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A lichen consists of a fungus living in symbiosis (i.e., a mutually beneficial relationship) with an alga. Although most branches of the complex evolutionary family tree of fungi have been well established, the evolutionary origins of lichen-forming fungi have been a mystery. But a new DNA study has revealed the relationship of lichen-forming fungi to several previously known branches of the fungus family tree. The study reveals that, far from being oddities, lichen-forming fungi are close relatives of such common fungi as brewer's yeast, morel mushrooms, and the fungus that causes Dutch elm disease. This accounts for the visible similarity of certain lichens to more recognizable fungi such as mushrooms. In general, fungi present complications for the researcher. Fungi are usually parasitic or symbiotic, and researchers are often unsure whether they are examining fungal DNA or that of the associated organism. But lichen-forming fungi are especially difficult to study. They have few distinguishing characteristics of shape or structure, and they are unusually difficult to isolate from their partner algae, with which they have a particularly delicate symbiosis. In some cases the alga is wedged between layers of fungal tissue; in others, the fungus grows through the alga's cell walls in order to take nourishment, and the tissues of the two organisms are entirely enmeshed and inseparable. As a result, lichen-forming fungi have long been difficult to classify definitively within the fungus family. By default they were thus considered a separate grouping of fungi with an unknown evolutionary origin. But, using new analytical tools that allow them to isolate the DNA of fungi in parasitic or symbiotic relationships, researchers were able to establish the DNA sequence in a certain gene found in 75 species of fungi, including 10 species of lichen-forming fungi. Based on these analyses, the researchers found 5 branches on the fungus family tree to which varieties of lichen-forming fungi belong. Furthermore, the researchers stress that it is likely that as more types of lichen-forming fungi are analyzed, they will be found to belong to still more branches of the fungus family tree. One implication of the new research is that it provides evidence to help overturn the long-standing evolutionary assumption that parasitic interactions inevitably evolve over time to a greater benignity and eventually to symbiosis so that the parasites will not destroy their hosts. The addition of lichen-forming fungi to positions along branches of the fungus family tree indicates that this assumption does not hold for fungi. Fungi both harmful and benign can now be found both early and late in fungus evolutionary history. Given the new layout of the fungus family tree resulting from the lichen study, it appears that fungi can evolve toward mutualism and then just as easily turn back again toward parasitism.

200412_2-RC_3_17

Which one of the following most accurately describes the organization of the passage?

A lichen consists of a fungus living in symbiosis (i.e., a mutually beneficial relationship) with an alga. Although most branches of the complex evolutionary family tree of fungi have been well established, the evolutionary origins of lichen-forming fungi have been a mystery. But a new DNA study has revealed the relationship of lichen-forming fungi to several previously known branches of the fungus family tree. The study reveals that, far from being oddities, lichen-forming fungi are close relatives of such common fungi as brewer's yeast, morel mushrooms, and the fungus that causes Dutch elm disease. This accounts for the visible similarity of certain lichens to more recognizable fungi such as mushrooms. In general, fungi present complications for the researcher. Fungi are usually parasitic or symbiotic, and researchers are often unsure whether they are examining fungal DNA or that of the associated organism. But lichen-forming fungi are especially difficult to study. They have few distinguishing characteristics of shape or structure, and they are unusually difficult to isolate from their partner algae, with which they have a particularly delicate symbiosis. In some cases the alga is wedged between layers of fungal tissue; in others, the fungus grows through the alga's cell walls in order to take nourishment, and the tissues of the two organisms are entirely enmeshed and inseparable. As a result, lichen-forming fungi have long been difficult to classify definitively within the fungus family. By default they were thus considered a separate grouping of fungi with an unknown evolutionary origin. But, using new analytical tools that allow them to isolate the DNA of fungi in parasitic or symbiotic relationships, researchers were able to establish the DNA sequence in a certain gene found in 75 species of fungi, including 10 species of lichen-forming fungi. Based on these analyses, the researchers found 5 branches on the fungus family tree to which varieties of lichen-forming fungi belong. Furthermore, the researchers stress that it is likely that as more types of lichen-forming fungi are analyzed, they will be found to belong to still more branches of the fungus family tree. One implication of the new research is that it provides evidence to help overturn the long-standing evolutionary assumption that parasitic interactions inevitably evolve over time to a greater benignity and eventually to symbiosis so that the parasites will not destroy their hosts. The addition of lichen-forming fungi to positions along branches of the fungus family tree indicates that this assumption does not hold for fungi. Fungi both harmful and benign can now be found both early and late in fungus evolutionary history. Given the new layout of the fungus family tree resulting from the lichen study, it appears that fungi can evolve toward mutualism and then just as easily turn back again toward parasitism.

200412_2-RC_3_18

According to the passage, the elimination of which one of the following obstacles enabled scientists to identify the evolutionary origins of lichen-forming fungi?

A lichen consists of a fungus living in symbiosis (i.e., a mutually beneficial relationship) with an alga. Although most branches of the complex evolutionary family tree of fungi have been well established, the evolutionary origins of lichen-forming fungi have been a mystery. But a new DNA study has revealed the relationship of lichen-forming fungi to several previously known branches of the fungus family tree. The study reveals that, far from being oddities, lichen-forming fungi are close relatives of such common fungi as brewer's yeast, morel mushrooms, and the fungus that causes Dutch elm disease. This accounts for the visible similarity of certain lichens to more recognizable fungi such as mushrooms. In general, fungi present complications for the researcher. Fungi are usually parasitic or symbiotic, and researchers are often unsure whether they are examining fungal DNA or that of the associated organism. But lichen-forming fungi are especially difficult to study. They have few distinguishing characteristics of shape or structure, and they are unusually difficult to isolate from their partner algae, with which they have a particularly delicate symbiosis. In some cases the alga is wedged between layers of fungal tissue; in others, the fungus grows through the alga's cell walls in order to take nourishment, and the tissues of the two organisms are entirely enmeshed and inseparable. As a result, lichen-forming fungi have long been difficult to classify definitively within the fungus family. By default they were thus considered a separate grouping of fungi with an unknown evolutionary origin. But, using new analytical tools that allow them to isolate the DNA of fungi in parasitic or symbiotic relationships, researchers were able to establish the DNA sequence in a certain gene found in 75 species of fungi, including 10 species of lichen-forming fungi. Based on these analyses, the researchers found 5 branches on the fungus family tree to which varieties of lichen-forming fungi belong. Furthermore, the researchers stress that it is likely that as more types of lichen-forming fungi are analyzed, they will be found to belong to still more branches of the fungus family tree. One implication of the new research is that it provides evidence to help overturn the long-standing evolutionary assumption that parasitic interactions inevitably evolve over time to a greater benignity and eventually to symbiosis so that the parasites will not destroy their hosts. The addition of lichen-forming fungi to positions along branches of the fungus family tree indicates that this assumption does not hold for fungi. Fungi both harmful and benign can now be found both early and late in fungus evolutionary history. Given the new layout of the fungus family tree resulting from the lichen study, it appears that fungi can evolve toward mutualism and then just as easily turn back again toward parasitism.

200412_2-RC_3_19

Which one of the following, if true, most weakens the author's criticism of the assumption that parasitic interactions generally evolve toward symbiosis?

The struggle to obtain legal recognition of aboriginal rights is a difficult one, and even if a right is written into the law there is no guarantee that the future will not bring changes to the law that undermine the right. For this reason, the federal government of Canada in 1982 extended constitutional protection to those aboriginal rights already recognized under the law. This protection was extended to the Indian, Inuit, and Métis peoples, the three groups generally thought to comprise the aboriginal population in Canada. But this decision has placed on provincial courts the enormous burden of interpreting and translating the necessarily general constitutional language into specific rulings. The result has been inconsistent recognition and establishment of aboriginal rights, despite the continued efforts of aboriginal peoples to raise issues concerning their rights. Aboriginal rights in Canada are defined by the constitution as aboriginal peoples' rights to ownership of land and its resources, the inherent right of aboriginal societies to self-government, and the right to legal recognition of indigenous customs. But difficulties arise in applying these broadly conceived rights. For example, while it might appear straightforward to affirm legal recognition of indigenous customs, the exact legal meaning of "indigenous" is extremely difficult to interpret. The intent of the constitutional protection is to recognize only long-standing traditional customs, not those of recent origin; provincial courts therefore require aboriginal peoples to provide legal documentation that any customs they seek to protect were practiced sufficiently long ago—a criterion defined in practice to mean prior to the establishment of British sovereignty over the specific territory. However, this requirement makes it difficult for aboriginal societies, which often relied on oral tradition rather than written records, to support their claims. Furthermore, even if aboriginal peoples are successful in convincing the courts that specific rights should be recognized, it is frequently difficult to determine exactly what these rights amount to. Consider aboriginal land claims. Even when aboriginal ownership of specific lands is fully established, there remains the problem of interpreting the meaning of that "ownership." In a 1984 case in Ontario, an aboriginal group claimed that its property rights should be interpreted as full ownership in the contemporary sense of private property, which allows for the sale of the land or its resources. But the provincial court instead ruled that the law had previously recognized only the aboriginal right to use the land and therefore granted property rights so minimal as to allow only the bare survival of the community. Here, the provincial court's ruling was excessively conservative in its assessment of the current law. Regrettably, it appears that this group will not be successful unless it is able to move its case from the provincial courts into the Supreme Court of Canada, which will be, one hopes, more insistent upon a satisfactory application of the constitutional reforms.

200412_2-RC_4_20

Which one of the following most accurately states the main point of the passage?

The struggle to obtain legal recognition of aboriginal rights is a difficult one, and even if a right is written into the law there is no guarantee that the future will not bring changes to the law that undermine the right. For this reason, the federal government of Canada in 1982 extended constitutional protection to those aboriginal rights already recognized under the law. This protection was extended to the Indian, Inuit, and Métis peoples, the three groups generally thought to comprise the aboriginal population in Canada. But this decision has placed on provincial courts the enormous burden of interpreting and translating the necessarily general constitutional language into specific rulings. The result has been inconsistent recognition and establishment of aboriginal rights, despite the continued efforts of aboriginal peoples to raise issues concerning their rights. Aboriginal rights in Canada are defined by the constitution as aboriginal peoples' rights to ownership of land and its resources, the inherent right of aboriginal societies to self-government, and the right to legal recognition of indigenous customs. But difficulties arise in applying these broadly conceived rights. For example, while it might appear straightforward to affirm legal recognition of indigenous customs, the exact legal meaning of "indigenous" is extremely difficult to interpret. The intent of the constitutional protection is to recognize only long-standing traditional customs, not those of recent origin; provincial courts therefore require aboriginal peoples to provide legal documentation that any customs they seek to protect were practiced sufficiently long ago—a criterion defined in practice to mean prior to the establishment of British sovereignty over the specific territory. However, this requirement makes it difficult for aboriginal societies, which often relied on oral tradition rather than written records, to support their claims. Furthermore, even if aboriginal peoples are successful in convincing the courts that specific rights should be recognized, it is frequently difficult to determine exactly what these rights amount to. Consider aboriginal land claims. Even when aboriginal ownership of specific lands is fully established, there remains the problem of interpreting the meaning of that "ownership." In a 1984 case in Ontario, an aboriginal group claimed that its property rights should be interpreted as full ownership in the contemporary sense of private property, which allows for the sale of the land or its resources. But the provincial court instead ruled that the law had previously recognized only the aboriginal right to use the land and therefore granted property rights so minimal as to allow only the bare survival of the community. Here, the provincial court's ruling was excessively conservative in its assessment of the current law. Regrettably, it appears that this group will not be successful unless it is able to move its case from the provincial courts into the Supreme Court of Canada, which will be, one hopes, more insistent upon a satisfactory application of the constitutional reforms.

200412_2-RC_4_21

Which one of the following most accurately describes the author's main purpose in lines 11–14 of the passage?

The struggle to obtain legal recognition of aboriginal rights is a difficult one, and even if a right is written into the law there is no guarantee that the future will not bring changes to the law that undermine the right. For this reason, the federal government of Canada in 1982 extended constitutional protection to those aboriginal rights already recognized under the law. This protection was extended to the Indian, Inuit, and Métis peoples, the three groups generally thought to comprise the aboriginal population in Canada. But this decision has placed on provincial courts the enormous burden of interpreting and translating the necessarily general constitutional language into specific rulings. The result has been inconsistent recognition and establishment of aboriginal rights, despite the continued efforts of aboriginal peoples to raise issues concerning their rights. Aboriginal rights in Canada are defined by the constitution as aboriginal peoples' rights to ownership of land and its resources, the inherent right of aboriginal societies to self-government, and the right to legal recognition of indigenous customs. But difficulties arise in applying these broadly conceived rights. For example, while it might appear straightforward to affirm legal recognition of indigenous customs, the exact legal meaning of "indigenous" is extremely difficult to interpret. The intent of the constitutional protection is to recognize only long-standing traditional customs, not those of recent origin; provincial courts therefore require aboriginal peoples to provide legal documentation that any customs they seek to protect were practiced sufficiently long ago—a criterion defined in practice to mean prior to the establishment of British sovereignty over the specific territory. However, this requirement makes it difficult for aboriginal societies, which often relied on oral tradition rather than written records, to support their claims. Furthermore, even if aboriginal peoples are successful in convincing the courts that specific rights should be recognized, it is frequently difficult to determine exactly what these rights amount to. Consider aboriginal land claims. Even when aboriginal ownership of specific lands is fully established, there remains the problem of interpreting the meaning of that "ownership." In a 1984 case in Ontario, an aboriginal group claimed that its property rights should be interpreted as full ownership in the contemporary sense of private property, which allows for the sale of the land or its resources. But the provincial court instead ruled that the law had previously recognized only the aboriginal right to use the land and therefore granted property rights so minimal as to allow only the bare survival of the community. Here, the provincial court's ruling was excessively conservative in its assessment of the current law. Regrettably, it appears that this group will not be successful unless it is able to move its case from the provincial courts into the Supreme Court of Canada, which will be, one hopes, more insistent upon a satisfactory application of the constitutional reforms.

200412_2-RC_4_22

The passage explicitly states that which one of the following was intended as a consequence of the constitutional protection of aboriginal rights?

The struggle to obtain legal recognition of aboriginal rights is a difficult one, and even if a right is written into the law there is no guarantee that the future will not bring changes to the law that undermine the right. For this reason, the federal government of Canada in 1982 extended constitutional protection to those aboriginal rights already recognized under the law. This protection was extended to the Indian, Inuit, and Métis peoples, the three groups generally thought to comprise the aboriginal population in Canada. But this decision has placed on provincial courts the enormous burden of interpreting and translating the necessarily general constitutional language into specific rulings. The result has been inconsistent recognition and establishment of aboriginal rights, despite the continued efforts of aboriginal peoples to raise issues concerning their rights. Aboriginal rights in Canada are defined by the constitution as aboriginal peoples' rights to ownership of land and its resources, the inherent right of aboriginal societies to self-government, and the right to legal recognition of indigenous customs. But difficulties arise in applying these broadly conceived rights. For example, while it might appear straightforward to affirm legal recognition of indigenous customs, the exact legal meaning of "indigenous" is extremely difficult to interpret. The intent of the constitutional protection is to recognize only long-standing traditional customs, not those of recent origin; provincial courts therefore require aboriginal peoples to provide legal documentation that any customs they seek to protect were practiced sufficiently long ago—a criterion defined in practice to mean prior to the establishment of British sovereignty over the specific territory. However, this requirement makes it difficult for aboriginal societies, which often relied on oral tradition rather than written records, to support their claims. Furthermore, even if aboriginal peoples are successful in convincing the courts that specific rights should be recognized, it is frequently difficult to determine exactly what these rights amount to. Consider aboriginal land claims. Even when aboriginal ownership of specific lands is fully established, there remains the problem of interpreting the meaning of that "ownership." In a 1984 case in Ontario, an aboriginal group claimed that its property rights should be interpreted as full ownership in the contemporary sense of private property, which allows for the sale of the land or its resources. But the provincial court instead ruled that the law had previously recognized only the aboriginal right to use the land and therefore granted property rights so minimal as to allow only the bare survival of the community. Here, the provincial court's ruling was excessively conservative in its assessment of the current law. Regrettably, it appears that this group will not be successful unless it is able to move its case from the provincial courts into the Supreme Court of Canada, which will be, one hopes, more insistent upon a satisfactory application of the constitutional reforms.

200412_2-RC_4_23

The passage provides the most evidence for the claim that the author has a negative attitude toward which one of the following?

The struggle to obtain legal recognition of aboriginal rights is a difficult one, and even if a right is written into the law there is no guarantee that the future will not bring changes to the law that undermine the right. For this reason, the federal government of Canada in 1982 extended constitutional protection to those aboriginal rights already recognized under the law. This protection was extended to the Indian, Inuit, and Métis peoples, the three groups generally thought to comprise the aboriginal population in Canada. But this decision has placed on provincial courts the enormous burden of interpreting and translating the necessarily general constitutional language into specific rulings. The result has been inconsistent recognition and establishment of aboriginal rights, despite the continued efforts of aboriginal peoples to raise issues concerning their rights. Aboriginal rights in Canada are defined by the constitution as aboriginal peoples' rights to ownership of land and its resources, the inherent right of aboriginal societies to self-government, and the right to legal recognition of indigenous customs. But difficulties arise in applying these broadly conceived rights. For example, while it might appear straightforward to affirm legal recognition of indigenous customs, the exact legal meaning of "indigenous" is extremely difficult to interpret. The intent of the constitutional protection is to recognize only long-standing traditional customs, not those of recent origin; provincial courts therefore require aboriginal peoples to provide legal documentation that any customs they seek to protect were practiced sufficiently long ago—a criterion defined in practice to mean prior to the establishment of British sovereignty over the specific territory. However, this requirement makes it difficult for aboriginal societies, which often relied on oral tradition rather than written records, to support their claims. Furthermore, even if aboriginal peoples are successful in convincing the courts that specific rights should be recognized, it is frequently difficult to determine exactly what these rights amount to. Consider aboriginal land claims. Even when aboriginal ownership of specific lands is fully established, there remains the problem of interpreting the meaning of that "ownership." In a 1984 case in Ontario, an aboriginal group claimed that its property rights should be interpreted as full ownership in the contemporary sense of private property, which allows for the sale of the land or its resources. But the provincial court instead ruled that the law had previously recognized only the aboriginal right to use the land and therefore granted property rights so minimal as to allow only the bare survival of the community. Here, the provincial court's ruling was excessively conservative in its assessment of the current law. Regrettably, it appears that this group will not be successful unless it is able to move its case from the provincial courts into the Supreme Court of Canada, which will be, one hopes, more insistent upon a satisfactory application of the constitutional reforms.

200412_2-RC_4_24

The passage provides evidence to suggest that the author would be most likely to assent to which one of the following proposals?

The struggle to obtain legal recognition of aboriginal rights is a difficult one, and even if a right is written into the law there is no guarantee that the future will not bring changes to the law that undermine the right. For this reason, the federal government of Canada in 1982 extended constitutional protection to those aboriginal rights already recognized under the law. This protection was extended to the Indian, Inuit, and Métis peoples, the three groups generally thought to comprise the aboriginal population in Canada. But this decision has placed on provincial courts the enormous burden of interpreting and translating the necessarily general constitutional language into specific rulings. The result has been inconsistent recognition and establishment of aboriginal rights, despite the continued efforts of aboriginal peoples to raise issues concerning their rights. Aboriginal rights in Canada are defined by the constitution as aboriginal peoples' rights to ownership of land and its resources, the inherent right of aboriginal societies to self-government, and the right to legal recognition of indigenous customs. But difficulties arise in applying these broadly conceived rights. For example, while it might appear straightforward to affirm legal recognition of indigenous customs, the exact legal meaning of "indigenous" is extremely difficult to interpret. The intent of the constitutional protection is to recognize only long-standing traditional customs, not those of recent origin; provincial courts therefore require aboriginal peoples to provide legal documentation that any customs they seek to protect were practiced sufficiently long ago—a criterion defined in practice to mean prior to the establishment of British sovereignty over the specific territory. However, this requirement makes it difficult for aboriginal societies, which often relied on oral tradition rather than written records, to support their claims. Furthermore, even if aboriginal peoples are successful in convincing the courts that specific rights should be recognized, it is frequently difficult to determine exactly what these rights amount to. Consider aboriginal land claims. Even when aboriginal ownership of specific lands is fully established, there remains the problem of interpreting the meaning of that "ownership." In a 1984 case in Ontario, an aboriginal group claimed that its property rights should be interpreted as full ownership in the contemporary sense of private property, which allows for the sale of the land or its resources. But the provincial court instead ruled that the law had previously recognized only the aboriginal right to use the land and therefore granted property rights so minimal as to allow only the bare survival of the community. Here, the provincial court's ruling was excessively conservative in its assessment of the current law. Regrettably, it appears that this group will not be successful unless it is able to move its case from the provincial courts into the Supreme Court of Canada, which will be, one hopes, more insistent upon a satisfactory application of the constitutional reforms.

200412_2-RC_4_25

Which one of the following, if true, would lend the most credence to the author's statement in lines 56–58?

The struggle to obtain legal recognition of aboriginal rights is a difficult one, and even if a right is written into the law there is no guarantee that the future will not bring changes to the law that undermine the right. For this reason, the federal government of Canada in 1982 extended constitutional protection to those aboriginal rights already recognized under the law. This protection was extended to the Indian, Inuit, and Métis peoples, the three groups generally thought to comprise the aboriginal population in Canada. But this decision has placed on provincial courts the enormous burden of interpreting and translating the necessarily general constitutional language into specific rulings. The result has been inconsistent recognition and establishment of aboriginal rights, despite the continued efforts of aboriginal peoples to raise issues concerning their rights. Aboriginal rights in Canada are defined by the constitution as aboriginal peoples' rights to ownership of land and its resources, the inherent right of aboriginal societies to self-government, and the right to legal recognition of indigenous customs. But difficulties arise in applying these broadly conceived rights. For example, while it might appear straightforward to affirm legal recognition of indigenous customs, the exact legal meaning of "indigenous" is extremely difficult to interpret. The intent of the constitutional protection is to recognize only long-standing traditional customs, not those of recent origin; provincial courts therefore require aboriginal peoples to provide legal documentation that any customs they seek to protect were practiced sufficiently long ago—a criterion defined in practice to mean prior to the establishment of British sovereignty over the specific territory. However, this requirement makes it difficult for aboriginal societies, which often relied on oral tradition rather than written records, to support their claims. Furthermore, even if aboriginal peoples are successful in convincing the courts that specific rights should be recognized, it is frequently difficult to determine exactly what these rights amount to. Consider aboriginal land claims. Even when aboriginal ownership of specific lands is fully established, there remains the problem of interpreting the meaning of that "ownership." In a 1984 case in Ontario, an aboriginal group claimed that its property rights should be interpreted as full ownership in the contemporary sense of private property, which allows for the sale of the land or its resources. But the provincial court instead ruled that the law had previously recognized only the aboriginal right to use the land and therefore granted property rights so minimal as to allow only the bare survival of the community. Here, the provincial court's ruling was excessively conservative in its assessment of the current law. Regrettably, it appears that this group will not be successful unless it is able to move its case from the provincial courts into the Supreme Court of Canada, which will be, one hopes, more insistent upon a satisfactory application of the constitutional reforms.

200412_2-RC_4_26

Based on the information in the passage, the author would be most likely to agree with which one of the following statements about the 1984 case in Ontario?

The struggle to obtain legal recognition of aboriginal rights is a difficult one, and even if a right is written into the law there is no guarantee that the future will not bring changes to the law that undermine the right. For this reason, the federal government of Canada in 1982 extended constitutional protection to those aboriginal rights already recognized under the law. This protection was extended to the Indian, Inuit, and Métis peoples, the three groups generally thought to comprise the aboriginal population in Canada. But this decision has placed on provincial courts the enormous burden of interpreting and translating the necessarily general constitutional language into specific rulings. The result has been inconsistent recognition and establishment of aboriginal rights, despite the continued efforts of aboriginal peoples to raise issues concerning their rights. Aboriginal rights in Canada are defined by the constitution as aboriginal peoples' rights to ownership of land and its resources, the inherent right of aboriginal societies to self-government, and the right to legal recognition of indigenous customs. But difficulties arise in applying these broadly conceived rights. For example, while it might appear straightforward to affirm legal recognition of indigenous customs, the exact legal meaning of "indigenous" is extremely difficult to interpret. The intent of the constitutional protection is to recognize only long-standing traditional customs, not those of recent origin; provincial courts therefore require aboriginal peoples to provide legal documentation that any customs they seek to protect were practiced sufficiently long ago—a criterion defined in practice to mean prior to the establishment of British sovereignty over the specific territory. However, this requirement makes it difficult for aboriginal societies, which often relied on oral tradition rather than written records, to support their claims. Furthermore, even if aboriginal peoples are successful in convincing the courts that specific rights should be recognized, it is frequently difficult to determine exactly what these rights amount to. Consider aboriginal land claims. Even when aboriginal ownership of specific lands is fully established, there remains the problem of interpreting the meaning of that "ownership." In a 1984 case in Ontario, an aboriginal group claimed that its property rights should be interpreted as full ownership in the contemporary sense of private property, which allows for the sale of the land or its resources. But the provincial court instead ruled that the law had previously recognized only the aboriginal right to use the land and therefore granted property rights so minimal as to allow only the bare survival of the community. Here, the provincial court's ruling was excessively conservative in its assessment of the current law. Regrettably, it appears that this group will not be successful unless it is able to move its case from the provincial courts into the Supreme Court of Canada, which will be, one hopes, more insistent upon a satisfactory application of the constitutional reforms.

200412_2-RC_4_27

The passage as a whole can most accurately be described as

Economists have long defined prosperity in terms of monetary value, gauging a given nation's prosperity solely on the basis of the total monetary value of the goods and services produced annually. However, critics point out that defining prosperity solely as a function of monetary value is questionable since it fails to recognize other kinds of values, such as quality of life or environmental health, that contribute directly to prosperity in a broader sense. For example, as the earth's ozone layer weakens and loses its ability to protect people from ultraviolet radiation, sales of hats, sunglasses, and sunscreens are likely to skyrocket, all adding to the nation's total expenditures. In this way, troubling reductions in environmental health and quality of life may in fact initiate economic activity that, by the economists' measure, bolsters prosperity. It can also happen that communities seeking to increase their prosperity as measured strictly in monetary terms may damage their quality of life and their environment. The situation of one rural community illustrates this point: residents of the community value the local timber industry as a primary source of income, and they vocally protested proposed limitations on timber harvests as a threat to their prosperity. Implicitly adopting the economists' point of view, the residents argued that the harvest limitations would lower their wages or even cause the loss of jobs. But critics of the economists' view argue that this view of the situation overlooks a crucial consideration. Without the harvest limitations, they say, the land on which the community depends would be seriously damaged. Moreover, they point out that the residents themselves cite the abundance of natural beauty as one of the features that make their community a highly desirable place to live. But it is also extremely poor, and the critics point out that the residents could double their incomes by moving only 150 kilometers away. From their decision not to do so, the critics conclude that their location has substantial monetary value to them. The community will thus lose much more—even understood in monetary terms—if the proposed harvest limits are not implemented. Economists respond by arguing that to be a useful concept, prosperity must be defined in easily quantifiable terms, and that prosperity thus should not include difficult-to-measure values such as happiness or environmental health. But this position dodges the issue—emphasizing ease of calculation causes one to disregard substantive issues that directly influence real prosperity. The economists' stance is rather like that of a literary critic who takes total sales to be the best measure of a book's value—true, the number of copies sold is a convenient and quantifiable measure, but it is a poor substitute for an accurate appraisal of literary merit.

200506_1-RC_1_1

Which one of the following most accurately states the main point of the passage?

Economists have long defined prosperity in terms of monetary value, gauging a given nation's prosperity solely on the basis of the total monetary value of the goods and services produced annually. However, critics point out that defining prosperity solely as a function of monetary value is questionable since it fails to recognize other kinds of values, such as quality of life or environmental health, that contribute directly to prosperity in a broader sense. For example, as the earth's ozone layer weakens and loses its ability to protect people from ultraviolet radiation, sales of hats, sunglasses, and sunscreens are likely to skyrocket, all adding to the nation's total expenditures. In this way, troubling reductions in environmental health and quality of life may in fact initiate economic activity that, by the economists' measure, bolsters prosperity. It can also happen that communities seeking to increase their prosperity as measured strictly in monetary terms may damage their quality of life and their environment. The situation of one rural community illustrates this point: residents of the community value the local timber industry as a primary source of income, and they vocally protested proposed limitations on timber harvests as a threat to their prosperity. Implicitly adopting the economists' point of view, the residents argued that the harvest limitations would lower their wages or even cause the loss of jobs. But critics of the economists' view argue that this view of the situation overlooks a crucial consideration. Without the harvest limitations, they say, the land on which the community depends would be seriously damaged. Moreover, they point out that the residents themselves cite the abundance of natural beauty as one of the features that make their community a highly desirable place to live. But it is also extremely poor, and the critics point out that the residents could double their incomes by moving only 150 kilometers away. From their decision not to do so, the critics conclude that their location has substantial monetary value to them. The community will thus lose much more—even understood in monetary terms—if the proposed harvest limits are not implemented. Economists respond by arguing that to be a useful concept, prosperity must be defined in easily quantifiable terms, and that prosperity thus should not include difficult-to-measure values such as happiness or environmental health. But this position dodges the issue—emphasizing ease of calculation causes one to disregard substantive issues that directly influence real prosperity. The economists' stance is rather like that of a literary critic who takes total sales to be the best measure of a book's value—true, the number of copies sold is a convenient and quantifiable measure, but it is a poor substitute for an accurate appraisal of literary merit.

200506_1-RC_1_2

The example in the passage of the timber industry and its effect on a poor rural community suggests that the critics would most likely agree with which one of the following statements?

Economists have long defined prosperity in terms of monetary value, gauging a given nation's prosperity solely on the basis of the total monetary value of the goods and services produced annually. However, critics point out that defining prosperity solely as a function of monetary value is questionable since it fails to recognize other kinds of values, such as quality of life or environmental health, that contribute directly to prosperity in a broader sense. For example, as the earth's ozone layer weakens and loses its ability to protect people from ultraviolet radiation, sales of hats, sunglasses, and sunscreens are likely to skyrocket, all adding to the nation's total expenditures. In this way, troubling reductions in environmental health and quality of life may in fact initiate economic activity that, by the economists' measure, bolsters prosperity. It can also happen that communities seeking to increase their prosperity as measured strictly in monetary terms may damage their quality of life and their environment. The situation of one rural community illustrates this point: residents of the community value the local timber industry as a primary source of income, and they vocally protested proposed limitations on timber harvests as a threat to their prosperity. Implicitly adopting the economists' point of view, the residents argued that the harvest limitations would lower their wages or even cause the loss of jobs. But critics of the economists' view argue that this view of the situation overlooks a crucial consideration. Without the harvest limitations, they say, the land on which the community depends would be seriously damaged. Moreover, they point out that the residents themselves cite the abundance of natural beauty as one of the features that make their community a highly desirable place to live. But it is also extremely poor, and the critics point out that the residents could double their incomes by moving only 150 kilometers away. From their decision not to do so, the critics conclude that their location has substantial monetary value to them. The community will thus lose much more—even understood in monetary terms—if the proposed harvest limits are not implemented. Economists respond by arguing that to be a useful concept, prosperity must be defined in easily quantifiable terms, and that prosperity thus should not include difficult-to-measure values such as happiness or environmental health. But this position dodges the issue—emphasizing ease of calculation causes one to disregard substantive issues that directly influence real prosperity. The economists' stance is rather like that of a literary critic who takes total sales to be the best measure of a book's value—true, the number of copies sold is a convenient and quantifiable measure, but it is a poor substitute for an accurate appraisal of literary merit.

200506_1-RC_1_3

Based on the information in the passage, the author would be most likely to agree with which one of the following statements regarding the weakening of the earth's ozone layer?

Economists have long defined prosperity in terms of monetary value, gauging a given nation's prosperity solely on the basis of the total monetary value of the goods and services produced annually. However, critics point out that defining prosperity solely as a function of monetary value is questionable since it fails to recognize other kinds of values, such as quality of life or environmental health, that contribute directly to prosperity in a broader sense. For example, as the earth's ozone layer weakens and loses its ability to protect people from ultraviolet radiation, sales of hats, sunglasses, and sunscreens are likely to skyrocket, all adding to the nation's total expenditures. In this way, troubling reductions in environmental health and quality of life may in fact initiate economic activity that, by the economists' measure, bolsters prosperity. It can also happen that communities seeking to increase their prosperity as measured strictly in monetary terms may damage their quality of life and their environment. The situation of one rural community illustrates this point: residents of the community value the local timber industry as a primary source of income, and they vocally protested proposed limitations on timber harvests as a threat to their prosperity. Implicitly adopting the economists' point of view, the residents argued that the harvest limitations would lower their wages or even cause the loss of jobs. But critics of the economists' view argue that this view of the situation overlooks a crucial consideration. Without the harvest limitations, they say, the land on which the community depends would be seriously damaged. Moreover, they point out that the residents themselves cite the abundance of natural beauty as one of the features that make their community a highly desirable place to live. But it is also extremely poor, and the critics point out that the residents could double their incomes by moving only 150 kilometers away. From their decision not to do so, the critics conclude that their location has substantial monetary value to them. The community will thus lose much more—even understood in monetary terms—if the proposed harvest limits are not implemented. Economists respond by arguing that to be a useful concept, prosperity must be defined in easily quantifiable terms, and that prosperity thus should not include difficult-to-measure values such as happiness or environmental health. But this position dodges the issue—emphasizing ease of calculation causes one to disregard substantive issues that directly influence real prosperity. The economists' stance is rather like that of a literary critic who takes total sales to be the best measure of a book's value—true, the number of copies sold is a convenient and quantifiable measure, but it is a poor substitute for an accurate appraisal of literary merit.

200506_1-RC_1_4

According to the passage, economists defend their concept of prosperity in which one of the following ways?

Economists have long defined prosperity in terms of monetary value, gauging a given nation's prosperity solely on the basis of the total monetary value of the goods and services produced annually. However, critics point out that defining prosperity solely as a function of monetary value is questionable since it fails to recognize other kinds of values, such as quality of life or environmental health, that contribute directly to prosperity in a broader sense. For example, as the earth's ozone layer weakens and loses its ability to protect people from ultraviolet radiation, sales of hats, sunglasses, and sunscreens are likely to skyrocket, all adding to the nation's total expenditures. In this way, troubling reductions in environmental health and quality of life may in fact initiate economic activity that, by the economists' measure, bolsters prosperity. It can also happen that communities seeking to increase their prosperity as measured strictly in monetary terms may damage their quality of life and their environment. The situation of one rural community illustrates this point: residents of the community value the local timber industry as a primary source of income, and they vocally protested proposed limitations on timber harvests as a threat to their prosperity. Implicitly adopting the economists' point of view, the residents argued that the harvest limitations would lower their wages or even cause the loss of jobs. But critics of the economists' view argue that this view of the situation overlooks a crucial consideration. Without the harvest limitations, they say, the land on which the community depends would be seriously damaged. Moreover, they point out that the residents themselves cite the abundance of natural beauty as one of the features that make their community a highly desirable place to live. But it is also extremely poor, and the critics point out that the residents could double their incomes by moving only 150 kilometers away. From their decision not to do so, the critics conclude that their location has substantial monetary value to them. The community will thus lose much more—even understood in monetary terms—if the proposed harvest limits are not implemented. Economists respond by arguing that to be a useful concept, prosperity must be defined in easily quantifiable terms, and that prosperity thus should not include difficult-to-measure values such as happiness or environmental health. But this position dodges the issue—emphasizing ease of calculation causes one to disregard substantive issues that directly influence real prosperity. The economists' stance is rather like that of a literary critic who takes total sales to be the best measure of a book's value—true, the number of copies sold is a convenient and quantifiable measure, but it is a poor substitute for an accurate appraisal of literary merit.

200506_1-RC_1_5

The author compares the economists' position to that of a literary critic (lines 52–57) primarily to

Economists have long defined prosperity in terms of monetary value, gauging a given nation's prosperity solely on the basis of the total monetary value of the goods and services produced annually. However, critics point out that defining prosperity solely as a function of monetary value is questionable since it fails to recognize other kinds of values, such as quality of life or environmental health, that contribute directly to prosperity in a broader sense. For example, as the earth's ozone layer weakens and loses its ability to protect people from ultraviolet radiation, sales of hats, sunglasses, and sunscreens are likely to skyrocket, all adding to the nation's total expenditures. In this way, troubling reductions in environmental health and quality of life may in fact initiate economic activity that, by the economists' measure, bolsters prosperity. It can also happen that communities seeking to increase their prosperity as measured strictly in monetary terms may damage their quality of life and their environment. The situation of one rural community illustrates this point: residents of the community value the local timber industry as a primary source of income, and they vocally protested proposed limitations on timber harvests as a threat to their prosperity. Implicitly adopting the economists' point of view, the residents argued that the harvest limitations would lower their wages or even cause the loss of jobs. But critics of the economists' view argue that this view of the situation overlooks a crucial consideration. Without the harvest limitations, they say, the land on which the community depends would be seriously damaged. Moreover, they point out that the residents themselves cite the abundance of natural beauty as one of the features that make their community a highly desirable place to live. But it is also extremely poor, and the critics point out that the residents could double their incomes by moving only 150 kilometers away. From their decision not to do so, the critics conclude that their location has substantial monetary value to them. The community will thus lose much more—even understood in monetary terms—if the proposed harvest limits are not implemented. Economists respond by arguing that to be a useful concept, prosperity must be defined in easily quantifiable terms, and that prosperity thus should not include difficult-to-measure values such as happiness or environmental health. But this position dodges the issue—emphasizing ease of calculation causes one to disregard substantive issues that directly influence real prosperity. The economists' stance is rather like that of a literary critic who takes total sales to be the best measure of a book's value—true, the number of copies sold is a convenient and quantifiable measure, but it is a poor substitute for an accurate appraisal of literary merit.

200506_1-RC_1_6

In the passage, the author cites which one of the following claims?

Economists have long defined prosperity in terms of monetary value, gauging a given nation's prosperity solely on the basis of the total monetary value of the goods and services produced annually. However, critics point out that defining prosperity solely as a function of monetary value is questionable since it fails to recognize other kinds of values, such as quality of life or environmental health, that contribute directly to prosperity in a broader sense. For example, as the earth's ozone layer weakens and loses its ability to protect people from ultraviolet radiation, sales of hats, sunglasses, and sunscreens are likely to skyrocket, all adding to the nation's total expenditures. In this way, troubling reductions in environmental health and quality of life may in fact initiate economic activity that, by the economists' measure, bolsters prosperity. It can also happen that communities seeking to increase their prosperity as measured strictly in monetary terms may damage their quality of life and their environment. The situation of one rural community illustrates this point: residents of the community value the local timber industry as a primary source of income, and they vocally protested proposed limitations on timber harvests as a threat to their prosperity. Implicitly adopting the economists' point of view, the residents argued that the harvest limitations would lower their wages or even cause the loss of jobs. But critics of the economists' view argue that this view of the situation overlooks a crucial consideration. Without the harvest limitations, they say, the land on which the community depends would be seriously damaged. Moreover, they point out that the residents themselves cite the abundance of natural beauty as one of the features that make their community a highly desirable place to live. But it is also extremely poor, and the critics point out that the residents could double their incomes by moving only 150 kilometers away. From their decision not to do so, the critics conclude that their location has substantial monetary value to them. The community will thus lose much more—even understood in monetary terms—if the proposed harvest limits are not implemented. Economists respond by arguing that to be a useful concept, prosperity must be defined in easily quantifiable terms, and that prosperity thus should not include difficult-to-measure values such as happiness or environmental health. But this position dodges the issue—emphasizing ease of calculation causes one to disregard substantive issues that directly influence real prosperity. The economists' stance is rather like that of a literary critic who takes total sales to be the best measure of a book's value—true, the number of copies sold is a convenient and quantifiable measure, but it is a poor substitute for an accurate appraisal of literary merit.

200506_1-RC_1_7

The primary purpose of the passage is to

Joy Kogawa's Obasan is an account of a Japanese-Canadian family's experiences during World War II. The events are seen from the viewpoint of a young girl who watches her family disintegrate as it undergoes the relocation that occurred in both Canada and the United States. Although the experience depicted in Obasan is mainly one of dislocation, Kogawa employs subtle techniques that serve to emphasize her major character's heroism and to critique the majority culture. The former end is achieved through the novel's form and the latter through the symbols it employs. The form of the novel parallels the three-stage structure noted by anthropologists in their studies of rites of passage. According to these anthropologists, a rite of passage begins with separation from a position of security in a highly structured society; proceeds to alienation in a deathlike state where one is stripped of status, property, and rank; and concludes with reintegration into society accompanied by a heightened status gained as a result of the second stage. The process thus has the effect of transforming a society's victim into a hero. The first eleven chapters of Obasan situate the young protagonist Naomi Nakane in a close-knit, securely placed family within Vancouver society. Chapters 12–32 chronicle the fall into alienation, when Naomi's family is dislodged from its structured social niche and removed from the city into work camps or exile. Separated from her parents, Naomi follows her aunt Aya Obasan to the ghost town of Slocan, where Naomi joins the surrogate family of her uncle and aunt. In chapters 33–39 this surrogate family nurtures Naomi as she develops toward a final integration with the larger society and with herself: as an adult, when she receives a bundle of family documents and letters from her aunt, Naomi breaks through the personal and cultural screens of silence and secretiveness that have enshrouded her past, and reconciles herself with her history. Kogawa's use of motifs drawn from Christian rituals and symbols forms a subtle critique of the professed ethics of the majority culture that has shunned Naomi. In one example of such symbolism, Naomi's reacquaintance with her past is compared with the biblical story of turning stone into bread. The bundle of documents—which Kogawa refers to as "stone-hard facts" —brings Naomi to the recognition of her country's abuse of her people. But implicit in these hard facts, Kogawa suggests, is also the "bread" of a spiritual sustenance that will allow Naomi to affirm the durability of her people and herself. Through the careful deployment of structure and symbol, Kogawa thus manages to turn Naomi's experience—and by extension the wartime experiences of many Japanese Canadians—into a journey of heroic transformation and a critique of the majority culture.

200506_1-RC_2_8

Which one of the following most accurately states the main idea of the passage?

Joy Kogawa's Obasan is an account of a Japanese-Canadian family's experiences during World War II. The events are seen from the viewpoint of a young girl who watches her family disintegrate as it undergoes the relocation that occurred in both Canada and the United States. Although the experience depicted in Obasan is mainly one of dislocation, Kogawa employs subtle techniques that serve to emphasize her major character's heroism and to critique the majority culture. The former end is achieved through the novel's form and the latter through the symbols it employs. The form of the novel parallels the three-stage structure noted by anthropologists in their studies of rites of passage. According to these anthropologists, a rite of passage begins with separation from a position of security in a highly structured society; proceeds to alienation in a deathlike state where one is stripped of status, property, and rank; and concludes with reintegration into society accompanied by a heightened status gained as a result of the second stage. The process thus has the effect of transforming a society's victim into a hero. The first eleven chapters of Obasan situate the young protagonist Naomi Nakane in a close-knit, securely placed family within Vancouver society. Chapters 12–32 chronicle the fall into alienation, when Naomi's family is dislodged from its structured social niche and removed from the city into work camps or exile. Separated from her parents, Naomi follows her aunt Aya Obasan to the ghost town of Slocan, where Naomi joins the surrogate family of her uncle and aunt. In chapters 33–39 this surrogate family nurtures Naomi as she develops toward a final integration with the larger society and with herself: as an adult, when she receives a bundle of family documents and letters from her aunt, Naomi breaks through the personal and cultural screens of silence and secretiveness that have enshrouded her past, and reconciles herself with her history. Kogawa's use of motifs drawn from Christian rituals and symbols forms a subtle critique of the professed ethics of the majority culture that has shunned Naomi. In one example of such symbolism, Naomi's reacquaintance with her past is compared with the biblical story of turning stone into bread. The bundle of documents—which Kogawa refers to as "stone-hard facts" —brings Naomi to the recognition of her country's abuse of her people. But implicit in these hard facts, Kogawa suggests, is also the "bread" of a spiritual sustenance that will allow Naomi to affirm the durability of her people and herself. Through the careful deployment of structure and symbol, Kogawa thus manages to turn Naomi's experience—and by extension the wartime experiences of many Japanese Canadians—into a journey of heroic transformation and a critique of the majority culture.

200506_1-RC_2_9

Which one of the following most accurately describes the organization of the passage?

Joy Kogawa's Obasan is an account of a Japanese-Canadian family's experiences during World War II. The events are seen from the viewpoint of a young girl who watches her family disintegrate as it undergoes the relocation that occurred in both Canada and the United States. Although the experience depicted in Obasan is mainly one of dislocation, Kogawa employs subtle techniques that serve to emphasize her major character's heroism and to critique the majority culture. The former end is achieved through the novel's form and the latter through the symbols it employs. The form of the novel parallels the three-stage structure noted by anthropologists in their studies of rites of passage. According to these anthropologists, a rite of passage begins with separation from a position of security in a highly structured society; proceeds to alienation in a deathlike state where one is stripped of status, property, and rank; and concludes with reintegration into society accompanied by a heightened status gained as a result of the second stage. The process thus has the effect of transforming a society's victim into a hero. The first eleven chapters of Obasan situate the young protagonist Naomi Nakane in a close-knit, securely placed family within Vancouver society. Chapters 12–32 chronicle the fall into alienation, when Naomi's family is dislodged from its structured social niche and removed from the city into work camps or exile. Separated from her parents, Naomi follows her aunt Aya Obasan to the ghost town of Slocan, where Naomi joins the surrogate family of her uncle and aunt. In chapters 33–39 this surrogate family nurtures Naomi as she develops toward a final integration with the larger society and with herself: as an adult, when she receives a bundle of family documents and letters from her aunt, Naomi breaks through the personal and cultural screens of silence and secretiveness that have enshrouded her past, and reconciles herself with her history. Kogawa's use of motifs drawn from Christian rituals and symbols forms a subtle critique of the professed ethics of the majority culture that has shunned Naomi. In one example of such symbolism, Naomi's reacquaintance with her past is compared with the biblical story of turning stone into bread. The bundle of documents—which Kogawa refers to as "stone-hard facts" —brings Naomi to the recognition of her country's abuse of her people. But implicit in these hard facts, Kogawa suggests, is also the "bread" of a spiritual sustenance that will allow Naomi to affirm the durability of her people and herself. Through the careful deployment of structure and symbol, Kogawa thus manages to turn Naomi's experience—and by extension the wartime experiences of many Japanese Canadians—into a journey of heroic transformation and a critique of the majority culture.

200506_1-RC_2_10

It can be inferred that the heroism Naomi gains in the course of Obasan is manifested in her

Joy Kogawa's Obasan is an account of a Japanese-Canadian family's experiences during World War II. The events are seen from the viewpoint of a young girl who watches her family disintegrate as it undergoes the relocation that occurred in both Canada and the United States. Although the experience depicted in Obasan is mainly one of dislocation, Kogawa employs subtle techniques that serve to emphasize her major character's heroism and to critique the majority culture. The former end is achieved through the novel's form and the latter through the symbols it employs. The form of the novel parallels the three-stage structure noted by anthropologists in their studies of rites of passage. According to these anthropologists, a rite of passage begins with separation from a position of security in a highly structured society; proceeds to alienation in a deathlike state where one is stripped of status, property, and rank; and concludes with reintegration into society accompanied by a heightened status gained as a result of the second stage. The process thus has the effect of transforming a society's victim into a hero. The first eleven chapters of Obasan situate the young protagonist Naomi Nakane in a close-knit, securely placed family within Vancouver society. Chapters 12–32 chronicle the fall into alienation, when Naomi's family is dislodged from its structured social niche and removed from the city into work camps or exile. Separated from her parents, Naomi follows her aunt Aya Obasan to the ghost town of Slocan, where Naomi joins the surrogate family of her uncle and aunt. In chapters 33–39 this surrogate family nurtures Naomi as she develops toward a final integration with the larger society and with herself: as an adult, when she receives a bundle of family documents and letters from her aunt, Naomi breaks through the personal and cultural screens of silence and secretiveness that have enshrouded her past, and reconciles herself with her history. Kogawa's use of motifs drawn from Christian rituals and symbols forms a subtle critique of the professed ethics of the majority culture that has shunned Naomi. In one example of such symbolism, Naomi's reacquaintance with her past is compared with the biblical story of turning stone into bread. The bundle of documents—which Kogawa refers to as "stone-hard facts" —brings Naomi to the recognition of her country's abuse of her people. But implicit in these hard facts, Kogawa suggests, is also the "bread" of a spiritual sustenance that will allow Naomi to affirm the durability of her people and herself. Through the careful deployment of structure and symbol, Kogawa thus manages to turn Naomi's experience—and by extension the wartime experiences of many Japanese Canadians—into a journey of heroic transformation and a critique of the majority culture.

200506_1-RC_2_11

According to the anthropologists cited by the author, rites of passage are best described by which one of the following sequences of stages?

Joy Kogawa's Obasan is an account of a Japanese-Canadian family's experiences during World War II. The events are seen from the viewpoint of a young girl who watches her family disintegrate as it undergoes the relocation that occurred in both Canada and the United States. Although the experience depicted in Obasan is mainly one of dislocation, Kogawa employs subtle techniques that serve to emphasize her major character's heroism and to critique the majority culture. The former end is achieved through the novel's form and the latter through the symbols it employs. The form of the novel parallels the three-stage structure noted by anthropologists in their studies of rites of passage. According to these anthropologists, a rite of passage begins with separation from a position of security in a highly structured society; proceeds to alienation in a deathlike state where one is stripped of status, property, and rank; and concludes with reintegration into society accompanied by a heightened status gained as a result of the second stage. The process thus has the effect of transforming a society's victim into a hero. The first eleven chapters of Obasan situate the young protagonist Naomi Nakane in a close-knit, securely placed family within Vancouver society. Chapters 12–32 chronicle the fall into alienation, when Naomi's family is dislodged from its structured social niche and removed from the city into work camps or exile. Separated from her parents, Naomi follows her aunt Aya Obasan to the ghost town of Slocan, where Naomi joins the surrogate family of her uncle and aunt. In chapters 33–39 this surrogate family nurtures Naomi as she develops toward a final integration with the larger society and with herself: as an adult, when she receives a bundle of family documents and letters from her aunt, Naomi breaks through the personal and cultural screens of silence and secretiveness that have enshrouded her past, and reconciles herself with her history. Kogawa's use of motifs drawn from Christian rituals and symbols forms a subtle critique of the professed ethics of the majority culture that has shunned Naomi. In one example of such symbolism, Naomi's reacquaintance with her past is compared with the biblical story of turning stone into bread. The bundle of documents—which Kogawa refers to as "stone-hard facts" —brings Naomi to the recognition of her country's abuse of her people. But implicit in these hard facts, Kogawa suggests, is also the "bread" of a spiritual sustenance that will allow Naomi to affirm the durability of her people and herself. Through the careful deployment of structure and symbol, Kogawa thus manages to turn Naomi's experience—and by extension the wartime experiences of many Japanese Canadians—into a journey of heroic transformation and a critique of the majority culture.

200506_1-RC_2_12

According to the passage, the agent of Naomi's reconciliation with her past is

Joy Kogawa's Obasan is an account of a Japanese-Canadian family's experiences during World War II. The events are seen from the viewpoint of a young girl who watches her family disintegrate as it undergoes the relocation that occurred in both Canada and the United States. Although the experience depicted in Obasan is mainly one of dislocation, Kogawa employs subtle techniques that serve to emphasize her major character's heroism and to critique the majority culture. The former end is achieved through the novel's form and the latter through the symbols it employs. The form of the novel parallels the three-stage structure noted by anthropologists in their studies of rites of passage. According to these anthropologists, a rite of passage begins with separation from a position of security in a highly structured society; proceeds to alienation in a deathlike state where one is stripped of status, property, and rank; and concludes with reintegration into society accompanied by a heightened status gained as a result of the second stage. The process thus has the effect of transforming a society's victim into a hero. The first eleven chapters of Obasan situate the young protagonist Naomi Nakane in a close-knit, securely placed family within Vancouver society. Chapters 12–32 chronicle the fall into alienation, when Naomi's family is dislodged from its structured social niche and removed from the city into work camps or exile. Separated from her parents, Naomi follows her aunt Aya Obasan to the ghost town of Slocan, where Naomi joins the surrogate family of her uncle and aunt. In chapters 33–39 this surrogate family nurtures Naomi as she develops toward a final integration with the larger society and with herself: as an adult, when she receives a bundle of family documents and letters from her aunt, Naomi breaks through the personal and cultural screens of silence and secretiveness that have enshrouded her past, and reconciles herself with her history. Kogawa's use of motifs drawn from Christian rituals and symbols forms a subtle critique of the professed ethics of the majority culture that has shunned Naomi. In one example of such symbolism, Naomi's reacquaintance with her past is compared with the biblical story of turning stone into bread. The bundle of documents—which Kogawa refers to as "stone-hard facts" —brings Naomi to the recognition of her country's abuse of her people. But implicit in these hard facts, Kogawa suggests, is also the "bread" of a spiritual sustenance that will allow Naomi to affirm the durability of her people and herself. Through the careful deployment of structure and symbol, Kogawa thus manages to turn Naomi's experience—and by extension the wartime experiences of many Japanese Canadians—into a journey of heroic transformation and a critique of the majority culture.

200506_1-RC_2_13

The passage suggests that Joy Kogawa believes which one of the following about the society that shuns Naomi?

Joy Kogawa's Obasan is an account of a Japanese-Canadian family's experiences during World War II. The events are seen from the viewpoint of a young girl who watches her family disintegrate as it undergoes the relocation that occurred in both Canada and the United States. Although the experience depicted in Obasan is mainly one of dislocation, Kogawa employs subtle techniques that serve to emphasize her major character's heroism and to critique the majority culture. The former end is achieved through the novel's form and the latter through the symbols it employs. The form of the novel parallels the three-stage structure noted by anthropologists in their studies of rites of passage. According to these anthropologists, a rite of passage begins with separation from a position of security in a highly structured society; proceeds to alienation in a deathlike state where one is stripped of status, property, and rank; and concludes with reintegration into society accompanied by a heightened status gained as a result of the second stage. The process thus has the effect of transforming a society's victim into a hero. The first eleven chapters of Obasan situate the young protagonist Naomi Nakane in a close-knit, securely placed family within Vancouver society. Chapters 12–32 chronicle the fall into alienation, when Naomi's family is dislodged from its structured social niche and removed from the city into work camps or exile. Separated from her parents, Naomi follows her aunt Aya Obasan to the ghost town of Slocan, where Naomi joins the surrogate family of her uncle and aunt. In chapters 33–39 this surrogate family nurtures Naomi as she develops toward a final integration with the larger society and with herself: as an adult, when she receives a bundle of family documents and letters from her aunt, Naomi breaks through the personal and cultural screens of silence and secretiveness that have enshrouded her past, and reconciles herself with her history. Kogawa's use of motifs drawn from Christian rituals and symbols forms a subtle critique of the professed ethics of the majority culture that has shunned Naomi. In one example of such symbolism, Naomi's reacquaintance with her past is compared with the biblical story of turning stone into bread. The bundle of documents—which Kogawa refers to as "stone-hard facts" —brings Naomi to the recognition of her country's abuse of her people. But implicit in these hard facts, Kogawa suggests, is also the "bread" of a spiritual sustenance that will allow Naomi to affirm the durability of her people and herself. Through the careful deployment of structure and symbol, Kogawa thus manages to turn Naomi's experience—and by extension the wartime experiences of many Japanese Canadians—into a journey of heroic transformation and a critique of the majority culture.

200506_1-RC_2_14

Based on the passage, which one of the following aspects of Kogawa's work does the author of the passage appear to value most highly?

The pronghorn, an antelope-like mammal that lives on the western plains of North America, is the continent's fastest land animal, capable of running 90 kilometers per hour and of doing so for several kilometers. Because no North American predator is nearly fast enough to chase it down, biologists have had difficulty explaining why the pronghorn developed its running prowess. One biologist, however, has recently claimed that pronghorns run as fast as they do because of adaptation to predators known from fossil records to have been extinct for 10,000 years, such as American cheetahs and long-legged hyenas, either of which, it is believed, were fast enough to run down the pronghorn. Like all explanations that posit what is called a relict behavior—a behavior that persists though its only evolutionary impetus comes from long-extinct environmental conditions—this one is likely to meet with skepticism. Most biologists distrust explanations positing relict behaviors, in part because testing these hypotheses is so difficult due to the extinction of a principal component. They typically consider such historical explanations only when a lack of alternatives forces them to do so. But present-day observations sometimes yield evidence that supports relict behavior hypotheses. In the case of the pronghorn, researchers have identified much supporting evidence, as several aspects of pronghorn behavior appear to have been shaped by enemies that no longer exist. For example, pronghorns—like many other grazing animals—roam in herds, which allows more eyes to watch for predators and diminishes the chances of any particular animal being attacked but can also result in overcrowding and increased competition for food. But, since pronghorns have nothing to fear from present-day carnivores and thus have nothing to gain from herding, their herding behavior appears to be another adaptation to extinct threats. Similarly, if speed and endurance were once essential to survival, researchers would expect pronghorns to choose mates based on these athletic abilities, which they do—with female pronghorns, for example, choosing the victor after male pronghorns challenge each other in sprints and chases. Relict behaviors appear to occur in other animals as well, increasing the general plausibility of such a theory. For example, one study reports relict behavior in stickleback fish belonging to populations that have long been free of a dangerous predator, the sculpin. In the study, when presented with sculpin, these stickleback fish immediately engaged in stereotypical antisculpin behavior, avoiding its mouth and swimming behind to bite it. Another study found that ground squirrels from populations that have been free from snakes for 70,000 to 300,000 years still clearly recognize rattlesnakes, displaying stereotypical antirattlesnake behavior in the presence of the snake. Such fear, however, apparently does not persist interminably. Arctic ground squirrels, free of snakes for about 3 million years, appear to be unable to recognize the threat of a rattlesnake, exhibiting only disorganized caution even after being bitten repeatedly.

200506_1-RC_3_15

Which one of the following most accurately states the main point of the passage?

The pronghorn, an antelope-like mammal that lives on the western plains of North America, is the continent's fastest land animal, capable of running 90 kilometers per hour and of doing so for several kilometers. Because no North American predator is nearly fast enough to chase it down, biologists have had difficulty explaining why the pronghorn developed its running prowess. One biologist, however, has recently claimed that pronghorns run as fast as they do because of adaptation to predators known from fossil records to have been extinct for 10,000 years, such as American cheetahs and long-legged hyenas, either of which, it is believed, were fast enough to run down the pronghorn. Like all explanations that posit what is called a relict behavior—a behavior that persists though its only evolutionary impetus comes from long-extinct environmental conditions—this one is likely to meet with skepticism. Most biologists distrust explanations positing relict behaviors, in part because testing these hypotheses is so difficult due to the extinction of a principal component. They typically consider such historical explanations only when a lack of alternatives forces them to do so. But present-day observations sometimes yield evidence that supports relict behavior hypotheses. In the case of the pronghorn, researchers have identified much supporting evidence, as several aspects of pronghorn behavior appear to have been shaped by enemies that no longer exist. For example, pronghorns—like many other grazing animals—roam in herds, which allows more eyes to watch for predators and diminishes the chances of any particular animal being attacked but can also result in overcrowding and increased competition for food. But, since pronghorns have nothing to fear from present-day carnivores and thus have nothing to gain from herding, their herding behavior appears to be another adaptation to extinct threats. Similarly, if speed and endurance were once essential to survival, researchers would expect pronghorns to choose mates based on these athletic abilities, which they do—with female pronghorns, for example, choosing the victor after male pronghorns challenge each other in sprints and chases. Relict behaviors appear to occur in other animals as well, increasing the general plausibility of such a theory. For example, one study reports relict behavior in stickleback fish belonging to populations that have long been free of a dangerous predator, the sculpin. In the study, when presented with sculpin, these stickleback fish immediately engaged in stereotypical antisculpin behavior, avoiding its mouth and swimming behind to bite it. Another study found that ground squirrels from populations that have been free from snakes for 70,000 to 300,000 years still clearly recognize rattlesnakes, displaying stereotypical antirattlesnake behavior in the presence of the snake. Such fear, however, apparently does not persist interminably. Arctic ground squirrels, free of snakes for about 3 million years, appear to be unable to recognize the threat of a rattlesnake, exhibiting only disorganized caution even after being bitten repeatedly.

200506_1-RC_3_16

Based on the passage, the term "principal component" (line 21) most clearly refers to which one of the following?

The pronghorn, an antelope-like mammal that lives on the western plains of North America, is the continent's fastest land animal, capable of running 90 kilometers per hour and of doing so for several kilometers. Because no North American predator is nearly fast enough to chase it down, biologists have had difficulty explaining why the pronghorn developed its running prowess. One biologist, however, has recently claimed that pronghorns run as fast as they do because of adaptation to predators known from fossil records to have been extinct for 10,000 years, such as American cheetahs and long-legged hyenas, either of which, it is believed, were fast enough to run down the pronghorn. Like all explanations that posit what is called a relict behavior—a behavior that persists though its only evolutionary impetus comes from long-extinct environmental conditions—this one is likely to meet with skepticism. Most biologists distrust explanations positing relict behaviors, in part because testing these hypotheses is so difficult due to the extinction of a principal component. They typically consider such historical explanations only when a lack of alternatives forces them to do so. But present-day observations sometimes yield evidence that supports relict behavior hypotheses. In the case of the pronghorn, researchers have identified much supporting evidence, as several aspects of pronghorn behavior appear to have been shaped by enemies that no longer exist. For example, pronghorns—like many other grazing animals—roam in herds, which allows more eyes to watch for predators and diminishes the chances of any particular animal being attacked but can also result in overcrowding and increased competition for food. But, since pronghorns have nothing to fear from present-day carnivores and thus have nothing to gain from herding, their herding behavior appears to be another adaptation to extinct threats. Similarly, if speed and endurance were once essential to survival, researchers would expect pronghorns to choose mates based on these athletic abilities, which they do—with female pronghorns, for example, choosing the victor after male pronghorns challenge each other in sprints and chases. Relict behaviors appear to occur in other animals as well, increasing the general plausibility of such a theory. For example, one study reports relict behavior in stickleback fish belonging to populations that have long been free of a dangerous predator, the sculpin. In the study, when presented with sculpin, these stickleback fish immediately engaged in stereotypical antisculpin behavior, avoiding its mouth and swimming behind to bite it. Another study found that ground squirrels from populations that have been free from snakes for 70,000 to 300,000 years still clearly recognize rattlesnakes, displaying stereotypical antirattlesnake behavior in the presence of the snake. Such fear, however, apparently does not persist interminably. Arctic ground squirrels, free of snakes for about 3 million years, appear to be unable to recognize the threat of a rattlesnake, exhibiting only disorganized caution even after being bitten repeatedly.

200506_1-RC_3_17

The last paragraph most strongly supports which one of the following statements?

The pronghorn, an antelope-like mammal that lives on the western plains of North America, is the continent's fastest land animal, capable of running 90 kilometers per hour and of doing so for several kilometers. Because no North American predator is nearly fast enough to chase it down, biologists have had difficulty explaining why the pronghorn developed its running prowess. One biologist, however, has recently claimed that pronghorns run as fast as they do because of adaptation to predators known from fossil records to have been extinct for 10,000 years, such as American cheetahs and long-legged hyenas, either of which, it is believed, were fast enough to run down the pronghorn. Like all explanations that posit what is called a relict behavior—a behavior that persists though its only evolutionary impetus comes from long-extinct environmental conditions—this one is likely to meet with skepticism. Most biologists distrust explanations positing relict behaviors, in part because testing these hypotheses is so difficult due to the extinction of a principal component. They typically consider such historical explanations only when a lack of alternatives forces them to do so. But present-day observations sometimes yield evidence that supports relict behavior hypotheses. In the case of the pronghorn, researchers have identified much supporting evidence, as several aspects of pronghorn behavior appear to have been shaped by enemies that no longer exist. For example, pronghorns—like many other grazing animals—roam in herds, which allows more eyes to watch for predators and diminishes the chances of any particular animal being attacked but can also result in overcrowding and increased competition for food. But, since pronghorns have nothing to fear from present-day carnivores and thus have nothing to gain from herding, their herding behavior appears to be another adaptation to extinct threats. Similarly, if speed and endurance were once essential to survival, researchers would expect pronghorns to choose mates based on these athletic abilities, which they do—with female pronghorns, for example, choosing the victor after male pronghorns challenge each other in sprints and chases. Relict behaviors appear to occur in other animals as well, increasing the general plausibility of such a theory. For example, one study reports relict behavior in stickleback fish belonging to populations that have long been free of a dangerous predator, the sculpin. In the study, when presented with sculpin, these stickleback fish immediately engaged in stereotypical antisculpin behavior, avoiding its mouth and swimming behind to bite it. Another study found that ground squirrels from populations that have been free from snakes for 70,000 to 300,000 years still clearly recognize rattlesnakes, displaying stereotypical antirattlesnake behavior in the presence of the snake. Such fear, however, apparently does not persist interminably. Arctic ground squirrels, free of snakes for about 3 million years, appear to be unable to recognize the threat of a rattlesnake, exhibiting only disorganized caution even after being bitten repeatedly.

200506_1-RC_3_18

Which one of the following describes a benefit mentioned in the passage that grazing animals derive from roaming in herds?

The pronghorn, an antelope-like mammal that lives on the western plains of North America, is the continent's fastest land animal, capable of running 90 kilometers per hour and of doing so for several kilometers. Because no North American predator is nearly fast enough to chase it down, biologists have had difficulty explaining why the pronghorn developed its running prowess. One biologist, however, has recently claimed that pronghorns run as fast as they do because of adaptation to predators known from fossil records to have been extinct for 10,000 years, such as American cheetahs and long-legged hyenas, either of which, it is believed, were fast enough to run down the pronghorn. Like all explanations that posit what is called a relict behavior—a behavior that persists though its only evolutionary impetus comes from long-extinct environmental conditions—this one is likely to meet with skepticism. Most biologists distrust explanations positing relict behaviors, in part because testing these hypotheses is so difficult due to the extinction of a principal component. They typically consider such historical explanations only when a lack of alternatives forces them to do so. But present-day observations sometimes yield evidence that supports relict behavior hypotheses. In the case of the pronghorn, researchers have identified much supporting evidence, as several aspects of pronghorn behavior appear to have been shaped by enemies that no longer exist. For example, pronghorns—like many other grazing animals—roam in herds, which allows more eyes to watch for predators and diminishes the chances of any particular animal being attacked but can also result in overcrowding and increased competition for food. But, since pronghorns have nothing to fear from present-day carnivores and thus have nothing to gain from herding, their herding behavior appears to be another adaptation to extinct threats. Similarly, if speed and endurance were once essential to survival, researchers would expect pronghorns to choose mates based on these athletic abilities, which they do—with female pronghorns, for example, choosing the victor after male pronghorns challenge each other in sprints and chases. Relict behaviors appear to occur in other animals as well, increasing the general plausibility of such a theory. For example, one study reports relict behavior in stickleback fish belonging to populations that have long been free of a dangerous predator, the sculpin. In the study, when presented with sculpin, these stickleback fish immediately engaged in stereotypical antisculpin behavior, avoiding its mouth and swimming behind to bite it. Another study found that ground squirrels from populations that have been free from snakes for 70,000 to 300,000 years still clearly recognize rattlesnakes, displaying stereotypical antirattlesnake behavior in the presence of the snake. Such fear, however, apparently does not persist interminably. Arctic ground squirrels, free of snakes for about 3 million years, appear to be unable to recognize the threat of a rattlesnake, exhibiting only disorganized caution even after being bitten repeatedly.

200506_1-RC_3_19

The passage mentions each of the following as support for the explanation of the pronghorn's speed proposed by the biologist referred to in line 8 EXCEPT:

The pronghorn, an antelope-like mammal that lives on the western plains of North America, is the continent's fastest land animal, capable of running 90 kilometers per hour and of doing so for several kilometers. Because no North American predator is nearly fast enough to chase it down, biologists have had difficulty explaining why the pronghorn developed its running prowess. One biologist, however, has recently claimed that pronghorns run as fast as they do because of adaptation to predators known from fossil records to have been extinct for 10,000 years, such as American cheetahs and long-legged hyenas, either of which, it is believed, were fast enough to run down the pronghorn. Like all explanations that posit what is called a relict behavior—a behavior that persists though its only evolutionary impetus comes from long-extinct environmental conditions—this one is likely to meet with skepticism. Most biologists distrust explanations positing relict behaviors, in part because testing these hypotheses is so difficult due to the extinction of a principal component. They typically consider such historical explanations only when a lack of alternatives forces them to do so. But present-day observations sometimes yield evidence that supports relict behavior hypotheses. In the case of the pronghorn, researchers have identified much supporting evidence, as several aspects of pronghorn behavior appear to have been shaped by enemies that no longer exist. For example, pronghorns—like many other grazing animals—roam in herds, which allows more eyes to watch for predators and diminishes the chances of any particular animal being attacked but can also result in overcrowding and increased competition for food. But, since pronghorns have nothing to fear from present-day carnivores and thus have nothing to gain from herding, their herding behavior appears to be another adaptation to extinct threats. Similarly, if speed and endurance were once essential to survival, researchers would expect pronghorns to choose mates based on these athletic abilities, which they do—with female pronghorns, for example, choosing the victor after male pronghorns challenge each other in sprints and chases. Relict behaviors appear to occur in other animals as well, increasing the general plausibility of such a theory. For example, one study reports relict behavior in stickleback fish belonging to populations that have long been free of a dangerous predator, the sculpin. In the study, when presented with sculpin, these stickleback fish immediately engaged in stereotypical antisculpin behavior, avoiding its mouth and swimming behind to bite it. Another study found that ground squirrels from populations that have been free from snakes for 70,000 to 300,000 years still clearly recognize rattlesnakes, displaying stereotypical antirattlesnake behavior in the presence of the snake. Such fear, however, apparently does not persist interminably. Arctic ground squirrels, free of snakes for about 3 million years, appear to be unable to recognize the threat of a rattlesnake, exhibiting only disorganized caution even after being bitten repeatedly.

200506_1-RC_3_20

The third paragraph of the passage provides the most support for which one of the following inferences?

Many legal theorists have argued that the only morally legitimate goal in imposing criminal penalties against certain behaviors is to prevent people from harming others. Clearly, such theorists would oppose laws that force people to act purely for their own good or to refrain from certain harmless acts purely to ensure conformity to some social norm. But the goal of preventing harm to others would also justify legal sanctions against some forms of nonconforming behavior to which this goal might at first seem not to apply. In many situations it is in the interest of each member of a group to agree to behave in a certain way on the condition that the others similarly agree. In the simplest cases, a mere coordination of activities is itself the good that results. For example, it is in no one's interest to lack a convention about which side of the road to drive on, and each person can agree to drive on one side assuming the others do too. Any fair rule, then, would be better than no rule at all. On the assumption that all people would voluntarily agree to be subject to a coordination rule backed by criminal sanctions, if people could be assured that others would also agree, it is argued to be legitimate for a legislature to impose such a rule. This is because prevention of harm underlies the rationale for the rule, though it applies to the problem of coordination less directly than to other problems, for the act that is forbidden (driving on the other side of the road) is not inherently harm-producing, as are burglary and assault; instead, it is the lack of a coordinating rule that would be harmful. In some other situations involving a need for legally enforced coordination, the harm to be averted goes beyond the simple lack of coordination itself. This can be illustrated by an example of a coordination rule—instituted by a private athletic organization—which has analogies in criminal law. At issue is whether the use of anabolic steroids, which build muscular strength but have serious negative side effects, should be prohibited. Each athlete has at stake both an interest in having a fair opportunity to win and an interest in good health. If some competitors use steroids, others have the option of either endangering their health or losing their fair opportunity to win. Thus they would be harmed either way. A compulsory rule could prevent that harm and thus would be in the interest of all competitors. If they understand its function and trust the techniques for its enforcement, they will gladly consent to it. So while it might appear that such a rule merely forces people to act for their own good, the deeper rationale for coercion here—as in the above example—is a somewhat complex appeal to the legitimacy of enforcing a rule with the goal of preventing harm.

200506_1-RC_4_21

Which one of the following most accurately states the main point of the passage?

Many legal theorists have argued that the only morally legitimate goal in imposing criminal penalties against certain behaviors is to prevent people from harming others. Clearly, such theorists would oppose laws that force people to act purely for their own good or to refrain from certain harmless acts purely to ensure conformity to some social norm. But the goal of preventing harm to others would also justify legal sanctions against some forms of nonconforming behavior to which this goal might at first seem not to apply. In many situations it is in the interest of each member of a group to agree to behave in a certain way on the condition that the others similarly agree. In the simplest cases, a mere coordination of activities is itself the good that results. For example, it is in no one's interest to lack a convention about which side of the road to drive on, and each person can agree to drive on one side assuming the others do too. Any fair rule, then, would be better than no rule at all. On the assumption that all people would voluntarily agree to be subject to a coordination rule backed by criminal sanctions, if people could be assured that others would also agree, it is argued to be legitimate for a legislature to impose such a rule. This is because prevention of harm underlies the rationale for the rule, though it applies to the problem of coordination less directly than to other problems, for the act that is forbidden (driving on the other side of the road) is not inherently harm-producing, as are burglary and assault; instead, it is the lack of a coordinating rule that would be harmful. In some other situations involving a need for legally enforced coordination, the harm to be averted goes beyond the simple lack of coordination itself. This can be illustrated by an example of a coordination rule—instituted by a private athletic organization—which has analogies in criminal law. At issue is whether the use of anabolic steroids, which build muscular strength but have serious negative side effects, should be prohibited. Each athlete has at stake both an interest in having a fair opportunity to win and an interest in good health. If some competitors use steroids, others have the option of either endangering their health or losing their fair opportunity to win. Thus they would be harmed either way. A compulsory rule could prevent that harm and thus would be in the interest of all competitors. If they understand its function and trust the techniques for its enforcement, they will gladly consent to it. So while it might appear that such a rule merely forces people to act for their own good, the deeper rationale for coercion here—as in the above example—is a somewhat complex appeal to the legitimacy of enforcing a rule with the goal of preventing harm.

200506_1-RC_4_22

It can be most reasonably inferred from the passage that the author considers which one of the following factors to be generally necessary for the justification of rules compelling coordination of people's activities?

Many legal theorists have argued that the only morally legitimate goal in imposing criminal penalties against certain behaviors is to prevent people from harming others. Clearly, such theorists would oppose laws that force people to act purely for their own good or to refrain from certain harmless acts purely to ensure conformity to some social norm. But the goal of preventing harm to others would also justify legal sanctions against some forms of nonconforming behavior to which this goal might at first seem not to apply. In many situations it is in the interest of each member of a group to agree to behave in a certain way on the condition that the others similarly agree. In the simplest cases, a mere coordination of activities is itself the good that results. For example, it is in no one's interest to lack a convention about which side of the road to drive on, and each person can agree to drive on one side assuming the others do too. Any fair rule, then, would be better than no rule at all. On the assumption that all people would voluntarily agree to be subject to a coordination rule backed by criminal sanctions, if people could be assured that others would also agree, it is argued to be legitimate for a legislature to impose such a rule. This is because prevention of harm underlies the rationale for the rule, though it applies to the problem of coordination less directly than to other problems, for the act that is forbidden (driving on the other side of the road) is not inherently harm-producing, as are burglary and assault; instead, it is the lack of a coordinating rule that would be harmful. In some other situations involving a need for legally enforced coordination, the harm to be averted goes beyond the simple lack of coordination itself. This can be illustrated by an example of a coordination rule—instituted by a private athletic organization—which has analogies in criminal law. At issue is whether the use of anabolic steroids, which build muscular strength but have serious negative side effects, should be prohibited. Each athlete has at stake both an interest in having a fair opportunity to win and an interest in good health. If some competitors use steroids, others have the option of either endangering their health or losing their fair opportunity to win. Thus they would be harmed either way. A compulsory rule could prevent that harm and thus would be in the interest of all competitors. If they understand its function and trust the techniques for its enforcement, they will gladly consent to it. So while it might appear that such a rule merely forces people to act for their own good, the deeper rationale for coercion here—as in the above example—is a somewhat complex appeal to the legitimacy of enforcing a rule with the goal of preventing harm.

200506_1-RC_4_23

It can be most reasonably inferred from the passage that the author would agree with which one of the following statements?

Many legal theorists have argued that the only morally legitimate goal in imposing criminal penalties against certain behaviors is to prevent people from harming others. Clearly, such theorists would oppose laws that force people to act purely for their own good or to refrain from certain harmless acts purely to ensure conformity to some social norm. But the goal of preventing harm to others would also justify legal sanctions against some forms of nonconforming behavior to which this goal might at first seem not to apply. In many situations it is in the interest of each member of a group to agree to behave in a certain way on the condition that the others similarly agree. In the simplest cases, a mere coordination of activities is itself the good that results. For example, it is in no one's interest to lack a convention about which side of the road to drive on, and each person can agree to drive on one side assuming the others do too. Any fair rule, then, would be better than no rule at all. On the assumption that all people would voluntarily agree to be subject to a coordination rule backed by criminal sanctions, if people could be assured that others would also agree, it is argued to be legitimate for a legislature to impose such a rule. This is because prevention of harm underlies the rationale for the rule, though it applies to the problem of coordination less directly than to other problems, for the act that is forbidden (driving on the other side of the road) is not inherently harm-producing, as are burglary and assault; instead, it is the lack of a coordinating rule that would be harmful. In some other situations involving a need for legally enforced coordination, the harm to be averted goes beyond the simple lack of coordination itself. This can be illustrated by an example of a coordination rule—instituted by a private athletic organization—which has analogies in criminal law. At issue is whether the use of anabolic steroids, which build muscular strength but have serious negative side effects, should be prohibited. Each athlete has at stake both an interest in having a fair opportunity to win and an interest in good health. If some competitors use steroids, others have the option of either endangering their health or losing their fair opportunity to win. Thus they would be harmed either way. A compulsory rule could prevent that harm and thus would be in the interest of all competitors. If they understand its function and trust the techniques for its enforcement, they will gladly consent to it. So while it might appear that such a rule merely forces people to act for their own good, the deeper rationale for coercion here—as in the above example—is a somewhat complex appeal to the legitimacy of enforcing a rule with the goal of preventing harm.

200506_1-RC_4_24

The author distinguishes between two examples of coordinating rules on the basis of whether or not such rules

Many legal theorists have argued that the only morally legitimate goal in imposing criminal penalties against certain behaviors is to prevent people from harming others. Clearly, such theorists would oppose laws that force people to act purely for their own good or to refrain from certain harmless acts purely to ensure conformity to some social norm. But the goal of preventing harm to others would also justify legal sanctions against some forms of nonconforming behavior to which this goal might at first seem not to apply. In many situations it is in the interest of each member of a group to agree to behave in a certain way on the condition that the others similarly agree. In the simplest cases, a mere coordination of activities is itself the good that results. For example, it is in no one's interest to lack a convention about which side of the road to drive on, and each person can agree to drive on one side assuming the others do too. Any fair rule, then, would be better than no rule at all. On the assumption that all people would voluntarily agree to be subject to a coordination rule backed by criminal sanctions, if people could be assured that others would also agree, it is argued to be legitimate for a legislature to impose such a rule. This is because prevention of harm underlies the rationale for the rule, though it applies to the problem of coordination less directly than to other problems, for the act that is forbidden (driving on the other side of the road) is not inherently harm-producing, as are burglary and assault; instead, it is the lack of a coordinating rule that would be harmful. In some other situations involving a need for legally enforced coordination, the harm to be averted goes beyond the simple lack of coordination itself. This can be illustrated by an example of a coordination rule—instituted by a private athletic organization—which has analogies in criminal law. At issue is whether the use of anabolic steroids, which build muscular strength but have serious negative side effects, should be prohibited. Each athlete has at stake both an interest in having a fair opportunity to win and an interest in good health. If some competitors use steroids, others have the option of either endangering their health or losing their fair opportunity to win. Thus they would be harmed either way. A compulsory rule could prevent that harm and thus would be in the interest of all competitors. If they understand its function and trust the techniques for its enforcement, they will gladly consent to it. So while it might appear that such a rule merely forces people to act for their own good, the deeper rationale for coercion here—as in the above example—is a somewhat complex appeal to the legitimacy of enforcing a rule with the goal of preventing harm.

200506_1-RC_4_25

Which one of the following is a rule that primarily addresses a problem of coordination most similar to that discussed in the second paragraph?

Many legal theorists have argued that the only morally legitimate goal in imposing criminal penalties against certain behaviors is to prevent people from harming others. Clearly, such theorists would oppose laws that force people to act purely for their own good or to refrain from certain harmless acts purely to ensure conformity to some social norm. But the goal of preventing harm to others would also justify legal sanctions against some forms of nonconforming behavior to which this goal might at first seem not to apply. In many situations it is in the interest of each member of a group to agree to behave in a certain way on the condition that the others similarly agree. In the simplest cases, a mere coordination of activities is itself the good that results. For example, it is in no one's interest to lack a convention about which side of the road to drive on, and each person can agree to drive on one side assuming the others do too. Any fair rule, then, would be better than no rule at all. On the assumption that all people would voluntarily agree to be subject to a coordination rule backed by criminal sanctions, if people could be assured that others would also agree, it is argued to be legitimate for a legislature to impose such a rule. This is because prevention of harm underlies the rationale for the rule, though it applies to the problem of coordination less directly than to other problems, for the act that is forbidden (driving on the other side of the road) is not inherently harm-producing, as are burglary and assault; instead, it is the lack of a coordinating rule that would be harmful. In some other situations involving a need for legally enforced coordination, the harm to be averted goes beyond the simple lack of coordination itself. This can be illustrated by an example of a coordination rule—instituted by a private athletic organization—which has analogies in criminal law. At issue is whether the use of anabolic steroids, which build muscular strength but have serious negative side effects, should be prohibited. Each athlete has at stake both an interest in having a fair opportunity to win and an interest in good health. If some competitors use steroids, others have the option of either endangering their health or losing their fair opportunity to win. Thus they would be harmed either way. A compulsory rule could prevent that harm and thus would be in the interest of all competitors. If they understand its function and trust the techniques for its enforcement, they will gladly consent to it. So while it might appear that such a rule merely forces people to act for their own good, the deeper rationale for coercion here—as in the above example—is a somewhat complex appeal to the legitimacy of enforcing a rule with the goal of preventing harm.

200506_1-RC_4_26

In line 54, the author uses the expression "somewhat complex" primarily to describe reasoning that

In 1963, a three-week-long demonstration for jobs at the construction site of the Downstate Medical Center in Brooklyn, New York, became one of the most significant and widely publicized campaigns of the civil rights movement in the United States. An interdenominational group made up mostly of locally based African American ministers, who had remained politically moderate until then, organized and led hundreds of people in an aggressive protest. Their efforts relied mainly on the participation and direct financial support of the ministers' own congregations and other congregations throughout Brooklyn. The goal of this campaign was to build a mass movement that would force changes in government policies as well as in trade union hiring practices, both of which they believed excluded African Americans from construction jobs. Inspired by the emergence of African American religious leaders as key figures elsewhere in the civil rights movement, and reasoning that the ministers would be able to mobilize large numbers of people from their congregations and network effectively with other religious leaders throughout the city, the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE), a national civil rights organization, had decided to ask the ministers to lead the Downstate campaign. However, by organizing a civil disobedience campaign, the ministers were jeopardizing one of the very factors that had led CORE to seek their involvement: their positions as politically moderate community leaders. Urban African American ministers and churches had been working for decades with community and government organizations to address the social, political, and economic concerns of their communities, and ministers of African American congregations in Brooklyn had often acted as mediators between their communities and the government. Many of them also worked for major political parties and ran for political officethemselves. By endorsing and leading the Downstate protest, the ministers were risking their political careers and their reputations within their communities for effecting change through established political channels. The Downstate campaign ended with an agreement between the ministers and both government and union officials. This agreement did not include new legislation or a commitment to a specific numerical increase in jobs for African Americans, as the protestors had demanded. But even though some civil rights activists therefore considered the agreement incomplete, government officials did pledge to enforce existing antidiscrimination legislation. Moreover, the Downstate campaign effectively aroused public concern for the previously neglected problem of discrimination in the construction industry. It also drew public attention, which had hitherto focused on the progress of the civil rights movement primarily in the southern United States, to the additional need to alleviate discrimination in the North. Finally, throughout the campaign, the ministers managed to maintain their moderate political ties. The dual role played by the ministers—activists who nonetheless continued to work through established political channels—served as a model for future ministers who sought to initiate protest actions on behalf of their communities.

200510_2-RC_1_1

It can be reasonably inferred from the passage that the author's attitude is most favorable toward which one of the following?

In 1963, a three-week-long demonstration for jobs at the construction site of the Downstate Medical Center in Brooklyn, New York, became one of the most significant and widely publicized campaigns of the civil rights movement in the United States. An interdenominational group made up mostly of locally based African American ministers, who had remained politically moderate until then, organized and led hundreds of people in an aggressive protest. Their efforts relied mainly on the participation and direct financial support of the ministers' own congregations and other congregations throughout Brooklyn. The goal of this campaign was to build a mass movement that would force changes in government policies as well as in trade union hiring practices, both of which they believed excluded African Americans from construction jobs. Inspired by the emergence of African American religious leaders as key figures elsewhere in the civil rights movement, and reasoning that the ministers would be able to mobilize large numbers of people from their congregations and network effectively with other religious leaders throughout the city, the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE), a national civil rights organization, had decided to ask the ministers to lead the Downstate campaign. However, by organizing a civil disobedience campaign, the ministers were jeopardizing one of the very factors that had led CORE to seek their involvement: their positions as politically moderate community leaders. Urban African American ministers and churches had been working for decades with community and government organizations to address the social, political, and economic concerns of their communities, and ministers of African American congregations in Brooklyn had often acted as mediators between their communities and the government. Many of them also worked for major political parties and ran for political officethemselves. By endorsing and leading the Downstate protest, the ministers were risking their political careers and their reputations within their communities for effecting change through established political channels. The Downstate campaign ended with an agreement between the ministers and both government and union officials. This agreement did not include new legislation or a commitment to a specific numerical increase in jobs for African Americans, as the protestors had demanded. But even though some civil rights activists therefore considered the agreement incomplete, government officials did pledge to enforce existing antidiscrimination legislation. Moreover, the Downstate campaign effectively aroused public concern for the previously neglected problem of discrimination in the construction industry. It also drew public attention, which had hitherto focused on the progress of the civil rights movement primarily in the southern United States, to the additional need to alleviate discrimination in the North. Finally, throughout the campaign, the ministers managed to maintain their moderate political ties. The dual role played by the ministers—activists who nonetheless continued to work through established political channels—served as a model for future ministers who sought to initiate protest actions on behalf of their communities.

200510_2-RC_1_2

Which one of the following assertions about the results of the Downstate campaign does the author affirm in the passage?

In 1963, a three-week-long demonstration for jobs at the construction site of the Downstate Medical Center in Brooklyn, New York, became one of the most significant and widely publicized campaigns of the civil rights movement in the United States. An interdenominational group made up mostly of locally based African American ministers, who had remained politically moderate until then, organized and led hundreds of people in an aggressive protest. Their efforts relied mainly on the participation and direct financial support of the ministers' own congregations and other congregations throughout Brooklyn. The goal of this campaign was to build a mass movement that would force changes in government policies as well as in trade union hiring practices, both of which they believed excluded African Americans from construction jobs. Inspired by the emergence of African American religious leaders as key figures elsewhere in the civil rights movement, and reasoning that the ministers would be able to mobilize large numbers of people from their congregations and network effectively with other religious leaders throughout the city, the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE), a national civil rights organization, had decided to ask the ministers to lead the Downstate campaign. However, by organizing a civil disobedience campaign, the ministers were jeopardizing one of the very factors that had led CORE to seek their involvement: their positions as politically moderate community leaders. Urban African American ministers and churches had been working for decades with community and government organizations to address the social, political, and economic concerns of their communities, and ministers of African American congregations in Brooklyn had often acted as mediators between their communities and the government. Many of them also worked for major political parties and ran for political officethemselves. By endorsing and leading the Downstate protest, the ministers were risking their political careers and their reputations within their communities for effecting change through established political channels. The Downstate campaign ended with an agreement between the ministers and both government and union officials. This agreement did not include new legislation or a commitment to a specific numerical increase in jobs for African Americans, as the protestors had demanded. But even though some civil rights activists therefore considered the agreement incomplete, government officials did pledge to enforce existing antidiscrimination legislation. Moreover, the Downstate campaign effectively aroused public concern for the previously neglected problem of discrimination in the construction industry. It also drew public attention, which had hitherto focused on the progress of the civil rights movement primarily in the southern United States, to the additional need to alleviate discrimination in the North. Finally, throughout the campaign, the ministers managed to maintain their moderate political ties. The dual role played by the ministers—activists who nonetheless continued to work through established political channels—served as a model for future ministers who sought to initiate protest actions on behalf of their communities.

200510_2-RC_1_3

The primary function of the reference to past activities of ministers and churches (lines 31–38) is to

In 1963, a three-week-long demonstration for jobs at the construction site of the Downstate Medical Center in Brooklyn, New York, became one of the most significant and widely publicized campaigns of the civil rights movement in the United States. An interdenominational group made up mostly of locally based African American ministers, who had remained politically moderate until then, organized and led hundreds of people in an aggressive protest. Their efforts relied mainly on the participation and direct financial support of the ministers' own congregations and other congregations throughout Brooklyn. The goal of this campaign was to build a mass movement that would force changes in government policies as well as in trade union hiring practices, both of which they believed excluded African Americans from construction jobs. Inspired by the emergence of African American religious leaders as key figures elsewhere in the civil rights movement, and reasoning that the ministers would be able to mobilize large numbers of people from their congregations and network effectively with other religious leaders throughout the city, the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE), a national civil rights organization, had decided to ask the ministers to lead the Downstate campaign. However, by organizing a civil disobedience campaign, the ministers were jeopardizing one of the very factors that had led CORE to seek their involvement: their positions as politically moderate community leaders. Urban African American ministers and churches had been working for decades with community and government organizations to address the social, political, and economic concerns of their communities, and ministers of African American congregations in Brooklyn had often acted as mediators between their communities and the government. Many of them also worked for major political parties and ran for political officethemselves. By endorsing and leading the Downstate protest, the ministers were risking their political careers and their reputations within their communities for effecting change through established political channels. The Downstate campaign ended with an agreement between the ministers and both government and union officials. This agreement did not include new legislation or a commitment to a specific numerical increase in jobs for African Americans, as the protestors had demanded. But even though some civil rights activists therefore considered the agreement incomplete, government officials did pledge to enforce existing antidiscrimination legislation. Moreover, the Downstate campaign effectively aroused public concern for the previously neglected problem of discrimination in the construction industry. It also drew public attention, which had hitherto focused on the progress of the civil rights movement primarily in the southern United States, to the additional need to alleviate discrimination in the North. Finally, throughout the campaign, the ministers managed to maintain their moderate political ties. The dual role played by the ministers—activists who nonetheless continued to work through established political channels—served as a model for future ministers who sought to initiate protest actions on behalf of their communities.

200510_2-RC_1_4

Which one of the following does the author affirm in the passage?

In 1963, a three-week-long demonstration for jobs at the construction site of the Downstate Medical Center in Brooklyn, New York, became one of the most significant and widely publicized campaigns of the civil rights movement in the United States. An interdenominational group made up mostly of locally based African American ministers, who had remained politically moderate until then, organized and led hundreds of people in an aggressive protest. Their efforts relied mainly on the participation and direct financial support of the ministers' own congregations and other congregations throughout Brooklyn. The goal of this campaign was to build a mass movement that would force changes in government policies as well as in trade union hiring practices, both of which they believed excluded African Americans from construction jobs. Inspired by the emergence of African American religious leaders as key figures elsewhere in the civil rights movement, and reasoning that the ministers would be able to mobilize large numbers of people from their congregations and network effectively with other religious leaders throughout the city, the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE), a national civil rights organization, had decided to ask the ministers to lead the Downstate campaign. However, by organizing a civil disobedience campaign, the ministers were jeopardizing one of the very factors that had led CORE to seek their involvement: their positions as politically moderate community leaders. Urban African American ministers and churches had been working for decades with community and government organizations to address the social, political, and economic concerns of their communities, and ministers of African American congregations in Brooklyn had often acted as mediators between their communities and the government. Many of them also worked for major political parties and ran for political officethemselves. By endorsing and leading the Downstate protest, the ministers were risking their political careers and their reputations within their communities for effecting change through established political channels. The Downstate campaign ended with an agreement between the ministers and both government and union officials. This agreement did not include new legislation or a commitment to a specific numerical increase in jobs for African Americans, as the protestors had demanded. But even though some civil rights activists therefore considered the agreement incomplete, government officials did pledge to enforce existing antidiscrimination legislation. Moreover, the Downstate campaign effectively aroused public concern for the previously neglected problem of discrimination in the construction industry. It also drew public attention, which had hitherto focused on the progress of the civil rights movement primarily in the southern United States, to the additional need to alleviate discrimination in the North. Finally, throughout the campaign, the ministers managed to maintain their moderate political ties. The dual role played by the ministers—activists who nonetheless continued to work through established political channels—served as a model for future ministers who sought to initiate protest actions on behalf of their communities.

200510_2-RC_1_5

The passage most clearly suggests that which one of the following is true of the group of ministers who led the Downstate campaign?

The Cultural Revolution of 1966 to 1976, initiated by Communist Party Chairman Mao Zedong in an attempt to reduce the influence of China's intellectual elite on the country's institutions, has had lasting repercussions on Chinese art. It intensified the absolutist mind-set of Maoist Revolutionary Realism, which had dictated the content and style of Chinese art even before 1966 by requiring that artists "truthfully" depict the realities of socialist life in China. Interest in nonsocial, nonpolitical subjects was strictly forbidden, and, during the Cultural Revolution, what constituted truth was entirely for revolutionary forces to decide—the only reality artists could portray was one that had been thoroughly colored and distorted by political ideology. Ironically, the same set of requirements that constricted artistic expression during the Cultural Revolution has had the opposite effect since; many artistic movements have flourished in reaction to the monotony of Revolutionary Realism. One of these, the Scar Art movement of the 1980s, was spearheaded by a group of intellectual painters who had been trained in Maoist art schools and then exiled to rural areas during the Cultural Revolution. In exile, these painters were for perhaps the first time confronted with the harsh realities of rural poverty and misery—aspects of life in China that their Maoist mentors would probably have preferred they ignore. As a result of these experiences, they developed a radically new approach to realism. Instead of depicting the version of reality sanctioned by the government, the Scar Art painters chose to represent the "scarred reality" they had seen during their exile. Their version of realist painting emphasized the day-to-day hardships of rural life. While the principles of Revolutionary Realism had insisted that artists choose public, monumental, and universal subjects, the Scar artists chose instead to focus on the private, the mundane, and the particular; where the principles of Revolutionary Realism had demanded that they depict contemporary Chinese society as outstanding or perfect, the Scar artists chose instead to portray the bleak realities of modernization. As the 1980s progressed, the Scar artists' radical approach to realism became increasingly co-opted for political purposes, and as this political cast became stronger and more obvious, many artists abandoned the movement. Yet a preoccupation with rural life persisted, giving rise to a related development known as the Native Soil movement, which focused on the native landscape and embodied a growing nostalgia for the charms of peasant society in the face of modernization. Where the Scar artists had reacted to the ideological rigidity of the Cultural Revolution by emphasizing the damage inflicted by modernization, the Native Soil painters reacted instead by idealizing traditional peasant life. Unfortunately, in the end Native Soil painting was trivialized by a tendency to romanticize certain qualities of rural Chinese society in order to appeal to Western galleries and collectors.

200510_2-RC_2_6

Which one of the following titles most accurately captures the main point of the passage?

The Cultural Revolution of 1966 to 1976, initiated by Communist Party Chairman Mao Zedong in an attempt to reduce the influence of China's intellectual elite on the country's institutions, has had lasting repercussions on Chinese art. It intensified the absolutist mind-set of Maoist Revolutionary Realism, which had dictated the content and style of Chinese art even before 1966 by requiring that artists "truthfully" depict the realities of socialist life in China. Interest in nonsocial, nonpolitical subjects was strictly forbidden, and, during the Cultural Revolution, what constituted truth was entirely for revolutionary forces to decide—the only reality artists could portray was one that had been thoroughly colored and distorted by political ideology. Ironically, the same set of requirements that constricted artistic expression during the Cultural Revolution has had the opposite effect since; many artistic movements have flourished in reaction to the monotony of Revolutionary Realism. One of these, the Scar Art movement of the 1980s, was spearheaded by a group of intellectual painters who had been trained in Maoist art schools and then exiled to rural areas during the Cultural Revolution. In exile, these painters were for perhaps the first time confronted with the harsh realities of rural poverty and misery—aspects of life in China that their Maoist mentors would probably have preferred they ignore. As a result of these experiences, they developed a radically new approach to realism. Instead of depicting the version of reality sanctioned by the government, the Scar Art painters chose to represent the "scarred reality" they had seen during their exile. Their version of realist painting emphasized the day-to-day hardships of rural life. While the principles of Revolutionary Realism had insisted that artists choose public, monumental, and universal subjects, the Scar artists chose instead to focus on the private, the mundane, and the particular; where the principles of Revolutionary Realism had demanded that they depict contemporary Chinese society as outstanding or perfect, the Scar artists chose instead to portray the bleak realities of modernization. As the 1980s progressed, the Scar artists' radical approach to realism became increasingly co-opted for political purposes, and as this political cast became stronger and more obvious, many artists abandoned the movement. Yet a preoccupation with rural life persisted, giving rise to a related development known as the Native Soil movement, which focused on the native landscape and embodied a growing nostalgia for the charms of peasant society in the face of modernization. Where the Scar artists had reacted to the ideological rigidity of the Cultural Revolution by emphasizing the damage inflicted by modernization, the Native Soil painters reacted instead by idealizing traditional peasant life. Unfortunately, in the end Native Soil painting was trivialized by a tendency to romanticize certain qualities of rural Chinese society in order to appeal to Western galleries and collectors.

200510_2-RC_2_7

Which one of the following works of art would be most compatible with the goals and interests of Scar Art as described in the passage?

The Cultural Revolution of 1966 to 1976, initiated by Communist Party Chairman Mao Zedong in an attempt to reduce the influence of China's intellectual elite on the country's institutions, has had lasting repercussions on Chinese art. It intensified the absolutist mind-set of Maoist Revolutionary Realism, which had dictated the content and style of Chinese art even before 1966 by requiring that artists "truthfully" depict the realities of socialist life in China. Interest in nonsocial, nonpolitical subjects was strictly forbidden, and, during the Cultural Revolution, what constituted truth was entirely for revolutionary forces to decide—the only reality artists could portray was one that had been thoroughly colored and distorted by political ideology. Ironically, the same set of requirements that constricted artistic expression during the Cultural Revolution has had the opposite effect since; many artistic movements have flourished in reaction to the monotony of Revolutionary Realism. One of these, the Scar Art movement of the 1980s, was spearheaded by a group of intellectual painters who had been trained in Maoist art schools and then exiled to rural areas during the Cultural Revolution. In exile, these painters were for perhaps the first time confronted with the harsh realities of rural poverty and misery—aspects of life in China that their Maoist mentors would probably have preferred they ignore. As a result of these experiences, they developed a radically new approach to realism. Instead of depicting the version of reality sanctioned by the government, the Scar Art painters chose to represent the "scarred reality" they had seen during their exile. Their version of realist painting emphasized the day-to-day hardships of rural life. While the principles of Revolutionary Realism had insisted that artists choose public, monumental, and universal subjects, the Scar artists chose instead to focus on the private, the mundane, and the particular; where the principles of Revolutionary Realism had demanded that they depict contemporary Chinese society as outstanding or perfect, the Scar artists chose instead to portray the bleak realities of modernization. As the 1980s progressed, the Scar artists' radical approach to realism became increasingly co-opted for political purposes, and as this political cast became stronger and more obvious, many artists abandoned the movement. Yet a preoccupation with rural life persisted, giving rise to a related development known as the Native Soil movement, which focused on the native landscape and embodied a growing nostalgia for the charms of peasant society in the face of modernization. Where the Scar artists had reacted to the ideological rigidity of the Cultural Revolution by emphasizing the damage inflicted by modernization, the Native Soil painters reacted instead by idealizing traditional peasant life. Unfortunately, in the end Native Soil painting was trivialized by a tendency to romanticize certain qualities of rural Chinese society in order to appeal to Western galleries and collectors.

200510_2-RC_2_8

Which one of the following statements about realism in Chinese art can most reasonably be inferred from the passage?

The Cultural Revolution of 1966 to 1976, initiated by Communist Party Chairman Mao Zedong in an attempt to reduce the influence of China's intellectual elite on the country's institutions, has had lasting repercussions on Chinese art. It intensified the absolutist mind-set of Maoist Revolutionary Realism, which had dictated the content and style of Chinese art even before 1966 by requiring that artists "truthfully" depict the realities of socialist life in China. Interest in nonsocial, nonpolitical subjects was strictly forbidden, and, during the Cultural Revolution, what constituted truth was entirely for revolutionary forces to decide—the only reality artists could portray was one that had been thoroughly colored and distorted by political ideology. Ironically, the same set of requirements that constricted artistic expression during the Cultural Revolution has had the opposite effect since; many artistic movements have flourished in reaction to the monotony of Revolutionary Realism. One of these, the Scar Art movement of the 1980s, was spearheaded by a group of intellectual painters who had been trained in Maoist art schools and then exiled to rural areas during the Cultural Revolution. In exile, these painters were for perhaps the first time confronted with the harsh realities of rural poverty and misery—aspects of life in China that their Maoist mentors would probably have preferred they ignore. As a result of these experiences, they developed a radically new approach to realism. Instead of depicting the version of reality sanctioned by the government, the Scar Art painters chose to represent the "scarred reality" they had seen during their exile. Their version of realist painting emphasized the day-to-day hardships of rural life. While the principles of Revolutionary Realism had insisted that artists choose public, monumental, and universal subjects, the Scar artists chose instead to focus on the private, the mundane, and the particular; where the principles of Revolutionary Realism had demanded that they depict contemporary Chinese society as outstanding or perfect, the Scar artists chose instead to portray the bleak realities of modernization. As the 1980s progressed, the Scar artists' radical approach to realism became increasingly co-opted for political purposes, and as this political cast became stronger and more obvious, many artists abandoned the movement. Yet a preoccupation with rural life persisted, giving rise to a related development known as the Native Soil movement, which focused on the native landscape and embodied a growing nostalgia for the charms of peasant society in the face of modernization. Where the Scar artists had reacted to the ideological rigidity of the Cultural Revolution by emphasizing the damage inflicted by modernization, the Native Soil painters reacted instead by idealizing traditional peasant life. Unfortunately, in the end Native Soil painting was trivialized by a tendency to romanticize certain qualities of rural Chinese society in order to appeal to Western galleries and collectors.

200510_2-RC_2_9

It can be inferred from the passage that the author would be LEAST likely to agree with which one of the following statements regarding the Cultural Revolution?

The Cultural Revolution of 1966 to 1976, initiated by Communist Party Chairman Mao Zedong in an attempt to reduce the influence of China's intellectual elite on the country's institutions, has had lasting repercussions on Chinese art. It intensified the absolutist mind-set of Maoist Revolutionary Realism, which had dictated the content and style of Chinese art even before 1966 by requiring that artists "truthfully" depict the realities of socialist life in China. Interest in nonsocial, nonpolitical subjects was strictly forbidden, and, during the Cultural Revolution, what constituted truth was entirely for revolutionary forces to decide—the only reality artists could portray was one that had been thoroughly colored and distorted by political ideology. Ironically, the same set of requirements that constricted artistic expression during the Cultural Revolution has had the opposite effect since; many artistic movements have flourished in reaction to the monotony of Revolutionary Realism. One of these, the Scar Art movement of the 1980s, was spearheaded by a group of intellectual painters who had been trained in Maoist art schools and then exiled to rural areas during the Cultural Revolution. In exile, these painters were for perhaps the first time confronted with the harsh realities of rural poverty and misery—aspects of life in China that their Maoist mentors would probably have preferred they ignore. As a result of these experiences, they developed a radically new approach to realism. Instead of depicting the version of reality sanctioned by the government, the Scar Art painters chose to represent the "scarred reality" they had seen during their exile. Their version of realist painting emphasized the day-to-day hardships of rural life. While the principles of Revolutionary Realism had insisted that artists choose public, monumental, and universal subjects, the Scar artists chose instead to focus on the private, the mundane, and the particular; where the principles of Revolutionary Realism had demanded that they depict contemporary Chinese society as outstanding or perfect, the Scar artists chose instead to portray the bleak realities of modernization. As the 1980s progressed, the Scar artists' radical approach to realism became increasingly co-opted for political purposes, and as this political cast became stronger and more obvious, many artists abandoned the movement. Yet a preoccupation with rural life persisted, giving rise to a related development known as the Native Soil movement, which focused on the native landscape and embodied a growing nostalgia for the charms of peasant society in the face of modernization. Where the Scar artists had reacted to the ideological rigidity of the Cultural Revolution by emphasizing the damage inflicted by modernization, the Native Soil painters reacted instead by idealizing traditional peasant life. Unfortunately, in the end Native Soil painting was trivialized by a tendency to romanticize certain qualities of rural Chinese society in order to appeal to Western galleries and collectors.

200510_2-RC_2_10

The primary function of the first paragraph is to

The Cultural Revolution of 1966 to 1976, initiated by Communist Party Chairman Mao Zedong in an attempt to reduce the influence of China's intellectual elite on the country's institutions, has had lasting repercussions on Chinese art. It intensified the absolutist mind-set of Maoist Revolutionary Realism, which had dictated the content and style of Chinese art even before 1966 by requiring that artists "truthfully" depict the realities of socialist life in China. Interest in nonsocial, nonpolitical subjects was strictly forbidden, and, during the Cultural Revolution, what constituted truth was entirely for revolutionary forces to decide—the only reality artists could portray was one that had been thoroughly colored and distorted by political ideology. Ironically, the same set of requirements that constricted artistic expression during the Cultural Revolution has had the opposite effect since; many artistic movements have flourished in reaction to the monotony of Revolutionary Realism. One of these, the Scar Art movement of the 1980s, was spearheaded by a group of intellectual painters who had been trained in Maoist art schools and then exiled to rural areas during the Cultural Revolution. In exile, these painters were for perhaps the first time confronted with the harsh realities of rural poverty and misery—aspects of life in China that their Maoist mentors would probably have preferred they ignore. As a result of these experiences, they developed a radically new approach to realism. Instead of depicting the version of reality sanctioned by the government, the Scar Art painters chose to represent the "scarred reality" they had seen during their exile. Their version of realist painting emphasized the day-to-day hardships of rural life. While the principles of Revolutionary Realism had insisted that artists choose public, monumental, and universal subjects, the Scar artists chose instead to focus on the private, the mundane, and the particular; where the principles of Revolutionary Realism had demanded that they depict contemporary Chinese society as outstanding or perfect, the Scar artists chose instead to portray the bleak realities of modernization. As the 1980s progressed, the Scar artists' radical approach to realism became increasingly co-opted for political purposes, and as this political cast became stronger and more obvious, many artists abandoned the movement. Yet a preoccupation with rural life persisted, giving rise to a related development known as the Native Soil movement, which focused on the native landscape and embodied a growing nostalgia for the charms of peasant society in the face of modernization. Where the Scar artists had reacted to the ideological rigidity of the Cultural Revolution by emphasizing the damage inflicted by modernization, the Native Soil painters reacted instead by idealizing traditional peasant life. Unfortunately, in the end Native Soil painting was trivialized by a tendency to romanticize certain qualities of rural Chinese society in order to appeal to Western galleries and collectors.

200510_2-RC_2_11

It can be inferred from the passage that the author would be most likely to agree with which one of the following views of the Native Soil movement?

Individual family members have been assisted in resolving disputes arising from divorce or separation, property division, or financial arrangements, through court-connected family mediation programs, which differ significantly from court adjudication. When courts use their authority to resolve disputes by adjudicating matters in litigation, judges' decisions are binding, subject only to appeal. Formal rules govern the procedure followed, and the hearings are generally open to the public. In contrast, family mediation is usually conducted in private, the process is less formal, and mediators do not make binding decisions. Mediators help disputing parties arrive at a solution themselves through communication and cooperation by facilitating the process of negotiation that leads to agreement by the parties. Supporters of court adjudication in resolving family disputes claim that it has numerous advantages over family mediation, and there is some validity to this claim. Judges' decisions, they argue, explicate and interpret the broader social values involved in family disputes, and family mediation can neglect those values. Advocates of court adjudication also argue that since the dynamics of power in disputes are not always well understood, mediation, which is based on the notion of relatively equal parties, would be inappropriate in many situations. The court system, on the other hand, attempts to protect those at a disadvantage because of imbalances in bargaining power. Family mediation does not guarantee the full protection of an individual's rights, whereas a goal of the court system is to ensure that lawyers can secure all that the law promises to their clients. Family mediation also does not provide a formal record of the facts and principles that influence the settlement of a dispute, so if a party to a mediated agreement subsequently seeks modification of the judgment, the task of reconstructing the mediation process is especially difficult. Finally, mediated settlements divert cases from judicial consideration, thus eliminating the opportunity for such cases to refine the law through the ongoing development of legal precedent. But in the final analysis, family mediation is better suited to the unique needs of family law than is the traditional court system. Proponents of family mediation point out that it constitutes a more efficient and less damaging process than litigation. By working together in the mediation process, family members can enhance their personal autonomy and reduce government intervention, develop skills to resolve future disputes, and create a spirit of cooperation that can lead to greater compliance with their agreement. The family mediation process can assist in resolving emotional as well as legal issues and thus may reduce stress in the long term. Studies of family mediation programs in several countries report that the majority of participants reach a full or partial agreement and express positive feelings about the process, perceiving it to be more rational and humane than the court system.

200510_2-RC_3_12

Which one of the following most accurately expresses the main point of the passage?

Individual family members have been assisted in resolving disputes arising from divorce or separation, property division, or financial arrangements, through court-connected family mediation programs, which differ significantly from court adjudication. When courts use their authority to resolve disputes by adjudicating matters in litigation, judges' decisions are binding, subject only to appeal. Formal rules govern the procedure followed, and the hearings are generally open to the public. In contrast, family mediation is usually conducted in private, the process is less formal, and mediators do not make binding decisions. Mediators help disputing parties arrive at a solution themselves through communication and cooperation by facilitating the process of negotiation that leads to agreement by the parties. Supporters of court adjudication in resolving family disputes claim that it has numerous advantages over family mediation, and there is some validity to this claim. Judges' decisions, they argue, explicate and interpret the broader social values involved in family disputes, and family mediation can neglect those values. Advocates of court adjudication also argue that since the dynamics of power in disputes are not always well understood, mediation, which is based on the notion of relatively equal parties, would be inappropriate in many situations. The court system, on the other hand, attempts to protect those at a disadvantage because of imbalances in bargaining power. Family mediation does not guarantee the full protection of an individual's rights, whereas a goal of the court system is to ensure that lawyers can secure all that the law promises to their clients. Family mediation also does not provide a formal record of the facts and principles that influence the settlement of a dispute, so if a party to a mediated agreement subsequently seeks modification of the judgment, the task of reconstructing the mediation process is especially difficult. Finally, mediated settlements divert cases from judicial consideration, thus eliminating the opportunity for such cases to refine the law through the ongoing development of legal precedent. But in the final analysis, family mediation is better suited to the unique needs of family law than is the traditional court system. Proponents of family mediation point out that it constitutes a more efficient and less damaging process than litigation. By working together in the mediation process, family members can enhance their personal autonomy and reduce government intervention, develop skills to resolve future disputes, and create a spirit of cooperation that can lead to greater compliance with their agreement. The family mediation process can assist in resolving emotional as well as legal issues and thus may reduce stress in the long term. Studies of family mediation programs in several countries report that the majority of participants reach a full or partial agreement and express positive feelings about the process, perceiving it to be more rational and humane than the court system.

200510_2-RC_3_13

Which one of the following most accurately expresses the primary purpose of the sentence at lines 30–33?

Individual family members have been assisted in resolving disputes arising from divorce or separation, property division, or financial arrangements, through court-connected family mediation programs, which differ significantly from court adjudication. When courts use their authority to resolve disputes by adjudicating matters in litigation, judges' decisions are binding, subject only to appeal. Formal rules govern the procedure followed, and the hearings are generally open to the public. In contrast, family mediation is usually conducted in private, the process is less formal, and mediators do not make binding decisions. Mediators help disputing parties arrive at a solution themselves through communication and cooperation by facilitating the process of negotiation that leads to agreement by the parties. Supporters of court adjudication in resolving family disputes claim that it has numerous advantages over family mediation, and there is some validity to this claim. Judges' decisions, they argue, explicate and interpret the broader social values involved in family disputes, and family mediation can neglect those values. Advocates of court adjudication also argue that since the dynamics of power in disputes are not always well understood, mediation, which is based on the notion of relatively equal parties, would be inappropriate in many situations. The court system, on the other hand, attempts to protect those at a disadvantage because of imbalances in bargaining power. Family mediation does not guarantee the full protection of an individual's rights, whereas a goal of the court system is to ensure that lawyers can secure all that the law promises to their clients. Family mediation also does not provide a formal record of the facts and principles that influence the settlement of a dispute, so if a party to a mediated agreement subsequently seeks modification of the judgment, the task of reconstructing the mediation process is especially difficult. Finally, mediated settlements divert cases from judicial consideration, thus eliminating the opportunity for such cases to refine the law through the ongoing development of legal precedent. But in the final analysis, family mediation is better suited to the unique needs of family law than is the traditional court system. Proponents of family mediation point out that it constitutes a more efficient and less damaging process than litigation. By working together in the mediation process, family members can enhance their personal autonomy and reduce government intervention, develop skills to resolve future disputes, and create a spirit of cooperation that can lead to greater compliance with their agreement. The family mediation process can assist in resolving emotional as well as legal issues and thus may reduce stress in the long term. Studies of family mediation programs in several countries report that the majority of participants reach a full or partial agreement and express positive feelings about the process, perceiving it to be more rational and humane than the court system.

200510_2-RC_3_14

Based on the passage, which one of the following relationships is most analogous to that between the mediator and the family members involved in a dispute?

Individual family members have been assisted in resolving disputes arising from divorce or separation, property division, or financial arrangements, through court-connected family mediation programs, which differ significantly from court adjudication. When courts use their authority to resolve disputes by adjudicating matters in litigation, judges' decisions are binding, subject only to appeal. Formal rules govern the procedure followed, and the hearings are generally open to the public. In contrast, family mediation is usually conducted in private, the process is less formal, and mediators do not make binding decisions. Mediators help disputing parties arrive at a solution themselves through communication and cooperation by facilitating the process of negotiation that leads to agreement by the parties. Supporters of court adjudication in resolving family disputes claim that it has numerous advantages over family mediation, and there is some validity to this claim. Judges' decisions, they argue, explicate and interpret the broader social values involved in family disputes, and family mediation can neglect those values. Advocates of court adjudication also argue that since the dynamics of power in disputes are not always well understood, mediation, which is based on the notion of relatively equal parties, would be inappropriate in many situations. The court system, on the other hand, attempts to protect those at a disadvantage because of imbalances in bargaining power. Family mediation does not guarantee the full protection of an individual's rights, whereas a goal of the court system is to ensure that lawyers can secure all that the law promises to their clients. Family mediation also does not provide a formal record of the facts and principles that influence the settlement of a dispute, so if a party to a mediated agreement subsequently seeks modification of the judgment, the task of reconstructing the mediation process is especially difficult. Finally, mediated settlements divert cases from judicial consideration, thus eliminating the opportunity for such cases to refine the law through the ongoing development of legal precedent. But in the final analysis, family mediation is better suited to the unique needs of family law than is the traditional court system. Proponents of family mediation point out that it constitutes a more efficient and less damaging process than litigation. By working together in the mediation process, family members can enhance their personal autonomy and reduce government intervention, develop skills to resolve future disputes, and create a spirit of cooperation that can lead to greater compliance with their agreement. The family mediation process can assist in resolving emotional as well as legal issues and thus may reduce stress in the long term. Studies of family mediation programs in several countries report that the majority of participants reach a full or partial agreement and express positive feelings about the process, perceiving it to be more rational and humane than the court system.

200510_2-RC_3_15

According to the passage, proponents of family mediation note that the family mediation process

Individual family members have been assisted in resolving disputes arising from divorce or separation, property division, or financial arrangements, through court-connected family mediation programs, which differ significantly from court adjudication. When courts use their authority to resolve disputes by adjudicating matters in litigation, judges' decisions are binding, subject only to appeal. Formal rules govern the procedure followed, and the hearings are generally open to the public. In contrast, family mediation is usually conducted in private, the process is less formal, and mediators do not make binding decisions. Mediators help disputing parties arrive at a solution themselves through communication and cooperation by facilitating the process of negotiation that leads to agreement by the parties. Supporters of court adjudication in resolving family disputes claim that it has numerous advantages over family mediation, and there is some validity to this claim. Judges' decisions, they argue, explicate and interpret the broader social values involved in family disputes, and family mediation can neglect those values. Advocates of court adjudication also argue that since the dynamics of power in disputes are not always well understood, mediation, which is based on the notion of relatively equal parties, would be inappropriate in many situations. The court system, on the other hand, attempts to protect those at a disadvantage because of imbalances in bargaining power. Family mediation does not guarantee the full protection of an individual's rights, whereas a goal of the court system is to ensure that lawyers can secure all that the law promises to their clients. Family mediation also does not provide a formal record of the facts and principles that influence the settlement of a dispute, so if a party to a mediated agreement subsequently seeks modification of the judgment, the task of reconstructing the mediation process is especially difficult. Finally, mediated settlements divert cases from judicial consideration, thus eliminating the opportunity for such cases to refine the law through the ongoing development of legal precedent. But in the final analysis, family mediation is better suited to the unique needs of family law than is the traditional court system. Proponents of family mediation point out that it constitutes a more efficient and less damaging process than litigation. By working together in the mediation process, family members can enhance their personal autonomy and reduce government intervention, develop skills to resolve future disputes, and create a spirit of cooperation that can lead to greater compliance with their agreement. The family mediation process can assist in resolving emotional as well as legal issues and thus may reduce stress in the long term. Studies of family mediation programs in several countries report that the majority of participants reach a full or partial agreement and express positive feelings about the process, perceiving it to be more rational and humane than the court system.

200510_2-RC_3_16

It can most reasonably be inferred from the passage that the author would agree with which one of the following statements regarding the differences between court adjudication and family mediation?

Individual family members have been assisted in resolving disputes arising from divorce or separation, property division, or financial arrangements, through court-connected family mediation programs, which differ significantly from court adjudication. When courts use their authority to resolve disputes by adjudicating matters in litigation, judges' decisions are binding, subject only to appeal. Formal rules govern the procedure followed, and the hearings are generally open to the public. In contrast, family mediation is usually conducted in private, the process is less formal, and mediators do not make binding decisions. Mediators help disputing parties arrive at a solution themselves through communication and cooperation by facilitating the process of negotiation that leads to agreement by the parties. Supporters of court adjudication in resolving family disputes claim that it has numerous advantages over family mediation, and there is some validity to this claim. Judges' decisions, they argue, explicate and interpret the broader social values involved in family disputes, and family mediation can neglect those values. Advocates of court adjudication also argue that since the dynamics of power in disputes are not always well understood, mediation, which is based on the notion of relatively equal parties, would be inappropriate in many situations. The court system, on the other hand, attempts to protect those at a disadvantage because of imbalances in bargaining power. Family mediation does not guarantee the full protection of an individual's rights, whereas a goal of the court system is to ensure that lawyers can secure all that the law promises to their clients. Family mediation also does not provide a formal record of the facts and principles that influence the settlement of a dispute, so if a party to a mediated agreement subsequently seeks modification of the judgment, the task of reconstructing the mediation process is especially difficult. Finally, mediated settlements divert cases from judicial consideration, thus eliminating the opportunity for such cases to refine the law through the ongoing development of legal precedent. But in the final analysis, family mediation is better suited to the unique needs of family law than is the traditional court system. Proponents of family mediation point out that it constitutes a more efficient and less damaging process than litigation. By working together in the mediation process, family members can enhance their personal autonomy and reduce government intervention, develop skills to resolve future disputes, and create a spirit of cooperation that can lead to greater compliance with their agreement. The family mediation process can assist in resolving emotional as well as legal issues and thus may reduce stress in the long term. Studies of family mediation programs in several countries report that the majority of participants reach a full or partial agreement and express positive feelings about the process, perceiving it to be more rational and humane than the court system.

200510_2-RC_3_17

According to the passage, proponents of court adjudication of family disputes would be most likely to agree with which one of the following?

Individual family members have been assisted in resolving disputes arising from divorce or separation, property division, or financial arrangements, through court-connected family mediation programs, which differ significantly from court adjudication. When courts use their authority to resolve disputes by adjudicating matters in litigation, judges' decisions are binding, subject only to appeal. Formal rules govern the procedure followed, and the hearings are generally open to the public. In contrast, family mediation is usually conducted in private, the process is less formal, and mediators do not make binding decisions. Mediators help disputing parties arrive at a solution themselves through communication and cooperation by facilitating the process of negotiation that leads to agreement by the parties. Supporters of court adjudication in resolving family disputes claim that it has numerous advantages over family mediation, and there is some validity to this claim. Judges' decisions, they argue, explicate and interpret the broader social values involved in family disputes, and family mediation can neglect those values. Advocates of court adjudication also argue that since the dynamics of power in disputes are not always well understood, mediation, which is based on the notion of relatively equal parties, would be inappropriate in many situations. The court system, on the other hand, attempts to protect those at a disadvantage because of imbalances in bargaining power. Family mediation does not guarantee the full protection of an individual's rights, whereas a goal of the court system is to ensure that lawyers can secure all that the law promises to their clients. Family mediation also does not provide a formal record of the facts and principles that influence the settlement of a dispute, so if a party to a mediated agreement subsequently seeks modification of the judgment, the task of reconstructing the mediation process is especially difficult. Finally, mediated settlements divert cases from judicial consideration, thus eliminating the opportunity for such cases to refine the law through the ongoing development of legal precedent. But in the final analysis, family mediation is better suited to the unique needs of family law than is the traditional court system. Proponents of family mediation point out that it constitutes a more efficient and less damaging process than litigation. By working together in the mediation process, family members can enhance their personal autonomy and reduce government intervention, develop skills to resolve future disputes, and create a spirit of cooperation that can lead to greater compliance with their agreement. The family mediation process can assist in resolving emotional as well as legal issues and thus may reduce stress in the long term. Studies of family mediation programs in several countries report that the majority of participants reach a full or partial agreement and express positive feelings about the process, perceiving it to be more rational and humane than the court system.

200510_2-RC_3_18

The author's primary purpose in the passage is to

Until recently, biologists were unable to explain the fact that pathogens—disease-causing parasites— have evolved to incapacitate, and often overwhelm, their hosts. Such behavior is at odds with the prevailing view of host-parasite relations—that, in general, host and parasite ultimately develop a benign coexistence. This view is based on the idea that parasites that do not harm their hosts have the best chance for long-term survival: they thrive because their hosts thrive. Some biologists, however, recently have suggested that if a pathogen reproduced so extensively as to cause its host to become gravely sick, it could still achieve evolutionary success if its replication led to a level of transmission into new hosts that exceeded the loss of pathogens resulting from the host's incapacitation. This scenario suggests that even death-causing pathogens can achieve evolutionary success. One implication of this perspective is that a pathogen's virulence—its capacity to overcome a host's defenses and incapacitate it—is a function of its mode of transmission. For example, rhinoviruses, which cause the common cold, require physical proximity for transmission to occur. If a rhinovirus reproduces so extensively in a solitary host that the host is too unwell to leave home for a day, the thousands of new rhinoviruses produced that day will die before they can be transmitted. So, because it is transmitted directly, the common cold is unlikely to disable its victims. The opposite can occur when pathogens are transported by a vector—an organism that can carry and transmit an infectious agent. If, for example, a pathogen capable of being transported by a mosquito reproduces so extensively that its human host is immobilized, it can still pass along its genes if a mosquito bites the host and transmits this dose to the next human it bites. In such circumstances the virulence is likely to be more severe, because the pathogen has reproduced to such concentration in the host that the mosquito obtains a high dose of the pathogen, increasing the level of transmission to new hosts. While medical literature generally supports the hypothesis that vector-borne pathogens tend to be more virulent than directly transmitted pathogens— witness the lethal nature of malaria, yellow fever, typhus, and sleeping sickness, all carried by biting insects—a few directly transmitted pathogens such as diphtheria and tuberculosis bacteria can be just as lethal. Scientists call these "sit and wait" pathogens, because they are able to remain alive outside their hosts until a new host comes along, without relying on a vector. Indeed, the endurance of these pathogens, many of which can survive externally for weeks or months before transmission into a new host—compared, for instance, to an average rhinovirus life span of hours—makes them among the most dangerous of all pathogens.

200510_2-RC_4_19

Which one of the following most accurately summarizes the main idea of the passage?

Until recently, biologists were unable to explain the fact that pathogens—disease-causing parasites— have evolved to incapacitate, and often overwhelm, their hosts. Such behavior is at odds with the prevailing view of host-parasite relations—that, in general, host and parasite ultimately develop a benign coexistence. This view is based on the idea that parasites that do not harm their hosts have the best chance for long-term survival: they thrive because their hosts thrive. Some biologists, however, recently have suggested that if a pathogen reproduced so extensively as to cause its host to become gravely sick, it could still achieve evolutionary success if its replication led to a level of transmission into new hosts that exceeded the loss of pathogens resulting from the host's incapacitation. This scenario suggests that even death-causing pathogens can achieve evolutionary success. One implication of this perspective is that a pathogen's virulence—its capacity to overcome a host's defenses and incapacitate it—is a function of its mode of transmission. For example, rhinoviruses, which cause the common cold, require physical proximity for transmission to occur. If a rhinovirus reproduces so extensively in a solitary host that the host is too unwell to leave home for a day, the thousands of new rhinoviruses produced that day will die before they can be transmitted. So, because it is transmitted directly, the common cold is unlikely to disable its victims. The opposite can occur when pathogens are transported by a vector—an organism that can carry and transmit an infectious agent. If, for example, a pathogen capable of being transported by a mosquito reproduces so extensively that its human host is immobilized, it can still pass along its genes if a mosquito bites the host and transmits this dose to the next human it bites. In such circumstances the virulence is likely to be more severe, because the pathogen has reproduced to such concentration in the host that the mosquito obtains a high dose of the pathogen, increasing the level of transmission to new hosts. While medical literature generally supports the hypothesis that vector-borne pathogens tend to be more virulent than directly transmitted pathogens— witness the lethal nature of malaria, yellow fever, typhus, and sleeping sickness, all carried by biting insects—a few directly transmitted pathogens such as diphtheria and tuberculosis bacteria can be just as lethal. Scientists call these "sit and wait" pathogens, because they are able to remain alive outside their hosts until a new host comes along, without relying on a vector. Indeed, the endurance of these pathogens, many of which can survive externally for weeks or months before transmission into a new host—compared, for instance, to an average rhinovirus life span of hours—makes them among the most dangerous of all pathogens.

200510_2-RC_4_20

According to the passage, the prevailing view of the host-parasite relationship is that, in general,

Until recently, biologists were unable to explain the fact that pathogens—disease-causing parasites— have evolved to incapacitate, and often overwhelm, their hosts. Such behavior is at odds with the prevailing view of host-parasite relations—that, in general, host and parasite ultimately develop a benign coexistence. This view is based on the idea that parasites that do not harm their hosts have the best chance for long-term survival: they thrive because their hosts thrive. Some biologists, however, recently have suggested that if a pathogen reproduced so extensively as to cause its host to become gravely sick, it could still achieve evolutionary success if its replication led to a level of transmission into new hosts that exceeded the loss of pathogens resulting from the host's incapacitation. This scenario suggests that even death-causing pathogens can achieve evolutionary success. One implication of this perspective is that a pathogen's virulence—its capacity to overcome a host's defenses and incapacitate it—is a function of its mode of transmission. For example, rhinoviruses, which cause the common cold, require physical proximity for transmission to occur. If a rhinovirus reproduces so extensively in a solitary host that the host is too unwell to leave home for a day, the thousands of new rhinoviruses produced that day will die before they can be transmitted. So, because it is transmitted directly, the common cold is unlikely to disable its victims. The opposite can occur when pathogens are transported by a vector—an organism that can carry and transmit an infectious agent. If, for example, a pathogen capable of being transported by a mosquito reproduces so extensively that its human host is immobilized, it can still pass along its genes if a mosquito bites the host and transmits this dose to the next human it bites. In such circumstances the virulence is likely to be more severe, because the pathogen has reproduced to such concentration in the host that the mosquito obtains a high dose of the pathogen, increasing the level of transmission to new hosts. While medical literature generally supports the hypothesis that vector-borne pathogens tend to be more virulent than directly transmitted pathogens— witness the lethal nature of malaria, yellow fever, typhus, and sleeping sickness, all carried by biting insects—a few directly transmitted pathogens such as diphtheria and tuberculosis bacteria can be just as lethal. Scientists call these "sit and wait" pathogens, because they are able to remain alive outside their hosts until a new host comes along, without relying on a vector. Indeed, the endurance of these pathogens, many of which can survive externally for weeks or months before transmission into a new host—compared, for instance, to an average rhinovirus life span of hours—makes them among the most dangerous of all pathogens.

200510_2-RC_4_21

With which one of the following statements about the prevailing view of host-parasite relations would the biologists mentioned in line10 be most likely to agree?

Until recently, biologists were unable to explain the fact that pathogens—disease-causing parasites— have evolved to incapacitate, and often overwhelm, their hosts. Such behavior is at odds with the prevailing view of host-parasite relations—that, in general, host and parasite ultimately develop a benign coexistence. This view is based on the idea that parasites that do not harm their hosts have the best chance for long-term survival: they thrive because their hosts thrive. Some biologists, however, recently have suggested that if a pathogen reproduced so extensively as to cause its host to become gravely sick, it could still achieve evolutionary success if its replication led to a level of transmission into new hosts that exceeded the loss of pathogens resulting from the host's incapacitation. This scenario suggests that even death-causing pathogens can achieve evolutionary success. One implication of this perspective is that a pathogen's virulence—its capacity to overcome a host's defenses and incapacitate it—is a function of its mode of transmission. For example, rhinoviruses, which cause the common cold, require physical proximity for transmission to occur. If a rhinovirus reproduces so extensively in a solitary host that the host is too unwell to leave home for a day, the thousands of new rhinoviruses produced that day will die before they can be transmitted. So, because it is transmitted directly, the common cold is unlikely to disable its victims. The opposite can occur when pathogens are transported by a vector—an organism that can carry and transmit an infectious agent. If, for example, a pathogen capable of being transported by a mosquito reproduces so extensively that its human host is immobilized, it can still pass along its genes if a mosquito bites the host and transmits this dose to the next human it bites. In such circumstances the virulence is likely to be more severe, because the pathogen has reproduced to such concentration in the host that the mosquito obtains a high dose of the pathogen, increasing the level of transmission to new hosts. While medical literature generally supports the hypothesis that vector-borne pathogens tend to be more virulent than directly transmitted pathogens— witness the lethal nature of malaria, yellow fever, typhus, and sleeping sickness, all carried by biting insects—a few directly transmitted pathogens such as diphtheria and tuberculosis bacteria can be just as lethal. Scientists call these "sit and wait" pathogens, because they are able to remain alive outside their hosts until a new host comes along, without relying on a vector. Indeed, the endurance of these pathogens, many of which can survive externally for weeks or months before transmission into a new host—compared, for instance, to an average rhinovirus life span of hours—makes them among the most dangerous of all pathogens.

200510_2-RC_4_22

The examples of diphtheria and tuberculosis bacteria provide the most support for which one of the following conclusions about the dangerousness of pathogens?

Until recently, biologists were unable to explain the fact that pathogens—disease-causing parasites— have evolved to incapacitate, and often overwhelm, their hosts. Such behavior is at odds with the prevailing view of host-parasite relations—that, in general, host and parasite ultimately develop a benign coexistence. This view is based on the idea that parasites that do not harm their hosts have the best chance for long-term survival: they thrive because their hosts thrive. Some biologists, however, recently have suggested that if a pathogen reproduced so extensively as to cause its host to become gravely sick, it could still achieve evolutionary success if its replication led to a level of transmission into new hosts that exceeded the loss of pathogens resulting from the host's incapacitation. This scenario suggests that even death-causing pathogens can achieve evolutionary success. One implication of this perspective is that a pathogen's virulence—its capacity to overcome a host's defenses and incapacitate it—is a function of its mode of transmission. For example, rhinoviruses, which cause the common cold, require physical proximity for transmission to occur. If a rhinovirus reproduces so extensively in a solitary host that the host is too unwell to leave home for a day, the thousands of new rhinoviruses produced that day will die before they can be transmitted. So, because it is transmitted directly, the common cold is unlikely to disable its victims. The opposite can occur when pathogens are transported by a vector—an organism that can carry and transmit an infectious agent. If, for example, a pathogen capable of being transported by a mosquito reproduces so extensively that its human host is immobilized, it can still pass along its genes if a mosquito bites the host and transmits this dose to the next human it bites. In such circumstances the virulence is likely to be more severe, because the pathogen has reproduced to such concentration in the host that the mosquito obtains a high dose of the pathogen, increasing the level of transmission to new hosts. While medical literature generally supports the hypothesis that vector-borne pathogens tend to be more virulent than directly transmitted pathogens— witness the lethal nature of malaria, yellow fever, typhus, and sleeping sickness, all carried by biting insects—a few directly transmitted pathogens such as diphtheria and tuberculosis bacteria can be just as lethal. Scientists call these "sit and wait" pathogens, because they are able to remain alive outside their hosts until a new host comes along, without relying on a vector. Indeed, the endurance of these pathogens, many of which can survive externally for weeks or months before transmission into a new host—compared, for instance, to an average rhinovirus life span of hours—makes them among the most dangerous of all pathogens.

200510_2-RC_4_23

Which one of the following, if true, would most seriously challenge the position of the biologists mentioned in line 10?

Until recently, biologists were unable to explain the fact that pathogens—disease-causing parasites— have evolved to incapacitate, and often overwhelm, their hosts. Such behavior is at odds with the prevailing view of host-parasite relations—that, in general, host and parasite ultimately develop a benign coexistence. This view is based on the idea that parasites that do not harm their hosts have the best chance for long-term survival: they thrive because their hosts thrive. Some biologists, however, recently have suggested that if a pathogen reproduced so extensively as to cause its host to become gravely sick, it could still achieve evolutionary success if its replication led to a level of transmission into new hosts that exceeded the loss of pathogens resulting from the host's incapacitation. This scenario suggests that even death-causing pathogens can achieve evolutionary success. One implication of this perspective is that a pathogen's virulence—its capacity to overcome a host's defenses and incapacitate it—is a function of its mode of transmission. For example, rhinoviruses, which cause the common cold, require physical proximity for transmission to occur. If a rhinovirus reproduces so extensively in a solitary host that the host is too unwell to leave home for a day, the thousands of new rhinoviruses produced that day will die before they can be transmitted. So, because it is transmitted directly, the common cold is unlikely to disable its victims. The opposite can occur when pathogens are transported by a vector—an organism that can carry and transmit an infectious agent. If, for example, a pathogen capable of being transported by a mosquito reproduces so extensively that its human host is immobilized, it can still pass along its genes if a mosquito bites the host and transmits this dose to the next human it bites. In such circumstances the virulence is likely to be more severe, because the pathogen has reproduced to such concentration in the host that the mosquito obtains a high dose of the pathogen, increasing the level of transmission to new hosts. While medical literature generally supports the hypothesis that vector-borne pathogens tend to be more virulent than directly transmitted pathogens— witness the lethal nature of malaria, yellow fever, typhus, and sleeping sickness, all carried by biting insects—a few directly transmitted pathogens such as diphtheria and tuberculosis bacteria can be just as lethal. Scientists call these "sit and wait" pathogens, because they are able to remain alive outside their hosts until a new host comes along, without relying on a vector. Indeed, the endurance of these pathogens, many of which can survive externally for weeks or months before transmission into a new host—compared, for instance, to an average rhinovirus life span of hours—makes them among the most dangerous of all pathogens.

200510_2-RC_4_24

Which one of the following most accurately describes the organization of the passage?

Until recently, biologists were unable to explain the fact that pathogens—disease-causing parasites— have evolved to incapacitate, and often overwhelm, their hosts. Such behavior is at odds with the prevailing view of host-parasite relations—that, in general, host and parasite ultimately develop a benign coexistence. This view is based on the idea that parasites that do not harm their hosts have the best chance for long-term survival: they thrive because their hosts thrive. Some biologists, however, recently have suggested that if a pathogen reproduced so extensively as to cause its host to become gravely sick, it could still achieve evolutionary success if its replication led to a level of transmission into new hosts that exceeded the loss of pathogens resulting from the host's incapacitation. This scenario suggests that even death-causing pathogens can achieve evolutionary success. One implication of this perspective is that a pathogen's virulence—its capacity to overcome a host's defenses and incapacitate it—is a function of its mode of transmission. For example, rhinoviruses, which cause the common cold, require physical proximity for transmission to occur. If a rhinovirus reproduces so extensively in a solitary host that the host is too unwell to leave home for a day, the thousands of new rhinoviruses produced that day will die before they can be transmitted. So, because it is transmitted directly, the common cold is unlikely to disable its victims. The opposite can occur when pathogens are transported by a vector—an organism that can carry and transmit an infectious agent. If, for example, a pathogen capable of being transported by a mosquito reproduces so extensively that its human host is immobilized, it can still pass along its genes if a mosquito bites the host and transmits this dose to the next human it bites. In such circumstances the virulence is likely to be more severe, because the pathogen has reproduced to such concentration in the host that the mosquito obtains a high dose of the pathogen, increasing the level of transmission to new hosts. While medical literature generally supports the hypothesis that vector-borne pathogens tend to be more virulent than directly transmitted pathogens— witness the lethal nature of malaria, yellow fever, typhus, and sleeping sickness, all carried by biting insects—a few directly transmitted pathogens such as diphtheria and tuberculosis bacteria can be just as lethal. Scientists call these "sit and wait" pathogens, because they are able to remain alive outside their hosts until a new host comes along, without relying on a vector. Indeed, the endurance of these pathogens, many of which can survive externally for weeks or months before transmission into a new host—compared, for instance, to an average rhinovirus life span of hours—makes them among the most dangerous of all pathogens.

200510_2-RC_4_25

The passage implies that which one of the following is a reason that rhinoviruses are unlikely to be especially virulent?

Until recently, biologists were unable to explain the fact that pathogens—disease-causing parasites— have evolved to incapacitate, and often overwhelm, their hosts. Such behavior is at odds with the prevailing view of host-parasite relations—that, in general, host and parasite ultimately develop a benign coexistence. This view is based on the idea that parasites that do not harm their hosts have the best chance for long-term survival: they thrive because their hosts thrive. Some biologists, however, recently have suggested that if a pathogen reproduced so extensively as to cause its host to become gravely sick, it could still achieve evolutionary success if its replication led to a level of transmission into new hosts that exceeded the loss of pathogens resulting from the host's incapacitation. This scenario suggests that even death-causing pathogens can achieve evolutionary success. One implication of this perspective is that a pathogen's virulence—its capacity to overcome a host's defenses and incapacitate it—is a function of its mode of transmission. For example, rhinoviruses, which cause the common cold, require physical proximity for transmission to occur. If a rhinovirus reproduces so extensively in a solitary host that the host is too unwell to leave home for a day, the thousands of new rhinoviruses produced that day will die before they can be transmitted. So, because it is transmitted directly, the common cold is unlikely to disable its victims. The opposite can occur when pathogens are transported by a vector—an organism that can carry and transmit an infectious agent. If, for example, a pathogen capable of being transported by a mosquito reproduces so extensively that its human host is immobilized, it can still pass along its genes if a mosquito bites the host and transmits this dose to the next human it bites. In such circumstances the virulence is likely to be more severe, because the pathogen has reproduced to such concentration in the host that the mosquito obtains a high dose of the pathogen, increasing the level of transmission to new hosts. While medical literature generally supports the hypothesis that vector-borne pathogens tend to be more virulent than directly transmitted pathogens— witness the lethal nature of malaria, yellow fever, typhus, and sleeping sickness, all carried by biting insects—a few directly transmitted pathogens such as diphtheria and tuberculosis bacteria can be just as lethal. Scientists call these "sit and wait" pathogens, because they are able to remain alive outside their hosts until a new host comes along, without relying on a vector. Indeed, the endurance of these pathogens, many of which can survive externally for weeks or months before transmission into a new host—compared, for instance, to an average rhinovirus life span of hours—makes them among the most dangerous of all pathogens.

200510_2-RC_4_26

The primary purpose of the passage is to

One of the intriguing questions considered by anthropologists concerns the purpose our early ancestors had in first creating images of the world around them. Among these images are 25,000-year-old cave paintings made by the Aurignacians, a people who supplanted the Neanderthals in Europe and who produced the earliest known examples of representational art. Some anthropologists see these paintings as evidence that the Aurignacians had a more secure life than the Neanderthals. No one under constant threat of starvation, the reasoning goes, could afford time for luxuries such as art; moreover, the art is, in its latter stages at least, so astonishingly well-executed by almost any standard of excellence that it is highly unlikely it was produced by people who had not spent a great deal of time perfecting their skills. In other words, the high level of quality suggests that Aurignacian art was created by a distinct group of artists, who would likely have spent most of their time practicing and passing on their skills while being supported by other members of their community. Curiously, however, the paintings were usually placed in areas accessible only with extreme effort and completely unilluminated by natural light. This makes it unlikely that these representational cave paintings arose simply out of a love of beauty or pride in artistry—had aesthetic enjoyment been the sole purpose of the paintings, they would presumably have been located where they could have been easily seen and appreciated. Given that the Aurignacians were hunter-gatherers and had to cope with the practical problems of extracting a living from a difficult environment, many anthropologists hypothesize that the paintings were also intended to provide a means of ensuring a steady supply of food. Since it was common among pretechnological societies to believe that one can gain power over an animal by making an image of it, these anthropologists maintain that the Aurignacian paintings were meant to grant magical power over the Aurignacians' prey—typically large, dangerous animals such as mammoths and bison. The images were probably intended to make these animals vulnerable to the weapons of the hunters, an explanation supported by the fact that many of the pictures show animals with their hearts outlined in red, or with bright, arrow-shaped lines tracing paths to vital organs. Other paintings clearly show some animals as pregnant, perhaps in an effort to assure plentiful hunting grounds. There is also evidence that ceremonies of some sort were performed before these images. Well-worn footprints of dancers can still be discerned in the clay floors of some caves, and pictures of what appear to be shamans, or religious leaders, garbed in fantastic costumes, are found among the painted animals.

200512_3-RC_1_1

Which one of the following most accurately describes the author's position regarding the claims attributed to anthropologists in the third paragraph?

One of the intriguing questions considered by anthropologists concerns the purpose our early ancestors had in first creating images of the world around them. Among these images are 25,000-year-old cave paintings made by the Aurignacians, a people who supplanted the Neanderthals in Europe and who produced the earliest known examples of representational art. Some anthropologists see these paintings as evidence that the Aurignacians had a more secure life than the Neanderthals. No one under constant threat of starvation, the reasoning goes, could afford time for luxuries such as art; moreover, the art is, in its latter stages at least, so astonishingly well-executed by almost any standard of excellence that it is highly unlikely it was produced by people who had not spent a great deal of time perfecting their skills. In other words, the high level of quality suggests that Aurignacian art was created by a distinct group of artists, who would likely have spent most of their time practicing and passing on their skills while being supported by other members of their community. Curiously, however, the paintings were usually placed in areas accessible only with extreme effort and completely unilluminated by natural light. This makes it unlikely that these representational cave paintings arose simply out of a love of beauty or pride in artistry—had aesthetic enjoyment been the sole purpose of the paintings, they would presumably have been located where they could have been easily seen and appreciated. Given that the Aurignacians were hunter-gatherers and had to cope with the practical problems of extracting a living from a difficult environment, many anthropologists hypothesize that the paintings were also intended to provide a means of ensuring a steady supply of food. Since it was common among pretechnological societies to believe that one can gain power over an animal by making an image of it, these anthropologists maintain that the Aurignacian paintings were meant to grant magical power over the Aurignacians' prey—typically large, dangerous animals such as mammoths and bison. The images were probably intended to make these animals vulnerable to the weapons of the hunters, an explanation supported by the fact that many of the pictures show animals with their hearts outlined in red, or with bright, arrow-shaped lines tracing paths to vital organs. Other paintings clearly show some animals as pregnant, perhaps in an effort to assure plentiful hunting grounds. There is also evidence that ceremonies of some sort were performed before these images. Well-worn footprints of dancers can still be discerned in the clay floors of some caves, and pictures of what appear to be shamans, or religious leaders, garbed in fantastic costumes, are found among the painted animals.

200512_3-RC_1_2

The passage provides information that answers which one of the following questions?

One of the intriguing questions considered by anthropologists concerns the purpose our early ancestors had in first creating images of the world around them. Among these images are 25,000-year-old cave paintings made by the Aurignacians, a people who supplanted the Neanderthals in Europe and who produced the earliest known examples of representational art. Some anthropologists see these paintings as evidence that the Aurignacians had a more secure life than the Neanderthals. No one under constant threat of starvation, the reasoning goes, could afford time for luxuries such as art; moreover, the art is, in its latter stages at least, so astonishingly well-executed by almost any standard of excellence that it is highly unlikely it was produced by people who had not spent a great deal of time perfecting their skills. In other words, the high level of quality suggests that Aurignacian art was created by a distinct group of artists, who would likely have spent most of their time practicing and passing on their skills while being supported by other members of their community. Curiously, however, the paintings were usually placed in areas accessible only with extreme effort and completely unilluminated by natural light. This makes it unlikely that these representational cave paintings arose simply out of a love of beauty or pride in artistry—had aesthetic enjoyment been the sole purpose of the paintings, they would presumably have been located where they could have been easily seen and appreciated. Given that the Aurignacians were hunter-gatherers and had to cope with the practical problems of extracting a living from a difficult environment, many anthropologists hypothesize that the paintings were also intended to provide a means of ensuring a steady supply of food. Since it was common among pretechnological societies to believe that one can gain power over an animal by making an image of it, these anthropologists maintain that the Aurignacian paintings were meant to grant magical power over the Aurignacians' prey—typically large, dangerous animals such as mammoths and bison. The images were probably intended to make these animals vulnerable to the weapons of the hunters, an explanation supported by the fact that many of the pictures show animals with their hearts outlined in red, or with bright, arrow-shaped lines tracing paths to vital organs. Other paintings clearly show some animals as pregnant, perhaps in an effort to assure plentiful hunting grounds. There is also evidence that ceremonies of some sort were performed before these images. Well-worn footprints of dancers can still be discerned in the clay floors of some caves, and pictures of what appear to be shamans, or religious leaders, garbed in fantastic costumes, are found among the painted animals.

200512_3-RC_1_3

The author would be most likely to agree with which one of the following statements?

One of the intriguing questions considered by anthropologists concerns the purpose our early ancestors had in first creating images of the world around them. Among these images are 25,000-year-old cave paintings made by the Aurignacians, a people who supplanted the Neanderthals in Europe and who produced the earliest known examples of representational art. Some anthropologists see these paintings as evidence that the Aurignacians had a more secure life than the Neanderthals. No one under constant threat of starvation, the reasoning goes, could afford time for luxuries such as art; moreover, the art is, in its latter stages at least, so astonishingly well-executed by almost any standard of excellence that it is highly unlikely it was produced by people who had not spent a great deal of time perfecting their skills. In other words, the high level of quality suggests that Aurignacian art was created by a distinct group of artists, who would likely have spent most of their time practicing and passing on their skills while being supported by other members of their community. Curiously, however, the paintings were usually placed in areas accessible only with extreme effort and completely unilluminated by natural light. This makes it unlikely that these representational cave paintings arose simply out of a love of beauty or pride in artistry—had aesthetic enjoyment been the sole purpose of the paintings, they would presumably have been located where they could have been easily seen and appreciated. Given that the Aurignacians were hunter-gatherers and had to cope with the practical problems of extracting a living from a difficult environment, many anthropologists hypothesize that the paintings were also intended to provide a means of ensuring a steady supply of food. Since it was common among pretechnological societies to believe that one can gain power over an animal by making an image of it, these anthropologists maintain that the Aurignacian paintings were meant to grant magical power over the Aurignacians' prey—typically large, dangerous animals such as mammoths and bison. The images were probably intended to make these animals vulnerable to the weapons of the hunters, an explanation supported by the fact that many of the pictures show animals with their hearts outlined in red, or with bright, arrow-shaped lines tracing paths to vital organs. Other paintings clearly show some animals as pregnant, perhaps in an effort to assure plentiful hunting grounds. There is also evidence that ceremonies of some sort were performed before these images. Well-worn footprints of dancers can still be discerned in the clay floors of some caves, and pictures of what appear to be shamans, or religious leaders, garbed in fantastic costumes, are found among the painted animals.

200512_3-RC_1_4

The author mentions the relative inaccessibility of the Aurignacian cave paintings primarily to

One of the intriguing questions considered by anthropologists concerns the purpose our early ancestors had in first creating images of the world around them. Among these images are 25,000-year-old cave paintings made by the Aurignacians, a people who supplanted the Neanderthals in Europe and who produced the earliest known examples of representational art. Some anthropologists see these paintings as evidence that the Aurignacians had a more secure life than the Neanderthals. No one under constant threat of starvation, the reasoning goes, could afford time for luxuries such as art; moreover, the art is, in its latter stages at least, so astonishingly well-executed by almost any standard of excellence that it is highly unlikely it was produced by people who had not spent a great deal of time perfecting their skills. In other words, the high level of quality suggests that Aurignacian art was created by a distinct group of artists, who would likely have spent most of their time practicing and passing on their skills while being supported by other members of their community. Curiously, however, the paintings were usually placed in areas accessible only with extreme effort and completely unilluminated by natural light. This makes it unlikely that these representational cave paintings arose simply out of a love of beauty or pride in artistry—had aesthetic enjoyment been the sole purpose of the paintings, they would presumably have been located where they could have been easily seen and appreciated. Given that the Aurignacians were hunter-gatherers and had to cope with the practical problems of extracting a living from a difficult environment, many anthropologists hypothesize that the paintings were also intended to provide a means of ensuring a steady supply of food. Since it was common among pretechnological societies to believe that one can gain power over an animal by making an image of it, these anthropologists maintain that the Aurignacian paintings were meant to grant magical power over the Aurignacians' prey—typically large, dangerous animals such as mammoths and bison. The images were probably intended to make these animals vulnerable to the weapons of the hunters, an explanation supported by the fact that many of the pictures show animals with their hearts outlined in red, or with bright, arrow-shaped lines tracing paths to vital organs. Other paintings clearly show some animals as pregnant, perhaps in an effort to assure plentiful hunting grounds. There is also evidence that ceremonies of some sort were performed before these images. Well-worn footprints of dancers can still be discerned in the clay floors of some caves, and pictures of what appear to be shamans, or religious leaders, garbed in fantastic costumes, are found among the painted animals.

200512_3-RC_1_5

The passage suggests that the author would be most likely to agree with which one of the following claims about the Aurignacians?

The poet Louise Glück has said that she feels comfortable writing within a tradition often characterized as belonging only to male poets. About her own experience reading poetry, Glück notes that her gender did not keep her from appreciating the poems of Shakespeare, Blake, Keats, and other male poets. Rather she believed this was the tradition of her language and that it was for this reason her poetic inheritance. She thus views the canon of poets in English as a literary family to which she clearly belongs. Whereas many contemporary women poets have rejected this tradition as historically exclusionary and rhetorically inadequate for women, Glück embraces it with respect and admiration. Glück's formative encounters with poetry also provided her with the theoretical underpinnings of her respect for this tradition; she notes that in her youth she could sense many of the great themes and subjects of poetry even before experiencing them in her own life. These subjects—loss, the passage of time, desire—are timeless, available to readers of any age, gender, or social background. Glück makes no distinction between these subjects as belonging to female or male poets alone, calling them "the great human subjects." If the aim of a poem is to explore the issue of human mortality, for example, then issues of gender distinction fade behind the presence of this universal reality. Some of Glück's critics claim that this idea of the universal is suspect and that the idea that gender issues are transcended by addressing certain subjects may attribute to poetry an innocence that it does not have. They maintain that a female poet writing within a historically male-dominated tradition will on some level be unable to avoid accepting certain presuppositions, which, in the critics' view, are determined by a long-standing history of denigration and exclusion of female artists. Furthermore, they feel that this long-standing history cannot be confronted using tools—in Glück's case, poetic forms—forged by the traditions of this history. Instead critics insist that women poets should strive to create a uniquely female poetry by using new forms to develop a new voice. Glück, however, observes that this ambition, with its insistence on an essentially female perspective, is as limiting as her critics believe the historically male-dominated tradition to be. She holds that to the extent that there are some gender differences that have been shaped by history, they will emerge in the differing ways that women and men write about the world— indeed, these differences will be revealed with more authority in the absence of conscious intention. She points out that the universal subjects of literature do not make literature itself timeless and unchanging. Literature, she maintains, is inescapably historical, and every work, both in what it includes and in what it omits, inevitably speaks of its social and historical context.

200512_3-RC_2_6

Which one of the following most accurately expresses the main point of the passage?

The poet Louise Glück has said that she feels comfortable writing within a tradition often characterized as belonging only to male poets. About her own experience reading poetry, Glück notes that her gender did not keep her from appreciating the poems of Shakespeare, Blake, Keats, and other male poets. Rather she believed this was the tradition of her language and that it was for this reason her poetic inheritance. She thus views the canon of poets in English as a literary family to which she clearly belongs. Whereas many contemporary women poets have rejected this tradition as historically exclusionary and rhetorically inadequate for women, Glück embraces it with respect and admiration. Glück's formative encounters with poetry also provided her with the theoretical underpinnings of her respect for this tradition; she notes that in her youth she could sense many of the great themes and subjects of poetry even before experiencing them in her own life. These subjects—loss, the passage of time, desire—are timeless, available to readers of any age, gender, or social background. Glück makes no distinction between these subjects as belonging to female or male poets alone, calling them "the great human subjects." If the aim of a poem is to explore the issue of human mortality, for example, then issues of gender distinction fade behind the presence of this universal reality. Some of Glück's critics claim that this idea of the universal is suspect and that the idea that gender issues are transcended by addressing certain subjects may attribute to poetry an innocence that it does not have. They maintain that a female poet writing within a historically male-dominated tradition will on some level be unable to avoid accepting certain presuppositions, which, in the critics' view, are determined by a long-standing history of denigration and exclusion of female artists. Furthermore, they feel that this long-standing history cannot be confronted using tools—in Glück's case, poetic forms—forged by the traditions of this history. Instead critics insist that women poets should strive to create a uniquely female poetry by using new forms to develop a new voice. Glück, however, observes that this ambition, with its insistence on an essentially female perspective, is as limiting as her critics believe the historically male-dominated tradition to be. She holds that to the extent that there are some gender differences that have been shaped by history, they will emerge in the differing ways that women and men write about the world— indeed, these differences will be revealed with more authority in the absence of conscious intention. She points out that the universal subjects of literature do not make literature itself timeless and unchanging. Literature, she maintains, is inescapably historical, and every work, both in what it includes and in what it omits, inevitably speaks of its social and historical context.

200512_3-RC_2_7

Based on the passage, with which one of the following statements regarding the poetic tradition in English would Glück be most likely to agree?

The poet Louise Glück has said that she feels comfortable writing within a tradition often characterized as belonging only to male poets. About her own experience reading poetry, Glück notes that her gender did not keep her from appreciating the poems of Shakespeare, Blake, Keats, and other male poets. Rather she believed this was the tradition of her language and that it was for this reason her poetic inheritance. She thus views the canon of poets in English as a literary family to which she clearly belongs. Whereas many contemporary women poets have rejected this tradition as historically exclusionary and rhetorically inadequate for women, Glück embraces it with respect and admiration. Glück's formative encounters with poetry also provided her with the theoretical underpinnings of her respect for this tradition; she notes that in her youth she could sense many of the great themes and subjects of poetry even before experiencing them in her own life. These subjects—loss, the passage of time, desire—are timeless, available to readers of any age, gender, or social background. Glück makes no distinction between these subjects as belonging to female or male poets alone, calling them "the great human subjects." If the aim of a poem is to explore the issue of human mortality, for example, then issues of gender distinction fade behind the presence of this universal reality. Some of Glück's critics claim that this idea of the universal is suspect and that the idea that gender issues are transcended by addressing certain subjects may attribute to poetry an innocence that it does not have. They maintain that a female poet writing within a historically male-dominated tradition will on some level be unable to avoid accepting certain presuppositions, which, in the critics' view, are determined by a long-standing history of denigration and exclusion of female artists. Furthermore, they feel that this long-standing history cannot be confronted using tools—in Glück's case, poetic forms—forged by the traditions of this history. Instead critics insist that women poets should strive to create a uniquely female poetry by using new forms to develop a new voice. Glück, however, observes that this ambition, with its insistence on an essentially female perspective, is as limiting as her critics believe the historically male-dominated tradition to be. She holds that to the extent that there are some gender differences that have been shaped by history, they will emerge in the differing ways that women and men write about the world— indeed, these differences will be revealed with more authority in the absence of conscious intention. She points out that the universal subjects of literature do not make literature itself timeless and unchanging. Literature, she maintains, is inescapably historical, and every work, both in what it includes and in what it omits, inevitably speaks of its social and historical context.

200512_3-RC_2_8

As it is used in the passage, "inheritance" (line 9) refers most specifically to

The poet Louise Glück has said that she feels comfortable writing within a tradition often characterized as belonging only to male poets. About her own experience reading poetry, Glück notes that her gender did not keep her from appreciating the poems of Shakespeare, Blake, Keats, and other male poets. Rather she believed this was the tradition of her language and that it was for this reason her poetic inheritance. She thus views the canon of poets in English as a literary family to which she clearly belongs. Whereas many contemporary women poets have rejected this tradition as historically exclusionary and rhetorically inadequate for women, Glück embraces it with respect and admiration. Glück's formative encounters with poetry also provided her with the theoretical underpinnings of her respect for this tradition; she notes that in her youth she could sense many of the great themes and subjects of poetry even before experiencing them in her own life. These subjects—loss, the passage of time, desire—are timeless, available to readers of any age, gender, or social background. Glück makes no distinction between these subjects as belonging to female or male poets alone, calling them "the great human subjects." If the aim of a poem is to explore the issue of human mortality, for example, then issues of gender distinction fade behind the presence of this universal reality. Some of Glück's critics claim that this idea of the universal is suspect and that the idea that gender issues are transcended by addressing certain subjects may attribute to poetry an innocence that it does not have. They maintain that a female poet writing within a historically male-dominated tradition will on some level be unable to avoid accepting certain presuppositions, which, in the critics' view, are determined by a long-standing history of denigration and exclusion of female artists. Furthermore, they feel that this long-standing history cannot be confronted using tools—in Glück's case, poetic forms—forged by the traditions of this history. Instead critics insist that women poets should strive to create a uniquely female poetry by using new forms to develop a new voice. Glück, however, observes that this ambition, with its insistence on an essentially female perspective, is as limiting as her critics believe the historically male-dominated tradition to be. She holds that to the extent that there are some gender differences that have been shaped by history, they will emerge in the differing ways that women and men write about the world— indeed, these differences will be revealed with more authority in the absence of conscious intention. She points out that the universal subjects of literature do not make literature itself timeless and unchanging. Literature, she maintains, is inescapably historical, and every work, both in what it includes and in what it omits, inevitably speaks of its social and historical context.

200512_3-RC_2_9

Based on the description in the passage, a poem that reveals gender differences in the absence of any specific intention by the poet to do so is most like

The poet Louise Glück has said that she feels comfortable writing within a tradition often characterized as belonging only to male poets. About her own experience reading poetry, Glück notes that her gender did not keep her from appreciating the poems of Shakespeare, Blake, Keats, and other male poets. Rather she believed this was the tradition of her language and that it was for this reason her poetic inheritance. She thus views the canon of poets in English as a literary family to which she clearly belongs. Whereas many contemporary women poets have rejected this tradition as historically exclusionary and rhetorically inadequate for women, Glück embraces it with respect and admiration. Glück's formative encounters with poetry also provided her with the theoretical underpinnings of her respect for this tradition; she notes that in her youth she could sense many of the great themes and subjects of poetry even before experiencing them in her own life. These subjects—loss, the passage of time, desire—are timeless, available to readers of any age, gender, or social background. Glück makes no distinction between these subjects as belonging to female or male poets alone, calling them "the great human subjects." If the aim of a poem is to explore the issue of human mortality, for example, then issues of gender distinction fade behind the presence of this universal reality. Some of Glück's critics claim that this idea of the universal is suspect and that the idea that gender issues are transcended by addressing certain subjects may attribute to poetry an innocence that it does not have. They maintain that a female poet writing within a historically male-dominated tradition will on some level be unable to avoid accepting certain presuppositions, which, in the critics' view, are determined by a long-standing history of denigration and exclusion of female artists. Furthermore, they feel that this long-standing history cannot be confronted using tools—in Glück's case, poetic forms—forged by the traditions of this history. Instead critics insist that women poets should strive to create a uniquely female poetry by using new forms to develop a new voice. Glück, however, observes that this ambition, with its insistence on an essentially female perspective, is as limiting as her critics believe the historically male-dominated tradition to be. She holds that to the extent that there are some gender differences that have been shaped by history, they will emerge in the differing ways that women and men write about the world— indeed, these differences will be revealed with more authority in the absence of conscious intention. She points out that the universal subjects of literature do not make literature itself timeless and unchanging. Literature, she maintains, is inescapably historical, and every work, both in what it includes and in what it omits, inevitably speaks of its social and historical context.

200512_3-RC_2_10

According to the passage, Glück believes that art reveals gender differences with more authority when which one of the following is true?

The poet Louise Glück has said that she feels comfortable writing within a tradition often characterized as belonging only to male poets. About her own experience reading poetry, Glück notes that her gender did not keep her from appreciating the poems of Shakespeare, Blake, Keats, and other male poets. Rather she believed this was the tradition of her language and that it was for this reason her poetic inheritance. She thus views the canon of poets in English as a literary family to which she clearly belongs. Whereas many contemporary women poets have rejected this tradition as historically exclusionary and rhetorically inadequate for women, Glück embraces it with respect and admiration. Glück's formative encounters with poetry also provided her with the theoretical underpinnings of her respect for this tradition; she notes that in her youth she could sense many of the great themes and subjects of poetry even before experiencing them in her own life. These subjects—loss, the passage of time, desire—are timeless, available to readers of any age, gender, or social background. Glück makes no distinction between these subjects as belonging to female or male poets alone, calling them "the great human subjects." If the aim of a poem is to explore the issue of human mortality, for example, then issues of gender distinction fade behind the presence of this universal reality. Some of Glück's critics claim that this idea of the universal is suspect and that the idea that gender issues are transcended by addressing certain subjects may attribute to poetry an innocence that it does not have. They maintain that a female poet writing within a historically male-dominated tradition will on some level be unable to avoid accepting certain presuppositions, which, in the critics' view, are determined by a long-standing history of denigration and exclusion of female artists. Furthermore, they feel that this long-standing history cannot be confronted using tools—in Glück's case, poetic forms—forged by the traditions of this history. Instead critics insist that women poets should strive to create a uniquely female poetry by using new forms to develop a new voice. Glück, however, observes that this ambition, with its insistence on an essentially female perspective, is as limiting as her critics believe the historically male-dominated tradition to be. She holds that to the extent that there are some gender differences that have been shaped by history, they will emerge in the differing ways that women and men write about the world— indeed, these differences will be revealed with more authority in the absence of conscious intention. She points out that the universal subjects of literature do not make literature itself timeless and unchanging. Literature, she maintains, is inescapably historical, and every work, both in what it includes and in what it omits, inevitably speaks of its social and historical context.

200512_3-RC_2_11

Which one of the following statements about Glück is made in the passage?

The poet Louise Glück has said that she feels comfortable writing within a tradition often characterized as belonging only to male poets. About her own experience reading poetry, Glück notes that her gender did not keep her from appreciating the poems of Shakespeare, Blake, Keats, and other male poets. Rather she believed this was the tradition of her language and that it was for this reason her poetic inheritance. She thus views the canon of poets in English as a literary family to which she clearly belongs. Whereas many contemporary women poets have rejected this tradition as historically exclusionary and rhetorically inadequate for women, Glück embraces it with respect and admiration. Glück's formative encounters with poetry also provided her with the theoretical underpinnings of her respect for this tradition; she notes that in her youth she could sense many of the great themes and subjects of poetry even before experiencing them in her own life. These subjects—loss, the passage of time, desire—are timeless, available to readers of any age, gender, or social background. Glück makes no distinction between these subjects as belonging to female or male poets alone, calling them "the great human subjects." If the aim of a poem is to explore the issue of human mortality, for example, then issues of gender distinction fade behind the presence of this universal reality. Some of Glück's critics claim that this idea of the universal is suspect and that the idea that gender issues are transcended by addressing certain subjects may attribute to poetry an innocence that it does not have. They maintain that a female poet writing within a historically male-dominated tradition will on some level be unable to avoid accepting certain presuppositions, which, in the critics' view, are determined by a long-standing history of denigration and exclusion of female artists. Furthermore, they feel that this long-standing history cannot be confronted using tools—in Glück's case, poetic forms—forged by the traditions of this history. Instead critics insist that women poets should strive to create a uniquely female poetry by using new forms to develop a new voice. Glück, however, observes that this ambition, with its insistence on an essentially female perspective, is as limiting as her critics believe the historically male-dominated tradition to be. She holds that to the extent that there are some gender differences that have been shaped by history, they will emerge in the differing ways that women and men write about the world— indeed, these differences will be revealed with more authority in the absence of conscious intention. She points out that the universal subjects of literature do not make literature itself timeless and unchanging. Literature, she maintains, is inescapably historical, and every work, both in what it includes and in what it omits, inevitably speaks of its social and historical context.

200512_3-RC_2_12

Based on the passage, which one of the following most accurately characterizes the author's attitude toward Glück's view of poetry?

Although the rights of native peoples of Canada have yet to be comprehensively defined in Canadian law, most native Canadians assert that their rights include the right not only to govern themselves and their land, but also to exercise ownership rights over movable cultural property—artifacts ranging from domestic implements to ceremonial costumes. Assignment of such rights to native communities has been difficult to achieve, but while traditional Canadian statute and common law has placed ownership of movable property with current custodians such as museums, recent litigation by native Canadians has called such ownership into question. Canadian courts usually base decisions about ownership on a concept of private property, under which all forms of property are capable of being owned by individuals or by groups functioning legally as individuals. This system is based on a philosophy that encourages the right of owners to use their property as they see fit without outside interference. But litigation by native Canadians challenges courts to recognize a concept of property ownership that clashes with the private property concept. Although some tribes now recognize the notion of private property in their legal systems, they have traditionally employed a concept of collective ownership—and in all cases in which native Canadians have made legal claim to movable property they have done so by invoking this latter concept, which is based on the philosophy that each member should have an equal say regarding the use of the community's resources. Under this collective ideology, access to and use of resources is determined by the collective interests of the community. Furthermore, collective ownership casts an individual in the role of guardian or caretaker of property rather than as a titleholder; while every tribe member is an owner of the property, individual members cannot sell this right, nor does it pass to their heirs when they die. Nevertheless, their children will enjoy the same rights, not as heirs but as communal owners. Because the concept of collective property assigns ownership to individuals simply because they are members of the community, native Canadians rarely possess the legal documents that the concept of private property requires to demonstrate ownership. Museums, which are likely to possess bills of sale or proof of prior possession to substantiate their claims of ownership, are thus likely to be recognized as legally entitled to the property they hold, even when such property originated with native Canadian communities. But as their awareness of the inappropriateness of applying the private property concept to all cultural groups grows, Canadian courts will gradually recognize that native Canadians, while they cannot demonstrate ownership as prescribed by the notion of private property, can clearly claim ownership as prescribed by the notion of collective property, and that their claims to movable cultural property should be honored.

200512_3-RC_3_13

Which one of the following most accurately expresses the main idea of the passage?

Although the rights of native peoples of Canada have yet to be comprehensively defined in Canadian law, most native Canadians assert that their rights include the right not only to govern themselves and their land, but also to exercise ownership rights over movable cultural property—artifacts ranging from domestic implements to ceremonial costumes. Assignment of such rights to native communities has been difficult to achieve, but while traditional Canadian statute and common law has placed ownership of movable property with current custodians such as museums, recent litigation by native Canadians has called such ownership into question. Canadian courts usually base decisions about ownership on a concept of private property, under which all forms of property are capable of being owned by individuals or by groups functioning legally as individuals. This system is based on a philosophy that encourages the right of owners to use their property as they see fit without outside interference. But litigation by native Canadians challenges courts to recognize a concept of property ownership that clashes with the private property concept. Although some tribes now recognize the notion of private property in their legal systems, they have traditionally employed a concept of collective ownership—and in all cases in which native Canadians have made legal claim to movable property they have done so by invoking this latter concept, which is based on the philosophy that each member should have an equal say regarding the use of the community's resources. Under this collective ideology, access to and use of resources is determined by the collective interests of the community. Furthermore, collective ownership casts an individual in the role of guardian or caretaker of property rather than as a titleholder; while every tribe member is an owner of the property, individual members cannot sell this right, nor does it pass to their heirs when they die. Nevertheless, their children will enjoy the same rights, not as heirs but as communal owners. Because the concept of collective property assigns ownership to individuals simply because they are members of the community, native Canadians rarely possess the legal documents that the concept of private property requires to demonstrate ownership. Museums, which are likely to possess bills of sale or proof of prior possession to substantiate their claims of ownership, are thus likely to be recognized as legally entitled to the property they hold, even when such property originated with native Canadian communities. But as their awareness of the inappropriateness of applying the private property concept to all cultural groups grows, Canadian courts will gradually recognize that native Canadians, while they cannot demonstrate ownership as prescribed by the notion of private property, can clearly claim ownership as prescribed by the notion of collective property, and that their claims to movable cultural property should be honored.

200512_3-RC_3_14

According to the concept of private property as presented in the passage, which one of the following most completely describes the meaning of the term "property owner" ?

Although the rights of native peoples of Canada have yet to be comprehensively defined in Canadian law, most native Canadians assert that their rights include the right not only to govern themselves and their land, but also to exercise ownership rights over movable cultural property—artifacts ranging from domestic implements to ceremonial costumes. Assignment of such rights to native communities has been difficult to achieve, but while traditional Canadian statute and common law has placed ownership of movable property with current custodians such as museums, recent litigation by native Canadians has called such ownership into question. Canadian courts usually base decisions about ownership on a concept of private property, under which all forms of property are capable of being owned by individuals or by groups functioning legally as individuals. This system is based on a philosophy that encourages the right of owners to use their property as they see fit without outside interference. But litigation by native Canadians challenges courts to recognize a concept of property ownership that clashes with the private property concept. Although some tribes now recognize the notion of private property in their legal systems, they have traditionally employed a concept of collective ownership—and in all cases in which native Canadians have made legal claim to movable property they have done so by invoking this latter concept, which is based on the philosophy that each member should have an equal say regarding the use of the community's resources. Under this collective ideology, access to and use of resources is determined by the collective interests of the community. Furthermore, collective ownership casts an individual in the role of guardian or caretaker of property rather than as a titleholder; while every tribe member is an owner of the property, individual members cannot sell this right, nor does it pass to their heirs when they die. Nevertheless, their children will enjoy the same rights, not as heirs but as communal owners. Because the concept of collective property assigns ownership to individuals simply because they are members of the community, native Canadians rarely possess the legal documents that the concept of private property requires to demonstrate ownership. Museums, which are likely to possess bills of sale or proof of prior possession to substantiate their claims of ownership, are thus likely to be recognized as legally entitled to the property they hold, even when such property originated with native Canadian communities. But as their awareness of the inappropriateness of applying the private property concept to all cultural groups grows, Canadian courts will gradually recognize that native Canadians, while they cannot demonstrate ownership as prescribed by the notion of private property, can clearly claim ownership as prescribed by the notion of collective property, and that their claims to movable cultural property should be honored.

200512_3-RC_3_15

The author's attitude toward the possibility of courts increasingly assigning ownership rights to native communities is best described as which one of the following?

Although the rights of native peoples of Canada have yet to be comprehensively defined in Canadian law, most native Canadians assert that their rights include the right not only to govern themselves and their land, but also to exercise ownership rights over movable cultural property—artifacts ranging from domestic implements to ceremonial costumes. Assignment of such rights to native communities has been difficult to achieve, but while traditional Canadian statute and common law has placed ownership of movable property with current custodians such as museums, recent litigation by native Canadians has called such ownership into question. Canadian courts usually base decisions about ownership on a concept of private property, under which all forms of property are capable of being owned by individuals or by groups functioning legally as individuals. This system is based on a philosophy that encourages the right of owners to use their property as they see fit without outside interference. But litigation by native Canadians challenges courts to recognize a concept of property ownership that clashes with the private property concept. Although some tribes now recognize the notion of private property in their legal systems, they have traditionally employed a concept of collective ownership—and in all cases in which native Canadians have made legal claim to movable property they have done so by invoking this latter concept, which is based on the philosophy that each member should have an equal say regarding the use of the community's resources. Under this collective ideology, access to and use of resources is determined by the collective interests of the community. Furthermore, collective ownership casts an individual in the role of guardian or caretaker of property rather than as a titleholder; while every tribe member is an owner of the property, individual members cannot sell this right, nor does it pass to their heirs when they die. Nevertheless, their children will enjoy the same rights, not as heirs but as communal owners. Because the concept of collective property assigns ownership to individuals simply because they are members of the community, native Canadians rarely possess the legal documents that the concept of private property requires to demonstrate ownership. Museums, which are likely to possess bills of sale or proof of prior possession to substantiate their claims of ownership, are thus likely to be recognized as legally entitled to the property they hold, even when such property originated with native Canadian communities. But as their awareness of the inappropriateness of applying the private property concept to all cultural groups grows, Canadian courts will gradually recognize that native Canadians, while they cannot demonstrate ownership as prescribed by the notion of private property, can clearly claim ownership as prescribed by the notion of collective property, and that their claims to movable cultural property should be honored.

200512_3-RC_3_16

The primary function of the first paragraph of the passage is to

Although the rights of native peoples of Canada have yet to be comprehensively defined in Canadian law, most native Canadians assert that their rights include the right not only to govern themselves and their land, but also to exercise ownership rights over movable cultural property—artifacts ranging from domestic implements to ceremonial costumes. Assignment of such rights to native communities has been difficult to achieve, but while traditional Canadian statute and common law has placed ownership of movable property with current custodians such as museums, recent litigation by native Canadians has called such ownership into question. Canadian courts usually base decisions about ownership on a concept of private property, under which all forms of property are capable of being owned by individuals or by groups functioning legally as individuals. This system is based on a philosophy that encourages the right of owners to use their property as they see fit without outside interference. But litigation by native Canadians challenges courts to recognize a concept of property ownership that clashes with the private property concept. Although some tribes now recognize the notion of private property in their legal systems, they have traditionally employed a concept of collective ownership—and in all cases in which native Canadians have made legal claim to movable property they have done so by invoking this latter concept, which is based on the philosophy that each member should have an equal say regarding the use of the community's resources. Under this collective ideology, access to and use of resources is determined by the collective interests of the community. Furthermore, collective ownership casts an individual in the role of guardian or caretaker of property rather than as a titleholder; while every tribe member is an owner of the property, individual members cannot sell this right, nor does it pass to their heirs when they die. Nevertheless, their children will enjoy the same rights, not as heirs but as communal owners. Because the concept of collective property assigns ownership to individuals simply because they are members of the community, native Canadians rarely possess the legal documents that the concept of private property requires to demonstrate ownership. Museums, which are likely to possess bills of sale or proof of prior possession to substantiate their claims of ownership, are thus likely to be recognized as legally entitled to the property they hold, even when such property originated with native Canadian communities. But as their awareness of the inappropriateness of applying the private property concept to all cultural groups grows, Canadian courts will gradually recognize that native Canadians, while they cannot demonstrate ownership as prescribed by the notion of private property, can clearly claim ownership as prescribed by the notion of collective property, and that their claims to movable cultural property should be honored.

200512_3-RC_3_17

Given the information in the passage, Canadian courts hearing a dispute over movable cultural property between a museum and a group of native Canadians will be increasingly unlikely to treat which one of the following as a compelling reason for deciding the case in the museum's favor?

Although the rights of native peoples of Canada have yet to be comprehensively defined in Canadian law, most native Canadians assert that their rights include the right not only to govern themselves and their land, but also to exercise ownership rights over movable cultural property—artifacts ranging from domestic implements to ceremonial costumes. Assignment of such rights to native communities has been difficult to achieve, but while traditional Canadian statute and common law has placed ownership of movable property with current custodians such as museums, recent litigation by native Canadians has called such ownership into question. Canadian courts usually base decisions about ownership on a concept of private property, under which all forms of property are capable of being owned by individuals or by groups functioning legally as individuals. This system is based on a philosophy that encourages the right of owners to use their property as they see fit without outside interference. But litigation by native Canadians challenges courts to recognize a concept of property ownership that clashes with the private property concept. Although some tribes now recognize the notion of private property in their legal systems, they have traditionally employed a concept of collective ownership—and in all cases in which native Canadians have made legal claim to movable property they have done so by invoking this latter concept, which is based on the philosophy that each member should have an equal say regarding the use of the community's resources. Under this collective ideology, access to and use of resources is determined by the collective interests of the community. Furthermore, collective ownership casts an individual in the role of guardian or caretaker of property rather than as a titleholder; while every tribe member is an owner of the property, individual members cannot sell this right, nor does it pass to their heirs when they die. Nevertheless, their children will enjoy the same rights, not as heirs but as communal owners. Because the concept of collective property assigns ownership to individuals simply because they are members of the community, native Canadians rarely possess the legal documents that the concept of private property requires to demonstrate ownership. Museums, which are likely to possess bills of sale or proof of prior possession to substantiate their claims of ownership, are thus likely to be recognized as legally entitled to the property they hold, even when such property originated with native Canadian communities. But as their awareness of the inappropriateness of applying the private property concept to all cultural groups grows, Canadian courts will gradually recognize that native Canadians, while they cannot demonstrate ownership as prescribed by the notion of private property, can clearly claim ownership as prescribed by the notion of collective property, and that their claims to movable cultural property should be honored.

200512_3-RC_3_18

The passage suggests that the concepts of collective and private ownership differ in each of the following ways EXCEPT:

Although the rights of native peoples of Canada have yet to be comprehensively defined in Canadian law, most native Canadians assert that their rights include the right not only to govern themselves and their land, but also to exercise ownership rights over movable cultural property—artifacts ranging from domestic implements to ceremonial costumes. Assignment of such rights to native communities has been difficult to achieve, but while traditional Canadian statute and common law has placed ownership of movable property with current custodians such as museums, recent litigation by native Canadians has called such ownership into question. Canadian courts usually base decisions about ownership on a concept of private property, under which all forms of property are capable of being owned by individuals or by groups functioning legally as individuals. This system is based on a philosophy that encourages the right of owners to use their property as they see fit without outside interference. But litigation by native Canadians challenges courts to recognize a concept of property ownership that clashes with the private property concept. Although some tribes now recognize the notion of private property in their legal systems, they have traditionally employed a concept of collective ownership—and in all cases in which native Canadians have made legal claim to movable property they have done so by invoking this latter concept, which is based on the philosophy that each member should have an equal say regarding the use of the community's resources. Under this collective ideology, access to and use of resources is determined by the collective interests of the community. Furthermore, collective ownership casts an individual in the role of guardian or caretaker of property rather than as a titleholder; while every tribe member is an owner of the property, individual members cannot sell this right, nor does it pass to their heirs when they die. Nevertheless, their children will enjoy the same rights, not as heirs but as communal owners. Because the concept of collective property assigns ownership to individuals simply because they are members of the community, native Canadians rarely possess the legal documents that the concept of private property requires to demonstrate ownership. Museums, which are likely to possess bills of sale or proof of prior possession to substantiate their claims of ownership, are thus likely to be recognized as legally entitled to the property they hold, even when such property originated with native Canadian communities. But as their awareness of the inappropriateness of applying the private property concept to all cultural groups grows, Canadian courts will gradually recognize that native Canadians, while they cannot demonstrate ownership as prescribed by the notion of private property, can clearly claim ownership as prescribed by the notion of collective property, and that their claims to movable cultural property should be honored.

200512_3-RC_3_19

The passage most supports which one of the following statements about the tribal legal systems mentioned in the second paragraph of the passage?

The first thing any embryo must do before it can develop into an organism is establish early polarity— that is, it must set up a way to distinguish its top from its bottom and its back from its front. The mechanisms that establish the earliest spatial configurations in an embryo are far less similar across life forms than those relied on for later development, as in the formation of limbs or a nervous system: for example, the signals that the developing fruit fly uses to know its front end from its back end turn out to be radically different from those that the nematode, a type of worm, relies on, and both appear to be quite different from the polarity signals in the development of humans and other mammals. In the fruit fly, polarity is established by signals inscribed in the yolklike cytoplasm of the egg before fertilization, so that when the sperm contributes its genetic material, everything is already set to go. Given all the positional information that must be distributed throughout the cell, it takes a fruit fly a week to make an egg, but once that well-appointed egg is fertilized, it is transformed from a single cell into a crawling larva in a day. By contrast, in the embryonic development of certain nematodes, the point where the sperm enters the egg appears to provide crucial positional information. Once that information is present, little bundles of proteins called p-granules, initially distributed uniformly throughout the cytoplasm, begin to congregate at one end of the yolk; when the fertilized egg divides, one of the resulting cells gets all the p-granules. The presence or absence of these granules in cells appears to help determine whether their subsequent divisions will lead to the formation of the worm's front or back half. A similar sperm-driven mechanism is also thought to establish body orientation in some comparatively simple vertebrates such as frogs, though apparently not in more complex vertebrates such as mammals. Research indicates that in human and other mammalian embryos, polarity develops much later, as many stages of cell division occur with no apparent asymmetries among cells. Yet how polarity is established in mammals is currently a tempting mystery to researchers. Once an embryo establishes polarity, it relies on sets of essential genes that are remarkably similar among all life forms for elaboration of its parts. There is an astonishing conservation of mechanism in this process: the genes that help make eyes in flies are similar to the genes that make eyes in mice or humans. So a seeming paradox arises: when embryos of different species are at the one- or few-cell stage and still appear almost identical, the mechanisms of development they use are vastly different; yet when they start growing brains or extremities and become identifiable as distinct species, the developmental mechanisms they use are remarkably similar.

200512_3-RC_4_20

Which one of the following most accurately expresses the main point of the passage?

The first thing any embryo must do before it can develop into an organism is establish early polarity— that is, it must set up a way to distinguish its top from its bottom and its back from its front. The mechanisms that establish the earliest spatial configurations in an embryo are far less similar across life forms than those relied on for later development, as in the formation of limbs or a nervous system: for example, the signals that the developing fruit fly uses to know its front end from its back end turn out to be radically different from those that the nematode, a type of worm, relies on, and both appear to be quite different from the polarity signals in the development of humans and other mammals. In the fruit fly, polarity is established by signals inscribed in the yolklike cytoplasm of the egg before fertilization, so that when the sperm contributes its genetic material, everything is already set to go. Given all the positional information that must be distributed throughout the cell, it takes a fruit fly a week to make an egg, but once that well-appointed egg is fertilized, it is transformed from a single cell into a crawling larva in a day. By contrast, in the embryonic development of certain nematodes, the point where the sperm enters the egg appears to provide crucial positional information. Once that information is present, little bundles of proteins called p-granules, initially distributed uniformly throughout the cytoplasm, begin to congregate at one end of the yolk; when the fertilized egg divides, one of the resulting cells gets all the p-granules. The presence or absence of these granules in cells appears to help determine whether their subsequent divisions will lead to the formation of the worm's front or back half. A similar sperm-driven mechanism is also thought to establish body orientation in some comparatively simple vertebrates such as frogs, though apparently not in more complex vertebrates such as mammals. Research indicates that in human and other mammalian embryos, polarity develops much later, as many stages of cell division occur with no apparent asymmetries among cells. Yet how polarity is established in mammals is currently a tempting mystery to researchers. Once an embryo establishes polarity, it relies on sets of essential genes that are remarkably similar among all life forms for elaboration of its parts. There is an astonishing conservation of mechanism in this process: the genes that help make eyes in flies are similar to the genes that make eyes in mice or humans. So a seeming paradox arises: when embryos of different species are at the one- or few-cell stage and still appear almost identical, the mechanisms of development they use are vastly different; yet when they start growing brains or extremities and become identifiable as distinct species, the developmental mechanisms they use are remarkably similar.

200512_3-RC_4_21

The passage suggests that the author would be most likely to agree with which one of the following statements?

The first thing any embryo must do before it can develop into an organism is establish early polarity— that is, it must set up a way to distinguish its top from its bottom and its back from its front. The mechanisms that establish the earliest spatial configurations in an embryo are far less similar across life forms than those relied on for later development, as in the formation of limbs or a nervous system: for example, the signals that the developing fruit fly uses to know its front end from its back end turn out to be radically different from those that the nematode, a type of worm, relies on, and both appear to be quite different from the polarity signals in the development of humans and other mammals. In the fruit fly, polarity is established by signals inscribed in the yolklike cytoplasm of the egg before fertilization, so that when the sperm contributes its genetic material, everything is already set to go. Given all the positional information that must be distributed throughout the cell, it takes a fruit fly a week to make an egg, but once that well-appointed egg is fertilized, it is transformed from a single cell into a crawling larva in a day. By contrast, in the embryonic development of certain nematodes, the point where the sperm enters the egg appears to provide crucial positional information. Once that information is present, little bundles of proteins called p-granules, initially distributed uniformly throughout the cytoplasm, begin to congregate at one end of the yolk; when the fertilized egg divides, one of the resulting cells gets all the p-granules. The presence or absence of these granules in cells appears to help determine whether their subsequent divisions will lead to the formation of the worm's front or back half. A similar sperm-driven mechanism is also thought to establish body orientation in some comparatively simple vertebrates such as frogs, though apparently not in more complex vertebrates such as mammals. Research indicates that in human and other mammalian embryos, polarity develops much later, as many stages of cell division occur with no apparent asymmetries among cells. Yet how polarity is established in mammals is currently a tempting mystery to researchers. Once an embryo establishes polarity, it relies on sets of essential genes that are remarkably similar among all life forms for elaboration of its parts. There is an astonishing conservation of mechanism in this process: the genes that help make eyes in flies are similar to the genes that make eyes in mice or humans. So a seeming paradox arises: when embryos of different species are at the one- or few-cell stage and still appear almost identical, the mechanisms of development they use are vastly different; yet when they start growing brains or extremities and become identifiable as distinct species, the developmental mechanisms they use are remarkably similar.

200512_3-RC_4_22

The passage provides information to suggest that which one of the following relationships exists between the development of humans and the development of fruit flies?

The first thing any embryo must do before it can develop into an organism is establish early polarity— that is, it must set up a way to distinguish its top from its bottom and its back from its front. The mechanisms that establish the earliest spatial configurations in an embryo are far less similar across life forms than those relied on for later development, as in the formation of limbs or a nervous system: for example, the signals that the developing fruit fly uses to know its front end from its back end turn out to be radically different from those that the nematode, a type of worm, relies on, and both appear to be quite different from the polarity signals in the development of humans and other mammals. In the fruit fly, polarity is established by signals inscribed in the yolklike cytoplasm of the egg before fertilization, so that when the sperm contributes its genetic material, everything is already set to go. Given all the positional information that must be distributed throughout the cell, it takes a fruit fly a week to make an egg, but once that well-appointed egg is fertilized, it is transformed from a single cell into a crawling larva in a day. By contrast, in the embryonic development of certain nematodes, the point where the sperm enters the egg appears to provide crucial positional information. Once that information is present, little bundles of proteins called p-granules, initially distributed uniformly throughout the cytoplasm, begin to congregate at one end of the yolk; when the fertilized egg divides, one of the resulting cells gets all the p-granules. The presence or absence of these granules in cells appears to help determine whether their subsequent divisions will lead to the formation of the worm's front or back half. A similar sperm-driven mechanism is also thought to establish body orientation in some comparatively simple vertebrates such as frogs, though apparently not in more complex vertebrates such as mammals. Research indicates that in human and other mammalian embryos, polarity develops much later, as many stages of cell division occur with no apparent asymmetries among cells. Yet how polarity is established in mammals is currently a tempting mystery to researchers. Once an embryo establishes polarity, it relies on sets of essential genes that are remarkably similar among all life forms for elaboration of its parts. There is an astonishing conservation of mechanism in this process: the genes that help make eyes in flies are similar to the genes that make eyes in mice or humans. So a seeming paradox arises: when embryos of different species are at the one- or few-cell stage and still appear almost identical, the mechanisms of development they use are vastly different; yet when they start growing brains or extremities and become identifiable as distinct species, the developmental mechanisms they use are remarkably similar.

200512_3-RC_4_23

According to the passage, polarity is established in a human embryo

The first thing any embryo must do before it can develop into an organism is establish early polarity— that is, it must set up a way to distinguish its top from its bottom and its back from its front. The mechanisms that establish the earliest spatial configurations in an embryo are far less similar across life forms than those relied on for later development, as in the formation of limbs or a nervous system: for example, the signals that the developing fruit fly uses to know its front end from its back end turn out to be radically different from those that the nematode, a type of worm, relies on, and both appear to be quite different from the polarity signals in the development of humans and other mammals. In the fruit fly, polarity is established by signals inscribed in the yolklike cytoplasm of the egg before fertilization, so that when the sperm contributes its genetic material, everything is already set to go. Given all the positional information that must be distributed throughout the cell, it takes a fruit fly a week to make an egg, but once that well-appointed egg is fertilized, it is transformed from a single cell into a crawling larva in a day. By contrast, in the embryonic development of certain nematodes, the point where the sperm enters the egg appears to provide crucial positional information. Once that information is present, little bundles of proteins called p-granules, initially distributed uniformly throughout the cytoplasm, begin to congregate at one end of the yolk; when the fertilized egg divides, one of the resulting cells gets all the p-granules. The presence or absence of these granules in cells appears to help determine whether their subsequent divisions will lead to the formation of the worm's front or back half. A similar sperm-driven mechanism is also thought to establish body orientation in some comparatively simple vertebrates such as frogs, though apparently not in more complex vertebrates such as mammals. Research indicates that in human and other mammalian embryos, polarity develops much later, as many stages of cell division occur with no apparent asymmetries among cells. Yet how polarity is established in mammals is currently a tempting mystery to researchers. Once an embryo establishes polarity, it relies on sets of essential genes that are remarkably similar among all life forms for elaboration of its parts. There is an astonishing conservation of mechanism in this process: the genes that help make eyes in flies are similar to the genes that make eyes in mice or humans. So a seeming paradox arises: when embryos of different species are at the one- or few-cell stage and still appear almost identical, the mechanisms of development they use are vastly different; yet when they start growing brains or extremities and become identifiable as distinct species, the developmental mechanisms they use are remarkably similar.

200512_3-RC_4_24

By "conservation of mechanism" (line 48) the author is probably referring to

The first thing any embryo must do before it can develop into an organism is establish early polarity— that is, it must set up a way to distinguish its top from its bottom and its back from its front. The mechanisms that establish the earliest spatial configurations in an embryo are far less similar across life forms than those relied on for later development, as in the formation of limbs or a nervous system: for example, the signals that the developing fruit fly uses to know its front end from its back end turn out to be radically different from those that the nematode, a type of worm, relies on, and both appear to be quite different from the polarity signals in the development of humans and other mammals. In the fruit fly, polarity is established by signals inscribed in the yolklike cytoplasm of the egg before fertilization, so that when the sperm contributes its genetic material, everything is already set to go. Given all the positional information that must be distributed throughout the cell, it takes a fruit fly a week to make an egg, but once that well-appointed egg is fertilized, it is transformed from a single cell into a crawling larva in a day. By contrast, in the embryonic development of certain nematodes, the point where the sperm enters the egg appears to provide crucial positional information. Once that information is present, little bundles of proteins called p-granules, initially distributed uniformly throughout the cytoplasm, begin to congregate at one end of the yolk; when the fertilized egg divides, one of the resulting cells gets all the p-granules. The presence or absence of these granules in cells appears to help determine whether their subsequent divisions will lead to the formation of the worm's front or back half. A similar sperm-driven mechanism is also thought to establish body orientation in some comparatively simple vertebrates such as frogs, though apparently not in more complex vertebrates such as mammals. Research indicates that in human and other mammalian embryos, polarity develops much later, as many stages of cell division occur with no apparent asymmetries among cells. Yet how polarity is established in mammals is currently a tempting mystery to researchers. Once an embryo establishes polarity, it relies on sets of essential genes that are remarkably similar among all life forms for elaboration of its parts. There is an astonishing conservation of mechanism in this process: the genes that help make eyes in flies are similar to the genes that make eyes in mice or humans. So a seeming paradox arises: when embryos of different species are at the one- or few-cell stage and still appear almost identical, the mechanisms of development they use are vastly different; yet when they start growing brains or extremities and become identifiable as distinct species, the developmental mechanisms they use are remarkably similar.

200512_3-RC_4_25

Which one of the following most accurately states the main purpose of the second paragraph?

The first thing any embryo must do before it can develop into an organism is establish early polarity— that is, it must set up a way to distinguish its top from its bottom and its back from its front. The mechanisms that establish the earliest spatial configurations in an embryo are far less similar across life forms than those relied on for later development, as in the formation of limbs or a nervous system: for example, the signals that the developing fruit fly uses to know its front end from its back end turn out to be radically different from those that the nematode, a type of worm, relies on, and both appear to be quite different from the polarity signals in the development of humans and other mammals. In the fruit fly, polarity is established by signals inscribed in the yolklike cytoplasm of the egg before fertilization, so that when the sperm contributes its genetic material, everything is already set to go. Given all the positional information that must be distributed throughout the cell, it takes a fruit fly a week to make an egg, but once that well-appointed egg is fertilized, it is transformed from a single cell into a crawling larva in a day. By contrast, in the embryonic development of certain nematodes, the point where the sperm enters the egg appears to provide crucial positional information. Once that information is present, little bundles of proteins called p-granules, initially distributed uniformly throughout the cytoplasm, begin to congregate at one end of the yolk; when the fertilized egg divides, one of the resulting cells gets all the p-granules. The presence or absence of these granules in cells appears to help determine whether their subsequent divisions will lead to the formation of the worm's front or back half. A similar sperm-driven mechanism is also thought to establish body orientation in some comparatively simple vertebrates such as frogs, though apparently not in more complex vertebrates such as mammals. Research indicates that in human and other mammalian embryos, polarity develops much later, as many stages of cell division occur with no apparent asymmetries among cells. Yet how polarity is established in mammals is currently a tempting mystery to researchers. Once an embryo establishes polarity, it relies on sets of essential genes that are remarkably similar among all life forms for elaboration of its parts. There is an astonishing conservation of mechanism in this process: the genes that help make eyes in flies are similar to the genes that make eyes in mice or humans. So a seeming paradox arises: when embryos of different species are at the one- or few-cell stage and still appear almost identical, the mechanisms of development they use are vastly different; yet when they start growing brains or extremities and become identifiable as distinct species, the developmental mechanisms they use are remarkably similar.

200512_3-RC_4_26

According to the passage, which one of the following is a major difference between the establishment of polarity in the fruit fly and in the nematode?

The first thing any embryo must do before it can develop into an organism is establish early polarity— that is, it must set up a way to distinguish its top from its bottom and its back from its front. The mechanisms that establish the earliest spatial configurations in an embryo are far less similar across life forms than those relied on for later development, as in the formation of limbs or a nervous system: for example, the signals that the developing fruit fly uses to know its front end from its back end turn out to be radically different from those that the nematode, a type of worm, relies on, and both appear to be quite different from the polarity signals in the development of humans and other mammals. In the fruit fly, polarity is established by signals inscribed in the yolklike cytoplasm of the egg before fertilization, so that when the sperm contributes its genetic material, everything is already set to go. Given all the positional information that must be distributed throughout the cell, it takes a fruit fly a week to make an egg, but once that well-appointed egg is fertilized, it is transformed from a single cell into a crawling larva in a day. By contrast, in the embryonic development of certain nematodes, the point where the sperm enters the egg appears to provide crucial positional information. Once that information is present, little bundles of proteins called p-granules, initially distributed uniformly throughout the cytoplasm, begin to congregate at one end of the yolk; when the fertilized egg divides, one of the resulting cells gets all the p-granules. The presence or absence of these granules in cells appears to help determine whether their subsequent divisions will lead to the formation of the worm's front or back half. A similar sperm-driven mechanism is also thought to establish body orientation in some comparatively simple vertebrates such as frogs, though apparently not in more complex vertebrates such as mammals. Research indicates that in human and other mammalian embryos, polarity develops much later, as many stages of cell division occur with no apparent asymmetries among cells. Yet how polarity is established in mammals is currently a tempting mystery to researchers. Once an embryo establishes polarity, it relies on sets of essential genes that are remarkably similar among all life forms for elaboration of its parts. There is an astonishing conservation of mechanism in this process: the genes that help make eyes in flies are similar to the genes that make eyes in mice or humans. So a seeming paradox arises: when embryos of different species are at the one- or few-cell stage and still appear almost identical, the mechanisms of development they use are vastly different; yet when they start growing brains or extremities and become identifiable as distinct species, the developmental mechanisms they use are remarkably similar.

200512_3-RC_4_27

The author's primary purpose in the passage is to

The use of computer-generated visual displays in courtrooms is growing as awareness of their ability to recreate crime scenes spreads. Displays currently in use range from still pictures in series that mimic simple movement to sophisticated simulations based on complex applications of rules of physics and mathematics. By making it possible to slow or stop action, to vary visual perspectives according to witnesses' vantage points, or to highlight or enlarge images, computer displays provide litigators with tremendous explanatory advantages. Soon, litigators may even have available graphic systems capable of simulating three dimensions, thus creating the illusion that viewers are at the scene of a crime or accident, directly experiencing its occurrence. The advantages of computer-generated displays derive from the greater psychological impact they have on juries as compared to purely verbal presentations; studies show that people generally retain about 85 percent of visual information but only 10 percent of aural information. This is especially valuable in complex or technical trials, where juror interest and comprehension are generally low. In addition, computers also allow litigators to integrate graphic aids seamlessly into their presentations. Despite these benefits, however, some critics are urging caution in the use of these displays, pointing to a concomitant potential for abuse or unintentional misuse, such as the unfair manipulation of a juror's impression of an event. These critics argue further that the persuasive and richly communicative nature of the displays can mesmerize jurors and cause them to relax their normal critical faculties. This potential for distortion is compounded when one side in a trial does not use the technology—often because of the considerable expense involved—leaving the jury susceptible to prejudice in favor of the side employing computer displays. And aside from the risk of intentional manipulation of images or deceitful use of capacities such as stop-action and highlighting, there is also the possibility that computer displays can be inherently misleading. As an amalgamation of data collection, judgment, and speculation, the displays may in some instances constitute evidence unsuitable for use in a trial. To avoid misuse of this technology in the courtroom, practical steps must be taken. First, counsel must be alert to the ever-present danger of its misuse; diligent analyses of the data that form the basis for computer displays should be routinely performed and disclosed. Judges, who have the discretion to disallow displays that might unfairly prejudice one side, must also be vigilant in assessing the displays they do allow. Similarly, judges should forewarn jurors of the potentially biased nature of computer-generated evidence. Finally, steps should be taken to ensure that if one side utilizes computer technology, the opposing side will also have access to it. Granting financial aid in these circumstances would help create a more equitable legal arena in this respect.

200606_3-RC_1_1

Which one of the following most accurately states the main point of the passage?

The use of computer-generated visual displays in courtrooms is growing as awareness of their ability to recreate crime scenes spreads. Displays currently in use range from still pictures in series that mimic simple movement to sophisticated simulations based on complex applications of rules of physics and mathematics. By making it possible to slow or stop action, to vary visual perspectives according to witnesses' vantage points, or to highlight or enlarge images, computer displays provide litigators with tremendous explanatory advantages. Soon, litigators may even have available graphic systems capable of simulating three dimensions, thus creating the illusion that viewers are at the scene of a crime or accident, directly experiencing its occurrence. The advantages of computer-generated displays derive from the greater psychological impact they have on juries as compared to purely verbal presentations; studies show that people generally retain about 85 percent of visual information but only 10 percent of aural information. This is especially valuable in complex or technical trials, where juror interest and comprehension are generally low. In addition, computers also allow litigators to integrate graphic aids seamlessly into their presentations. Despite these benefits, however, some critics are urging caution in the use of these displays, pointing to a concomitant potential for abuse or unintentional misuse, such as the unfair manipulation of a juror's impression of an event. These critics argue further that the persuasive and richly communicative nature of the displays can mesmerize jurors and cause them to relax their normal critical faculties. This potential for distortion is compounded when one side in a trial does not use the technology—often because of the considerable expense involved—leaving the jury susceptible to prejudice in favor of the side employing computer displays. And aside from the risk of intentional manipulation of images or deceitful use of capacities such as stop-action and highlighting, there is also the possibility that computer displays can be inherently misleading. As an amalgamation of data collection, judgment, and speculation, the displays may in some instances constitute evidence unsuitable for use in a trial. To avoid misuse of this technology in the courtroom, practical steps must be taken. First, counsel must be alert to the ever-present danger of its misuse; diligent analyses of the data that form the basis for computer displays should be routinely performed and disclosed. Judges, who have the discretion to disallow displays that might unfairly prejudice one side, must also be vigilant in assessing the displays they do allow. Similarly, judges should forewarn jurors of the potentially biased nature of computer-generated evidence. Finally, steps should be taken to ensure that if one side utilizes computer technology, the opposing side will also have access to it. Granting financial aid in these circumstances would help create a more equitable legal arena in this respect.

200606_3-RC_1_2

Which one of the following most accurately describes the organization of the passage?

The use of computer-generated visual displays in courtrooms is growing as awareness of their ability to recreate crime scenes spreads. Displays currently in use range from still pictures in series that mimic simple movement to sophisticated simulations based on complex applications of rules of physics and mathematics. By making it possible to slow or stop action, to vary visual perspectives according to witnesses' vantage points, or to highlight or enlarge images, computer displays provide litigators with tremendous explanatory advantages. Soon, litigators may even have available graphic systems capable of simulating three dimensions, thus creating the illusion that viewers are at the scene of a crime or accident, directly experiencing its occurrence. The advantages of computer-generated displays derive from the greater psychological impact they have on juries as compared to purely verbal presentations; studies show that people generally retain about 85 percent of visual information but only 10 percent of aural information. This is especially valuable in complex or technical trials, where juror interest and comprehension are generally low. In addition, computers also allow litigators to integrate graphic aids seamlessly into their presentations. Despite these benefits, however, some critics are urging caution in the use of these displays, pointing to a concomitant potential for abuse or unintentional misuse, such as the unfair manipulation of a juror's impression of an event. These critics argue further that the persuasive and richly communicative nature of the displays can mesmerize jurors and cause them to relax their normal critical faculties. This potential for distortion is compounded when one side in a trial does not use the technology—often because of the considerable expense involved—leaving the jury susceptible to prejudice in favor of the side employing computer displays. And aside from the risk of intentional manipulation of images or deceitful use of capacities such as stop-action and highlighting, there is also the possibility that computer displays can be inherently misleading. As an amalgamation of data collection, judgment, and speculation, the displays may in some instances constitute evidence unsuitable for use in a trial. To avoid misuse of this technology in the courtroom, practical steps must be taken. First, counsel must be alert to the ever-present danger of its misuse; diligent analyses of the data that form the basis for computer displays should be routinely performed and disclosed. Judges, who have the discretion to disallow displays that might unfairly prejudice one side, must also be vigilant in assessing the displays they do allow. Similarly, judges should forewarn jurors of the potentially biased nature of computer-generated evidence. Finally, steps should be taken to ensure that if one side utilizes computer technology, the opposing side will also have access to it. Granting financial aid in these circumstances would help create a more equitable legal arena in this respect.

200606_3-RC_1_3

As described in the passage, re-creating an accident with a computer-generated display is most similar to which one of the following?

The use of computer-generated visual displays in courtrooms is growing as awareness of their ability to recreate crime scenes spreads. Displays currently in use range from still pictures in series that mimic simple movement to sophisticated simulations based on complex applications of rules of physics and mathematics. By making it possible to slow or stop action, to vary visual perspectives according to witnesses' vantage points, or to highlight or enlarge images, computer displays provide litigators with tremendous explanatory advantages. Soon, litigators may even have available graphic systems capable of simulating three dimensions, thus creating the illusion that viewers are at the scene of a crime or accident, directly experiencing its occurrence. The advantages of computer-generated displays derive from the greater psychological impact they have on juries as compared to purely verbal presentations; studies show that people generally retain about 85 percent of visual information but only 10 percent of aural information. This is especially valuable in complex or technical trials, where juror interest and comprehension are generally low. In addition, computers also allow litigators to integrate graphic aids seamlessly into their presentations. Despite these benefits, however, some critics are urging caution in the use of these displays, pointing to a concomitant potential for abuse or unintentional misuse, such as the unfair manipulation of a juror's impression of an event. These critics argue further that the persuasive and richly communicative nature of the displays can mesmerize jurors and cause them to relax their normal critical faculties. This potential for distortion is compounded when one side in a trial does not use the technology—often because of the considerable expense involved—leaving the jury susceptible to prejudice in favor of the side employing computer displays. And aside from the risk of intentional manipulation of images or deceitful use of capacities such as stop-action and highlighting, there is also the possibility that computer displays can be inherently misleading. As an amalgamation of data collection, judgment, and speculation, the displays may in some instances constitute evidence unsuitable for use in a trial. To avoid misuse of this technology in the courtroom, practical steps must be taken. First, counsel must be alert to the ever-present danger of its misuse; diligent analyses of the data that form the basis for computer displays should be routinely performed and disclosed. Judges, who have the discretion to disallow displays that might unfairly prejudice one side, must also be vigilant in assessing the displays they do allow. Similarly, judges should forewarn jurors of the potentially biased nature of computer-generated evidence. Finally, steps should be taken to ensure that if one side utilizes computer technology, the opposing side will also have access to it. Granting financial aid in these circumstances would help create a more equitable legal arena in this respect.

200606_3-RC_1_4

Based on the passage, with which one of the following statements regarding the use of computer displays in courtroom proceedings would the author be most likely to agree?

The use of computer-generated visual displays in courtrooms is growing as awareness of their ability to recreate crime scenes spreads. Displays currently in use range from still pictures in series that mimic simple movement to sophisticated simulations based on complex applications of rules of physics and mathematics. By making it possible to slow or stop action, to vary visual perspectives according to witnesses' vantage points, or to highlight or enlarge images, computer displays provide litigators with tremendous explanatory advantages. Soon, litigators may even have available graphic systems capable of simulating three dimensions, thus creating the illusion that viewers are at the scene of a crime or accident, directly experiencing its occurrence. The advantages of computer-generated displays derive from the greater psychological impact they have on juries as compared to purely verbal presentations; studies show that people generally retain about 85 percent of visual information but only 10 percent of aural information. This is especially valuable in complex or technical trials, where juror interest and comprehension are generally low. In addition, computers also allow litigators to integrate graphic aids seamlessly into their presentations. Despite these benefits, however, some critics are urging caution in the use of these displays, pointing to a concomitant potential for abuse or unintentional misuse, such as the unfair manipulation of a juror's impression of an event. These critics argue further that the persuasive and richly communicative nature of the displays can mesmerize jurors and cause them to relax their normal critical faculties. This potential for distortion is compounded when one side in a trial does not use the technology—often because of the considerable expense involved—leaving the jury susceptible to prejudice in favor of the side employing computer displays. And aside from the risk of intentional manipulation of images or deceitful use of capacities such as stop-action and highlighting, there is also the possibility that computer displays can be inherently misleading. As an amalgamation of data collection, judgment, and speculation, the displays may in some instances constitute evidence unsuitable for use in a trial. To avoid misuse of this technology in the courtroom, practical steps must be taken. First, counsel must be alert to the ever-present danger of its misuse; diligent analyses of the data that form the basis for computer displays should be routinely performed and disclosed. Judges, who have the discretion to disallow displays that might unfairly prejudice one side, must also be vigilant in assessing the displays they do allow. Similarly, judges should forewarn jurors of the potentially biased nature of computer-generated evidence. Finally, steps should be taken to ensure that if one side utilizes computer technology, the opposing side will also have access to it. Granting financial aid in these circumstances would help create a more equitable legal arena in this respect.

200606_3-RC_1_5

The author states which one of the following about computer displays used in trial proceedings?

The use of computer-generated visual displays in courtrooms is growing as awareness of their ability to recreate crime scenes spreads. Displays currently in use range from still pictures in series that mimic simple movement to sophisticated simulations based on complex applications of rules of physics and mathematics. By making it possible to slow or stop action, to vary visual perspectives according to witnesses' vantage points, or to highlight or enlarge images, computer displays provide litigators with tremendous explanatory advantages. Soon, litigators may even have available graphic systems capable of simulating three dimensions, thus creating the illusion that viewers are at the scene of a crime or accident, directly experiencing its occurrence. The advantages of computer-generated displays derive from the greater psychological impact they have on juries as compared to purely verbal presentations; studies show that people generally retain about 85 percent of visual information but only 10 percent of aural information. This is especially valuable in complex or technical trials, where juror interest and comprehension are generally low. In addition, computers also allow litigators to integrate graphic aids seamlessly into their presentations. Despite these benefits, however, some critics are urging caution in the use of these displays, pointing to a concomitant potential for abuse or unintentional misuse, such as the unfair manipulation of a juror's impression of an event. These critics argue further that the persuasive and richly communicative nature of the displays can mesmerize jurors and cause them to relax their normal critical faculties. This potential for distortion is compounded when one side in a trial does not use the technology—often because of the considerable expense involved—leaving the jury susceptible to prejudice in favor of the side employing computer displays. And aside from the risk of intentional manipulation of images or deceitful use of capacities such as stop-action and highlighting, there is also the possibility that computer displays can be inherently misleading. As an amalgamation of data collection, judgment, and speculation, the displays may in some instances constitute evidence unsuitable for use in a trial. To avoid misuse of this technology in the courtroom, practical steps must be taken. First, counsel must be alert to the ever-present danger of its misuse; diligent analyses of the data that form the basis for computer displays should be routinely performed and disclosed. Judges, who have the discretion to disallow displays that might unfairly prejudice one side, must also be vigilant in assessing the displays they do allow. Similarly, judges should forewarn jurors of the potentially biased nature of computer-generated evidence. Finally, steps should be taken to ensure that if one side utilizes computer technology, the opposing side will also have access to it. Granting financial aid in these circumstances would help create a more equitable legal arena in this respect.

200606_3-RC_1_6

The author mentions each of the following as an advantage of using computer displays in courtroom proceedings EXCEPT:

Through the last half century, the techniques used by certain historians of African art for judging the precise tribal origins of African sculptures on the basis of style have been greatly refined. However, as one recent critic of the historians' classificatory assumptions has put it, the idea that the distribution of a particular style is necessarily limited to the area populated by one tribe may be "a dreadful oversimplification . . . a decided falsification of the very life of art in Africa." Objects and styles have often been diffused through trade, most notably by workshops of artists who sell their work over a large geographical area. Styles cannot be narrowly defined as belonging uniquely to a particular area; rather, there are important "centers of style" throughout Africa where families, clans, and workshops produce sculpture and other art that is dispersed over a large, multitribal geographical area. Thus, a family of artists belonging to a single ethnic group may produce sculpture on commission for several neighboring tribes. While this practice contributes to a marked uniformity of styles across a large area, the commissioned works must nevertheless be done to some extent in the style of the tribe commissioning the work. This leads to much confusion on the part of those art historians who attempt to assign particular objects to individual groups on the basis of style. One such center of style is located in the village of Ouri, in central Burkina Faso, where members of the Konaté family continue a long tradition of sculpture production not only for five major neighboring ethnic groups, but in recent times also for the tourist trade in Ouagadougou. The Konaté sculptors are able to distinguish the characteristics of the five styles in which they carve, and will point to the foliate patterns that radiate from the eyes of a Nuna ask, or the diamond-shaped mouth of many Ko masks, as characteristics of a particular tribal style that must be included to satisfy their clients. Nevertheless, their work is consistent in its proportions, composition, color, and technique. In fact, although the Konaté sculptors can identify the styles they carve, the characteristic patterns are so subtly different that few people outside of the area can distinguish Nuna masks from Ko masks. Perhaps historians of African art should ask if objects in similar styles were produced in centers of style, where artists belonging to one ethnic group produced art for all of their neighbors. Perhaps it is even more important to cease attempting to break down large regional styles into finer and finer tribal styles and substyles, and to recognize that artists in Africa often do not produce work only in their own narrowly defined ethnic contexts. As the case of the Konaté sculptors makes clear, one cannot readily tell which group produced an object by analyzing fine style characteristics.

200606_3-RC_2_7

Which one of the following titles most completely and accurately describes the contents of the passage?

Through the last half century, the techniques used by certain historians of African art for judging the precise tribal origins of African sculptures on the basis of style have been greatly refined. However, as one recent critic of the historians' classificatory assumptions has put it, the idea that the distribution of a particular style is necessarily limited to the area populated by one tribe may be "a dreadful oversimplification . . . a decided falsification of the very life of art in Africa." Objects and styles have often been diffused through trade, most notably by workshops of artists who sell their work over a large geographical area. Styles cannot be narrowly defined as belonging uniquely to a particular area; rather, there are important "centers of style" throughout Africa where families, clans, and workshops produce sculpture and other art that is dispersed over a large, multitribal geographical area. Thus, a family of artists belonging to a single ethnic group may produce sculpture on commission for several neighboring tribes. While this practice contributes to a marked uniformity of styles across a large area, the commissioned works must nevertheless be done to some extent in the style of the tribe commissioning the work. This leads to much confusion on the part of those art historians who attempt to assign particular objects to individual groups on the basis of style. One such center of style is located in the village of Ouri, in central Burkina Faso, where members of the Konaté family continue a long tradition of sculpture production not only for five major neighboring ethnic groups, but in recent times also for the tourist trade in Ouagadougou. The Konaté sculptors are able to distinguish the characteristics of the five styles in which they carve, and will point to the foliate patterns that radiate from the eyes of a Nuna ask, or the diamond-shaped mouth of many Ko masks, as characteristics of a particular tribal style that must be included to satisfy their clients. Nevertheless, their work is consistent in its proportions, composition, color, and technique. In fact, although the Konaté sculptors can identify the styles they carve, the characteristic patterns are so subtly different that few people outside of the area can distinguish Nuna masks from Ko masks. Perhaps historians of African art should ask if objects in similar styles were produced in centers of style, where artists belonging to one ethnic group produced art for all of their neighbors. Perhaps it is even more important to cease attempting to break down large regional styles into finer and finer tribal styles and substyles, and to recognize that artists in Africa often do not produce work only in their own narrowly defined ethnic contexts. As the case of the Konaté sculptors makes clear, one cannot readily tell which group produced an object by analyzing fine style characteristics.

200606_3-RC_2_8

Based on the passage, the art historians mentioned in line 2 would be most likely to agree with which one of the following statements?

Through the last half century, the techniques used by certain historians of African art for judging the precise tribal origins of African sculptures on the basis of style have been greatly refined. However, as one recent critic of the historians' classificatory assumptions has put it, the idea that the distribution of a particular style is necessarily limited to the area populated by one tribe may be "a dreadful oversimplification . . . a decided falsification of the very life of art in Africa." Objects and styles have often been diffused through trade, most notably by workshops of artists who sell their work over a large geographical area. Styles cannot be narrowly defined as belonging uniquely to a particular area; rather, there are important "centers of style" throughout Africa where families, clans, and workshops produce sculpture and other art that is dispersed over a large, multitribal geographical area. Thus, a family of artists belonging to a single ethnic group may produce sculpture on commission for several neighboring tribes. While this practice contributes to a marked uniformity of styles across a large area, the commissioned works must nevertheless be done to some extent in the style of the tribe commissioning the work. This leads to much confusion on the part of those art historians who attempt to assign particular objects to individual groups on the basis of style. One such center of style is located in the village of Ouri, in central Burkina Faso, where members of the Konaté family continue a long tradition of sculpture production not only for five major neighboring ethnic groups, but in recent times also for the tourist trade in Ouagadougou. The Konaté sculptors are able to distinguish the characteristics of the five styles in which they carve, and will point to the foliate patterns that radiate from the eyes of a Nuna ask, or the diamond-shaped mouth of many Ko masks, as characteristics of a particular tribal style that must be included to satisfy their clients. Nevertheless, their work is consistent in its proportions, composition, color, and technique. In fact, although the Konaté sculptors can identify the styles they carve, the characteristic patterns are so subtly different that few people outside of the area can distinguish Nuna masks from Ko masks. Perhaps historians of African art should ask if objects in similar styles were produced in centers of style, where artists belonging to one ethnic group produced art for all of their neighbors. Perhaps it is even more important to cease attempting to break down large regional styles into finer and finer tribal styles and substyles, and to recognize that artists in Africa often do not produce work only in their own narrowly defined ethnic contexts. As the case of the Konaté sculptors makes clear, one cannot readily tell which group produced an object by analyzing fine style characteristics.

200606_3-RC_2_9

According to the passage, which one of the following is a feature that Konaté sculptors can identify as a requirement of a particular tribal style?

Through the last half century, the techniques used by certain historians of African art for judging the precise tribal origins of African sculptures on the basis of style have been greatly refined. However, as one recent critic of the historians' classificatory assumptions has put it, the idea that the distribution of a particular style is necessarily limited to the area populated by one tribe may be "a dreadful oversimplification . . . a decided falsification of the very life of art in Africa." Objects and styles have often been diffused through trade, most notably by workshops of artists who sell their work over a large geographical area. Styles cannot be narrowly defined as belonging uniquely to a particular area; rather, there are important "centers of style" throughout Africa where families, clans, and workshops produce sculpture and other art that is dispersed over a large, multitribal geographical area. Thus, a family of artists belonging to a single ethnic group may produce sculpture on commission for several neighboring tribes. While this practice contributes to a marked uniformity of styles across a large area, the commissioned works must nevertheless be done to some extent in the style of the tribe commissioning the work. This leads to much confusion on the part of those art historians who attempt to assign particular objects to individual groups on the basis of style. One such center of style is located in the village of Ouri, in central Burkina Faso, where members of the Konaté family continue a long tradition of sculpture production not only for five major neighboring ethnic groups, but in recent times also for the tourist trade in Ouagadougou. The Konaté sculptors are able to distinguish the characteristics of the five styles in which they carve, and will point to the foliate patterns that radiate from the eyes of a Nuna ask, or the diamond-shaped mouth of many Ko masks, as characteristics of a particular tribal style that must be included to satisfy their clients. Nevertheless, their work is consistent in its proportions, composition, color, and technique. In fact, although the Konaté sculptors can identify the styles they carve, the characteristic patterns are so subtly different that few people outside of the area can distinguish Nuna masks from Ko masks. Perhaps historians of African art should ask if objects in similar styles were produced in centers of style, where artists belonging to one ethnic group produced art for all of their neighbors. Perhaps it is even more important to cease attempting to break down large regional styles into finer and finer tribal styles and substyles, and to recognize that artists in Africa often do not produce work only in their own narrowly defined ethnic contexts. As the case of the Konaté sculptors makes clear, one cannot readily tell which group produced an object by analyzing fine style characteristics.

200606_3-RC_2_10

The author's primary purpose in the passage is to