For
By Gurmehar Kaur
While the second semester of university promises extensive academic pressure and an end to seasonal depression, there is another talking point taking over library cafe conversations: are you going to any balls? At a time when the most glamourised decision anyone has taken in a while is to do laundry twice in a week, the decision to put on something that requires ironing and actually leaving the house feels, at least in student terms, worth bragging about.
In all due seriousness, there is something quite radical about university balls. Beyond the obvious appeal of getting to dress up, balls serve the purpose that the university hardly weaves into its anatomy: an experience disconnected from academic performance. Of course, the obvious objection remains. Tickets are expensive, the idea of dressing up can feel performative and for some, the social pressure is enough to rule it out entirely. But reducing balls to their price tags and awkwardness ignores what it is actually about.
With thousands of undergrads doing degrees that couldn’t be more different than the other, a sense of community is rather challenging to get by. Even within the same course, the irony is striking. With everyone running on different schedules, different part-time jobs, and different definitions of a productive day, it is almost impossible to recognise someone from your lectures for a full semester without actually speaking to them. While the limited interactions in group projects remain perpetually academic, school balls do not operate in this register. With each school society hosting its own, you are in the same space as your coursemates without any deadline looming over you.
For those who find that prospect mildly terrifying, society balls offer a compelling alternative. A shared interest, after all, is a far less intimidating common ground than a shared degree. Whether it is a creative society, a cultural one, or something you joined on a complete whim during freshers and somehow still stayed invested in — a ball becomes the rare occasion where you get to know the people behind the membership. The same people, same interests, and an evening with no agenda other than appreciating each other’s company.
Edinburgh, almost unfairly, makes this easier. A city this atmospheric, historically loaded, deserves to be experienced in formal wear at least once. There is something about dressing up and stepping out in the streets that look like they were built for something cinematic that makes the whole thing feel less like a student event and more like a memory in the making. With venues like The Caves and Ghillie Dhu, a flat pregame cannot compete. For students far from home, the feeling of occasion–of being somewhere that actually feels significant–is not a small thing.
Not every university experience is comfortable or cheap; some are worth choosing precisely because they break routine.
University moves faster than anyone warns you ever will. The deadlines, dissertations, and the library shifts are what you came for, and they will demand their due. But years from now, it is unlikely you will be reminiscing about the night you submitted on time. The nights you will actually remember are the ones you almost did not go to, with people you almost did not make the effort for, in a city you did not fully appreciate until you were about to leave it.
Go to the ball.
Against
By Jay Rutherford
There is a definite appeal to society balls, to gather with like-minded individuals near the
semester’s end for a drink and dance. But as much as they cement student relations, they
also serve to exclude others and build FOMO at an already emotionally vulnerable point in
most people’s lives.
For the Edinburgh Political Union’s ball this year, the discounted ticket is £63. When it’s well
documented that unemployment and the cost-of-living are a one-two punch affecting students, why are they expected to cough up this much money? If you want to commemorate the year with friends, there are dozens of cheaper options around the city that also allow you to absorb the culture.
It is also unfortunately known that the University of Edinburgh has an issue with classism deep-rooted within the student culture, and knowing this, societies still endorse high-end nights of indulgence because it is part of the culture? The fact is that most students don’t even own a suit and tie, let alone £50+ they can spend on a whim. And doesn’t encouraging them to get a suit to ‘fit in’ only foster greater imposter syndrome in some, as they feel like they are cosplaying a more ‘belonging’ type of student?
For a personal anecdote, as a student who has to travel to Edinburgh each day to study, society balls present a nuisance rather than an exciting opportunity. Not living in the city means I must plan my days around getting the train home at a reasonable hour, and as you can imagine, the idea of transiting home in the pitch dark, along with whatever probably drunk personalities are on board with me, isn’t a trade-off I feel comfortable making for a few hours of eating and dancing (who am I kidding, I’m too nervous to dance). I’m sure this is a problem many of my peers share.
In short, there are more affordable and more convenient alternatives to balls. Save your
money and make your own memories.
One Coin, Two Sides: University and Society Balls
For
By Gurmehar Kaur
While the second semester of university promises extensive academic pressure and an end to seasonal depression, there is another talking point taking over library cafe conversations: are you going to any balls? At a time when the most glamourised decision anyone has taken in a while is to do laundry twice in a week, the decision to put on something that requires ironing and actually leaving the house feels, at least in student terms, worth bragging about.
In all due seriousness, there is something quite radical about university balls. Beyond the obvious appeal of getting to dress up, balls serve the purpose that the university hardly weaves into its anatomy: an experience disconnected from academic performance. Of course, the obvious objection remains. Tickets are expensive, the idea of dressing up can feel performative and for some, the social pressure is enough to rule it out entirely. But reducing balls to their price tags and awkwardness ignores what it is actually about.
With thousands of undergrads doing degrees that couldn’t be more different than the other, a sense of community is rather challenging to get by. Even within the same course, the irony is striking. With everyone running on different schedules, different part-time jobs, and different definitions of a productive day, it is almost impossible to recognise someone from your lectures for a full semester without actually speaking to them. While the limited interactions in group projects remain perpetually academic, school balls do not operate in this register. With each school society hosting its own, you are in the same space as your coursemates without any deadline looming over you.
For those who find that prospect mildly terrifying, society balls offer a compelling alternative. A shared interest, after all, is a far less intimidating common ground than a shared degree. Whether it is a creative society, a cultural one, or something you joined on a complete whim during freshers and somehow still stayed invested in — a ball becomes the rare occasion where you get to know the people behind the membership. The same people, same interests, and an evening with no agenda other than appreciating each other’s company.
Edinburgh, almost unfairly, makes this easier. A city this atmospheric, historically loaded, deserves to be experienced in formal wear at least once. There is something about dressing up and stepping out in the streets that look like they were built for something cinematic that makes the whole thing feel less like a student event and more like a memory in the making. With venues like The Caves and Ghillie Dhu, a flat pregame cannot compete. For students far from home, the feeling of occasion–of being somewhere that actually feels significant–is not a small thing.
Not every university experience is comfortable or cheap; some are worth choosing precisely because they break routine.
University moves faster than anyone warns you ever will. The deadlines, dissertations, and the library shifts are what you came for, and they will demand their due. But years from now, it is unlikely you will be reminiscing about the night you submitted on time. The nights you will actually remember are the ones you almost did not go to, with people you almost did not make the effort for, in a city you did not fully appreciate until you were about to leave it.
Go to the ball.
Against
By Jay Rutherford
There is a definite appeal to society balls, to gather with like-minded individuals near the
semester’s end for a drink and dance. But as much as they cement student relations, they
also serve to exclude others and build FOMO at an already emotionally vulnerable point in
most people’s lives.
For the Edinburgh Political Union’s ball this year, the discounted ticket is £63. When it’s well
documented that unemployment and the cost-of-living are a one-two punch affecting students, why are they expected to cough up this much money? If you want to commemorate the year with friends, there are dozens of cheaper options around the city that also allow you to absorb the culture.
It is also unfortunately known that the University of Edinburgh has an issue with classism deep-rooted within the student culture, and knowing this, societies still endorse high-end nights of indulgence because it is part of the culture? The fact is that most students don’t even own a suit and tie, let alone £50+ they can spend on a whim. And doesn’t encouraging them to get a suit to ‘fit in’ only foster greater imposter syndrome in some, as they feel like they are cosplaying a more ‘belonging’ type of student?
For a personal anecdote, as a student who has to travel to Edinburgh each day to study, society balls present a nuisance rather than an exciting opportunity. Not living in the city means I must plan my days around getting the train home at a reasonable hour, and as you can imagine, the idea of transiting home in the pitch dark, along with whatever probably drunk personalities are on board with me, isn’t a trade-off I feel comfortable making for a few hours of eating and dancing (who am I kidding, I’m too nervous to dance). I’m sure this is a problem many of my peers share.
In short, there are more affordable and more convenient alternatives to balls. Save your
money and make your own memories.
Image by Mark Chan for The Student
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