear. It wasn’t confidence yet, but it was enough. Enough for a 13-year-old with a limited vocabulary and even more limited worldview to strive for something more. This single transformative experience fundamentally shaped how I approached every committee I have been part of.

 

Delegates, in this committee, you will be questioned and challenged; regardless of whether you give the best performance of your life or the worst, until the last second, I expect and implore you to strive to be better than the last time you spoke. Be thorough in your knowledge of legalities, call out logical fallacies, and delegates, above all, be bold. Do not stick to convention; innovate and push the intellectual boundaries of discourse and resolutions.

 

Over the last five years, what CMUN means to me has changed. What started as the second conference I attended, where I was content just to be selected, became a cutthroat competition where I would stay up all night to draft a directive, a communique, a position paper, a resolution, and ultimately, became one of my favourite memories throughout high school. I still remain in contact with people I met in 2023, and the cohort of people that I’ve interacted with, their aspirations, their convictions, even their disagreements, have all shaped who I have become. 

 

For me, at its deepest core, CMUN isn’t just about the awards or getting a resolution passed; it’s about the people that surround you, and as such, I would like to acknowledge the Organising Committee of 2025: Inaya, Aditya, Zreh, Yash, and Ranveer. Each of them has contributed to my growth as both a delegate and as a person, and I couldn’t be more grateful. 

 

Model United Nations, while it might seem like just a group of high schoolers sitting in a room yelling about topics that they can’t solve, has been one of the most transformative experiences I’ve ever had. It has taught me how to win, and more importantly, how to deal with losing. How to think, how to learn, and how to grow. 

 

So as you sit here today, whether this is your first conference or your fiftieth, whether you’re aiming for Best Delegate or just trying to get through your first speech without your voice shaking, understand this: your growth here is not linear, and it is not immediate. But it is inevitable if you let it be.

 

On a more personal note, outside of committee, you’ll probably see me reading Plath or Hemingway, learning about biological and computational processes, completing New York Times puzzle archives (especially the Mini or the Spelling Bee), or watching Christopher Nolan’s movies.

 

Until August, 

Nandini Pangal, 

Director,

Council of the Throne of Kemet, 1080 BC,

Cathedral Model United Nations, 2026.

Nandini Pangal Picture.jpg

Nandini Pangal

Director

© Cathedral Model United Nations 2026 | All Rights Reserved

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