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The legislature of a country recently considered a bill designed to reduce the uncertainty inherent in the ownership of art by specifying certain conditions that must be met before an allegedly stolen work of art can be reclaimed by a plaintiff. The bill places the burden of proof in reclamation litigation entirely on the plaintiff, who must demonstrate that the holder of an item knew at the time of purchase that it had been stolen. Additionally, the bill creates a uniform national statute of limitations for reclamation of stolen cultural property. Testifying in support of the bill, James D. Burke, a citizen of the country and one of its leading art museum directors, specifically praised the inclusion of a statute of limitations; otherwise, he said, other countries could seek to reclaim valuable art objects, no matter how long they have been held by the current owner or how legitimately they were acquired. Any country could enact a patrimony law stating that anything ever made within the boundaries of that country is its cultural property. Burke expressed the fear that widespread reclamation litigation would lead to ruinous legal defense costs for museums. However, because such reclamation suits have not yet been a problem, there is little basis for Burke's concern. In fact, the proposed legislation would establish too many unjustifiable barriers to the location and recovery of stolen objects. The main barrier is that the bill considers the announcement of an art transaction in a museum publication to be adequate evidence of an attempt to notify a possible owner. There are far too many such publications for the victim of a theft to survey, and with only this form of disclosure, a stolen object could easily remain unlocated even If assiduously searched for. Another stipulation requires that a purchaser show the object to a scholar for verification that it is not stolen, but it is a rare academic who is aware of any but the most publicized art thefts. Moreover, the time limit specified by the statute of limitations is very short, and the requirement that the plaintiff demonstrate that the holder had knowledge of the theft is unrealistic. Typically, stolen art changes hands several times before rising to the level in the marketplace where a curator or collector would see it. At that point, the object bears no trace of the initial transaction between the thief and the first purchaser, perhaps the only one in the chain who knowingly acquired a stolen work of art. Thus, the need for new legislation to protect holders of art is not obvious. Rather, what is necessary is legislation remedying the difficulties that legitimate owners of works of art, and countries from which such works have been stolen, have in locating and reclaiming these stolen works.

199502_3-RC_3_19

Which one of the following best describes the author's attitude toward the proposed bill?

The legislature of a country recently considered a bill designed to reduce the uncertainty inherent in the ownership of art by specifying certain conditions that must be met before an allegedly stolen work of art can be reclaimed by a plaintiff. The bill places the burden of proof in reclamation litigation entirely on the plaintiff, who must demonstrate that the holder of an item knew at the time of purchase that it had been stolen. Additionally, the bill creates a uniform national statute of limitations for reclamation of stolen cultural property. Testifying in support of the bill, James D. Burke, a citizen of the country and one of its leading art museum directors, specifically praised the inclusion of a statute of limitations; otherwise, he said, other countries could seek to reclaim valuable art objects, no matter how long they have been held by the current owner or how legitimately they were acquired. Any country could enact a patrimony law stating that anything ever made within the boundaries of that country is its cultural property. Burke expressed the fear that widespread reclamation litigation would lead to ruinous legal defense costs for museums. However, because such reclamation suits have not yet been a problem, there is little basis for Burke's concern. In fact, the proposed legislation would establish too many unjustifiable barriers to the location and recovery of stolen objects. The main barrier is that the bill considers the announcement of an art transaction in a museum publication to be adequate evidence of an attempt to notify a possible owner. There are far too many such publications for the victim of a theft to survey, and with only this form of disclosure, a stolen object could easily remain unlocated even If assiduously searched for. Another stipulation requires that a purchaser show the object to a scholar for verification that it is not stolen, but it is a rare academic who is aware of any but the most publicized art thefts. Moreover, the time limit specified by the statute of limitations is very short, and the requirement that the plaintiff demonstrate that the holder had knowledge of the theft is unrealistic. Typically, stolen art changes hands several times before rising to the level in the marketplace where a curator or collector would see it. At that point, the object bears no trace of the initial transaction between the thief and the first purchaser, perhaps the only one in the chain who knowingly acquired a stolen work of art. Thus, the need for new legislation to protect holders of art is not obvious. Rather, what is necessary is legislation remedying the difficulties that legitimate owners of works of art, and countries from which such works have been stolen, have in locating and reclaiming these stolen works.

199502_3-RC_3_20

Which one of the following best exemplifies the sort of legislation considered necessary by the author of the passage?

Until recently, few historians were interested in analyzing the similarities and differences between serfdom in Russia and slavery in the United States. Even Alexis de Tocqueville, who recognized the significant comparability of the two nations, never compared their systems of servitude, despite his interest in United States slavery. Moreover, the almost simultaneous abolition of Russian serfdom and United States slavery in the 1860s—a riveting coincidence that should have drawn more modern scholars to a comparative study of the two systems of servitude—has failed to arouse the interest of scholars. Though some historians may have been put off by the forbidding political differences between nineteenth-century Russia and the United States—one an imperial monarchy, the other a federal democracy—a recent study by Peter Kolchin identifies differences that are illuminating, especially with regard to the different kinds of rebellion exhibited by slaves and serfs. Kolchin points out that nobles owning serfs in Russia constituted only a tiny proportion of the population, while in the southern United States, about a quarter of all White people were members of slave-owning families. And although in the southern United States only 2 percent of slaves worked on plantations where more than a hundred slaves worked, in Russia almost 80 percent of the serfs worked for nobles who owned more than a hundred serfs. In Russia most serfs rarely saw their owners, who tended to rely on intermediaries to manage their estates, while most southern planters lived on their land and interacted with slaves on a regular basis. These differences in demographics partly explain differences in the kinds of resistance that slaves and serfs practiced in their respective countries. Both serfs and slaves engaged in a wide variety of rebellious activity, from silent sabotage, much of which has escaped the historical record, to organized armed rebellions, which were more common in Russia. The practice of absentee ownership, combined with the large numbers in which serfs were owned, probably contributed significantly to the four great rebellions that swept across Russia at roughly fifty-year intervals in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The last of these, occurring between 1773 and 1774, enlisted more than a million serfs in a futile attempt to overthrow the Russian nobility. Russian serfs also participated in smaller acts of collective defiance called the volnenie, which typically started with a group of serfs who complained of grievances by petition and went out on strike. Confrontations between slaves and plantation authorities were also common, but they tended to be much less collective in nature than those that occurred in Russia, probably in part because the number of workers on each estate was smaller in the United States than was the case in Russia.

199502_3-RC_4_21

Which one of the following best states the main idea of the passage?

Until recently, few historians were interested in analyzing the similarities and differences between serfdom in Russia and slavery in the United States. Even Alexis de Tocqueville, who recognized the significant comparability of the two nations, never compared their systems of servitude, despite his interest in United States slavery. Moreover, the almost simultaneous abolition of Russian serfdom and United States slavery in the 1860s—a riveting coincidence that should have drawn more modern scholars to a comparative study of the two systems of servitude—has failed to arouse the interest of scholars. Though some historians may have been put off by the forbidding political differences between nineteenth-century Russia and the United States—one an imperial monarchy, the other a federal democracy—a recent study by Peter Kolchin identifies differences that are illuminating, especially with regard to the different kinds of rebellion exhibited by slaves and serfs. Kolchin points out that nobles owning serfs in Russia constituted only a tiny proportion of the population, while in the southern United States, about a quarter of all White people were members of slave-owning families. And although in the southern United States only 2 percent of slaves worked on plantations where more than a hundred slaves worked, in Russia almost 80 percent of the serfs worked for nobles who owned more than a hundred serfs. In Russia most serfs rarely saw their owners, who tended to rely on intermediaries to manage their estates, while most southern planters lived on their land and interacted with slaves on a regular basis. These differences in demographics partly explain differences in the kinds of resistance that slaves and serfs practiced in their respective countries. Both serfs and slaves engaged in a wide variety of rebellious activity, from silent sabotage, much of which has escaped the historical record, to organized armed rebellions, which were more common in Russia. The practice of absentee ownership, combined with the large numbers in which serfs were owned, probably contributed significantly to the four great rebellions that swept across Russia at roughly fifty-year intervals in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The last of these, occurring between 1773 and 1774, enlisted more than a million serfs in a futile attempt to overthrow the Russian nobility. Russian serfs also participated in smaller acts of collective defiance called the volnenie, which typically started with a group of serfs who complained of grievances by petition and went out on strike. Confrontations between slaves and plantation authorities were also common, but they tended to be much less collective in nature than those that occurred in Russia, probably in part because the number of workers on each estate was smaller in the United States than was the case in Russia.

199502_3-RC_4_22

According to the author, de Tocqueville was similar any modern historians in his

Until recently, few historians were interested in analyzing the similarities and differences between serfdom in Russia and slavery in the United States. Even Alexis de Tocqueville, who recognized the significant comparability of the two nations, never compared their systems of servitude, despite his interest in United States slavery. Moreover, the almost simultaneous abolition of Russian serfdom and United States slavery in the 1860s—a riveting coincidence that should have drawn more modern scholars to a comparative study of the two systems of servitude—has failed to arouse the interest of scholars. Though some historians may have been put off by the forbidding political differences between nineteenth-century Russia and the United States—one an imperial monarchy, the other a federal democracy—a recent study by Peter Kolchin identifies differences that are illuminating, especially with regard to the different kinds of rebellion exhibited by slaves and serfs. Kolchin points out that nobles owning serfs in Russia constituted only a tiny proportion of the population, while in the southern United States, about a quarter of all White people were members of slave-owning families. And although in the southern United States only 2 percent of slaves worked on plantations where more than a hundred slaves worked, in Russia almost 80 percent of the serfs worked for nobles who owned more than a hundred serfs. In Russia most serfs rarely saw their owners, who tended to rely on intermediaries to manage their estates, while most southern planters lived on their land and interacted with slaves on a regular basis. These differences in demographics partly explain differences in the kinds of resistance that slaves and serfs practiced in their respective countries. Both serfs and slaves engaged in a wide variety of rebellious activity, from silent sabotage, much of which has escaped the historical record, to organized armed rebellions, which were more common in Russia. The practice of absentee ownership, combined with the large numbers in which serfs were owned, probably contributed significantly to the four great rebellions that swept across Russia at roughly fifty-year intervals in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The last of these, occurring between 1773 and 1774, enlisted more than a million serfs in a futile attempt to overthrow the Russian nobility. Russian serfs also participated in smaller acts of collective defiance called the volnenie, which typically started with a group of serfs who complained of grievances by petition and went out on strike. Confrontations between slaves and plantation authorities were also common, but they tended to be much less collective in nature than those that occurred in Russia, probably in part because the number of workers on each estate was smaller in the United States than was the case in Russia.

199502_3-RC_4_23

Which one of the following assertions, if true, would provide the most support for Kolchin's principal conclusion regarding the relationship of demographics to rebellion among Russian serfs and United States slaves?

Until recently, few historians were interested in analyzing the similarities and differences between serfdom in Russia and slavery in the United States. Even Alexis de Tocqueville, who recognized the significant comparability of the two nations, never compared their systems of servitude, despite his interest in United States slavery. Moreover, the almost simultaneous abolition of Russian serfdom and United States slavery in the 1860s—a riveting coincidence that should have drawn more modern scholars to a comparative study of the two systems of servitude—has failed to arouse the interest of scholars. Though some historians may have been put off by the forbidding political differences between nineteenth-century Russia and the United States—one an imperial monarchy, the other a federal democracy—a recent study by Peter Kolchin identifies differences that are illuminating, especially with regard to the different kinds of rebellion exhibited by slaves and serfs. Kolchin points out that nobles owning serfs in Russia constituted only a tiny proportion of the population, while in the southern United States, about a quarter of all White people were members of slave-owning families. And although in the southern United States only 2 percent of slaves worked on plantations where more than a hundred slaves worked, in Russia almost 80 percent of the serfs worked for nobles who owned more than a hundred serfs. In Russia most serfs rarely saw their owners, who tended to rely on intermediaries to manage their estates, while most southern planters lived on their land and interacted with slaves on a regular basis. These differences in demographics partly explain differences in the kinds of resistance that slaves and serfs practiced in their respective countries. Both serfs and slaves engaged in a wide variety of rebellious activity, from silent sabotage, much of which has escaped the historical record, to organized armed rebellions, which were more common in Russia. The practice of absentee ownership, combined with the large numbers in which serfs were owned, probably contributed significantly to the four great rebellions that swept across Russia at roughly fifty-year intervals in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The last of these, occurring between 1773 and 1774, enlisted more than a million serfs in a futile attempt to overthrow the Russian nobility. Russian serfs also participated in smaller acts of collective defiance called the volnenie, which typically started with a group of serfs who complained of grievances by petition and went out on strike. Confrontations between slaves and plantation authorities were also common, but they tended to be much less collective in nature than those that occurred in Russia, probably in part because the number of workers on each estate was smaller in the United States than was the case in Russia.

199502_3-RC_4_24

The fact that United States slavery and Russian serfdom were abolished during the same decade is cited by the author in the first paragraph primarily in order to

Until recently, few historians were interested in analyzing the similarities and differences between serfdom in Russia and slavery in the United States. Even Alexis de Tocqueville, who recognized the significant comparability of the two nations, never compared their systems of servitude, despite his interest in United States slavery. Moreover, the almost simultaneous abolition of Russian serfdom and United States slavery in the 1860s—a riveting coincidence that should have drawn more modern scholars to a comparative study of the two systems of servitude—has failed to arouse the interest of scholars. Though some historians may have been put off by the forbidding political differences between nineteenth-century Russia and the United States—one an imperial monarchy, the other a federal democracy—a recent study by Peter Kolchin identifies differences that are illuminating, especially with regard to the different kinds of rebellion exhibited by slaves and serfs. Kolchin points out that nobles owning serfs in Russia constituted only a tiny proportion of the population, while in the southern United States, about a quarter of all White people were members of slave-owning families. And although in the southern United States only 2 percent of slaves worked on plantations where more than a hundred slaves worked, in Russia almost 80 percent of the serfs worked for nobles who owned more than a hundred serfs. In Russia most serfs rarely saw their owners, who tended to rely on intermediaries to manage their estates, while most southern planters lived on their land and interacted with slaves on a regular basis. These differences in demographics partly explain differences in the kinds of resistance that slaves and serfs practiced in their respective countries. Both serfs and slaves engaged in a wide variety of rebellious activity, from silent sabotage, much of which has escaped the historical record, to organized armed rebellions, which were more common in Russia. The practice of absentee ownership, combined with the large numbers in which serfs were owned, probably contributed significantly to the four great rebellions that swept across Russia at roughly fifty-year intervals in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The last of these, occurring between 1773 and 1774, enlisted more than a million serfs in a futile attempt to overthrow the Russian nobility. Russian serfs also participated in smaller acts of collective defiance called the volnenie, which typically started with a group of serfs who complained of grievances by petition and went out on strike. Confrontations between slaves and plantation authorities were also common, but they tended to be much less collective in nature than those that occurred in Russia, probably in part because the number of workers on each estate was smaller in the United States than was the case in Russia.

199502_3-RC_4_25

The author cites which one of the following as a factor that might have discouraged historians from undertaking a comparative study of Russian serfdom and United States slavery?

Until recently, few historians were interested in analyzing the similarities and differences between serfdom in Russia and slavery in the United States. Even Alexis de Tocqueville, who recognized the significant comparability of the two nations, never compared their systems of servitude, despite his interest in United States slavery. Moreover, the almost simultaneous abolition of Russian serfdom and United States slavery in the 1860s—a riveting coincidence that should have drawn more modern scholars to a comparative study of the two systems of servitude—has failed to arouse the interest of scholars. Though some historians may have been put off by the forbidding political differences between nineteenth-century Russia and the United States—one an imperial monarchy, the other a federal democracy—a recent study by Peter Kolchin identifies differences that are illuminating, especially with regard to the different kinds of rebellion exhibited by slaves and serfs. Kolchin points out that nobles owning serfs in Russia constituted only a tiny proportion of the population, while in the southern United States, about a quarter of all White people were members of slave-owning families. And although in the southern United States only 2 percent of slaves worked on plantations where more than a hundred slaves worked, in Russia almost 80 percent of the serfs worked for nobles who owned more than a hundred serfs. In Russia most serfs rarely saw their owners, who tended to rely on intermediaries to manage their estates, while most southern planters lived on their land and interacted with slaves on a regular basis. These differences in demographics partly explain differences in the kinds of resistance that slaves and serfs practiced in their respective countries. Both serfs and slaves engaged in a wide variety of rebellious activity, from silent sabotage, much of which has escaped the historical record, to organized armed rebellions, which were more common in Russia. The practice of absentee ownership, combined with the large numbers in which serfs were owned, probably contributed significantly to the four great rebellions that swept across Russia at roughly fifty-year intervals in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The last of these, occurring between 1773 and 1774, enlisted more than a million serfs in a futile attempt to overthrow the Russian nobility. Russian serfs also participated in smaller acts of collective defiance called the volnenie, which typically started with a group of serfs who complained of grievances by petition and went out on strike. Confrontations between slaves and plantation authorities were also common, but they tended to be much less collective in nature than those that occurred in Russia, probably in part because the number of workers on each estate was smaller in the United States than was the case in Russia.

199502_3-RC_4_26

According to the passage, Kolchin's study asserts that which one of the following was true of Russian nobles during the nineteenth century?

Until recently, few historians were interested in analyzing the similarities and differences between serfdom in Russia and slavery in the United States. Even Alexis de Tocqueville, who recognized the significant comparability of the two nations, never compared their systems of servitude, despite his interest in United States slavery. Moreover, the almost simultaneous abolition of Russian serfdom and United States slavery in the 1860s—a riveting coincidence that should have drawn more modern scholars to a comparative study of the two systems of servitude—has failed to arouse the interest of scholars. Though some historians may have been put off by the forbidding political differences between nineteenth-century Russia and the United States—one an imperial monarchy, the other a federal democracy—a recent study by Peter Kolchin identifies differences that are illuminating, especially with regard to the different kinds of rebellion exhibited by slaves and serfs. Kolchin points out that nobles owning serfs in Russia constituted only a tiny proportion of the population, while in the southern United States, about a quarter of all White people were members of slave-owning families. And although in the southern United States only 2 percent of slaves worked on plantations where more than a hundred slaves worked, in Russia almost 80 percent of the serfs worked for nobles who owned more than a hundred serfs. In Russia most serfs rarely saw their owners, who tended to rely on intermediaries to manage their estates, while most southern planters lived on their land and interacted with slaves on a regular basis. These differences in demographics partly explain differences in the kinds of resistance that slaves and serfs practiced in their respective countries. Both serfs and slaves engaged in a wide variety of rebellious activity, from silent sabotage, much of which has escaped the historical record, to organized armed rebellions, which were more common in Russia. The practice of absentee ownership, combined with the large numbers in which serfs were owned, probably contributed significantly to the four great rebellions that swept across Russia at roughly fifty-year intervals in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The last of these, occurring between 1773 and 1774, enlisted more than a million serfs in a futile attempt to overthrow the Russian nobility. Russian serfs also participated in smaller acts of collective defiance called the volnenie, which typically started with a group of serfs who complained of grievances by petition and went out on strike. Confrontations between slaves and plantation authorities were also common, but they tended to be much less collective in nature than those that occurred in Russia, probably in part because the number of workers on each estate was smaller in the United States than was the case in Russia.

199502_3-RC_4_27

The passage suggests that which one of the following was true of southern planters in the United States?

Until the 1980s, most scientists believed that noncatastrophic geological processes caused the extinction of dinosaurs that occurred approximately 66 million years ago, at the end of the Cretaceous period. Geologists argued that a dramatic drop in sea level coincided with the extinction of the dinosaurs and could have caused the climatic changes that resulted in this extinction as well as the extinction of many ocean species. This view was seriously challenged in the 1980s by the discovery of large amounts of iridium in a layer of clay deposited at the end of the Cretaceous period. Because iridium is extremely rare in rocks on the Earth's surface but common in meteorites, researchers theorized that it was the impact of a large meteorite that dramatically changed the Earth's climate and thus triggered the extinction of the dinosaurs. Currently available evidence, however, offers more support for a new theory, the volcanic-eruption theory. A vast eruption of lava in India coincided with the extinctions that occurred at the end of the Cretaceous period, and the release of carbon dioxide from this episode of volcanism could have caused the climatic change responsible for the demise of the dinosaurs. Such outpourings of lava are caused by instability in the lowest layer of the Earth's mantle, located just above the Earth's core. As the rock that constitutes this layer is heated by the Earth's core, it becomes less dense and portions of it eventually escape upward as blobs of molten rock, called "diapirs," that can, under certain circumstances, erupt violently through the Earth's crust. Moreover, the volcanic-eruption theory, like the impact theory, accounts for the presence of iridium in sedimentary deposits; it also explains matters that the meteorite-impact theory does not. Although iridium is extremely rare on the Earth's surface, the lower regions of the Earth's mantle have roughly the same composition as meteorites and contain large amounts of iridium, which in the case of a diapir eruption would probably be emitted as iridium hexafluoride, a gas that would disperse more uniformly in the atmosphere than the iridium-containing matter thrown out from a meteorite impact. In addition, the volcanic-eruption theory may explain why the end of the Cretaceous period was marked by a gradual change in sea level. Fossil records indicate that for several hundred thousand years prior to the relatively sudden disappearance of the dinosaurs, the level of the sea gradually fell, causing many marine organisms to die out. This change in sea level might well have been the result of a distortion in the Earth's surface that resulted from the movement of diapirs upward toward the Earth's crust, and the more cataclysmic extinction of the dinosaurs could have resulted from the explosive volcanism that occurred as material from the diapirs erupted onto the Earth's surface.

199506_1-RC_1_1

The passage suggests that during the 1980s researchers found meteorite impact a convincing explanation for the extinction of dinosaurs, in part because

Until the 1980s, most scientists believed that noncatastrophic geological processes caused the extinction of dinosaurs that occurred approximately 66 million years ago, at the end of the Cretaceous period. Geologists argued that a dramatic drop in sea level coincided with the extinction of the dinosaurs and could have caused the climatic changes that resulted in this extinction as well as the extinction of many ocean species. This view was seriously challenged in the 1980s by the discovery of large amounts of iridium in a layer of clay deposited at the end of the Cretaceous period. Because iridium is extremely rare in rocks on the Earth's surface but common in meteorites, researchers theorized that it was the impact of a large meteorite that dramatically changed the Earth's climate and thus triggered the extinction of the dinosaurs. Currently available evidence, however, offers more support for a new theory, the volcanic-eruption theory. A vast eruption of lava in India coincided with the extinctions that occurred at the end of the Cretaceous period, and the release of carbon dioxide from this episode of volcanism could have caused the climatic change responsible for the demise of the dinosaurs. Such outpourings of lava are caused by instability in the lowest layer of the Earth's mantle, located just above the Earth's core. As the rock that constitutes this layer is heated by the Earth's core, it becomes less dense and portions of it eventually escape upward as blobs of molten rock, called "diapirs," that can, under certain circumstances, erupt violently through the Earth's crust. Moreover, the volcanic-eruption theory, like the impact theory, accounts for the presence of iridium in sedimentary deposits; it also explains matters that the meteorite-impact theory does not. Although iridium is extremely rare on the Earth's surface, the lower regions of the Earth's mantle have roughly the same composition as meteorites and contain large amounts of iridium, which in the case of a diapir eruption would probably be emitted as iridium hexafluoride, a gas that would disperse more uniformly in the atmosphere than the iridium-containing matter thrown out from a meteorite impact. In addition, the volcanic-eruption theory may explain why the end of the Cretaceous period was marked by a gradual change in sea level. Fossil records indicate that for several hundred thousand years prior to the relatively sudden disappearance of the dinosaurs, the level of the sea gradually fell, causing many marine organisms to die out. This change in sea level might well have been the result of a distortion in the Earth's surface that resulted from the movement of diapirs upward toward the Earth's crust, and the more cataclysmic extinction of the dinosaurs could have resulted from the explosive volcanism that occurred as material from the diapirs erupted onto the Earth's surface.

199506_1-RC_1_2

According to the passage, the lower regions of the Earth's mantle are characterized by

Until the 1980s, most scientists believed that noncatastrophic geological processes caused the extinction of dinosaurs that occurred approximately 66 million years ago, at the end of the Cretaceous period. Geologists argued that a dramatic drop in sea level coincided with the extinction of the dinosaurs and could have caused the climatic changes that resulted in this extinction as well as the extinction of many ocean species. This view was seriously challenged in the 1980s by the discovery of large amounts of iridium in a layer of clay deposited at the end of the Cretaceous period. Because iridium is extremely rare in rocks on the Earth's surface but common in meteorites, researchers theorized that it was the impact of a large meteorite that dramatically changed the Earth's climate and thus triggered the extinction of the dinosaurs. Currently available evidence, however, offers more support for a new theory, the volcanic-eruption theory. A vast eruption of lava in India coincided with the extinctions that occurred at the end of the Cretaceous period, and the release of carbon dioxide from this episode of volcanism could have caused the climatic change responsible for the demise of the dinosaurs. Such outpourings of lava are caused by instability in the lowest layer of the Earth's mantle, located just above the Earth's core. As the rock that constitutes this layer is heated by the Earth's core, it becomes less dense and portions of it eventually escape upward as blobs of molten rock, called "diapirs," that can, under certain circumstances, erupt violently through the Earth's crust. Moreover, the volcanic-eruption theory, like the impact theory, accounts for the presence of iridium in sedimentary deposits; it also explains matters that the meteorite-impact theory does not. Although iridium is extremely rare on the Earth's surface, the lower regions of the Earth's mantle have roughly the same composition as meteorites and contain large amounts of iridium, which in the case of a diapir eruption would probably be emitted as iridium hexafluoride, a gas that would disperse more uniformly in the atmosphere than the iridium-containing matter thrown out from a meteorite impact. In addition, the volcanic-eruption theory may explain why the end of the Cretaceous period was marked by a gradual change in sea level. Fossil records indicate that for several hundred thousand years prior to the relatively sudden disappearance of the dinosaurs, the level of the sea gradually fell, causing many marine organisms to die out. This change in sea level might well have been the result of a distortion in the Earth's surface that resulted from the movement of diapirs upward toward the Earth's crust, and the more cataclysmic extinction of the dinosaurs could have resulted from the explosive volcanism that occurred as material from the diapirs erupted onto the Earth's surface.

199506_1-RC_1_3

It can be inferred from the passage that which one of the following was true of the lava that erupted in India at the end of the Cretaceous period?

Until the 1980s, most scientists believed that noncatastrophic geological processes caused the extinction of dinosaurs that occurred approximately 66 million years ago, at the end of the Cretaceous period. Geologists argued that a dramatic drop in sea level coincided with the extinction of the dinosaurs and could have caused the climatic changes that resulted in this extinction as well as the extinction of many ocean species. This view was seriously challenged in the 1980s by the discovery of large amounts of iridium in a layer of clay deposited at the end of the Cretaceous period. Because iridium is extremely rare in rocks on the Earth's surface but common in meteorites, researchers theorized that it was the impact of a large meteorite that dramatically changed the Earth's climate and thus triggered the extinction of the dinosaurs. Currently available evidence, however, offers more support for a new theory, the volcanic-eruption theory. A vast eruption of lava in India coincided with the extinctions that occurred at the end of the Cretaceous period, and the release of carbon dioxide from this episode of volcanism could have caused the climatic change responsible for the demise of the dinosaurs. Such outpourings of lava are caused by instability in the lowest layer of the Earth's mantle, located just above the Earth's core. As the rock that constitutes this layer is heated by the Earth's core, it becomes less dense and portions of it eventually escape upward as blobs of molten rock, called "diapirs," that can, under certain circumstances, erupt violently through the Earth's crust. Moreover, the volcanic-eruption theory, like the impact theory, accounts for the presence of iridium in sedimentary deposits; it also explains matters that the meteorite-impact theory does not. Although iridium is extremely rare on the Earth's surface, the lower regions of the Earth's mantle have roughly the same composition as meteorites and contain large amounts of iridium, which in the case of a diapir eruption would probably be emitted as iridium hexafluoride, a gas that would disperse more uniformly in the atmosphere than the iridium-containing matter thrown out from a meteorite impact. In addition, the volcanic-eruption theory may explain why the end of the Cretaceous period was marked by a gradual change in sea level. Fossil records indicate that for several hundred thousand years prior to the relatively sudden disappearance of the dinosaurs, the level of the sea gradually fell, causing many marine organisms to die out. This change in sea level might well have been the result of a distortion in the Earth's surface that resulted from the movement of diapirs upward toward the Earth's crust, and the more cataclysmic extinction of the dinosaurs could have resulted from the explosive volcanism that occurred as material from the diapirs erupted onto the Earth's surface.

199506_1-RC_1_4

In the passage, the author is primarily concerned with doing which one of the following?

Until the 1980s, most scientists believed that noncatastrophic geological processes caused the extinction of dinosaurs that occurred approximately 66 million years ago, at the end of the Cretaceous period. Geologists argued that a dramatic drop in sea level coincided with the extinction of the dinosaurs and could have caused the climatic changes that resulted in this extinction as well as the extinction of many ocean species. This view was seriously challenged in the 1980s by the discovery of large amounts of iridium in a layer of clay deposited at the end of the Cretaceous period. Because iridium is extremely rare in rocks on the Earth's surface but common in meteorites, researchers theorized that it was the impact of a large meteorite that dramatically changed the Earth's climate and thus triggered the extinction of the dinosaurs. Currently available evidence, however, offers more support for a new theory, the volcanic-eruption theory. A vast eruption of lava in India coincided with the extinctions that occurred at the end of the Cretaceous period, and the release of carbon dioxide from this episode of volcanism could have caused the climatic change responsible for the demise of the dinosaurs. Such outpourings of lava are caused by instability in the lowest layer of the Earth's mantle, located just above the Earth's core. As the rock that constitutes this layer is heated by the Earth's core, it becomes less dense and portions of it eventually escape upward as blobs of molten rock, called "diapirs," that can, under certain circumstances, erupt violently through the Earth's crust. Moreover, the volcanic-eruption theory, like the impact theory, accounts for the presence of iridium in sedimentary deposits; it also explains matters that the meteorite-impact theory does not. Although iridium is extremely rare on the Earth's surface, the lower regions of the Earth's mantle have roughly the same composition as meteorites and contain large amounts of iridium, which in the case of a diapir eruption would probably be emitted as iridium hexafluoride, a gas that would disperse more uniformly in the atmosphere than the iridium-containing matter thrown out from a meteorite impact. In addition, the volcanic-eruption theory may explain why the end of the Cretaceous period was marked by a gradual change in sea level. Fossil records indicate that for several hundred thousand years prior to the relatively sudden disappearance of the dinosaurs, the level of the sea gradually fell, causing many marine organisms to die out. This change in sea level might well have been the result of a distortion in the Earth's surface that resulted from the movement of diapirs upward toward the Earth's crust, and the more cataclysmic extinction of the dinosaurs could have resulted from the explosive volcanism that occurred as material from the diapirs erupted onto the Earth's surface.

199506_1-RC_1_5

The author implies that if the theory described in the third paragraph is true, which one of the following would have been true of iridium in the atmosphere at the end of the Cretaceous period?

Until the 1980s, most scientists believed that noncatastrophic geological processes caused the extinction of dinosaurs that occurred approximately 66 million years ago, at the end of the Cretaceous period. Geologists argued that a dramatic drop in sea level coincided with the extinction of the dinosaurs and could have caused the climatic changes that resulted in this extinction as well as the extinction of many ocean species. This view was seriously challenged in the 1980s by the discovery of large amounts of iridium in a layer of clay deposited at the end of the Cretaceous period. Because iridium is extremely rare in rocks on the Earth's surface but common in meteorites, researchers theorized that it was the impact of a large meteorite that dramatically changed the Earth's climate and thus triggered the extinction of the dinosaurs. Currently available evidence, however, offers more support for a new theory, the volcanic-eruption theory. A vast eruption of lava in India coincided with the extinctions that occurred at the end of the Cretaceous period, and the release of carbon dioxide from this episode of volcanism could have caused the climatic change responsible for the demise of the dinosaurs. Such outpourings of lava are caused by instability in the lowest layer of the Earth's mantle, located just above the Earth's core. As the rock that constitutes this layer is heated by the Earth's core, it becomes less dense and portions of it eventually escape upward as blobs of molten rock, called "diapirs," that can, under certain circumstances, erupt violently through the Earth's crust. Moreover, the volcanic-eruption theory, like the impact theory, accounts for the presence of iridium in sedimentary deposits; it also explains matters that the meteorite-impact theory does not. Although iridium is extremely rare on the Earth's surface, the lower regions of the Earth's mantle have roughly the same composition as meteorites and contain large amounts of iridium, which in the case of a diapir eruption would probably be emitted as iridium hexafluoride, a gas that would disperse more uniformly in the atmosphere than the iridium-containing matter thrown out from a meteorite impact. In addition, the volcanic-eruption theory may explain why the end of the Cretaceous period was marked by a gradual change in sea level. Fossil records indicate that for several hundred thousand years prior to the relatively sudden disappearance of the dinosaurs, the level of the sea gradually fell, causing many marine organisms to die out. This change in sea level might well have been the result of a distortion in the Earth's surface that resulted from the movement of diapirs upward toward the Earth's crust, and the more cataclysmic extinction of the dinosaurs could have resulted from the explosive volcanism that occurred as material from the diapirs erupted onto the Earth's surface.

199506_1-RC_1_6

The passage supports which one of the following claims about the volcanic-eruption theory?

Until the 1980s, most scientists believed that noncatastrophic geological processes caused the extinction of dinosaurs that occurred approximately 66 million years ago, at the end of the Cretaceous period. Geologists argued that a dramatic drop in sea level coincided with the extinction of the dinosaurs and could have caused the climatic changes that resulted in this extinction as well as the extinction of many ocean species. This view was seriously challenged in the 1980s by the discovery of large amounts of iridium in a layer of clay deposited at the end of the Cretaceous period. Because iridium is extremely rare in rocks on the Earth's surface but common in meteorites, researchers theorized that it was the impact of a large meteorite that dramatically changed the Earth's climate and thus triggered the extinction of the dinosaurs. Currently available evidence, however, offers more support for a new theory, the volcanic-eruption theory. A vast eruption of lava in India coincided with the extinctions that occurred at the end of the Cretaceous period, and the release of carbon dioxide from this episode of volcanism could have caused the climatic change responsible for the demise of the dinosaurs. Such outpourings of lava are caused by instability in the lowest layer of the Earth's mantle, located just above the Earth's core. As the rock that constitutes this layer is heated by the Earth's core, it becomes less dense and portions of it eventually escape upward as blobs of molten rock, called "diapirs," that can, under certain circumstances, erupt violently through the Earth's crust. Moreover, the volcanic-eruption theory, like the impact theory, accounts for the presence of iridium in sedimentary deposits; it also explains matters that the meteorite-impact theory does not. Although iridium is extremely rare on the Earth's surface, the lower regions of the Earth's mantle have roughly the same composition as meteorites and contain large amounts of iridium, which in the case of a diapir eruption would probably be emitted as iridium hexafluoride, a gas that would disperse more uniformly in the atmosphere than the iridium-containing matter thrown out from a meteorite impact. In addition, the volcanic-eruption theory may explain why the end of the Cretaceous period was marked by a gradual change in sea level. Fossil records indicate that for several hundred thousand years prior to the relatively sudden disappearance of the dinosaurs, the level of the sea gradually fell, causing many marine organisms to die out. This change in sea level might well have been the result of a distortion in the Earth's surface that resulted from the movement of diapirs upward toward the Earth's crust, and the more cataclysmic extinction of the dinosaurs could have resulted from the explosive volcanism that occurred as material from the diapirs erupted onto the Earth's surface.

199506_1-RC_1_7

Which one of the following, if true, would cast the most doubt on the theory described in the last paragraph of the passage?

It has become something of a truism in folklore studies that until recently the lore was more often studied than the folk. That is, folklorists concentrated on the folklore—the songs, tales, and proverbs themselves—and ignored the people who transmitted that lore as part of their oral culture. However, since the early 1970s, folklore studies have begun to regard folk performers as people of creativity who are as worthy of attention as are artists who transmit their ideas in writing. This shift of emphasis has also encouraged a growing interest in women folk performers. Until recently, folklorists tended to collect folklore from women on only a few topics such as health and games. In other areas, as Weigle and Farrer have noted, if folklorists "had a choice between a story as told by a man or as told by a woman, the man's version was chosen." It is still too early to tell how profoundly this situation has changed, but one can point to several recent studies in which women performers play central roles. Perhaps more telling is the focus of the most recently published major folklore textbook, The Dynamics of Folklore. Whereas earlier textbooks gave little attention to women and their folklore, this book devotes many pages to women folk performers. Recognition of women as important bearers of folklore is not entirely a recent phenomenon. As early as 1903, a few outstanding women folk performers were the focus of scholarly attention. But the scholarship devoted to these women tended to focus primarily on presenting the performer's repertoire. Recent works about women folk artists, however, have been more biographically oriented. Juha Pentikäinen's study of Marina Tokalo, a Finnish healer and narrator of folktales, is especially extensive and probing. Though interested in the problems of repertoire analysis, Pentikäinen gives considerable attention to the details of Tokalo's life and cultural background, so that a full picture of a woman and her folklore emerges. Another notable work is Roger Abraham's book, which presents a very clear picture of the significance of traditional singing in the life of noted ballad singer Almeda Riddle. Unfortunately, unlike Pentikäinen's study, Abraham's study contains little repertoire analysis. These recent books reflect the current interest of folklorists in viewing folklore in context and thus answering questions about what folklore means to the people who use it. One unexpected result of this line of study has been the discovery that women may use the same folklore that men use, but for very different purposes. This realization has potential importance for future folklore studies in calling greater attention to the type of study required if a folklorist wants truly to understand the role folklore plays in a particular culture.

199506_1-RC_2_8

Which one of the following best describes the main point of the passage?

It has become something of a truism in folklore studies that until recently the lore was more often studied than the folk. That is, folklorists concentrated on the folklore—the songs, tales, and proverbs themselves—and ignored the people who transmitted that lore as part of their oral culture. However, since the early 1970s, folklore studies have begun to regard folk performers as people of creativity who are as worthy of attention as are artists who transmit their ideas in writing. This shift of emphasis has also encouraged a growing interest in women folk performers. Until recently, folklorists tended to collect folklore from women on only a few topics such as health and games. In other areas, as Weigle and Farrer have noted, if folklorists "had a choice between a story as told by a man or as told by a woman, the man's version was chosen." It is still too early to tell how profoundly this situation has changed, but one can point to several recent studies in which women performers play central roles. Perhaps more telling is the focus of the most recently published major folklore textbook, The Dynamics of Folklore. Whereas earlier textbooks gave little attention to women and their folklore, this book devotes many pages to women folk performers. Recognition of women as important bearers of folklore is not entirely a recent phenomenon. As early as 1903, a few outstanding women folk performers were the focus of scholarly attention. But the scholarship devoted to these women tended to focus primarily on presenting the performer's repertoire. Recent works about women folk artists, however, have been more biographically oriented. Juha Pentikäinen's study of Marina Tokalo, a Finnish healer and narrator of folktales, is especially extensive and probing. Though interested in the problems of repertoire analysis, Pentikäinen gives considerable attention to the details of Tokalo's life and cultural background, so that a full picture of a woman and her folklore emerges. Another notable work is Roger Abraham's book, which presents a very clear picture of the significance of traditional singing in the life of noted ballad singer Almeda Riddle. Unfortunately, unlike Pentikäinen's study, Abraham's study contains little repertoire analysis. These recent books reflect the current interest of folklorists in viewing folklore in context and thus answering questions about what folklore means to the people who use it. One unexpected result of this line of study has been the discovery that women may use the same folklore that men use, but for very different purposes. This realization has potential importance for future folklore studies in calling greater attention to the type of study required if a folklorist wants truly to understand the role folklore plays in a particular culture.

199506_1-RC_2_9

The author of the passage refers to The Dynamics of Folklore primarily in order to

It has become something of a truism in folklore studies that until recently the lore was more often studied than the folk. That is, folklorists concentrated on the folklore—the songs, tales, and proverbs themselves—and ignored the people who transmitted that lore as part of their oral culture. However, since the early 1970s, folklore studies have begun to regard folk performers as people of creativity who are as worthy of attention as are artists who transmit their ideas in writing. This shift of emphasis has also encouraged a growing interest in women folk performers. Until recently, folklorists tended to collect folklore from women on only a few topics such as health and games. In other areas, as Weigle and Farrer have noted, if folklorists "had a choice between a story as told by a man or as told by a woman, the man's version was chosen." It is still too early to tell how profoundly this situation has changed, but one can point to several recent studies in which women performers play central roles. Perhaps more telling is the focus of the most recently published major folklore textbook, The Dynamics of Folklore. Whereas earlier textbooks gave little attention to women and their folklore, this book devotes many pages to women folk performers. Recognition of women as important bearers of folklore is not entirely a recent phenomenon. As early as 1903, a few outstanding women folk performers were the focus of scholarly attention. But the scholarship devoted to these women tended to focus primarily on presenting the performer's repertoire. Recent works about women folk artists, however, have been more biographically oriented. Juha Pentikäinen's study of Marina Tokalo, a Finnish healer and narrator of folktales, is especially extensive and probing. Though interested in the problems of repertoire analysis, Pentikäinen gives considerable attention to the details of Tokalo's life and cultural background, so that a full picture of a woman and her folklore emerges. Another notable work is Roger Abraham's book, which presents a very clear picture of the significance of traditional singing in the life of noted ballad singer Almeda Riddle. Unfortunately, unlike Pentikäinen's study, Abraham's study contains little repertoire analysis. These recent books reflect the current interest of folklorists in viewing folklore in context and thus answering questions about what folklore means to the people who use it. One unexpected result of this line of study has been the discovery that women may use the same folklore that men use, but for very different purposes. This realization has potential importance for future folklore studies in calling greater attention to the type of study required if a folklorist wants truly to understand the role folklore plays in a particular culture.

199506_1-RC_2_10

The focus of which one of the following books would most clearly reflect the current interest of the folklorists mentioned in the last paragraph?

It has become something of a truism in folklore studies that until recently the lore was more often studied than the folk. That is, folklorists concentrated on the folklore—the songs, tales, and proverbs themselves—and ignored the people who transmitted that lore as part of their oral culture. However, since the early 1970s, folklore studies have begun to regard folk performers as people of creativity who are as worthy of attention as are artists who transmit their ideas in writing. This shift of emphasis has also encouraged a growing interest in women folk performers. Until recently, folklorists tended to collect folklore from women on only a few topics such as health and games. In other areas, as Weigle and Farrer have noted, if folklorists "had a choice between a story as told by a man or as told by a woman, the man's version was chosen." It is still too early to tell how profoundly this situation has changed, but one can point to several recent studies in which women performers play central roles. Perhaps more telling is the focus of the most recently published major folklore textbook, The Dynamics of Folklore. Whereas earlier textbooks gave little attention to women and their folklore, this book devotes many pages to women folk performers. Recognition of women as important bearers of folklore is not entirely a recent phenomenon. As early as 1903, a few outstanding women folk performers were the focus of scholarly attention. But the scholarship devoted to these women tended to focus primarily on presenting the performer's repertoire. Recent works about women folk artists, however, have been more biographically oriented. Juha Pentikäinen's study of Marina Tokalo, a Finnish healer and narrator of folktales, is especially extensive and probing. Though interested in the problems of repertoire analysis, Pentikäinen gives considerable attention to the details of Tokalo's life and cultural background, so that a full picture of a woman and her folklore emerges. Another notable work is Roger Abraham's book, which presents a very clear picture of the significance of traditional singing in the life of noted ballad singer Almeda Riddle. Unfortunately, unlike Pentikäinen's study, Abraham's study contains little repertoire analysis. These recent books reflect the current interest of folklorists in viewing folklore in context and thus answering questions about what folklore means to the people who use it. One unexpected result of this line of study has been the discovery that women may use the same folklore that men use, but for very different purposes. This realization has potential importance for future folklore studies in calling greater attention to the type of study required if a folklorist wants truly to understand the role folklore plays in a particular culture.

199506_1-RC_2_11

According to the passage, which one of the following changes has occurred in the field of folklore since the early 1970s?

It has become something of a truism in folklore studies that until recently the lore was more often studied than the folk. That is, folklorists concentrated on the folklore—the songs, tales, and proverbs themselves—and ignored the people who transmitted that lore as part of their oral culture. However, since the early 1970s, folklore studies have begun to regard folk performers as people of creativity who are as worthy of attention as are artists who transmit their ideas in writing. This shift of emphasis has also encouraged a growing interest in women folk performers. Until recently, folklorists tended to collect folklore from women on only a few topics such as health and games. In other areas, as Weigle and Farrer have noted, if folklorists "had a choice between a story as told by a man or as told by a woman, the man's version was chosen." It is still too early to tell how profoundly this situation has changed, but one can point to several recent studies in which women performers play central roles. Perhaps more telling is the focus of the most recently published major folklore textbook, The Dynamics of Folklore. Whereas earlier textbooks gave little attention to women and their folklore, this book devotes many pages to women folk performers. Recognition of women as important bearers of folklore is not entirely a recent phenomenon. As early as 1903, a few outstanding women folk performers were the focus of scholarly attention. But the scholarship devoted to these women tended to focus primarily on presenting the performer's repertoire. Recent works about women folk artists, however, have been more biographically oriented. Juha Pentikäinen's study of Marina Tokalo, a Finnish healer and narrator of folktales, is especially extensive and probing. Though interested in the problems of repertoire analysis, Pentikäinen gives considerable attention to the details of Tokalo's life and cultural background, so that a full picture of a woman and her folklore emerges. Another notable work is Roger Abraham's book, which presents a very clear picture of the significance of traditional singing in the life of noted ballad singer Almeda Riddle. Unfortunately, unlike Pentikäinen's study, Abraham's study contains little repertoire analysis. These recent books reflect the current interest of folklorists in viewing folklore in context and thus answering questions about what folklore means to the people who use it. One unexpected result of this line of study has been the discovery that women may use the same folklore that men use, but for very different purposes. This realization has potential importance for future folklore studies in calling greater attention to the type of study required if a folklorist wants truly to understand the role folklore plays in a particular culture.

199506_1-RC_2_12

It can be inferred from the passage that early folklorists assumed that which one of the following was true?

It has become something of a truism in folklore studies that until recently the lore was more often studied than the folk. That is, folklorists concentrated on the folklore—the songs, tales, and proverbs themselves—and ignored the people who transmitted that lore as part of their oral culture. However, since the early 1970s, folklore studies have begun to regard folk performers as people of creativity who are as worthy of attention as are artists who transmit their ideas in writing. This shift of emphasis has also encouraged a growing interest in women folk performers. Until recently, folklorists tended to collect folklore from women on only a few topics such as health and games. In other areas, as Weigle and Farrer have noted, if folklorists "had a choice between a story as told by a man or as told by a woman, the man's version was chosen." It is still too early to tell how profoundly this situation has changed, but one can point to several recent studies in which women performers play central roles. Perhaps more telling is the focus of the most recently published major folklore textbook, The Dynamics of Folklore. Whereas earlier textbooks gave little attention to women and their folklore, this book devotes many pages to women folk performers. Recognition of women as important bearers of folklore is not entirely a recent phenomenon. As early as 1903, a few outstanding women folk performers were the focus of scholarly attention. But the scholarship devoted to these women tended to focus primarily on presenting the performer's repertoire. Recent works about women folk artists, however, have been more biographically oriented. Juha Pentikäinen's study of Marina Tokalo, a Finnish healer and narrator of folktales, is especially extensive and probing. Though interested in the problems of repertoire analysis, Pentikäinen gives considerable attention to the details of Tokalo's life and cultural background, so that a full picture of a woman and her folklore emerges. Another notable work is Roger Abraham's book, which presents a very clear picture of the significance of traditional singing in the life of noted ballad singer Almeda Riddle. Unfortunately, unlike Pentikäinen's study, Abraham's study contains little repertoire analysis. These recent books reflect the current interest of folklorists in viewing folklore in context and thus answering questions about what folklore means to the people who use it. One unexpected result of this line of study has been the discovery that women may use the same folklore that men use, but for very different purposes. This realization has potential importance for future folklore studies in calling greater attention to the type of study required if a folklorist wants truly to understand the role folklore plays in a particular culture.

199506_1-RC_2_13

Based on the information in the passage, which one of the following is most closely analogous to the type of folklore studies produced before the early 1970s?

It has become something of a truism in folklore studies that until recently the lore was more often studied than the folk. That is, folklorists concentrated on the folklore—the songs, tales, and proverbs themselves—and ignored the people who transmitted that lore as part of their oral culture. However, since the early 1970s, folklore studies have begun to regard folk performers as people of creativity who are as worthy of attention as are artists who transmit their ideas in writing. This shift of emphasis has also encouraged a growing interest in women folk performers. Until recently, folklorists tended to collect folklore from women on only a few topics such as health and games. In other areas, as Weigle and Farrer have noted, if folklorists "had a choice between a story as told by a man or as told by a woman, the man's version was chosen." It is still too early to tell how profoundly this situation has changed, but one can point to several recent studies in which women performers play central roles. Perhaps more telling is the focus of the most recently published major folklore textbook, The Dynamics of Folklore. Whereas earlier textbooks gave little attention to women and their folklore, this book devotes many pages to women folk performers. Recognition of women as important bearers of folklore is not entirely a recent phenomenon. As early as 1903, a few outstanding women folk performers were the focus of scholarly attention. But the scholarship devoted to these women tended to focus primarily on presenting the performer's repertoire. Recent works about women folk artists, however, have been more biographically oriented. Juha Pentikäinen's study of Marina Tokalo, a Finnish healer and narrator of folktales, is especially extensive and probing. Though interested in the problems of repertoire analysis, Pentikäinen gives considerable attention to the details of Tokalo's life and cultural background, so that a full picture of a woman and her folklore emerges. Another notable work is Roger Abraham's book, which presents a very clear picture of the significance of traditional singing in the life of noted ballad singer Almeda Riddle. Unfortunately, unlike Pentikäinen's study, Abraham's study contains little repertoire analysis. These recent books reflect the current interest of folklorists in viewing folklore in context and thus answering questions about what folklore means to the people who use it. One unexpected result of this line of study has been the discovery that women may use the same folklore that men use, but for very different purposes. This realization has potential importance for future folklore studies in calling greater attention to the type of study required if a folklorist wants truly to understand the role folklore plays in a particular culture.

199506_1-RC_2_14

The author of the passage uses the term "context" (line 50) to refer to

It has become something of a truism in folklore studies that until recently the lore was more often studied than the folk. That is, folklorists concentrated on the folklore—the songs, tales, and proverbs themselves—and ignored the people who transmitted that lore as part of their oral culture. However, since the early 1970s, folklore studies have begun to regard folk performers as people of creativity who are as worthy of attention as are artists who transmit their ideas in writing. This shift of emphasis has also encouraged a growing interest in women folk performers. Until recently, folklorists tended to collect folklore from women on only a few topics such as health and games. In other areas, as Weigle and Farrer have noted, if folklorists "had a choice between a story as told by a man or as told by a woman, the man's version was chosen." It is still too early to tell how profoundly this situation has changed, but one can point to several recent studies in which women performers play central roles. Perhaps more telling is the focus of the most recently published major folklore textbook, The Dynamics of Folklore. Whereas earlier textbooks gave little attention to women and their folklore, this book devotes many pages to women folk performers. Recognition of women as important bearers of folklore is not entirely a recent phenomenon. As early as 1903, a few outstanding women folk performers were the focus of scholarly attention. But the scholarship devoted to these women tended to focus primarily on presenting the performer's repertoire. Recent works about women folk artists, however, have been more biographically oriented. Juha Pentikäinen's study of Marina Tokalo, a Finnish healer and narrator of folktales, is especially extensive and probing. Though interested in the problems of repertoire analysis, Pentikäinen gives considerable attention to the details of Tokalo's life and cultural background, so that a full picture of a woman and her folklore emerges. Another notable work is Roger Abraham's book, which presents a very clear picture of the significance of traditional singing in the life of noted ballad singer Almeda Riddle. Unfortunately, unlike Pentikäinen's study, Abraham's study contains little repertoire analysis. These recent books reflect the current interest of folklorists in viewing folklore in context and thus answering questions about what folklore means to the people who use it. One unexpected result of this line of study has been the discovery that women may use the same folklore that men use, but for very different purposes. This realization has potential importance for future folklore studies in calling greater attention to the type of study required if a folklorist wants truly to understand the role folklore plays in a particular culture.

199506_1-RC_2_15

The author's attitude toward Roger Abraham's book can best be described as one of

J. G. A. Pocock's numerous investigations have all revolved around the fruitful assumption that a work of political thought can only be understood in light of the linguistic constraints to which its author was subject, for these prescribed both the choice of subject matter and the author's conceptualization of this subject matter. Only the occasional epic theorist, like Machiavelli or Hobbes, succeeded in breaking out of these bonds by redefining old terms and inventing new ones. The task of the modern commentator is to identify the "language" or "vocabulary" with and within which the author operated. While historians of literature have always been aware that writers work within particular traditions, the application of this notion to the history of political ideas forms a sharp contrast to the assumptions of the 1950s, when it was na?vely thought that the close reading of a text by an analytic philosopher was sufficient to establish its meaning, even if the philosopher had no knowledge of the period of the text's composition. The language Pocock has most closely investigated is that of "civic humanism." For much of his career he has argued that eighteenth-century English political thought should be interpreted as a conflict between rival versions of the "virtue" central to civic humanism. On the one hand, he argues, this virtue is described by representatives of the Tory opposition using a vocabulary of public spirit and self-sufficiency. For these writers the societal ideal is the small, independent landowner in the countryside. On the other hand, Whig writers describe such virtue using a vocabulary of commerce and economic progress; for them the ideal is the merchant. In making such linguistic discriminations Pocock has disassociated himself from historians like Namier, who deride all eighteenth-century English political language as "cant." But while Pocock's ideas have proved fertile when applied to England, they are more controversial when applied to the late-eighteenth-century United States. Pocock's assertion that Jefferson's attacks on the commercial policies of the Federalists simply echo the language of the Tory opposition in England is at odds with the fact that Jefferson rejected the elitist implications of that group's notion of virtue and asserted the right of all to participate in commercial society. Indeed, after promptings by Quentin Skinner, Pocock has admitted that a counterlanguage—one of rights and liberties—was probably as important in the political discourse of the late-eighteenth-century United States as the language of civic humanism. Fortunately, it is not necessary to rank the relative importance of all the different vocabularies in which eighteenth-century political argument was conducted. It is sufficient to recognize that any interesting text is probably a mixture of several of these vocabularies, and to applaud the historian who, though guilty of some exaggeration, has done the most to make us aware of their importance.

199506_1-RC_3_16

The main idea of the passage is that

J. G. A. Pocock's numerous investigations have all revolved around the fruitful assumption that a work of political thought can only be understood in light of the linguistic constraints to which its author was subject, for these prescribed both the choice of subject matter and the author's conceptualization of this subject matter. Only the occasional epic theorist, like Machiavelli or Hobbes, succeeded in breaking out of these bonds by redefining old terms and inventing new ones. The task of the modern commentator is to identify the "language" or "vocabulary" with and within which the author operated. While historians of literature have always been aware that writers work within particular traditions, the application of this notion to the history of political ideas forms a sharp contrast to the assumptions of the 1950s, when it was na?vely thought that the close reading of a text by an analytic philosopher was sufficient to establish its meaning, even if the philosopher had no knowledge of the period of the text's composition. The language Pocock has most closely investigated is that of "civic humanism." For much of his career he has argued that eighteenth-century English political thought should be interpreted as a conflict between rival versions of the "virtue" central to civic humanism. On the one hand, he argues, this virtue is described by representatives of the Tory opposition using a vocabulary of public spirit and self-sufficiency. For these writers the societal ideal is the small, independent landowner in the countryside. On the other hand, Whig writers describe such virtue using a vocabulary of commerce and economic progress; for them the ideal is the merchant. In making such linguistic discriminations Pocock has disassociated himself from historians like Namier, who deride all eighteenth-century English political language as "cant." But while Pocock's ideas have proved fertile when applied to England, they are more controversial when applied to the late-eighteenth-century United States. Pocock's assertion that Jefferson's attacks on the commercial policies of the Federalists simply echo the language of the Tory opposition in England is at odds with the fact that Jefferson rejected the elitist implications of that group's notion of virtue and asserted the right of all to participate in commercial society. Indeed, after promptings by Quentin Skinner, Pocock has admitted that a counterlanguage—one of rights and liberties—was probably as important in the political discourse of the late-eighteenth-century United States as the language of civic humanism. Fortunately, it is not necessary to rank the relative importance of all the different vocabularies in which eighteenth-century political argument was conducted. It is sufficient to recognize that any interesting text is probably a mixture of several of these vocabularies, and to applaud the historian who, though guilty of some exaggeration, has done the most to make us aware of their importance.

199506_1-RC_3_17

According to the passage, Pocock most clearly associates the use of a vocabulary of economic progress with

J. G. A. Pocock's numerous investigations have all revolved around the fruitful assumption that a work of political thought can only be understood in light of the linguistic constraints to which its author was subject, for these prescribed both the choice of subject matter and the author's conceptualization of this subject matter. Only the occasional epic theorist, like Machiavelli or Hobbes, succeeded in breaking out of these bonds by redefining old terms and inventing new ones. The task of the modern commentator is to identify the "language" or "vocabulary" with and within which the author operated. While historians of literature have always been aware that writers work within particular traditions, the application of this notion to the history of political ideas forms a sharp contrast to the assumptions of the 1950s, when it was na?vely thought that the close reading of a text by an analytic philosopher was sufficient to establish its meaning, even if the philosopher had no knowledge of the period of the text's composition. The language Pocock has most closely investigated is that of "civic humanism." For much of his career he has argued that eighteenth-century English political thought should be interpreted as a conflict between rival versions of the "virtue" central to civic humanism. On the one hand, he argues, this virtue is described by representatives of the Tory opposition using a vocabulary of public spirit and self-sufficiency. For these writers the societal ideal is the small, independent landowner in the countryside. On the other hand, Whig writers describe such virtue using a vocabulary of commerce and economic progress; for them the ideal is the merchant. In making such linguistic discriminations Pocock has disassociated himself from historians like Namier, who deride all eighteenth-century English political language as "cant." But while Pocock's ideas have proved fertile when applied to England, they are more controversial when applied to the late-eighteenth-century United States. Pocock's assertion that Jefferson's attacks on the commercial policies of the Federalists simply echo the language of the Tory opposition in England is at odds with the fact that Jefferson rejected the elitist implications of that group's notion of virtue and asserted the right of all to participate in commercial society. Indeed, after promptings by Quentin Skinner, Pocock has admitted that a counterlanguage—one of rights and liberties—was probably as important in the political discourse of the late-eighteenth-century United States as the language of civic humanism. Fortunately, it is not necessary to rank the relative importance of all the different vocabularies in which eighteenth-century political argument was conducted. It is sufficient to recognize that any interesting text is probably a mixture of several of these vocabularies, and to applaud the historian who, though guilty of some exaggeration, has done the most to make us aware of their importance.

199506_1-RC_3_18

The author's attitude toward Pocock is best revealed by which of the following pairs of words?

J. G. A. Pocock's numerous investigations have all revolved around the fruitful assumption that a work of political thought can only be understood in light of the linguistic constraints to which its author was subject, for these prescribed both the choice of subject matter and the author's conceptualization of this subject matter. Only the occasional epic theorist, like Machiavelli or Hobbes, succeeded in breaking out of these bonds by redefining old terms and inventing new ones. The task of the modern commentator is to identify the "language" or "vocabulary" with and within which the author operated. While historians of literature have always been aware that writers work within particular traditions, the application of this notion to the history of political ideas forms a sharp contrast to the assumptions of the 1950s, when it was na?vely thought that the close reading of a text by an analytic philosopher was sufficient to establish its meaning, even if the philosopher had no knowledge of the period of the text's composition. The language Pocock has most closely investigated is that of "civic humanism." For much of his career he has argued that eighteenth-century English political thought should be interpreted as a conflict between rival versions of the "virtue" central to civic humanism. On the one hand, he argues, this virtue is described by representatives of the Tory opposition using a vocabulary of public spirit and self-sufficiency. For these writers the societal ideal is the small, independent landowner in the countryside. On the other hand, Whig writers describe such virtue using a vocabulary of commerce and economic progress; for them the ideal is the merchant. In making such linguistic discriminations Pocock has disassociated himself from historians like Namier, who deride all eighteenth-century English political language as "cant." But while Pocock's ideas have proved fertile when applied to England, they are more controversial when applied to the late-eighteenth-century United States. Pocock's assertion that Jefferson's attacks on the commercial policies of the Federalists simply echo the language of the Tory opposition in England is at odds with the fact that Jefferson rejected the elitist implications of that group's notion of virtue and asserted the right of all to participate in commercial society. Indeed, after promptings by Quentin Skinner, Pocock has admitted that a counterlanguage—one of rights and liberties—was probably as important in the political discourse of the late-eighteenth-century United States as the language of civic humanism. Fortunately, it is not necessary to rank the relative importance of all the different vocabularies in which eighteenth-century political argument was conducted. It is sufficient to recognize that any interesting text is probably a mixture of several of these vocabularies, and to applaud the historian who, though guilty of some exaggeration, has done the most to make us aware of their importance.

199506_1-RC_3_19

The passage suggests that one of the "assumptions of the 1950s" (line 17) regarding the meaning of a political text was that this meaning

J. G. A. Pocock's numerous investigations have all revolved around the fruitful assumption that a work of political thought can only be understood in light of the linguistic constraints to which its author was subject, for these prescribed both the choice of subject matter and the author's conceptualization of this subject matter. Only the occasional epic theorist, like Machiavelli or Hobbes, succeeded in breaking out of these bonds by redefining old terms and inventing new ones. The task of the modern commentator is to identify the "language" or "vocabulary" with and within which the author operated. While historians of literature have always been aware that writers work within particular traditions, the application of this notion to the history of political ideas forms a sharp contrast to the assumptions of the 1950s, when it was na?vely thought that the close reading of a text by an analytic philosopher was sufficient to establish its meaning, even if the philosopher had no knowledge of the period of the text's composition. The language Pocock has most closely investigated is that of "civic humanism." For much of his career he has argued that eighteenth-century English political thought should be interpreted as a conflict between rival versions of the "virtue" central to civic humanism. On the one hand, he argues, this virtue is described by representatives of the Tory opposition using a vocabulary of public spirit and self-sufficiency. For these writers the societal ideal is the small, independent landowner in the countryside. On the other hand, Whig writers describe such virtue using a vocabulary of commerce and economic progress; for them the ideal is the merchant. In making such linguistic discriminations Pocock has disassociated himself from historians like Namier, who deride all eighteenth-century English political language as "cant." But while Pocock's ideas have proved fertile when applied to England, they are more controversial when applied to the late-eighteenth-century United States. Pocock's assertion that Jefferson's attacks on the commercial policies of the Federalists simply echo the language of the Tory opposition in England is at odds with the fact that Jefferson rejected the elitist implications of that group's notion of virtue and asserted the right of all to participate in commercial society. Indeed, after promptings by Quentin Skinner, Pocock has admitted that a counterlanguage—one of rights and liberties—was probably as important in the political discourse of the late-eighteenth-century United States as the language of civic humanism. Fortunately, it is not necessary to rank the relative importance of all the different vocabularies in which eighteenth-century political argument was conducted. It is sufficient to recognize that any interesting text is probably a mixture of several of these vocabularies, and to applaud the historian who, though guilty of some exaggeration, has done the most to make us aware of their importance.

199506_1-RC_3_20

The author of the passage would most likely agree that which one of the following is a weakness found in Pocock's work?

J. G. A. Pocock's numerous investigations have all revolved around the fruitful assumption that a work of political thought can only be understood in light of the linguistic constraints to which its author was subject, for these prescribed both the choice of subject matter and the author's conceptualization of this subject matter. Only the occasional epic theorist, like Machiavelli or Hobbes, succeeded in breaking out of these bonds by redefining old terms and inventing new ones. The task of the modern commentator is to identify the "language" or "vocabulary" with and within which the author operated. While historians of literature have always been aware that writers work within particular traditions, the application of this notion to the history of political ideas forms a sharp contrast to the assumptions of the 1950s, when it was na?vely thought that the close reading of a text by an analytic philosopher was sufficient to establish its meaning, even if the philosopher had no knowledge of the period of the text's composition. The language Pocock has most closely investigated is that of "civic humanism." For much of his career he has argued that eighteenth-century English political thought should be interpreted as a conflict between rival versions of the "virtue" central to civic humanism. On the one hand, he argues, this virtue is described by representatives of the Tory opposition using a vocabulary of public spirit and self-sufficiency. For these writers the societal ideal is the small, independent landowner in the countryside. On the other hand, Whig writers describe such virtue using a vocabulary of commerce and economic progress; for them the ideal is the merchant. In making such linguistic discriminations Pocock has disassociated himself from historians like Namier, who deride all eighteenth-century English political language as "cant." But while Pocock's ideas have proved fertile when applied to England, they are more controversial when applied to the late-eighteenth-century United States. Pocock's assertion that Jefferson's attacks on the commercial policies of the Federalists simply echo the language of the Tory opposition in England is at odds with the fact that Jefferson rejected the elitist implications of that group's notion of virtue and asserted the right of all to participate in commercial society. Indeed, after promptings by Quentin Skinner, Pocock has admitted that a counterlanguage—one of rights and liberties—was probably as important in the political discourse of the late-eighteenth-century United States as the language of civic humanism. Fortunately, it is not necessary to rank the relative importance of all the different vocabularies in which eighteenth-century political argument was conducted. It is sufficient to recognize that any interesting text is probably a mixture of several of these vocabularies, and to applaud the historian who, though guilty of some exaggeration, has done the most to make us aware of their importance.

199506_1-RC_3_21

Which one of the following best describes the organization of the passage?

In 1964 the United States federal government began attempts to eliminate racial discrimination in employment and wages: the United States Congress enacted Title VII of the Civil Rights Act, prohibiting employers from making employment decisions on the basis of race. In 1965 President Johnson issued Executive Order 11,246, which prohibited discrimination by United States government contractors and emphasized direct monitoring of minority representation in contractors' work forces. Nonetheless, proponents of the "continuous change" hypothesis believe that United States federal law had a marginal impact on the economic progress made by black people in the United States between 1940 and 1975. Instead they emphasize slowly evolving historical forces, such as long-term trends in education that improved segregated schools for black students during the 1940s and were operative during and after the 1960s. They argue that as the quality of black schools improved relative to that of white schools, the earning potential of those attending black schools increased relative to the earning potential of those attending white schools. However, there is no direct evidence linking increased quality of underfunded segregated black schools to these improvements in earning potential. In fact, even the evidence on relative schooling quality is ambiguous. Although in the mid-1940s term length at black schools was approaching that in white schools, the rapid growth in another important measure of school quality, school expenditures, may be explained by increases in teachers' salaries, and, historically, such increases have not necessarily increased school quality. Finally, black individuals in all age groups, even those who had been educated at segregated schools before the 1940s, experienced post-1960 increases in their earning potential. If improvements in the quality of schooling were an important determinant of increased returns, only those workers who could have benefited from enhanced school quality should have received higher returns. The relative improvement in the earning potential of educated black people of all age groups in the United States is more consistent with a decline in employment discrimination. An additional problem for continuity theorists is how to explain the rapid acceleration of black economic progress in the United States after 1964. Education alone cannot account for the rate of change. Rather, the coincidence of increased United States government antidiscrimination pressure in the mid-1960s with the acceleration in the rate of black economic progress beginning in 1965 argues against the continuity theorists' view. True, correlating federal intervention and the acceleration of black economic progress might be incorrect. One could argue that changing attitudes about employment discrimination sparked both the adoption of new federal policies and the rapid acceleration in black economic progress. Indeed, the shift in national attitude that made possible the enactment of Title VII was in part produced by the persistence of racial discrimination in the southern United States. However, the fact that the law had its greatest effect in the South, in spite of the vigorous resistance of many Southern leaders, suggests its importance for black economic progress.

199506_1-RC_4_22

According to the passage, Title VII of the 1964 Civil Rights Act differs from Executive Order 11,246 in that Title VII

In 1964 the United States federal government began attempts to eliminate racial discrimination in employment and wages: the United States Congress enacted Title VII of the Civil Rights Act, prohibiting employers from making employment decisions on the basis of race. In 1965 President Johnson issued Executive Order 11,246, which prohibited discrimination by United States government contractors and emphasized direct monitoring of minority representation in contractors' work forces. Nonetheless, proponents of the "continuous change" hypothesis believe that United States federal law had a marginal impact on the economic progress made by black people in the United States between 1940 and 1975. Instead they emphasize slowly evolving historical forces, such as long-term trends in education that improved segregated schools for black students during the 1940s and were operative during and after the 1960s. They argue that as the quality of black schools improved relative to that of white schools, the earning potential of those attending black schools increased relative to the earning potential of those attending white schools. However, there is no direct evidence linking increased quality of underfunded segregated black schools to these improvements in earning potential. In fact, even the evidence on relative schooling quality is ambiguous. Although in the mid-1940s term length at black schools was approaching that in white schools, the rapid growth in another important measure of school quality, school expenditures, may be explained by increases in teachers' salaries, and, historically, such increases have not necessarily increased school quality. Finally, black individuals in all age groups, even those who had been educated at segregated schools before the 1940s, experienced post-1960 increases in their earning potential. If improvements in the quality of schooling were an important determinant of increased returns, only those workers who could have benefited from enhanced school quality should have received higher returns. The relative improvement in the earning potential of educated black people of all age groups in the United States is more consistent with a decline in employment discrimination. An additional problem for continuity theorists is how to explain the rapid acceleration of black economic progress in the United States after 1964. Education alone cannot account for the rate of change. Rather, the coincidence of increased United States government antidiscrimination pressure in the mid-1960s with the acceleration in the rate of black economic progress beginning in 1965 argues against the continuity theorists' view. True, correlating federal intervention and the acceleration of black economic progress might be incorrect. One could argue that changing attitudes about employment discrimination sparked both the adoption of new federal policies and the rapid acceleration in black economic progress. Indeed, the shift in national attitude that made possible the enactment of Title VII was in part produced by the persistence of racial discrimination in the southern United States. However, the fact that the law had its greatest effect in the South, in spite of the vigorous resistance of many Southern leaders, suggests its importance for black economic progress.

199506_1-RC_4_23

Which one of the following statements about schooling in the United States during the mid-1940s can be inferred from the passage?

In 1964 the United States federal government began attempts to eliminate racial discrimination in employment and wages: the United States Congress enacted Title VII of the Civil Rights Act, prohibiting employers from making employment decisions on the basis of race. In 1965 President Johnson issued Executive Order 11,246, which prohibited discrimination by United States government contractors and emphasized direct monitoring of minority representation in contractors' work forces. Nonetheless, proponents of the "continuous change" hypothesis believe that United States federal law had a marginal impact on the economic progress made by black people in the United States between 1940 and 1975. Instead they emphasize slowly evolving historical forces, such as long-term trends in education that improved segregated schools for black students during the 1940s and were operative during and after the 1960s. They argue that as the quality of black schools improved relative to that of white schools, the earning potential of those attending black schools increased relative to the earning potential of those attending white schools. However, there is no direct evidence linking increased quality of underfunded segregated black schools to these improvements in earning potential. In fact, even the evidence on relative schooling quality is ambiguous. Although in the mid-1940s term length at black schools was approaching that in white schools, the rapid growth in another important measure of school quality, school expenditures, may be explained by increases in teachers' salaries, and, historically, such increases have not necessarily increased school quality. Finally, black individuals in all age groups, even those who had been educated at segregated schools before the 1940s, experienced post-1960 increases in their earning potential. If improvements in the quality of schooling were an important determinant of increased returns, only those workers who could have benefited from enhanced school quality should have received higher returns. The relative improvement in the earning potential of educated black people of all age groups in the United States is more consistent with a decline in employment discrimination. An additional problem for continuity theorists is how to explain the rapid acceleration of black economic progress in the United States after 1964. Education alone cannot account for the rate of change. Rather, the coincidence of increased United States government antidiscrimination pressure in the mid-1960s with the acceleration in the rate of black economic progress beginning in 1965 argues against the continuity theorists' view. True, correlating federal intervention and the acceleration of black economic progress might be incorrect. One could argue that changing attitudes about employment discrimination sparked both the adoption of new federal policies and the rapid acceleration in black economic progress. Indeed, the shift in national attitude that made possible the enactment of Title VII was in part produced by the persistence of racial discrimination in the southern United States. However, the fact that the law had its greatest effect in the South, in spite of the vigorous resistance of many Southern leaders, suggests its importance for black economic progress.

199506_1-RC_4_24

The primary purpose of the passage is to

In 1964 the United States federal government began attempts to eliminate racial discrimination in employment and wages: the United States Congress enacted Title VII of the Civil Rights Act, prohibiting employers from making employment decisions on the basis of race. In 1965 President Johnson issued Executive Order 11,246, which prohibited discrimination by United States government contractors and emphasized direct monitoring of minority representation in contractors' work forces. Nonetheless, proponents of the "continuous change" hypothesis believe that United States federal law had a marginal impact on the economic progress made by black people in the United States between 1940 and 1975. Instead they emphasize slowly evolving historical forces, such as long-term trends in education that improved segregated schools for black students during the 1940s and were operative during and after the 1960s. They argue that as the quality of black schools improved relative to that of white schools, the earning potential of those attending black schools increased relative to the earning potential of those attending white schools. However, there is no direct evidence linking increased quality of underfunded segregated black schools to these improvements in earning potential. In fact, even the evidence on relative schooling quality is ambiguous. Although in the mid-1940s term length at black schools was approaching that in white schools, the rapid growth in another important measure of school quality, school expenditures, may be explained by increases in teachers' salaries, and, historically, such increases have not necessarily increased school quality. Finally, black individuals in all age groups, even those who had been educated at segregated schools before the 1940s, experienced post-1960 increases in their earning potential. If improvements in the quality of schooling were an important determinant of increased returns, only those workers who could have benefited from enhanced school quality should have received higher returns. The relative improvement in the earning potential of educated black people of all age groups in the United States is more consistent with a decline in employment discrimination. An additional problem for continuity theorists is how to explain the rapid acceleration of black economic progress in the United States after 1964. Education alone cannot account for the rate of change. Rather, the coincidence of increased United States government antidiscrimination pressure in the mid-1960s with the acceleration in the rate of black economic progress beginning in 1965 argues against the continuity theorists' view. True, correlating federal intervention and the acceleration of black economic progress might be incorrect. One could argue that changing attitudes about employment discrimination sparked both the adoption of new federal policies and the rapid acceleration in black economic progress. Indeed, the shift in national attitude that made possible the enactment of Title VII was in part produced by the persistence of racial discrimination in the southern United States. However, the fact that the law had its greatest effect in the South, in spite of the vigorous resistance of many Southern leaders, suggests its importance for black economic progress.

199506_1-RC_4_25

Which one of the following best states the position of proponents of the "continuous change" hypothesis regarding the relationship between law and racial discrimination?

In 1964 the United States federal government began attempts to eliminate racial discrimination in employment and wages: the United States Congress enacted Title VII of the Civil Rights Act, prohibiting employers from making employment decisions on the basis of race. In 1965 President Johnson issued Executive Order 11,246, which prohibited discrimination by United States government contractors and emphasized direct monitoring of minority representation in contractors' work forces. Nonetheless, proponents of the "continuous change" hypothesis believe that United States federal law had a marginal impact on the economic progress made by black people in the United States between 1940 and 1975. Instead they emphasize slowly evolving historical forces, such as long-term trends in education that improved segregated schools for black students during the 1940s and were operative during and after the 1960s. They argue that as the quality of black schools improved relative to that of white schools, the earning potential of those attending black schools increased relative to the earning potential of those attending white schools. However, there is no direct evidence linking increased quality of underfunded segregated black schools to these improvements in earning potential. In fact, even the evidence on relative schooling quality is ambiguous. Although in the mid-1940s term length at black schools was approaching that in white schools, the rapid growth in another important measure of school quality, school expenditures, may be explained by increases in teachers' salaries, and, historically, such increases have not necessarily increased school quality. Finally, black individuals in all age groups, even those who had been educated at segregated schools before the 1940s, experienced post-1960 increases in their earning potential. If improvements in the quality of schooling were an important determinant of increased returns, only those workers who could have benefited from enhanced school quality should have received higher returns. The relative improvement in the earning potential of educated black people of all age groups in the United States is more consistent with a decline in employment discrimination. An additional problem for continuity theorists is how to explain the rapid acceleration of black economic progress in the United States after 1964. Education alone cannot account for the rate of change. Rather, the coincidence of increased United States government antidiscrimination pressure in the mid-1960s with the acceleration in the rate of black economic progress beginning in 1965 argues against the continuity theorists' view. True, correlating federal intervention and the acceleration of black economic progress might be incorrect. One could argue that changing attitudes about employment discrimination sparked both the adoption of new federal policies and the rapid acceleration in black economic progress. Indeed, the shift in national attitude that made possible the enactment of Title VII was in part produced by the persistence of racial discrimination in the southern United States. However, the fact that the law had its greatest effect in the South, in spite of the vigorous resistance of many Southern leaders, suggests its importance for black economic progress.

199506_1-RC_4_26

The author concedes that "correlating federal intervention and the acceleration of black economic progress might be incorrect" (lines 58–60) primarily in order to

In 1964 the United States federal government began attempts to eliminate racial discrimination in employment and wages: the United States Congress enacted Title VII of the Civil Rights Act, prohibiting employers from making employment decisions on the basis of race. In 1965 President Johnson issued Executive Order 11,246, which prohibited discrimination by United States government contractors and emphasized direct monitoring of minority representation in contractors' work forces. Nonetheless, proponents of the "continuous change" hypothesis believe that United States federal law had a marginal impact on the economic progress made by black people in the United States between 1940 and 1975. Instead they emphasize slowly evolving historical forces, such as long-term trends in education that improved segregated schools for black students during the 1940s and were operative during and after the 1960s. They argue that as the quality of black schools improved relative to that of white schools, the earning potential of those attending black schools increased relative to the earning potential of those attending white schools. However, there is no direct evidence linking increased quality of underfunded segregated black schools to these improvements in earning potential. In fact, even the evidence on relative schooling quality is ambiguous. Although in the mid-1940s term length at black schools was approaching that in white schools, the rapid growth in another important measure of school quality, school expenditures, may be explained by increases in teachers' salaries, and, historically, such increases have not necessarily increased school quality. Finally, black individuals in all age groups, even those who had been educated at segregated schools before the 1940s, experienced post-1960 increases in their earning potential. If improvements in the quality of schooling were an important determinant of increased returns, only those workers who could have benefited from enhanced school quality should have received higher returns. The relative improvement in the earning potential of educated black people of all age groups in the United States is more consistent with a decline in employment discrimination. An additional problem for continuity theorists is how to explain the rapid acceleration of black economic progress in the United States after 1964. Education alone cannot account for the rate of change. Rather, the coincidence of increased United States government antidiscrimination pressure in the mid-1960s with the acceleration in the rate of black economic progress beginning in 1965 argues against the continuity theorists' view. True, correlating federal intervention and the acceleration of black economic progress might be incorrect. One could argue that changing attitudes about employment discrimination sparked both the adoption of new federal policies and the rapid acceleration in black economic progress. Indeed, the shift in national attitude that made possible the enactment of Title VII was in part produced by the persistence of racial discrimination in the southern United States. However, the fact that the law had its greatest effect in the South, in spite of the vigorous resistance of many Southern leaders, suggests its importance for black economic progress.

199506_1-RC_4_27

The "continuous change" hypothesis, as it is presented in the passage, can best be applied to which one of the following situations?

Three kinds of study have been performed on Byron.There is the biographical study—the very valuable examination of Byron's psychology and the events in his life;Escarpit's 1958 work is an example of this kind of study,and biographers to this day continue to speculate about Byron's life.Equally valuable is the study of Byron as a figure important in the history of ideas; Russell and Praz have written studies of this kind.Finally,there are studies that primarily consider Byron's poetry.Such literary studies are valuable,however, only when they avoid concentrating solely on analyzing the verbal shadings of Byron's poetry to the exclusion of any discussion of biographical considerations.A study with such a concentration would be of questionable value because Byron's poetry, for the most part,is simply not a poetry of subtle verbal meanings.Rather,on the whole, Byron's poems record the emotional pressure of certain moments in his life.I believe we cannot often read a poem of Byron's,as we often can one of Shakespeare's,without wondering what events or circumstances in his life prompted him to write it. No doubt the fact that most of Byron's poems cannot be convincingly read as subtle verbal creations indicates that Byron is not a "great" poet.It must be admitted too that Byron's literary craftsmanship is irregular and often his temperament disrupts even his lax literary method (although the result,an absence of method,has a significant purpose:it functions as a rebuke to a cosmos that Byron feels he cannot understand).If Byron is not a "great" poet,his poetry is nonetheless of extraordinary interest to us because of the pleasure it gives us.Our main pleasure in reading Byron's poetry is the contact with a singular personality.Reading his work gives us illumination—self-understanding—after we have seen our weaknesses and aspirations mirrored in the personality we usually find in the poems.Anyone who thinks that this kind of illumination is not a genuine reason for reading a poet should think carefully about why we read Donne's sonnets. It is Byron and Byron's idea of himself that hold his work together(and that enthralled early-nineteenth-century Europe).Different characters speak in his poems,but finally it is usually he himself who is speaking: a far cry from the impersonal poet Keats.Byron's poetry alludes to Greek and Roman myth in the context of contemporary affairs,but his work remains generally of a piece because of his close presence in the poetry.In sum, the poetry is a shrewd personal performance,and to shut out Byron the man is to fabricate a work of pseudocriticism.

199509_4-RC_1_1

Which one of the following titles best expresses the main idea of the passage?

Three kinds of study have been performed on Byron.There is the biographical study—the very valuable examination of Byron's psychology and the events in his life;Escarpit's 1958 work is an example of this kind of study,and biographers to this day continue to speculate about Byron's life.Equally valuable is the study of Byron as a figure important in the history of ideas; Russell and Praz have written studies of this kind.Finally,there are studies that primarily consider Byron's poetry.Such literary studies are valuable,however, only when they avoid concentrating solely on analyzing the verbal shadings of Byron's poetry to the exclusion of any discussion of biographical considerations.A study with such a concentration would be of questionable value because Byron's poetry, for the most part,is simply not a poetry of subtle verbal meanings.Rather,on the whole, Byron's poems record the emotional pressure of certain moments in his life.I believe we cannot often read a poem of Byron's,as we often can one of Shakespeare's,without wondering what events or circumstances in his life prompted him to write it. No doubt the fact that most of Byron's poems cannot be convincingly read as subtle verbal creations indicates that Byron is not a "great" poet.It must be admitted too that Byron's literary craftsmanship is irregular and often his temperament disrupts even his lax literary method (although the result,an absence of method,has a significant purpose:it functions as a rebuke to a cosmos that Byron feels he cannot understand).If Byron is not a "great" poet,his poetry is nonetheless of extraordinary interest to us because of the pleasure it gives us.Our main pleasure in reading Byron's poetry is the contact with a singular personality.Reading his work gives us illumination—self-understanding—after we have seen our weaknesses and aspirations mirrored in the personality we usually find in the poems.Anyone who thinks that this kind of illumination is not a genuine reason for reading a poet should think carefully about why we read Donne's sonnets. It is Byron and Byron's idea of himself that hold his work together(and that enthralled early-nineteenth-century Europe).Different characters speak in his poems,but finally it is usually he himself who is speaking: a far cry from the impersonal poet Keats.Byron's poetry alludes to Greek and Roman myth in the context of contemporary affairs,but his work remains generally of a piece because of his close presence in the poetry.In sum, the poetry is a shrewd personal performance,and to shut out Byron the man is to fabricate a work of pseudocriticism.

199509_4-RC_1_2

The author's mention of Russell and Praz serves primarily to

Three kinds of study have been performed on Byron.There is the biographical study—the very valuable examination of Byron's psychology and the events in his life;Escarpit's 1958 work is an example of this kind of study,and biographers to this day continue to speculate about Byron's life.Equally valuable is the study of Byron as a figure important in the history of ideas; Russell and Praz have written studies of this kind.Finally,there are studies that primarily consider Byron's poetry.Such literary studies are valuable,however, only when they avoid concentrating solely on analyzing the verbal shadings of Byron's poetry to the exclusion of any discussion of biographical considerations.A study with such a concentration would be of questionable value because Byron's poetry, for the most part,is simply not a poetry of subtle verbal meanings.Rather,on the whole, Byron's poems record the emotional pressure of certain moments in his life.I believe we cannot often read a poem of Byron's,as we often can one of Shakespeare's,without wondering what events or circumstances in his life prompted him to write it. No doubt the fact that most of Byron's poems cannot be convincingly read as subtle verbal creations indicates that Byron is not a "great" poet.It must be admitted too that Byron's literary craftsmanship is irregular and often his temperament disrupts even his lax literary method (although the result,an absence of method,has a significant purpose:it functions as a rebuke to a cosmos that Byron feels he cannot understand).If Byron is not a "great" poet,his poetry is nonetheless of extraordinary interest to us because of the pleasure it gives us.Our main pleasure in reading Byron's poetry is the contact with a singular personality.Reading his work gives us illumination—self-understanding—after we have seen our weaknesses and aspirations mirrored in the personality we usually find in the poems.Anyone who thinks that this kind of illumination is not a genuine reason for reading a poet should think carefully about why we read Donne's sonnets. It is Byron and Byron's idea of himself that hold his work together(and that enthralled early-nineteenth-century Europe).Different characters speak in his poems,but finally it is usually he himself who is speaking: a far cry from the impersonal poet Keats.Byron's poetry alludes to Greek and Roman myth in the context of contemporary affairs,but his work remains generally of a piece because of his close presence in the poetry.In sum, the poetry is a shrewd personal performance,and to shut out Byron the man is to fabricate a work of pseudocriticism.

199509_4-RC_1_3

Which one of the following would the author most likely consider to be a valuable study of Byron?

Three kinds of study have been performed on Byron.There is the biographical study—the very valuable examination of Byron's psychology and the events in his life;Escarpit's 1958 work is an example of this kind of study,and biographers to this day continue to speculate about Byron's life.Equally valuable is the study of Byron as a figure important in the history of ideas; Russell and Praz have written studies of this kind.Finally,there are studies that primarily consider Byron's poetry.Such literary studies are valuable,however, only when they avoid concentrating solely on analyzing the verbal shadings of Byron's poetry to the exclusion of any discussion of biographical considerations.A study with such a concentration would be of questionable value because Byron's poetry, for the most part,is simply not a poetry of subtle verbal meanings.Rather,on the whole, Byron's poems record the emotional pressure of certain moments in his life.I believe we cannot often read a poem of Byron's,as we often can one of Shakespeare's,without wondering what events or circumstances in his life prompted him to write it. No doubt the fact that most of Byron's poems cannot be convincingly read as subtle verbal creations indicates that Byron is not a "great" poet.It must be admitted too that Byron's literary craftsmanship is irregular and often his temperament disrupts even his lax literary method (although the result,an absence of method,has a significant purpose:it functions as a rebuke to a cosmos that Byron feels he cannot understand).If Byron is not a "great" poet,his poetry is nonetheless of extraordinary interest to us because of the pleasure it gives us.Our main pleasure in reading Byron's poetry is the contact with a singular personality.Reading his work gives us illumination—self-understanding—after we have seen our weaknesses and aspirations mirrored in the personality we usually find in the poems.Anyone who thinks that this kind of illumination is not a genuine reason for reading a poet should think carefully about why we read Donne's sonnets. It is Byron and Byron's idea of himself that hold his work together(and that enthralled early-nineteenth-century Europe).Different characters speak in his poems,but finally it is usually he himself who is speaking: a far cry from the impersonal poet Keats.Byron's poetry alludes to Greek and Roman myth in the context of contemporary affairs,but his work remains generally of a piece because of his close presence in the poetry.In sum, the poetry is a shrewd personal performance,and to shut out Byron the man is to fabricate a work of pseudocriticism.

199509_4-RC_1_4

Which one of the following statements best describes the organization of the first paragraph of the passage?

Three kinds of study have been performed on Byron.There is the biographical study—the very valuable examination of Byron's psychology and the events in his life;Escarpit's 1958 work is an example of this kind of study,and biographers to this day continue to speculate about Byron's life.Equally valuable is the study of Byron as a figure important in the history of ideas; Russell and Praz have written studies of this kind.Finally,there are studies that primarily consider Byron's poetry.Such literary studies are valuable,however, only when they avoid concentrating solely on analyzing the verbal shadings of Byron's poetry to the exclusion of any discussion of biographical considerations.A study with such a concentration would be of questionable value because Byron's poetry, for the most part,is simply not a poetry of subtle verbal meanings.Rather,on the whole, Byron's poems record the emotional pressure of certain moments in his life.I believe we cannot often read a poem of Byron's,as we often can one of Shakespeare's,without wondering what events or circumstances in his life prompted him to write it. No doubt the fact that most of Byron's poems cannot be convincingly read as subtle verbal creations indicates that Byron is not a "great" poet.It must be admitted too that Byron's literary craftsmanship is irregular and often his temperament disrupts even his lax literary method (although the result,an absence of method,has a significant purpose:it functions as a rebuke to a cosmos that Byron feels he cannot understand).If Byron is not a "great" poet,his poetry is nonetheless of extraordinary interest to us because of the pleasure it gives us.Our main pleasure in reading Byron's poetry is the contact with a singular personality.Reading his work gives us illumination—self-understanding—after we have seen our weaknesses and aspirations mirrored in the personality we usually find in the poems.Anyone who thinks that this kind of illumination is not a genuine reason for reading a poet should think carefully about why we read Donne's sonnets. It is Byron and Byron's idea of himself that hold his work together(and that enthralled early-nineteenth-century Europe).Different characters speak in his poems,but finally it is usually he himself who is speaking: a far cry from the impersonal poet Keats.Byron's poetry alludes to Greek and Roman myth in the context of contemporary affairs,but his work remains generally of a piece because of his close presence in the poetry.In sum, the poetry is a shrewd personal performance,and to shut out Byron the man is to fabricate a work of pseudocriticism.

199509_4-RC_1_5

The author mentions that "Byron's literary craftsmanship is irregular" (lines 27–28)most probably in order to

Three kinds of study have been performed on Byron.There is the biographical study—the very valuable examination of Byron's psychology and the events in his life;Escarpit's 1958 work is an example of this kind of study,and biographers to this day continue to speculate about Byron's life.Equally valuable is the study of Byron as a figure important in the history of ideas; Russell and Praz have written studies of this kind.Finally,there are studies that primarily consider Byron's poetry.Such literary studies are valuable,however, only when they avoid concentrating solely on analyzing the verbal shadings of Byron's poetry to the exclusion of any discussion of biographical considerations.A study with such a concentration would be of questionable value because Byron's poetry, for the most part,is simply not a poetry of subtle verbal meanings.Rather,on the whole, Byron's poems record the emotional pressure of certain moments in his life.I believe we cannot often read a poem of Byron's,as we often can one of Shakespeare's,without wondering what events or circumstances in his life prompted him to write it. No doubt the fact that most of Byron's poems cannot be convincingly read as subtle verbal creations indicates that Byron is not a "great" poet.It must be admitted too that Byron's literary craftsmanship is irregular and often his temperament disrupts even his lax literary method (although the result,an absence of method,has a significant purpose:it functions as a rebuke to a cosmos that Byron feels he cannot understand).If Byron is not a "great" poet,his poetry is nonetheless of extraordinary interest to us because of the pleasure it gives us.Our main pleasure in reading Byron's poetry is the contact with a singular personality.Reading his work gives us illumination—self-understanding—after we have seen our weaknesses and aspirations mirrored in the personality we usually find in the poems.Anyone who thinks that this kind of illumination is not a genuine reason for reading a poet should think carefully about why we read Donne's sonnets. It is Byron and Byron's idea of himself that hold his work together(and that enthralled early-nineteenth-century Europe).Different characters speak in his poems,but finally it is usually he himself who is speaking: a far cry from the impersonal poet Keats.Byron's poetry alludes to Greek and Roman myth in the context of contemporary affairs,but his work remains generally of a piece because of his close presence in the poetry.In sum, the poetry is a shrewd personal performance,and to shut out Byron the man is to fabricate a work of pseudocriticism.

199509_4-RC_1_6

According to the author, Shakespeare's poems differ from Byron's in that Shakespeare's poems

Three kinds of study have been performed on Byron.There is the biographical study—the very valuable examination of Byron's psychology and the events in his life;Escarpit's 1958 work is an example of this kind of study,and biographers to this day continue to speculate about Byron's life.Equally valuable is the study of Byron as a figure important in the history of ideas; Russell and Praz have written studies of this kind.Finally,there are studies that primarily consider Byron's poetry.Such literary studies are valuable,however, only when they avoid concentrating solely on analyzing the verbal shadings of Byron's poetry to the exclusion of any discussion of biographical considerations.A study with such a concentration would be of questionable value because Byron's poetry, for the most part,is simply not a poetry of subtle verbal meanings.Rather,on the whole, Byron's poems record the emotional pressure of certain moments in his life.I believe we cannot often read a poem of Byron's,as we often can one of Shakespeare's,without wondering what events or circumstances in his life prompted him to write it. No doubt the fact that most of Byron's poems cannot be convincingly read as subtle verbal creations indicates that Byron is not a "great" poet.It must be admitted too that Byron's literary craftsmanship is irregular and often his temperament disrupts even his lax literary method (although the result,an absence of method,has a significant purpose:it functions as a rebuke to a cosmos that Byron feels he cannot understand).If Byron is not a "great" poet,his poetry is nonetheless of extraordinary interest to us because of the pleasure it gives us.Our main pleasure in reading Byron's poetry is the contact with a singular personality.Reading his work gives us illumination—self-understanding—after we have seen our weaknesses and aspirations mirrored in the personality we usually find in the poems.Anyone who thinks that this kind of illumination is not a genuine reason for reading a poet should think carefully about why we read Donne's sonnets. It is Byron and Byron's idea of himself that hold his work together(and that enthralled early-nineteenth-century Europe).Different characters speak in his poems,but finally it is usually he himself who is speaking: a far cry from the impersonal poet Keats.Byron's poetry alludes to Greek and Roman myth in the context of contemporary affairs,but his work remains generally of a piece because of his close presence in the poetry.In sum, the poetry is a shrewd personal performance,and to shut out Byron the man is to fabricate a work of pseudocriticism.

199509_4-RC_1_7

The author indicates which one of the following about biographers' speculation concerning Byron's life?

Three kinds of study have been performed on Byron.There is the biographical study—the very valuable examination of Byron's psychology and the events in his life;Escarpit's 1958 work is an example of this kind of study,and biographers to this day continue to speculate about Byron's life.Equally valuable is the study of Byron as a figure important in the history of ideas; Russell and Praz have written studies of this kind.Finally,there are studies that primarily consider Byron's poetry.Such literary studies are valuable,however, only when they avoid concentrating solely on analyzing the verbal shadings of Byron's poetry to the exclusion of any discussion of biographical considerations.A study with such a concentration would be of questionable value because Byron's poetry, for the most part,is simply not a poetry of subtle verbal meanings.Rather,on the whole, Byron's poems record the emotional pressure of certain moments in his life.I believe we cannot often read a poem of Byron's,as we often can one of Shakespeare's,without wondering what events or circumstances in his life prompted him to write it. No doubt the fact that most of Byron's poems cannot be convincingly read as subtle verbal creations indicates that Byron is not a "great" poet.It must be admitted too that Byron's literary craftsmanship is irregular and often his temperament disrupts even his lax literary method (although the result,an absence of method,has a significant purpose:it functions as a rebuke to a cosmos that Byron feels he cannot understand).If Byron is not a "great" poet,his poetry is nonetheless of extraordinary interest to us because of the pleasure it gives us.Our main pleasure in reading Byron's poetry is the contact with a singular personality.Reading his work gives us illumination—self-understanding—after we have seen our weaknesses and aspirations mirrored in the personality we usually find in the poems.Anyone who thinks that this kind of illumination is not a genuine reason for reading a poet should think carefully about why we read Donne's sonnets. It is Byron and Byron's idea of himself that hold his work together(and that enthralled early-nineteenth-century Europe).Different characters speak in his poems,but finally it is usually he himself who is speaking: a far cry from the impersonal poet Keats.Byron's poetry alludes to Greek and Roman myth in the context of contemporary affairs,but his work remains generally of a piece because of his close presence in the poetry.In sum, the poetry is a shrewd personal performance,and to shut out Byron the man is to fabricate a work of pseudocriticism.

199509_4-RC_1_8

The passage supplies specific information that provides a definitive answer to which one of the following questions?

The United States Supreme Court has not always resolved legal issues of concern to Native Americans in a manner that has pleased the Indian nations. Many of the Court's decisions have been products of political compromise that looked more to the temper of the times than to enduring principles of law. But accommodation is part of the judicial system in the United States, and judicial decisions must be assessed with this fact in mind. Despite the "accommodating" nature of the judicial system, it is worth noting that the power of the Supreme Court has been exercised in a manner that has usually been beneficial to Native Americans, at least on minor issues, and has not been wholly detrimental on the larger, more important issues. Certainly there have been decisions that cast doubt on the validity of this assertion. Some critics point to the patronizing tone of many Court opinions and the apparent rejection of Native American values as important points to consider when reviewing a case. However, the validity of the assertion can be illustrated by reference to two important contributions that have resulted from the exercise of judicial power. First, the Court has created rules of judicial construction that, in general, favor the rights of Native American litigants. The Court's attitude has been conditioned by recognition of the distinct disadvantages Native Americans faced when dealing with settlers in the past. Treaties were inevitably written in English for the benefit of their authors, whereas tribal leaders were accustomed to making treaties without any written account, on the strength of mutual promises sealed by religious commitment and individual integrity. The written treaties were often broken, and Native Americans were confronted with fraud and political and military aggression. The Court recognizes that past unfairness to Native Americans cannot be sanctioned by the force of law. Therefore, ambiguities in treaties are to be interpreted in favor of the Native American claimants, treaties are to be interpreted as the Native Americans would have understood them, and, under the reserved rights doctrine, treaties reserve to Native Americans all rights that have not been specifically granted away in other treaties. A second achievement of the judicial system is the protection that has been provided against encroachment by the states into tribal affairs. Federal judges are not inclined to view favorably efforts to extend states' powers and jurisdictions because of the direct threat that such expansion poses to the exercise of federal powers. In the absence of a federal statute directly and clearly allocating a function to the states, federal judges are inclined to reserve for the federal government—and the tribal governments under its charge—all those powers and rights they can be said to have possessed historically.

199509_4-RC_2_9

According to the passage, one reason why the United States Supreme Court "has not always resolved legal issues of concern to Native Americans in a manner that has pleased the Indian nations" (lines 1–4)is that

The United States Supreme Court has not always resolved legal issues of concern to Native Americans in a manner that has pleased the Indian nations. Many of the Court's decisions have been products of political compromise that looked more to the temper of the times than to enduring principles of law. But accommodation is part of the judicial system in the United States, and judicial decisions must be assessed with this fact in mind. Despite the "accommodating" nature of the judicial system, it is worth noting that the power of the Supreme Court has been exercised in a manner that has usually been beneficial to Native Americans, at least on minor issues, and has not been wholly detrimental on the larger, more important issues. Certainly there have been decisions that cast doubt on the validity of this assertion. Some critics point to the patronizing tone of many Court opinions and the apparent rejection of Native American values as important points to consider when reviewing a case. However, the validity of the assertion can be illustrated by reference to two important contributions that have resulted from the exercise of judicial power. First, the Court has created rules of judicial construction that, in general, favor the rights of Native American litigants. The Court's attitude has been conditioned by recognition of the distinct disadvantages Native Americans faced when dealing with settlers in the past. Treaties were inevitably written in English for the benefit of their authors, whereas tribal leaders were accustomed to making treaties without any written account, on the strength of mutual promises sealed by religious commitment and individual integrity. The written treaties were often broken, and Native Americans were confronted with fraud and political and military aggression. The Court recognizes that past unfairness to Native Americans cannot be sanctioned by the force of law. Therefore, ambiguities in treaties are to be interpreted in favor of the Native American claimants, treaties are to be interpreted as the Native Americans would have understood them, and, under the reserved rights doctrine, treaties reserve to Native Americans all rights that have not been specifically granted away in other treaties. A second achievement of the judicial system is the protection that has been provided against encroachment by the states into tribal affairs. Federal judges are not inclined to view favorably efforts to extend states' powers and jurisdictions because of the direct threat that such expansion poses to the exercise of federal powers. In the absence of a federal statute directly and clearly allocating a function to the states, federal judges are inclined to reserve for the federal government—and the tribal governments under its charge—all those powers and rights they can be said to have possessed historically.

199509_4-RC_2_10

It can be inferred that the objections raised by the critics mentioned in line 18 would be most clearly answered by a United States Supreme Court decision that

The United States Supreme Court has not always resolved legal issues of concern to Native Americans in a manner that has pleased the Indian nations. Many of the Court's decisions have been products of political compromise that looked more to the temper of the times than to enduring principles of law. But accommodation is part of the judicial system in the United States, and judicial decisions must be assessed with this fact in mind. Despite the "accommodating" nature of the judicial system, it is worth noting that the power of the Supreme Court has been exercised in a manner that has usually been beneficial to Native Americans, at least on minor issues, and has not been wholly detrimental on the larger, more important issues. Certainly there have been decisions that cast doubt on the validity of this assertion. Some critics point to the patronizing tone of many Court opinions and the apparent rejection of Native American values as important points to consider when reviewing a case. However, the validity of the assertion can be illustrated by reference to two important contributions that have resulted from the exercise of judicial power. First, the Court has created rules of judicial construction that, in general, favor the rights of Native American litigants. The Court's attitude has been conditioned by recognition of the distinct disadvantages Native Americans faced when dealing with settlers in the past. Treaties were inevitably written in English for the benefit of their authors, whereas tribal leaders were accustomed to making treaties without any written account, on the strength of mutual promises sealed by religious commitment and individual integrity. The written treaties were often broken, and Native Americans were confronted with fraud and political and military aggression. The Court recognizes that past unfairness to Native Americans cannot be sanctioned by the force of law. Therefore, ambiguities in treaties are to be interpreted in favor of the Native American claimants, treaties are to be interpreted as the Native Americans would have understood them, and, under the reserved rights doctrine, treaties reserve to Native Americans all rights that have not been specifically granted away in other treaties. A second achievement of the judicial system is the protection that has been provided against encroachment by the states into tribal affairs. Federal judges are not inclined to view favorably efforts to extend states' powers and jurisdictions because of the direct threat that such expansion poses to the exercise of federal powers. In the absence of a federal statute directly and clearly allocating a function to the states, federal judges are inclined to reserve for the federal government—and the tribal governments under its charge—all those powers and rights they can be said to have possessed historically.

199509_4-RC_2_11

It can be inferred that the author calls the judicial system of the United States "accommodating" (line 10) primarily in order to

The United States Supreme Court has not always resolved legal issues of concern to Native Americans in a manner that has pleased the Indian nations. Many of the Court's decisions have been products of political compromise that looked more to the temper of the times than to enduring principles of law. But accommodation is part of the judicial system in the United States, and judicial decisions must be assessed with this fact in mind. Despite the "accommodating" nature of the judicial system, it is worth noting that the power of the Supreme Court has been exercised in a manner that has usually been beneficial to Native Americans, at least on minor issues, and has not been wholly detrimental on the larger, more important issues. Certainly there have been decisions that cast doubt on the validity of this assertion. Some critics point to the patronizing tone of many Court opinions and the apparent rejection of Native American values as important points to consider when reviewing a case. However, the validity of the assertion can be illustrated by reference to two important contributions that have resulted from the exercise of judicial power. First, the Court has created rules of judicial construction that, in general, favor the rights of Native American litigants. The Court's attitude has been conditioned by recognition of the distinct disadvantages Native Americans faced when dealing with settlers in the past. Treaties were inevitably written in English for the benefit of their authors, whereas tribal leaders were accustomed to making treaties without any written account, on the strength of mutual promises sealed by religious commitment and individual integrity. The written treaties were often broken, and Native Americans were confronted with fraud and political and military aggression. The Court recognizes that past unfairness to Native Americans cannot be sanctioned by the force of law. Therefore, ambiguities in treaties are to be interpreted in favor of the Native American claimants, treaties are to be interpreted as the Native Americans would have understood them, and, under the reserved rights doctrine, treaties reserve to Native Americans all rights that have not been specifically granted away in other treaties. A second achievement of the judicial system is the protection that has been provided against encroachment by the states into tribal affairs. Federal judges are not inclined to view favorably efforts to extend states' powers and jurisdictions because of the direct threat that such expansion poses to the exercise of federal powers. In the absence of a federal statute directly and clearly allocating a function to the states, federal judges are inclined to reserve for the federal government—and the tribal governments under its charge—all those powers and rights they can be said to have possessed historically.

199509_4-RC_2_12

The author's attitude toward the United States Supreme Court's resolution of legal issues of concern to Native Americans can best be described as one of

The United States Supreme Court has not always resolved legal issues of concern to Native Americans in a manner that has pleased the Indian nations. Many of the Court's decisions have been products of political compromise that looked more to the temper of the times than to enduring principles of law. But accommodation is part of the judicial system in the United States, and judicial decisions must be assessed with this fact in mind. Despite the "accommodating" nature of the judicial system, it is worth noting that the power of the Supreme Court has been exercised in a manner that has usually been beneficial to Native Americans, at least on minor issues, and has not been wholly detrimental on the larger, more important issues. Certainly there have been decisions that cast doubt on the validity of this assertion. Some critics point to the patronizing tone of many Court opinions and the apparent rejection of Native American values as important points to consider when reviewing a case. However, the validity of the assertion can be illustrated by reference to two important contributions that have resulted from the exercise of judicial power. First, the Court has created rules of judicial construction that, in general, favor the rights of Native American litigants. The Court's attitude has been conditioned by recognition of the distinct disadvantages Native Americans faced when dealing with settlers in the past. Treaties were inevitably written in English for the benefit of their authors, whereas tribal leaders were accustomed to making treaties without any written account, on the strength of mutual promises sealed by religious commitment and individual integrity. The written treaties were often broken, and Native Americans were confronted with fraud and political and military aggression. The Court recognizes that past unfairness to Native Americans cannot be sanctioned by the force of law. Therefore, ambiguities in treaties are to be interpreted in favor of the Native American claimants, treaties are to be interpreted as the Native Americans would have understood them, and, under the reserved rights doctrine, treaties reserve to Native Americans all rights that have not been specifically granted away in other treaties. A second achievement of the judicial system is the protection that has been provided against encroachment by the states into tribal affairs. Federal judges are not inclined to view favorably efforts to extend states' powers and jurisdictions because of the direct threat that such expansion poses to the exercise of federal powers. In the absence of a federal statute directly and clearly allocating a function to the states, federal judges are inclined to reserve for the federal government—and the tribal governments under its charge—all those powers and rights they can be said to have possessed historically.

199509_4-RC_2_13

It can be inferred that the author believes that the extension of the states' powers and jurisdictions with respect to Native American affairs would be

The United States Supreme Court has not always resolved legal issues of concern to Native Americans in a manner that has pleased the Indian nations. Many of the Court's decisions have been products of political compromise that looked more to the temper of the times than to enduring principles of law. But accommodation is part of the judicial system in the United States, and judicial decisions must be assessed with this fact in mind. Despite the "accommodating" nature of the judicial system, it is worth noting that the power of the Supreme Court has been exercised in a manner that has usually been beneficial to Native Americans, at least on minor issues, and has not been wholly detrimental on the larger, more important issues. Certainly there have been decisions that cast doubt on the validity of this assertion. Some critics point to the patronizing tone of many Court opinions and the apparent rejection of Native American values as important points to consider when reviewing a case. However, the validity of the assertion can be illustrated by reference to two important contributions that have resulted from the exercise of judicial power. First, the Court has created rules of judicial construction that, in general, favor the rights of Native American litigants. The Court's attitude has been conditioned by recognition of the distinct disadvantages Native Americans faced when dealing with settlers in the past. Treaties were inevitably written in English for the benefit of their authors, whereas tribal leaders were accustomed to making treaties without any written account, on the strength of mutual promises sealed by religious commitment and individual integrity. The written treaties were often broken, and Native Americans were confronted with fraud and political and military aggression. The Court recognizes that past unfairness to Native Americans cannot be sanctioned by the force of law. Therefore, ambiguities in treaties are to be interpreted in favor of the Native American claimants, treaties are to be interpreted as the Native Americans would have understood them, and, under the reserved rights doctrine, treaties reserve to Native Americans all rights that have not been specifically granted away in other treaties. A second achievement of the judicial system is the protection that has been provided against encroachment by the states into tribal affairs. Federal judges are not inclined to view favorably efforts to extend states' powers and jurisdictions because of the direct threat that such expansion poses to the exercise of federal powers. In the absence of a federal statute directly and clearly allocating a function to the states, federal judges are inclined to reserve for the federal government—and the tribal governments under its charge—all those powers and rights they can be said to have possessed historically.

199509_4-RC_2_14

The author's primary purpose is to

The United States Supreme Court has not always resolved legal issues of concern to Native Americans in a manner that has pleased the Indian nations. Many of the Court's decisions have been products of political compromise that looked more to the temper of the times than to enduring principles of law. But accommodation is part of the judicial system in the United States, and judicial decisions must be assessed with this fact in mind. Despite the "accommodating" nature of the judicial system, it is worth noting that the power of the Supreme Court has been exercised in a manner that has usually been beneficial to Native Americans, at least on minor issues, and has not been wholly detrimental on the larger, more important issues. Certainly there have been decisions that cast doubt on the validity of this assertion. Some critics point to the patronizing tone of many Court opinions and the apparent rejection of Native American values as important points to consider when reviewing a case. However, the validity of the assertion can be illustrated by reference to two important contributions that have resulted from the exercise of judicial power. First, the Court has created rules of judicial construction that, in general, favor the rights of Native American litigants. The Court's attitude has been conditioned by recognition of the distinct disadvantages Native Americans faced when dealing with settlers in the past. Treaties were inevitably written in English for the benefit of their authors, whereas tribal leaders were accustomed to making treaties without any written account, on the strength of mutual promises sealed by religious commitment and individual integrity. The written treaties were often broken, and Native Americans were confronted with fraud and political and military aggression. The Court recognizes that past unfairness to Native Americans cannot be sanctioned by the force of law. Therefore, ambiguities in treaties are to be interpreted in favor of the Native American claimants, treaties are to be interpreted as the Native Americans would have understood them, and, under the reserved rights doctrine, treaties reserve to Native Americans all rights that have not been specifically granted away in other treaties. A second achievement of the judicial system is the protection that has been provided against encroachment by the states into tribal affairs. Federal judges are not inclined to view favorably efforts to extend states' powers and jurisdictions because of the direct threat that such expansion poses to the exercise of federal powers. In the absence of a federal statute directly and clearly allocating a function to the states, federal judges are inclined to reserve for the federal government—and the tribal governments under its charge—all those powers and rights they can be said to have possessed historically.

199509_4-RC_2_15

It can be inferred that the author believes the United States Supreme Court's treatment of Native Americans to have been

When catastrophe strikes, analysts typically blame some combination of powerful mechanisms. An earthquake is traced to an immense instability along a fault line; a stock market crash is blamed on the destabilizing effect of computer trading. These explanations may well be correct. But systems as large and complicated as the Earth's crust or the stock market can break down not only under the force of a mighty blow but also at the drop of a pin. In a large interactive system, a minor event can start a chain reaction that leads to a catastrophe. Traditionally, investigators have analyzed large interactive systems in the same way they analyze small orderly systems, mainly because the methods developed for small systems have proved so successful. They believed they could predict the behavior of a large interactive system by studying its elements separately and by analyzing its component mechanisms individually. For lack of a better theory, they assumed that in large interactive systems the response to a disturbance is proportional to that disturbance. During the past few decades, however, it has become increasingly apparent that many large complicated systems do not yield to traditional analysis. Consequently, theorists have proposed a "theory of self-organized criticality" : many large interactive systems evolve naturally to a critical state in which a minor event starts a chain reaction that can affect any number of elements in the system. Although such systems produce more minor events than catastrophes, the mechanism that leads to minor events is the same one that leads to major events. A deceptively simple system serves as a paradigm for self-organized criticality: a pile of sand. As sand is poured one grain at a time onto a flat disk, the grains at first stay close to the position where they land. Soon they rest on top of one another, creating a pile that has a gentle slope. Now and then, when the slope becomes too steep, the grains slide down, causing a small avalanche. The system reaches its critical state when the amount of sand added is balanced, on average, by the amount falling off the edge of the disk. Now when a grain of sand is added, it can start an avalanche of any size, including a "catastrophic" event. Most of the time the grain will fall so that no avalanche occurs. By studying a specific area of the pile, one can even predict whether avalanches will occur there in the near future. To such a local observer, however, large avalanches would remain unpredictable because they are a consequence of the total history of the entire pile. No matter what the local dynamics are, catastrophic avalanches would persist at a relative frequency that cannot be altered. Criticality is a global property of the sandpile.

199509_4-RC_3_16

The passage provides support for all of the following generalizations about large interactive systems EXCEPT:

When catastrophe strikes, analysts typically blame some combination of powerful mechanisms. An earthquake is traced to an immense instability along a fault line; a stock market crash is blamed on the destabilizing effect of computer trading. These explanations may well be correct. But systems as large and complicated as the Earth's crust or the stock market can break down not only under the force of a mighty blow but also at the drop of a pin. In a large interactive system, a minor event can start a chain reaction that leads to a catastrophe. Traditionally, investigators have analyzed large interactive systems in the same way they analyze small orderly systems, mainly because the methods developed for small systems have proved so successful. They believed they could predict the behavior of a large interactive system by studying its elements separately and by analyzing its component mechanisms individually. For lack of a better theory, they assumed that in large interactive systems the response to a disturbance is proportional to that disturbance. During the past few decades, however, it has become increasingly apparent that many large complicated systems do not yield to traditional analysis. Consequently, theorists have proposed a "theory of self-organized criticality" : many large interactive systems evolve naturally to a critical state in which a minor event starts a chain reaction that can affect any number of elements in the system. Although such systems produce more minor events than catastrophes, the mechanism that leads to minor events is the same one that leads to major events. A deceptively simple system serves as a paradigm for self-organized criticality: a pile of sand. As sand is poured one grain at a time onto a flat disk, the grains at first stay close to the position where they land. Soon they rest on top of one another, creating a pile that has a gentle slope. Now and then, when the slope becomes too steep, the grains slide down, causing a small avalanche. The system reaches its critical state when the amount of sand added is balanced, on average, by the amount falling off the edge of the disk. Now when a grain of sand is added, it can start an avalanche of any size, including a "catastrophic" event. Most of the time the grain will fall so that no avalanche occurs. By studying a specific area of the pile, one can even predict whether avalanches will occur there in the near future. To such a local observer, however, large avalanches would remain unpredictable because they are a consequence of the total history of the entire pile. No matter what the local dynamics are, catastrophic avalanches would persist at a relative frequency that cannot be altered. Criticality is a global property of the sandpile.

199509_4-RC_3_17

According to the passage, the criticality of a sandpile is determined by the

When catastrophe strikes, analysts typically blame some combination of powerful mechanisms. An earthquake is traced to an immense instability along a fault line; a stock market crash is blamed on the destabilizing effect of computer trading. These explanations may well be correct. But systems as large and complicated as the Earth's crust or the stock market can break down not only under the force of a mighty blow but also at the drop of a pin. In a large interactive system, a minor event can start a chain reaction that leads to a catastrophe. Traditionally, investigators have analyzed large interactive systems in the same way they analyze small orderly systems, mainly because the methods developed for small systems have proved so successful. They believed they could predict the behavior of a large interactive system by studying its elements separately and by analyzing its component mechanisms individually. For lack of a better theory, they assumed that in large interactive systems the response to a disturbance is proportional to that disturbance. During the past few decades, however, it has become increasingly apparent that many large complicated systems do not yield to traditional analysis. Consequently, theorists have proposed a "theory of self-organized criticality" : many large interactive systems evolve naturally to a critical state in which a minor event starts a chain reaction that can affect any number of elements in the system. Although such systems produce more minor events than catastrophes, the mechanism that leads to minor events is the same one that leads to major events. A deceptively simple system serves as a paradigm for self-organized criticality: a pile of sand. As sand is poured one grain at a time onto a flat disk, the grains at first stay close to the position where they land. Soon they rest on top of one another, creating a pile that has a gentle slope. Now and then, when the slope becomes too steep, the grains slide down, causing a small avalanche. The system reaches its critical state when the amount of sand added is balanced, on average, by the amount falling off the edge of the disk. Now when a grain of sand is added, it can start an avalanche of any size, including a "catastrophic" event. Most of the time the grain will fall so that no avalanche occurs. By studying a specific area of the pile, one can even predict whether avalanches will occur there in the near future. To such a local observer, however, large avalanches would remain unpredictable because they are a consequence of the total history of the entire pile. No matter what the local dynamics are, catastrophic avalanches would persist at a relative frequency that cannot be altered. Criticality is a global property of the sandpile.

199509_4-RC_3_18

It can be inferred from the passage that the theory employed by the investigators mentioned in the second paragraph would lead one to predict that which one of the following would result from the addition of a grain of sand to a sandpile?

When catastrophe strikes, analysts typically blame some combination of powerful mechanisms. An earthquake is traced to an immense instability along a fault line; a stock market crash is blamed on the destabilizing effect of computer trading. These explanations may well be correct. But systems as large and complicated as the Earth's crust or the stock market can break down not only under the force of a mighty blow but also at the drop of a pin. In a large interactive system, a minor event can start a chain reaction that leads to a catastrophe. Traditionally, investigators have analyzed large interactive systems in the same way they analyze small orderly systems, mainly because the methods developed for small systems have proved so successful. They believed they could predict the behavior of a large interactive system by studying its elements separately and by analyzing its component mechanisms individually. For lack of a better theory, they assumed that in large interactive systems the response to a disturbance is proportional to that disturbance. During the past few decades, however, it has become increasingly apparent that many large complicated systems do not yield to traditional analysis. Consequently, theorists have proposed a "theory of self-organized criticality" : many large interactive systems evolve naturally to a critical state in which a minor event starts a chain reaction that can affect any number of elements in the system. Although such systems produce more minor events than catastrophes, the mechanism that leads to minor events is the same one that leads to major events. A deceptively simple system serves as a paradigm for self-organized criticality: a pile of sand. As sand is poured one grain at a time onto a flat disk, the grains at first stay close to the position where they land. Soon they rest on top of one another, creating a pile that has a gentle slope. Now and then, when the slope becomes too steep, the grains slide down, causing a small avalanche. The system reaches its critical state when the amount of sand added is balanced, on average, by the amount falling off the edge of the disk. Now when a grain of sand is added, it can start an avalanche of any size, including a "catastrophic" event. Most of the time the grain will fall so that no avalanche occurs. By studying a specific area of the pile, one can even predict whether avalanches will occur there in the near future. To such a local observer, however, large avalanches would remain unpredictable because they are a consequence of the total history of the entire pile. No matter what the local dynamics are, catastrophic avalanches would persist at a relative frequency that cannot be altered. Criticality is a global property of the sandpile.

199509_4-RC_3_19

Which one of the following best describes the organization of the passage?

When catastrophe strikes, analysts typically blame some combination of powerful mechanisms. An earthquake is traced to an immense instability along a fault line; a stock market crash is blamed on the destabilizing effect of computer trading. These explanations may well be correct. But systems as large and complicated as the Earth's crust or the stock market can break down not only under the force of a mighty blow but also at the drop of a pin. In a large interactive system, a minor event can start a chain reaction that leads to a catastrophe. Traditionally, investigators have analyzed large interactive systems in the same way they analyze small orderly systems, mainly because the methods developed for small systems have proved so successful. They believed they could predict the behavior of a large interactive system by studying its elements separately and by analyzing its component mechanisms individually. For lack of a better theory, they assumed that in large interactive systems the response to a disturbance is proportional to that disturbance. During the past few decades, however, it has become increasingly apparent that many large complicated systems do not yield to traditional analysis. Consequently, theorists have proposed a "theory of self-organized criticality" : many large interactive systems evolve naturally to a critical state in which a minor event starts a chain reaction that can affect any number of elements in the system. Although such systems produce more minor events than catastrophes, the mechanism that leads to minor events is the same one that leads to major events. A deceptively simple system serves as a paradigm for self-organized criticality: a pile of sand. As sand is poured one grain at a time onto a flat disk, the grains at first stay close to the position where they land. Soon they rest on top of one another, creating a pile that has a gentle slope. Now and then, when the slope becomes too steep, the grains slide down, causing a small avalanche. The system reaches its critical state when the amount of sand added is balanced, on average, by the amount falling off the edge of the disk. Now when a grain of sand is added, it can start an avalanche of any size, including a "catastrophic" event. Most of the time the grain will fall so that no avalanche occurs. By studying a specific area of the pile, one can even predict whether avalanches will occur there in the near future. To such a local observer, however, large avalanches would remain unpredictable because they are a consequence of the total history of the entire pile. No matter what the local dynamics are, catastrophic avalanches would persist at a relative frequency that cannot be altered. Criticality is a global property of the sandpile.

199509_4-RC_3_20

Which one of the following is most analogous to the method of analysis employed by the investigators mentioned in the second paragraph?

When catastrophe strikes, analysts typically blame some combination of powerful mechanisms. An earthquake is traced to an immense instability along a fault line; a stock market crash is blamed on the destabilizing effect of computer trading. These explanations may well be correct. But systems as large and complicated as the Earth's crust or the stock market can break down not only under the force of a mighty blow but also at the drop of a pin. In a large interactive system, a minor event can start a chain reaction that leads to a catastrophe. Traditionally, investigators have analyzed large interactive systems in the same way they analyze small orderly systems, mainly because the methods developed for small systems have proved so successful. They believed they could predict the behavior of a large interactive system by studying its elements separately and by analyzing its component mechanisms individually. For lack of a better theory, they assumed that in large interactive systems the response to a disturbance is proportional to that disturbance. During the past few decades, however, it has become increasingly apparent that many large complicated systems do not yield to traditional analysis. Consequently, theorists have proposed a "theory of self-organized criticality" : many large interactive systems evolve naturally to a critical state in which a minor event starts a chain reaction that can affect any number of elements in the system. Although such systems produce more minor events than catastrophes, the mechanism that leads to minor events is the same one that leads to major events. A deceptively simple system serves as a paradigm for self-organized criticality: a pile of sand. As sand is poured one grain at a time onto a flat disk, the grains at first stay close to the position where they land. Soon they rest on top of one another, creating a pile that has a gentle slope. Now and then, when the slope becomes too steep, the grains slide down, causing a small avalanche. The system reaches its critical state when the amount of sand added is balanced, on average, by the amount falling off the edge of the disk. Now when a grain of sand is added, it can start an avalanche of any size, including a "catastrophic" event. Most of the time the grain will fall so that no avalanche occurs. By studying a specific area of the pile, one can even predict whether avalanches will occur there in the near future. To such a local observer, however, large avalanches would remain unpredictable because they are a consequence of the total history of the entire pile. No matter what the local dynamics are, catastrophic avalanches would persist at a relative frequency that cannot be altered. Criticality is a global property of the sandpile.

199509_4-RC_3_21

In the passage, the author is primarily concerned with

Historians have long accepted the notion that women of English descent who lived in the English colonies of North America during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were better off than either the contemporary women in England or the colonists' own nineteenth-century daughters and granddaughters. The "golden age" theory originated in the 1920s with the work of Elizabeth Dexter, who argued that there were relatively few women among the colonists, and that all hands—male and female—were needed to sustain the growing settlements. Rigid sex-role distinctions could not exist under such circumstances; female colonists could accordingly engage in whatever occupations they wished, encountering few legal or social constraints if they sought employment outside the home. The surplus of male colonists also gave women crucial bargaining power in the marriage market, since women's contributions were vital to the survival of colonial households. Dexter's portrait of female colonists living under conditions of rough equality with their male counterparts was eventually incorporated into studies of nineteenth-century middle-class women. The contrast between the self-sufficient colonial woman and the oppressed nineteenth-century woman, confined to her home by stultifying ideologies of domesticity and by the fact that industrialization eliminated employment opportunities for middle-class women, gained an extraordinarily tenacious hold on historians. Even scholars who have questioned the "golden age" view of colonial women's status have continued to accept the paradigm of a nineteenth-century decline from a more desirable past. For example, Joan Hoff-Wilson asserted that there was no "golden age" and yet emphasized that the nineteenth century brought "increased loss of function and authentic status for" middle-class women. Recent publications about colonial women have exposed the concept of a decline in status as simplistic and unsophisticated, a theory that based its assessment of colonial women's status solely on one factor (their economic function in society) and assumed all too readily that a relatively simple social system automatically brought higher standing to colonial women. The new scholarship presents a far more complicated picture, one in which definitions of gender roles, the colonial economy, demographic patterns, religion, the law, and household organization all contributed to defining the circumstances of colonial women's lives. Indeed the primary concern of modern scholarship is not to generalize about women's status but to identify the specific changes and continuities in women's lives during the colonial period. For example, whereas earlier historians suggested that there was little change for colonial women before 1800, the new scholarship suggests that a three-part chronological division more accurately reflects colonial women's experiences. First was the initial period of English colonization (from the 1620s to about 1660); then a period during which patterns of family and community were challenged and reshaped (roughly from 1660 to 1750); and finally the era of revolution (approximately 1750 to 1815), which brought other changes to women's lives.

199509_4-RC_4_22

Which one of the following best expresses the main idea of the passage?

Historians have long accepted the notion that women of English descent who lived in the English colonies of North America during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were better off than either the contemporary women in England or the colonists' own nineteenth-century daughters and granddaughters. The "golden age" theory originated in the 1920s with the work of Elizabeth Dexter, who argued that there were relatively few women among the colonists, and that all hands—male and female—were needed to sustain the growing settlements. Rigid sex-role distinctions could not exist under such circumstances; female colonists could accordingly engage in whatever occupations they wished, encountering few legal or social constraints if they sought employment outside the home. The surplus of male colonists also gave women crucial bargaining power in the marriage market, since women's contributions were vital to the survival of colonial households. Dexter's portrait of female colonists living under conditions of rough equality with their male counterparts was eventually incorporated into studies of nineteenth-century middle-class women. The contrast between the self-sufficient colonial woman and the oppressed nineteenth-century woman, confined to her home by stultifying ideologies of domesticity and by the fact that industrialization eliminated employment opportunities for middle-class women, gained an extraordinarily tenacious hold on historians. Even scholars who have questioned the "golden age" view of colonial women's status have continued to accept the paradigm of a nineteenth-century decline from a more desirable past. For example, Joan Hoff-Wilson asserted that there was no "golden age" and yet emphasized that the nineteenth century brought "increased loss of function and authentic status for" middle-class women. Recent publications about colonial women have exposed the concept of a decline in status as simplistic and unsophisticated, a theory that based its assessment of colonial women's status solely on one factor (their economic function in society) and assumed all too readily that a relatively simple social system automatically brought higher standing to colonial women. The new scholarship presents a far more complicated picture, one in which definitions of gender roles, the colonial economy, demographic patterns, religion, the law, and household organization all contributed to defining the circumstances of colonial women's lives. Indeed the primary concern of modern scholarship is not to generalize about women's status but to identify the specific changes and continuities in women's lives during the colonial period. For example, whereas earlier historians suggested that there was little change for colonial women before 1800, the new scholarship suggests that a three-part chronological division more accurately reflects colonial women's experiences. First was the initial period of English colonization (from the 1620s to about 1660); then a period during which patterns of family and community were challenged and reshaped (roughly from 1660 to 1750); and finally the era of revolution (approximately 1750 to 1815), which brought other changes to women's lives.

199509_4-RC_4_23

The author discusses Hoff-Wilson primarily in order to

Historians have long accepted the notion that women of English descent who lived in the English colonies of North America during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were better off than either the contemporary women in England or the colonists' own nineteenth-century daughters and granddaughters. The "golden age" theory originated in the 1920s with the work of Elizabeth Dexter, who argued that there were relatively few women among the colonists, and that all hands—male and female—were needed to sustain the growing settlements. Rigid sex-role distinctions could not exist under such circumstances; female colonists could accordingly engage in whatever occupations they wished, encountering few legal or social constraints if they sought employment outside the home. The surplus of male colonists also gave women crucial bargaining power in the marriage market, since women's contributions were vital to the survival of colonial households. Dexter's portrait of female colonists living under conditions of rough equality with their male counterparts was eventually incorporated into studies of nineteenth-century middle-class women. The contrast between the self-sufficient colonial woman and the oppressed nineteenth-century woman, confined to her home by stultifying ideologies of domesticity and by the fact that industrialization eliminated employment opportunities for middle-class women, gained an extraordinarily tenacious hold on historians. Even scholars who have questioned the "golden age" view of colonial women's status have continued to accept the paradigm of a nineteenth-century decline from a more desirable past. For example, Joan Hoff-Wilson asserted that there was no "golden age" and yet emphasized that the nineteenth century brought "increased loss of function and authentic status for" middle-class women. Recent publications about colonial women have exposed the concept of a decline in status as simplistic and unsophisticated, a theory that based its assessment of colonial women's status solely on one factor (their economic function in society) and assumed all too readily that a relatively simple social system automatically brought higher standing to colonial women. The new scholarship presents a far more complicated picture, one in which definitions of gender roles, the colonial economy, demographic patterns, religion, the law, and household organization all contributed to defining the circumstances of colonial women's lives. Indeed the primary concern of modern scholarship is not to generalize about women's status but to identify the specific changes and continuities in women's lives during the colonial period. For example, whereas earlier historians suggested that there was little change for colonial women before 1800, the new scholarship suggests that a three-part chronological division more accurately reflects colonial women's experiences. First was the initial period of English colonization (from the 1620s to about 1660); then a period during which patterns of family and community were challenged and reshaped (roughly from 1660 to 1750); and finally the era of revolution (approximately 1750 to 1815), which brought other changes to women's lives.

199509_4-RC_4_24

It can be inferred from the passage that the author would be most likely to describe the views of the scholars mentioned in line 32 as

Historians have long accepted the notion that women of English descent who lived in the English colonies of North America during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were better off than either the contemporary women in England or the colonists' own nineteenth-century daughters and granddaughters. The "golden age" theory originated in the 1920s with the work of Elizabeth Dexter, who argued that there were relatively few women among the colonists, and that all hands—male and female—were needed to sustain the growing settlements. Rigid sex-role distinctions could not exist under such circumstances; female colonists could accordingly engage in whatever occupations they wished, encountering few legal or social constraints if they sought employment outside the home. The surplus of male colonists also gave women crucial bargaining power in the marriage market, since women's contributions were vital to the survival of colonial households. Dexter's portrait of female colonists living under conditions of rough equality with their male counterparts was eventually incorporated into studies of nineteenth-century middle-class women. The contrast between the self-sufficient colonial woman and the oppressed nineteenth-century woman, confined to her home by stultifying ideologies of domesticity and by the fact that industrialization eliminated employment opportunities for middle-class women, gained an extraordinarily tenacious hold on historians. Even scholars who have questioned the "golden age" view of colonial women's status have continued to accept the paradigm of a nineteenth-century decline from a more desirable past. For example, Joan Hoff-Wilson asserted that there was no "golden age" and yet emphasized that the nineteenth century brought "increased loss of function and authentic status for" middle-class women. Recent publications about colonial women have exposed the concept of a decline in status as simplistic and unsophisticated, a theory that based its assessment of colonial women's status solely on one factor (their economic function in society) and assumed all too readily that a relatively simple social system automatically brought higher standing to colonial women. The new scholarship presents a far more complicated picture, one in which definitions of gender roles, the colonial economy, demographic patterns, religion, the law, and household organization all contributed to defining the circumstances of colonial women's lives. Indeed the primary concern of modern scholarship is not to generalize about women's status but to identify the specific changes and continuities in women's lives during the colonial period. For example, whereas earlier historians suggested that there was little change for colonial women before 1800, the new scholarship suggests that a three-part chronological division more accurately reflects colonial women's experiences. First was the initial period of English colonization (from the 1620s to about 1660); then a period during which patterns of family and community were challenged and reshaped (roughly from 1660 to 1750); and finally the era of revolution (approximately 1750 to 1815), which brought other changes to women's lives.

199509_4-RC_4_25

It can be inferred from the passage that, in proposing the "three-part chronological division" (lines 60–61), scholars recognized which one of the following?

Historians have long accepted the notion that women of English descent who lived in the English colonies of North America during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were better off than either the contemporary women in England or the colonists' own nineteenth-century daughters and granddaughters. The "golden age" theory originated in the 1920s with the work of Elizabeth Dexter, who argued that there were relatively few women among the colonists, and that all hands—male and female—were needed to sustain the growing settlements. Rigid sex-role distinctions could not exist under such circumstances; female colonists could accordingly engage in whatever occupations they wished, encountering few legal or social constraints if they sought employment outside the home. The surplus of male colonists also gave women crucial bargaining power in the marriage market, since women's contributions were vital to the survival of colonial households. Dexter's portrait of female colonists living under conditions of rough equality with their male counterparts was eventually incorporated into studies of nineteenth-century middle-class women. The contrast between the self-sufficient colonial woman and the oppressed nineteenth-century woman, confined to her home by stultifying ideologies of domesticity and by the fact that industrialization eliminated employment opportunities for middle-class women, gained an extraordinarily tenacious hold on historians. Even scholars who have questioned the "golden age" view of colonial women's status have continued to accept the paradigm of a nineteenth-century decline from a more desirable past. For example, Joan Hoff-Wilson asserted that there was no "golden age" and yet emphasized that the nineteenth century brought "increased loss of function and authentic status for" middle-class women. Recent publications about colonial women have exposed the concept of a decline in status as simplistic and unsophisticated, a theory that based its assessment of colonial women's status solely on one factor (their economic function in society) and assumed all too readily that a relatively simple social system automatically brought higher standing to colonial women. The new scholarship presents a far more complicated picture, one in which definitions of gender roles, the colonial economy, demographic patterns, religion, the law, and household organization all contributed to defining the circumstances of colonial women's lives. Indeed the primary concern of modern scholarship is not to generalize about women's status but to identify the specific changes and continuities in women's lives during the colonial period. For example, whereas earlier historians suggested that there was little change for colonial women before 1800, the new scholarship suggests that a three-part chronological division more accurately reflects colonial women's experiences. First was the initial period of English colonization (from the 1620s to about 1660); then a period during which patterns of family and community were challenged and reshaped (roughly from 1660 to 1750); and finally the era of revolution (approximately 1750 to 1815), which brought other changes to women's lives.

199509_4-RC_4_26

According to the author, the publications about colonial women mentioned in the third paragraph had which one of the following effects?

Historians have long accepted the notion that women of English descent who lived in the English colonies of North America during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were better off than either the contemporary women in England or the colonists' own nineteenth-century daughters and granddaughters. The "golden age" theory originated in the 1920s with the work of Elizabeth Dexter, who argued that there were relatively few women among the colonists, and that all hands—male and female—were needed to sustain the growing settlements. Rigid sex-role distinctions could not exist under such circumstances; female colonists could accordingly engage in whatever occupations they wished, encountering few legal or social constraints if they sought employment outside the home. The surplus of male colonists also gave women crucial bargaining power in the marriage market, since women's contributions were vital to the survival of colonial households. Dexter's portrait of female colonists living under conditions of rough equality with their male counterparts was eventually incorporated into studies of nineteenth-century middle-class women. The contrast between the self-sufficient colonial woman and the oppressed nineteenth-century woman, confined to her home by stultifying ideologies of domesticity and by the fact that industrialization eliminated employment opportunities for middle-class women, gained an extraordinarily tenacious hold on historians. Even scholars who have questioned the "golden age" view of colonial women's status have continued to accept the paradigm of a nineteenth-century decline from a more desirable past. For example, Joan Hoff-Wilson asserted that there was no "golden age" and yet emphasized that the nineteenth century brought "increased loss of function and authentic status for" middle-class women. Recent publications about colonial women have exposed the concept of a decline in status as simplistic and unsophisticated, a theory that based its assessment of colonial women's status solely on one factor (their economic function in society) and assumed all too readily that a relatively simple social system automatically brought higher standing to colonial women. The new scholarship presents a far more complicated picture, one in which definitions of gender roles, the colonial economy, demographic patterns, religion, the law, and household organization all contributed to defining the circumstances of colonial women's lives. Indeed the primary concern of modern scholarship is not to generalize about women's status but to identify the specific changes and continuities in women's lives during the colonial period. For example, whereas earlier historians suggested that there was little change for colonial women before 1800, the new scholarship suggests that a three-part chronological division more accurately reflects colonial women's experiences. First was the initial period of English colonization (from the 1620s to about 1660); then a period during which patterns of family and community were challenged and reshaped (roughly from 1660 to 1750); and finally the era of revolution (approximately 1750 to 1815), which brought other changes to women's lives.

199509_4-RC_4_27

Practitioners of the new scholarship discussed in the last paragraph would be most likely to agree with which one of the following statements about Dexter's argument?

Many literary scholars believe that Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937) has been the primary influence on some of the most accomplished Black women writing in the United States today. Indeed, Alice Walker, the author of the prize-winning novel The Color Purple, has said of Their Eyes, "There is no book more important to me than this one." Thus, it seems necessary to ask why Their Eyes, a work now viewed by a multitude of readers as remarkably successful in its complex depiction of a Black woman's search for self and community, was ever relegated to the margins of the literary canon. The details of the novel's initial reception help answer this question. Unlike the recently rediscovered and reexamined work of Harriet Wilson, Their Eyes was not totally ignored by book reviewers upon its publication. In fact, it received a mixture of positive and negative reviews both from White book reviewers working for prominent periodicals and from important figures within Black literary circles. In the Saturday Review of Literature, George Stevens wrote that "the narration is exactly right, because most of it is dialogue and the dialogue gives us a constant sense of character in action." The negative criticism was partially a result of Hurston's ideological differences with other members of the Black literary community about the depiction of Black Americans in literature. Black writers of the 1940s believed that the Black artist's primary responsibility was to create protest fiction that explored the negative effects of racism in the United States. For example, Richard Wright, the author of the much acclaimed Native Son (1940), wrote that Their Eyes had "no theme" and "no message." Most critics' and readers' expectations of Black literature rendered them unable to appreciate Hurston's subtle delineation of the life of an ordinary Black woman in a Black community, and the novel went quietly out of print. Recent acclaim for Their Eyes results from the emergence of feminist literary criticism and the development of standards of evaluation specific to the work of Black writers; these kinds of criticism changed readers' expectations of art and enabled them to appreciate Hurston's novel. The emergence of feminist literary criticism was crucial because such criticism brought new attention to neglected works such as Hurston's and alerted readers to Hurston's exploration of women's issues in her fiction. The Afrocentric standards of evaluation were equally important to the rediscovery of Their Eyes, for such standards provided readers with the tools to recognize and appreciate the Black folklore and oral storytelling traditions Hurston incorporated within her work. In one of the most illuminating discussions of the novel to date, Henry Louis Gates, Jr., states that "Hurston's strategy seems to concern itself with the possibilities of representation of the speaking Black voice in writing."

199512_4-RC_1_1

The passage suggests which one of the following about Harriet Wilson's novel?

Many literary scholars believe that Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937) has been the primary influence on some of the most accomplished Black women writing in the United States today. Indeed, Alice Walker, the author of the prize-winning novel The Color Purple, has said of Their Eyes, "There is no book more important to me than this one." Thus, it seems necessary to ask why Their Eyes, a work now viewed by a multitude of readers as remarkably successful in its complex depiction of a Black woman's search for self and community, was ever relegated to the margins of the literary canon. The details of the novel's initial reception help answer this question. Unlike the recently rediscovered and reexamined work of Harriet Wilson, Their Eyes was not totally ignored by book reviewers upon its publication. In fact, it received a mixture of positive and negative reviews both from White book reviewers working for prominent periodicals and from important figures within Black literary circles. In the Saturday Review of Literature, George Stevens wrote that "the narration is exactly right, because most of it is dialogue and the dialogue gives us a constant sense of character in action." The negative criticism was partially a result of Hurston's ideological differences with other members of the Black literary community about the depiction of Black Americans in literature. Black writers of the 1940s believed that the Black artist's primary responsibility was to create protest fiction that explored the negative effects of racism in the United States. For example, Richard Wright, the author of the much acclaimed Native Son (1940), wrote that Their Eyes had "no theme" and "no message." Most critics' and readers' expectations of Black literature rendered them unable to appreciate Hurston's subtle delineation of the life of an ordinary Black woman in a Black community, and the novel went quietly out of print. Recent acclaim for Their Eyes results from the emergence of feminist literary criticism and the development of standards of evaluation specific to the work of Black writers; these kinds of criticism changed readers' expectations of art and enabled them to appreciate Hurston's novel. The emergence of feminist literary criticism was crucial because such criticism brought new attention to neglected works such as Hurston's and alerted readers to Hurston's exploration of women's issues in her fiction. The Afrocentric standards of evaluation were equally important to the rediscovery of Their Eyes, for such standards provided readers with the tools to recognize and appreciate the Black folklore and oral storytelling traditions Hurston incorporated within her work. In one of the most illuminating discussions of the novel to date, Henry Louis Gates, Jr., states that "Hurston's strategy seems to concern itself with the possibilities of representation of the speaking Black voice in writing."

199512_4-RC_1_2

The passage offers support for which one of the following statements about literary reviewers and Their Eyes Were Watching God?

Many literary scholars believe that Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937) has been the primary influence on some of the most accomplished Black women writing in the United States today. Indeed, Alice Walker, the author of the prize-winning novel The Color Purple, has said of Their Eyes, "There is no book more important to me than this one." Thus, it seems necessary to ask why Their Eyes, a work now viewed by a multitude of readers as remarkably successful in its complex depiction of a Black woman's search for self and community, was ever relegated to the margins of the literary canon. The details of the novel's initial reception help answer this question. Unlike the recently rediscovered and reexamined work of Harriet Wilson, Their Eyes was not totally ignored by book reviewers upon its publication. In fact, it received a mixture of positive and negative reviews both from White book reviewers working for prominent periodicals and from important figures within Black literary circles. In the Saturday Review of Literature, George Stevens wrote that "the narration is exactly right, because most of it is dialogue and the dialogue gives us a constant sense of character in action." The negative criticism was partially a result of Hurston's ideological differences with other members of the Black literary community about the depiction of Black Americans in literature. Black writers of the 1940s believed that the Black artist's primary responsibility was to create protest fiction that explored the negative effects of racism in the United States. For example, Richard Wright, the author of the much acclaimed Native Son (1940), wrote that Their Eyes had "no theme" and "no message." Most critics' and readers' expectations of Black literature rendered them unable to appreciate Hurston's subtle delineation of the life of an ordinary Black woman in a Black community, and the novel went quietly out of print. Recent acclaim for Their Eyes results from the emergence of feminist literary criticism and the development of standards of evaluation specific to the work of Black writers; these kinds of criticism changed readers' expectations of art and enabled them to appreciate Hurston's novel. The emergence of feminist literary criticism was crucial because such criticism brought new attention to neglected works such as Hurston's and alerted readers to Hurston's exploration of women's issues in her fiction. The Afrocentric standards of evaluation were equally important to the rediscovery of Their Eyes, for such standards provided readers with the tools to recognize and appreciate the Black folklore and oral storytelling traditions Hurston incorporated within her work. In one of the most illuminating discussions of the novel to date, Henry Louis Gates, Jr., states that "Hurston's strategy seems to concern itself with the possibilities of representation of the speaking Black voice in writing."

199512_4-RC_1_3

Which one of the following best states the main idea of the passage?

Many literary scholars believe that Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937) has been the primary influence on some of the most accomplished Black women writing in the United States today. Indeed, Alice Walker, the author of the prize-winning novel The Color Purple, has said of Their Eyes, "There is no book more important to me than this one." Thus, it seems necessary to ask why Their Eyes, a work now viewed by a multitude of readers as remarkably successful in its complex depiction of a Black woman's search for self and community, was ever relegated to the margins of the literary canon. The details of the novel's initial reception help answer this question. Unlike the recently rediscovered and reexamined work of Harriet Wilson, Their Eyes was not totally ignored by book reviewers upon its publication. In fact, it received a mixture of positive and negative reviews both from White book reviewers working for prominent periodicals and from important figures within Black literary circles. In the Saturday Review of Literature, George Stevens wrote that "the narration is exactly right, because most of it is dialogue and the dialogue gives us a constant sense of character in action." The negative criticism was partially a result of Hurston's ideological differences with other members of the Black literary community about the depiction of Black Americans in literature. Black writers of the 1940s believed that the Black artist's primary responsibility was to create protest fiction that explored the negative effects of racism in the United States. For example, Richard Wright, the author of the much acclaimed Native Son (1940), wrote that Their Eyes had "no theme" and "no message." Most critics' and readers' expectations of Black literature rendered them unable to appreciate Hurston's subtle delineation of the life of an ordinary Black woman in a Black community, and the novel went quietly out of print. Recent acclaim for Their Eyes results from the emergence of feminist literary criticism and the development of standards of evaluation specific to the work of Black writers; these kinds of criticism changed readers' expectations of art and enabled them to appreciate Hurston's novel. The emergence of feminist literary criticism was crucial because such criticism brought new attention to neglected works such as Hurston's and alerted readers to Hurston's exploration of women's issues in her fiction. The Afrocentric standards of evaluation were equally important to the rediscovery of Their Eyes, for such standards provided readers with the tools to recognize and appreciate the Black folklore and oral storytelling traditions Hurston incorporated within her work. In one of the most illuminating discussions of the novel to date, Henry Louis Gates, Jr., states that "Hurston's strategy seems to concern itself with the possibilities of representation of the speaking Black voice in writing."

199512_4-RC_1_4

According to the passage, which one of the following is true of Black folklore traditions as used in literature written in the United States?

Many literary scholars believe that Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937) has been the primary influence on some of the most accomplished Black women writing in the United States today. Indeed, Alice Walker, the author of the prize-winning novel The Color Purple, has said of Their Eyes, "There is no book more important to me than this one." Thus, it seems necessary to ask why Their Eyes, a work now viewed by a multitude of readers as remarkably successful in its complex depiction of a Black woman's search for self and community, was ever relegated to the margins of the literary canon. The details of the novel's initial reception help answer this question. Unlike the recently rediscovered and reexamined work of Harriet Wilson, Their Eyes was not totally ignored by book reviewers upon its publication. In fact, it received a mixture of positive and negative reviews both from White book reviewers working for prominent periodicals and from important figures within Black literary circles. In the Saturday Review of Literature, George Stevens wrote that "the narration is exactly right, because most of it is dialogue and the dialogue gives us a constant sense of character in action." The negative criticism was partially a result of Hurston's ideological differences with other members of the Black literary community about the depiction of Black Americans in literature. Black writers of the 1940s believed that the Black artist's primary responsibility was to create protest fiction that explored the negative effects of racism in the United States. For example, Richard Wright, the author of the much acclaimed Native Son (1940), wrote that Their Eyes had "no theme" and "no message." Most critics' and readers' expectations of Black literature rendered them unable to appreciate Hurston's subtle delineation of the life of an ordinary Black woman in a Black community, and the novel went quietly out of print. Recent acclaim for Their Eyes results from the emergence of feminist literary criticism and the development of standards of evaluation specific to the work of Black writers; these kinds of criticism changed readers' expectations of art and enabled them to appreciate Hurston's novel. The emergence of feminist literary criticism was crucial because such criticism brought new attention to neglected works such as Hurston's and alerted readers to Hurston's exploration of women's issues in her fiction. The Afrocentric standards of evaluation were equally important to the rediscovery of Their Eyes, for such standards provided readers with the tools to recognize and appreciate the Black folklore and oral storytelling traditions Hurston incorporated within her work. In one of the most illuminating discussions of the novel to date, Henry Louis Gates, Jr., states that "Hurston's strategy seems to concern itself with the possibilities of representation of the speaking Black voice in writing."

199512_4-RC_1_5

The passage suggests that Native Son differs from Their Eyes Were Watching God in which one of the following ways?

Many literary scholars believe that Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937) has been the primary influence on some of the most accomplished Black women writing in the United States today. Indeed, Alice Walker, the author of the prize-winning novel The Color Purple, has said of Their Eyes, "There is no book more important to me than this one." Thus, it seems necessary to ask why Their Eyes, a work now viewed by a multitude of readers as remarkably successful in its complex depiction of a Black woman's search for self and community, was ever relegated to the margins of the literary canon. The details of the novel's initial reception help answer this question. Unlike the recently rediscovered and reexamined work of Harriet Wilson, Their Eyes was not totally ignored by book reviewers upon its publication. In fact, it received a mixture of positive and negative reviews both from White book reviewers working for prominent periodicals and from important figures within Black literary circles. In the Saturday Review of Literature, George Stevens wrote that "the narration is exactly right, because most of it is dialogue and the dialogue gives us a constant sense of character in action." The negative criticism was partially a result of Hurston's ideological differences with other members of the Black literary community about the depiction of Black Americans in literature. Black writers of the 1940s believed that the Black artist's primary responsibility was to create protest fiction that explored the negative effects of racism in the United States. For example, Richard Wright, the author of the much acclaimed Native Son (1940), wrote that Their Eyes had "no theme" and "no message." Most critics' and readers' expectations of Black literature rendered them unable to appreciate Hurston's subtle delineation of the life of an ordinary Black woman in a Black community, and the novel went quietly out of print. Recent acclaim for Their Eyes results from the emergence of feminist literary criticism and the development of standards of evaluation specific to the work of Black writers; these kinds of criticism changed readers' expectations of art and enabled them to appreciate Hurston's novel. The emergence of feminist literary criticism was crucial because such criticism brought new attention to neglected works such as Hurston's and alerted readers to Hurston's exploration of women's issues in her fiction. The Afrocentric standards of evaluation were equally important to the rediscovery of Their Eyes, for such standards provided readers with the tools to recognize and appreciate the Black folklore and oral storytelling traditions Hurston incorporated within her work. In one of the most illuminating discussions of the novel to date, Henry Louis Gates, Jr., states that "Hurston's strategy seems to concern itself with the possibilities of representation of the speaking Black voice in writing."

199512_4-RC_1_6

Which one of the following provides the clearest example of the kind of fiction that many Black writers of the 1940s, as their views are described in the passage, believed should be written?

Many literary scholars believe that Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937) has been the primary influence on some of the most accomplished Black women writing in the United States today. Indeed, Alice Walker, the author of the prize-winning novel The Color Purple, has said of Their Eyes, "There is no book more important to me than this one." Thus, it seems necessary to ask why Their Eyes, a work now viewed by a multitude of readers as remarkably successful in its complex depiction of a Black woman's search for self and community, was ever relegated to the margins of the literary canon. The details of the novel's initial reception help answer this question. Unlike the recently rediscovered and reexamined work of Harriet Wilson, Their Eyes was not totally ignored by book reviewers upon its publication. In fact, it received a mixture of positive and negative reviews both from White book reviewers working for prominent periodicals and from important figures within Black literary circles. In the Saturday Review of Literature, George Stevens wrote that "the narration is exactly right, because most of it is dialogue and the dialogue gives us a constant sense of character in action." The negative criticism was partially a result of Hurston's ideological differences with other members of the Black literary community about the depiction of Black Americans in literature. Black writers of the 1940s believed that the Black artist's primary responsibility was to create protest fiction that explored the negative effects of racism in the United States. For example, Richard Wright, the author of the much acclaimed Native Son (1940), wrote that Their Eyes had "no theme" and "no message." Most critics' and readers' expectations of Black literature rendered them unable to appreciate Hurston's subtle delineation of the life of an ordinary Black woman in a Black community, and the novel went quietly out of print. Recent acclaim for Their Eyes results from the emergence of feminist literary criticism and the development of standards of evaluation specific to the work of Black writers; these kinds of criticism changed readers' expectations of art and enabled them to appreciate Hurston's novel. The emergence of feminist literary criticism was crucial because such criticism brought new attention to neglected works such as Hurston's and alerted readers to Hurston's exploration of women's issues in her fiction. The Afrocentric standards of evaluation were equally important to the rediscovery of Their Eyes, for such standards provided readers with the tools to recognize and appreciate the Black folklore and oral storytelling traditions Hurston incorporated within her work. In one of the most illuminating discussions of the novel to date, Henry Louis Gates, Jr., states that "Hurston's strategy seems to concern itself with the possibilities of representation of the speaking Black voice in writing."

199512_4-RC_1_7

The author would be most likely to agree with which one of the following statements about the relationship between art and literary criticism?

Many literary scholars believe that Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937) has been the primary influence on some of the most accomplished Black women writing in the United States today. Indeed, Alice Walker, the author of the prize-winning novel The Color Purple, has said of Their Eyes, "There is no book more important to me than this one." Thus, it seems necessary to ask why Their Eyes, a work now viewed by a multitude of readers as remarkably successful in its complex depiction of a Black woman's search for self and community, was ever relegated to the margins of the literary canon. The details of the novel's initial reception help answer this question. Unlike the recently rediscovered and reexamined work of Harriet Wilson, Their Eyes was not totally ignored by book reviewers upon its publication. In fact, it received a mixture of positive and negative reviews both from White book reviewers working for prominent periodicals and from important figures within Black literary circles. In the Saturday Review of Literature, George Stevens wrote that "the narration is exactly right, because most of it is dialogue and the dialogue gives us a constant sense of character in action." The negative criticism was partially a result of Hurston's ideological differences with other members of the Black literary community about the depiction of Black Americans in literature. Black writers of the 1940s believed that the Black artist's primary responsibility was to create protest fiction that explored the negative effects of racism in the United States. For example, Richard Wright, the author of the much acclaimed Native Son (1940), wrote that Their Eyes had "no theme" and "no message." Most critics' and readers' expectations of Black literature rendered them unable to appreciate Hurston's subtle delineation of the life of an ordinary Black woman in a Black community, and the novel went quietly out of print. Recent acclaim for Their Eyes results from the emergence of feminist literary criticism and the development of standards of evaluation specific to the work of Black writers; these kinds of criticism changed readers' expectations of art and enabled them to appreciate Hurston's novel. The emergence of feminist literary criticism was crucial because such criticism brought new attention to neglected works such as Hurston's and alerted readers to Hurston's exploration of women's issues in her fiction. The Afrocentric standards of evaluation were equally important to the rediscovery of Their Eyes, for such standards provided readers with the tools to recognize and appreciate the Black folklore and oral storytelling traditions Hurston incorporated within her work. In one of the most illuminating discussions of the novel to date, Henry Louis Gates, Jr., states that "Hurston's strategy seems to concern itself with the possibilities of representation of the speaking Black voice in writing."

199512_4-RC_1_8

The primary purpose of the passage is to

Legal cases can be termed "hard" cases if they raise issues that are highly controversial,issues about which people with legal training disagree.The ongoing debate over the completeness of the law usually concerns the extent to which such hard cases are legally determinate,or decidable according to existing law. H.L.A.Hart's The Concept of Law is still the clearest and most persuasive statement of both the standard theory of hard cases and the standard theory of law on which it rests.For Hart,the law consists of legal rules formulated in general terms;these terms he calls "open textured," which means that they contain a "core" of settled meaning and a "penumbra" or "periphery" where their meaning is not determinate.For example,suppose an ordinance prohibits the use of vehicles in a park. "Vehicle" has a core of meaning which includes cars and motorcycles.But,Hart claims,other vehicles,such as bicycles,fall within the peripheral meaning of "vehicle," so that the law does not establish whether they are prohibited.There will always be cases not covered by the core meaning of legal terms within existing laws;Hart considers these cases to be legally indeterminate.Since courts cannot decide such cases on legal grounds,they must consider nonlegal (for example, moral and political) grounds,and thereby exercise judicial discretion to make, rather than apply,law. In Ronald Dworkin's view the law is richer than Hart would grant;he denies that the law consists solely of explicit rules.The law also includes principles that do not depend for their legal status on any prior official recognition or enactment.Dworkin claims that many cases illustrate the existence of legal principles that are different from legal rules and that Hart's "model of rules" cannot accommodate.For Dworkin, legal rules apply in an all-or-nothing fashion,whereas legal principles do not:they provide the rationale for applying legal rules.Thus,because Dworkin thinks there is law in addition to legal rules,he thinks that legal indeterminacy and the need for judicial discretion do not follow from the existence of open texture in legal rules. It would be a mistake,though,to dispute Hart's theory of hard cases on this basis alone.If Hart's claim about the "open texture" of general terms is true,then we should expect to find legal indeterminacies even if the law consists of principles in addition to rules.Legal principles,as well as legal rules,contain general terms that have open texture.And it would be absurd to suppose that wherever the meaning of a legal rule is unclear,there is a legal principle with a clear meaning. Most interesting and controversial cases will occur in the penumbra of both rules and principles.

199512_4-RC_2_9

Which one of the following best expresses the main idea of the passage?

Legal cases can be termed "hard" cases if they raise issues that are highly controversial,issues about which people with legal training disagree.The ongoing debate over the completeness of the law usually concerns the extent to which such hard cases are legally determinate,or decidable according to existing law. H.L.A.Hart's The Concept of Law is still the clearest and most persuasive statement of both the standard theory of hard cases and the standard theory of law on which it rests.For Hart,the law consists of legal rules formulated in general terms;these terms he calls "open textured," which means that they contain a "core" of settled meaning and a "penumbra" or "periphery" where their meaning is not determinate.For example,suppose an ordinance prohibits the use of vehicles in a park. "Vehicle" has a core of meaning which includes cars and motorcycles.But,Hart claims,other vehicles,such as bicycles,fall within the peripheral meaning of "vehicle," so that the law does not establish whether they are prohibited.There will always be cases not covered by the core meaning of legal terms within existing laws;Hart considers these cases to be legally indeterminate.Since courts cannot decide such cases on legal grounds,they must consider nonlegal (for example, moral and political) grounds,and thereby exercise judicial discretion to make, rather than apply,law. In Ronald Dworkin's view the law is richer than Hart would grant;he denies that the law consists solely of explicit rules.The law also includes principles that do not depend for their legal status on any prior official recognition or enactment.Dworkin claims that many cases illustrate the existence of legal principles that are different from legal rules and that Hart's "model of rules" cannot accommodate.For Dworkin, legal rules apply in an all-or-nothing fashion,whereas legal principles do not:they provide the rationale for applying legal rules.Thus,because Dworkin thinks there is law in addition to legal rules,he thinks that legal indeterminacy and the need for judicial discretion do not follow from the existence of open texture in legal rules. It would be a mistake,though,to dispute Hart's theory of hard cases on this basis alone.If Hart's claim about the "open texture" of general terms is true,then we should expect to find legal indeterminacies even if the law consists of principles in addition to rules.Legal principles,as well as legal rules,contain general terms that have open texture.And it would be absurd to suppose that wherever the meaning of a legal rule is unclear,there is a legal principle with a clear meaning. Most interesting and controversial cases will occur in the penumbra of both rules and principles.

199512_4-RC_2_10

According to the passage, the term "legal principles" as used by Dworkin refers to

Legal cases can be termed "hard" cases if they raise issues that are highly controversial,issues about which people with legal training disagree.The ongoing debate over the completeness of the law usually concerns the extent to which such hard cases are legally determinate,or decidable according to existing law. H.L.A.Hart's The Concept of Law is still the clearest and most persuasive statement of both the standard theory of hard cases and the standard theory of law on which it rests.For Hart,the law consists of legal rules formulated in general terms;these terms he calls "open textured," which means that they contain a "core" of settled meaning and a "penumbra" or "periphery" where their meaning is not determinate.For example,suppose an ordinance prohibits the use of vehicles in a park. "Vehicle" has a core of meaning which includes cars and motorcycles.But,Hart claims,other vehicles,such as bicycles,fall within the peripheral meaning of "vehicle," so that the law does not establish whether they are prohibited.There will always be cases not covered by the core meaning of legal terms within existing laws;Hart considers these cases to be legally indeterminate.Since courts cannot decide such cases on legal grounds,they must consider nonlegal (for example, moral and political) grounds,and thereby exercise judicial discretion to make, rather than apply,law. In Ronald Dworkin's view the law is richer than Hart would grant;he denies that the law consists solely of explicit rules.The law also includes principles that do not depend for their legal status on any prior official recognition or enactment.Dworkin claims that many cases illustrate the existence of legal principles that are different from legal rules and that Hart's "model of rules" cannot accommodate.For Dworkin, legal rules apply in an all-or-nothing fashion,whereas legal principles do not:they provide the rationale for applying legal rules.Thus,because Dworkin thinks there is law in addition to legal rules,he thinks that legal indeterminacy and the need for judicial discretion do not follow from the existence of open texture in legal rules. It would be a mistake,though,to dispute Hart's theory of hard cases on this basis alone.If Hart's claim about the "open texture" of general terms is true,then we should expect to find legal indeterminacies even if the law consists of principles in addition to rules.Legal principles,as well as legal rules,contain general terms that have open texture.And it would be absurd to suppose that wherever the meaning of a legal rule is unclear,there is a legal principle with a clear meaning. Most interesting and controversial cases will occur in the penumbra of both rules and principles.

199512_4-RC_2_11

Which one of the following expresses a view that the author of the passage would most probably hold concerning legal principles and legal rules?

Legal cases can be termed "hard" cases if they raise issues that are highly controversial,issues about which people with legal training disagree.The ongoing debate over the completeness of the law usually concerns the extent to which such hard cases are legally determinate,or decidable according to existing law. H.L.A.Hart's The Concept of Law is still the clearest and most persuasive statement of both the standard theory of hard cases and the standard theory of law on which it rests.For Hart,the law consists of legal rules formulated in general terms;these terms he calls "open textured," which means that they contain a "core" of settled meaning and a "penumbra" or "periphery" where their meaning is not determinate.For example,suppose an ordinance prohibits the use of vehicles in a park. "Vehicle" has a core of meaning which includes cars and motorcycles.But,Hart claims,other vehicles,such as bicycles,fall within the peripheral meaning of "vehicle," so that the law does not establish whether they are prohibited.There will always be cases not covered by the core meaning of legal terms within existing laws;Hart considers these cases to be legally indeterminate.Since courts cannot decide such cases on legal grounds,they must consider nonlegal (for example, moral and political) grounds,and thereby exercise judicial discretion to make, rather than apply,law. In Ronald Dworkin's view the law is richer than Hart would grant;he denies that the law consists solely of explicit rules.The law also includes principles that do not depend for their legal status on any prior official recognition or enactment.Dworkin claims that many cases illustrate the existence of legal principles that are different from legal rules and that Hart's "model of rules" cannot accommodate.For Dworkin, legal rules apply in an all-or-nothing fashion,whereas legal principles do not:they provide the rationale for applying legal rules.Thus,because Dworkin thinks there is law in addition to legal rules,he thinks that legal indeterminacy and the need for judicial discretion do not follow from the existence of open texture in legal rules. It would be a mistake,though,to dispute Hart's theory of hard cases on this basis alone.If Hart's claim about the "open texture" of general terms is true,then we should expect to find legal indeterminacies even if the law consists of principles in addition to rules.Legal principles,as well as legal rules,contain general terms that have open texture.And it would be absurd to suppose that wherever the meaning of a legal rule is unclear,there is a legal principle with a clear meaning. Most interesting and controversial cases will occur in the penumbra of both rules and principles.

199512_4-RC_2_12

In the passage, the author uses the example of the word "vehicle" to

Legal cases can be termed "hard" cases if they raise issues that are highly controversial,issues about which people with legal training disagree.The ongoing debate over the completeness of the law usually concerns the extent to which such hard cases are legally determinate,or decidable according to existing law. H.L.A.Hart's The Concept of Law is still the clearest and most persuasive statement of both the standard theory of hard cases and the standard theory of law on which it rests.For Hart,the law consists of legal rules formulated in general terms;these terms he calls "open textured," which means that they contain a "core" of settled meaning and a "penumbra" or "periphery" where their meaning is not determinate.For example,suppose an ordinance prohibits the use of vehicles in a park. "Vehicle" has a core of meaning which includes cars and motorcycles.But,Hart claims,other vehicles,such as bicycles,fall within the peripheral meaning of "vehicle," so that the law does not establish whether they are prohibited.There will always be cases not covered by the core meaning of legal terms within existing laws;Hart considers these cases to be legally indeterminate.Since courts cannot decide such cases on legal grounds,they must consider nonlegal (for example, moral and political) grounds,and thereby exercise judicial discretion to make, rather than apply,law. In Ronald Dworkin's view the law is richer than Hart would grant;he denies that the law consists solely of explicit rules.The law also includes principles that do not depend for their legal status on any prior official recognition or enactment.Dworkin claims that many cases illustrate the existence of legal principles that are different from legal rules and that Hart's "model of rules" cannot accommodate.For Dworkin, legal rules apply in an all-or-nothing fashion,whereas legal principles do not:they provide the rationale for applying legal rules.Thus,because Dworkin thinks there is law in addition to legal rules,he thinks that legal indeterminacy and the need for judicial discretion do not follow from the existence of open texture in legal rules. It would be a mistake,though,to dispute Hart's theory of hard cases on this basis alone.If Hart's claim about the "open texture" of general terms is true,then we should expect to find legal indeterminacies even if the law consists of principles in addition to rules.Legal principles,as well as legal rules,contain general terms that have open texture.And it would be absurd to suppose that wherever the meaning of a legal rule is unclear,there is a legal principle with a clear meaning. Most interesting and controversial cases will occur in the penumbra of both rules and principles.

199512_4-RC_2_13

It can be inferred that the author of the passage regards Hart's theory of hard cases and the theory of standard law as

Legal cases can be termed "hard" cases if they raise issues that are highly controversial,issues about which people with legal training disagree.The ongoing debate over the completeness of the law usually concerns the extent to which such hard cases are legally determinate,or decidable according to existing law. H.L.A.Hart's The Concept of Law is still the clearest and most persuasive statement of both the standard theory of hard cases and the standard theory of law on which it rests.For Hart,the law consists of legal rules formulated in general terms;these terms he calls "open textured," which means that they contain a "core" of settled meaning and a "penumbra" or "periphery" where their meaning is not determinate.For example,suppose an ordinance prohibits the use of vehicles in a park. "Vehicle" has a core of meaning which includes cars and motorcycles.But,Hart claims,other vehicles,such as bicycles,fall within the peripheral meaning of "vehicle," so that the law does not establish whether they are prohibited.There will always be cases not covered by the core meaning of legal terms within existing laws;Hart considers these cases to be legally indeterminate.Since courts cannot decide such cases on legal grounds,they must consider nonlegal (for example, moral and political) grounds,and thereby exercise judicial discretion to make, rather than apply,law. In Ronald Dworkin's view the law is richer than Hart would grant;he denies that the law consists solely of explicit rules.The law also includes principles that do not depend for their legal status on any prior official recognition or enactment.Dworkin claims that many cases illustrate the existence of legal principles that are different from legal rules and that Hart's "model of rules" cannot accommodate.For Dworkin, legal rules apply in an all-or-nothing fashion,whereas legal principles do not:they provide the rationale for applying legal rules.Thus,because Dworkin thinks there is law in addition to legal rules,he thinks that legal indeterminacy and the need for judicial discretion do not follow from the existence of open texture in legal rules. It would be a mistake,though,to dispute Hart's theory of hard cases on this basis alone.If Hart's claim about the "open texture" of general terms is true,then we should expect to find legal indeterminacies even if the law consists of principles in addition to rules.Legal principles,as well as legal rules,contain general terms that have open texture.And it would be absurd to suppose that wherever the meaning of a legal rule is unclear,there is a legal principle with a clear meaning. Most interesting and controversial cases will occur in the penumbra of both rules and principles.

199512_4-RC_2_14

Which one of the following is true of the term "legally determinate" (line 6) as it is used in the passage?

Legal cases can be termed "hard" cases if they raise issues that are highly controversial,issues about which people with legal training disagree.The ongoing debate over the completeness of the law usually concerns the extent to which such hard cases are legally determinate,or decidable according to existing law. H.L.A.Hart's The Concept of Law is still the clearest and most persuasive statement of both the standard theory of hard cases and the standard theory of law on which it rests.For Hart,the law consists of legal rules formulated in general terms;these terms he calls "open textured," which means that they contain a "core" of settled meaning and a "penumbra" or "periphery" where their meaning is not determinate.For example,suppose an ordinance prohibits the use of vehicles in a park. "Vehicle" has a core of meaning which includes cars and motorcycles.But,Hart claims,other vehicles,such as bicycles,fall within the peripheral meaning of "vehicle," so that the law does not establish whether they are prohibited.There will always be cases not covered by the core meaning of legal terms within existing laws;Hart considers these cases to be legally indeterminate.Since courts cannot decide such cases on legal grounds,they must consider nonlegal (for example, moral and political) grounds,and thereby exercise judicial discretion to make, rather than apply,law. In Ronald Dworkin's view the law is richer than Hart would grant;he denies that the law consists solely of explicit rules.The law also includes principles that do not depend for their legal status on any prior official recognition or enactment.Dworkin claims that many cases illustrate the existence of legal principles that are different from legal rules and that Hart's "model of rules" cannot accommodate.For Dworkin, legal rules apply in an all-or-nothing fashion,whereas legal principles do not:they provide the rationale for applying legal rules.Thus,because Dworkin thinks there is law in addition to legal rules,he thinks that legal indeterminacy and the need for judicial discretion do not follow from the existence of open texture in legal rules. It would be a mistake,though,to dispute Hart's theory of hard cases on this basis alone.If Hart's claim about the "open texture" of general terms is true,then we should expect to find legal indeterminacies even if the law consists of principles in addition to rules.Legal principles,as well as legal rules,contain general terms that have open texture.And it would be absurd to suppose that wherever the meaning of a legal rule is unclear,there is a legal principle with a clear meaning. Most interesting and controversial cases will occur in the penumbra of both rules and principles.

199512_4-RC_2_15

In the passage, the author is primarily concerned with

One way governments can decrease air pollution is to impose a tax on industrial carbon dioxide emissions. But why should governments consider a carbon tax when they could control emissions by establishing energy efficiency and conservation standards, by legislating against coal use, or by increasing investment in nuclear power? The great virtue of such a tax is that it would provide incentives for industry to achieve emission reductions. Because oil emits more carbon dioxide per unit of energy generated than does natural gas, and coal more than oil, a carbon tax would vary with the type of fuel. Such a tax would induce industry to substitute less-polluting fuels for those carrying a higher tax, and also to reduce the total use of energy. However, it is not clear how high such a tax should be or what its economic and environmental implications would be. At first glance, it is not difficult to estimate roughly the size of the tax needed to effect a given level of emission reduction.One writer estimates, for example, that a tax of 41 percent on the price of coal, 33 percent on oil, and 25 percent on gas would reduce the United Kingdom's emissions by 20 percent (using 1988 as the base year) by the year 2005, the target recommended by the 1988 Toronto Conference. It should be noted, however, that these numbers ignore the effect of the tax on economic growth, and hence on emissions, and assume that past responses to a price rise will be replicated in the future. These numbers are also based on the assumption that all countries will behave cooperatively in imposing a carbon tax. There are very strong reasons to believe that cooperation would be difficult to win. If most countries cooperated, then any country that chose not to cooperate would be advantaged: it would have no abatement costs, and the effect on the environment of its defection would be relatively small. Because of this "free rider" effect, cooperation on a scale needed to reduce carbon dioxide emissions might prove elusive. Should countries act unilaterally to curb emissions? If a country were to act unilaterally, the benefits would be spread across the globe, whereas the costs would fall solely on the country taking the action. The action would reduce emissions globally, and the effect of this would be to reduce the benefit other countries would receive if they reduced emissions. As a consequence, other countries would have less incentive to reduce emissions and would probably emit more carbon dioxide than they would have if the unilateral action had not been taken. The entire effect of the emission reduction may not be lost, but it would surely be diminished by this free-riding behavior.

199512_4-RC_3_16

According to the passage, the size of the carbon tax levied on a given fuel would vary with the

One way governments can decrease air pollution is to impose a tax on industrial carbon dioxide emissions. But why should governments consider a carbon tax when they could control emissions by establishing energy efficiency and conservation standards, by legislating against coal use, or by increasing investment in nuclear power? The great virtue of such a tax is that it would provide incentives for industry to achieve emission reductions. Because oil emits more carbon dioxide per unit of energy generated than does natural gas, and coal more than oil, a carbon tax would vary with the type of fuel. Such a tax would induce industry to substitute less-polluting fuels for those carrying a higher tax, and also to reduce the total use of energy. However, it is not clear how high such a tax should be or what its economic and environmental implications would be. At first glance, it is not difficult to estimate roughly the size of the tax needed to effect a given level of emission reduction.One writer estimates, for example, that a tax of 41 percent on the price of coal, 33 percent on oil, and 25 percent on gas would reduce the United Kingdom's emissions by 20 percent (using 1988 as the base year) by the year 2005, the target recommended by the 1988 Toronto Conference. It should be noted, however, that these numbers ignore the effect of the tax on economic growth, and hence on emissions, and assume that past responses to a price rise will be replicated in the future. These numbers are also based on the assumption that all countries will behave cooperatively in imposing a carbon tax. There are very strong reasons to believe that cooperation would be difficult to win. If most countries cooperated, then any country that chose not to cooperate would be advantaged: it would have no abatement costs, and the effect on the environment of its defection would be relatively small. Because of this "free rider" effect, cooperation on a scale needed to reduce carbon dioxide emissions might prove elusive. Should countries act unilaterally to curb emissions? If a country were to act unilaterally, the benefits would be spread across the globe, whereas the costs would fall solely on the country taking the action. The action would reduce emissions globally, and the effect of this would be to reduce the benefit other countries would receive if they reduced emissions. As a consequence, other countries would have less incentive to reduce emissions and would probably emit more carbon dioxide than they would have if the unilateral action had not been taken. The entire effect of the emission reduction may not be lost, but it would surely be diminished by this free-riding behavior.

199512_4-RC_3_17

The author mentions the estimates of "One writer" (line 22) primarily in order to

One way governments can decrease air pollution is to impose a tax on industrial carbon dioxide emissions. But why should governments consider a carbon tax when they could control emissions by establishing energy efficiency and conservation standards, by legislating against coal use, or by increasing investment in nuclear power? The great virtue of such a tax is that it would provide incentives for industry to achieve emission reductions. Because oil emits more carbon dioxide per unit of energy generated than does natural gas, and coal more than oil, a carbon tax would vary with the type of fuel. Such a tax would induce industry to substitute less-polluting fuels for those carrying a higher tax, and also to reduce the total use of energy. However, it is not clear how high such a tax should be or what its economic and environmental implications would be. At first glance, it is not difficult to estimate roughly the size of the tax needed to effect a given level of emission reduction.One writer estimates, for example, that a tax of 41 percent on the price of coal, 33 percent on oil, and 25 percent on gas would reduce the United Kingdom's emissions by 20 percent (using 1988 as the base year) by the year 2005, the target recommended by the 1988 Toronto Conference. It should be noted, however, that these numbers ignore the effect of the tax on economic growth, and hence on emissions, and assume that past responses to a price rise will be replicated in the future. These numbers are also based on the assumption that all countries will behave cooperatively in imposing a carbon tax. There are very strong reasons to believe that cooperation would be difficult to win. If most countries cooperated, then any country that chose not to cooperate would be advantaged: it would have no abatement costs, and the effect on the environment of its defection would be relatively small. Because of this "free rider" effect, cooperation on a scale needed to reduce carbon dioxide emissions might prove elusive. Should countries act unilaterally to curb emissions? If a country were to act unilaterally, the benefits would be spread across the globe, whereas the costs would fall solely on the country taking the action. The action would reduce emissions globally, and the effect of this would be to reduce the benefit other countries would receive if they reduced emissions. As a consequence, other countries would have less incentive to reduce emissions and would probably emit more carbon dioxide than they would have if the unilateral action had not been taken. The entire effect of the emission reduction may not be lost, but it would surely be diminished by this free-riding behavior.

199512_4-RC_3_18

Which one of the following circumstances would most seriously undermine the conclusion "Such a tax would induce industry to substitute less-polluting fuels for those carrying a higher tax" (lines 13–15)?

One way governments can decrease air pollution is to impose a tax on industrial carbon dioxide emissions. But why should governments consider a carbon tax when they could control emissions by establishing energy efficiency and conservation standards, by legislating against coal use, or by increasing investment in nuclear power? The great virtue of such a tax is that it would provide incentives for industry to achieve emission reductions. Because oil emits more carbon dioxide per unit of energy generated than does natural gas, and coal more than oil, a carbon tax would vary with the type of fuel. Such a tax would induce industry to substitute less-polluting fuels for those carrying a higher tax, and also to reduce the total use of energy. However, it is not clear how high such a tax should be or what its economic and environmental implications would be. At first glance, it is not difficult to estimate roughly the size of the tax needed to effect a given level of emission reduction.One writer estimates, for example, that a tax of 41 percent on the price of coal, 33 percent on oil, and 25 percent on gas would reduce the United Kingdom's emissions by 20 percent (using 1988 as the base year) by the year 2005, the target recommended by the 1988 Toronto Conference. It should be noted, however, that these numbers ignore the effect of the tax on economic growth, and hence on emissions, and assume that past responses to a price rise will be replicated in the future. These numbers are also based on the assumption that all countries will behave cooperatively in imposing a carbon tax. There are very strong reasons to believe that cooperation would be difficult to win. If most countries cooperated, then any country that chose not to cooperate would be advantaged: it would have no abatement costs, and the effect on the environment of its defection would be relatively small. Because of this "free rider" effect, cooperation on a scale needed to reduce carbon dioxide emissions might prove elusive. Should countries act unilaterally to curb emissions? If a country were to act unilaterally, the benefits would be spread across the globe, whereas the costs would fall solely on the country taking the action. The action would reduce emissions globally, and the effect of this would be to reduce the benefit other countries would receive if they reduced emissions. As a consequence, other countries would have less incentive to reduce emissions and would probably emit more carbon dioxide than they would have if the unilateral action had not been taken. The entire effect of the emission reduction may not be lost, but it would surely be diminished by this free-riding behavior.

199512_4-RC_3_19

The passage is primarily intended to answer which one of the following questions?

One way governments can decrease air pollution is to impose a tax on industrial carbon dioxide emissions. But why should governments consider a carbon tax when they could control emissions by establishing energy efficiency and conservation standards, by legislating against coal use, or by increasing investment in nuclear power? The great virtue of such a tax is that it would provide incentives for industry to achieve emission reductions. Because oil emits more carbon dioxide per unit of energy generated than does natural gas, and coal more than oil, a carbon tax would vary with the type of fuel. Such a tax would induce industry to substitute less-polluting fuels for those carrying a higher tax, and also to reduce the total use of energy. However, it is not clear how high such a tax should be or what its economic and environmental implications would be. At first glance, it is not difficult to estimate roughly the size of the tax needed to effect a given level of emission reduction.One writer estimates, for example, that a tax of 41 percent on the price of coal, 33 percent on oil, and 25 percent on gas would reduce the United Kingdom's emissions by 20 percent (using 1988 as the base year) by the year 2005, the target recommended by the 1988 Toronto Conference. It should be noted, however, that these numbers ignore the effect of the tax on economic growth, and hence on emissions, and assume that past responses to a price rise will be replicated in the future. These numbers are also based on the assumption that all countries will behave cooperatively in imposing a carbon tax. There are very strong reasons to believe that cooperation would be difficult to win. If most countries cooperated, then any country that chose not to cooperate would be advantaged: it would have no abatement costs, and the effect on the environment of its defection would be relatively small. Because of this "free rider" effect, cooperation on a scale needed to reduce carbon dioxide emissions might prove elusive. Should countries act unilaterally to curb emissions? If a country were to act unilaterally, the benefits would be spread across the globe, whereas the costs would fall solely on the country taking the action. The action would reduce emissions globally, and the effect of this would be to reduce the benefit other countries would receive if they reduced emissions. As a consequence, other countries would have less incentive to reduce emissions and would probably emit more carbon dioxide than they would have if the unilateral action had not been taken. The entire effect of the emission reduction may not be lost, but it would surely be diminished by this free-riding behavior.

199512_4-RC_3_20

In response to the question, "Should countries act unilaterally to curb emissions?" (lines 44–45), the author would be most likely to contend that a country should

One way governments can decrease air pollution is to impose a tax on industrial carbon dioxide emissions. But why should governments consider a carbon tax when they could control emissions by establishing energy efficiency and conservation standards, by legislating against coal use, or by increasing investment in nuclear power? The great virtue of such a tax is that it would provide incentives for industry to achieve emission reductions. Because oil emits more carbon dioxide per unit of energy generated than does natural gas, and coal more than oil, a carbon tax would vary with the type of fuel. Such a tax would induce industry to substitute less-polluting fuels for those carrying a higher tax, and also to reduce the total use of energy. However, it is not clear how high such a tax should be or what its economic and environmental implications would be. At first glance, it is not difficult to estimate roughly the size of the tax needed to effect a given level of emission reduction.One writer estimates, for example, that a tax of 41 percent on the price of coal, 33 percent on oil, and 25 percent on gas would reduce the United Kingdom's emissions by 20 percent (using 1988 as the base year) by the year 2005, the target recommended by the 1988 Toronto Conference. It should be noted, however, that these numbers ignore the effect of the tax on economic growth, and hence on emissions, and assume that past responses to a price rise will be replicated in the future. These numbers are also based on the assumption that all countries will behave cooperatively in imposing a carbon tax. There are very strong reasons to believe that cooperation would be difficult to win. If most countries cooperated, then any country that chose not to cooperate would be advantaged: it would have no abatement costs, and the effect on the environment of its defection would be relatively small. Because of this "free rider" effect, cooperation on a scale needed to reduce carbon dioxide emissions might prove elusive. Should countries act unilaterally to curb emissions? If a country were to act unilaterally, the benefits would be spread across the globe, whereas the costs would fall solely on the country taking the action. The action would reduce emissions globally, and the effect of this would be to reduce the benefit other countries would receive if they reduced emissions. As a consequence, other countries would have less incentive to reduce emissions and would probably emit more carbon dioxide than they would have if the unilateral action had not been taken. The entire effect of the emission reduction may not be lost, but it would surely be diminished by this free-riding behavior.

199512_4-RC_3_21

Which one of the following is most parallel to the "free rider" effect mentioned in line 41?

Some meteorologists have insisted that the severity of the drought in sub-Saharan West Africa and its long duration (nearly 40 years to date) must be a sign of a long-term alteration in climate. Among the theories proposed to explain this change, one hypothesis that has gained widespread attention attributes the drought to a cooling of the Northern Hemisphere. This hypothesis is based on the fact that, between 1945 and the early 1970s, the average annual air temperatures over the landmasses of the Northern Hemisphere decreased by about half a degree Fahrenheit (approximately one quarter of a degree Celsius—a small but significant amount). Several meteorologists have suggested that this cooling was caused by an increase in atmospheric dust emanating from volcanic eruptions and from urban and industrial pollution; the dust reflected incoming sunlight, causing the ground to receive less solar radiation and to transfer less heat to the atmosphere. The cooling seemed to be more pronounced in the middle and high latitudes than in the tropics, an observation that is consistent with the fact that the Sun's rays enter the atmosphere at a greater angle farther north, and so have to pass through more dust-laden atmosphere on the way to the Earth. Since winds are set in motion by differences in air pressure caused by unequal heating of the atmosphere, supporters of the cooling hypothesis have argued that a growing temperature differential between the unusually cool middle and high latitudes and the warm tropical latitudes is causing a southward expansion of the circumpolar vortex—the high-altitude westerly winds that circle the Northern Hemisphere at middle latitudes. According to this hypothesis, as the circumpolar vortex expands, it forces south other components of large-scale atmospheric circulation and, in effect, displaces the northward-moving monsoon that ordinarily brings sub-Saharan rain. Proponents have further argued that this change in atmospheric circulation might be long-term since cooling in the Northern Hemisphere could be perpetuated by increases in ice and snow coverage there, which would lead to reflection of more sunlight away from the Earth, to further cooling, and, indirectly, to further drought in sub-Saharan West Africa. Despite these dire predictions, and even though the current African drought has lasted longer than any other in this century, the notion that the drought is caused by cooling of the Northern Hemisphere is, in fact, not well supported. Contrary to the predictions of the cooling hypothesis, during one period of rapid Northern Hemisphere cooling in the early 1950s, the sub-Sahara was unusually rainy. Moreover, in the early 1980s, when the drought was particularly severe, Northern Hemisphere lands actually warmed slightly. And further doubt has been cast on the hypothesis by recent analyses suggesting that, when surface temperatures of water as well as land are taken into account, the Northern Hemisphere may not have cooled at all.

199512_4-RC_4_22

Which one of the following best expresses the main idea of the passage?

Some meteorologists have insisted that the severity of the drought in sub-Saharan West Africa and its long duration (nearly 40 years to date) must be a sign of a long-term alteration in climate. Among the theories proposed to explain this change, one hypothesis that has gained widespread attention attributes the drought to a cooling of the Northern Hemisphere. This hypothesis is based on the fact that, between 1945 and the early 1970s, the average annual air temperatures over the landmasses of the Northern Hemisphere decreased by about half a degree Fahrenheit (approximately one quarter of a degree Celsius—a small but significant amount). Several meteorologists have suggested that this cooling was caused by an increase in atmospheric dust emanating from volcanic eruptions and from urban and industrial pollution; the dust reflected incoming sunlight, causing the ground to receive less solar radiation and to transfer less heat to the atmosphere. The cooling seemed to be more pronounced in the middle and high latitudes than in the tropics, an observation that is consistent with the fact that the Sun's rays enter the atmosphere at a greater angle farther north, and so have to pass through more dust-laden atmosphere on the way to the Earth. Since winds are set in motion by differences in air pressure caused by unequal heating of the atmosphere, supporters of the cooling hypothesis have argued that a growing temperature differential between the unusually cool middle and high latitudes and the warm tropical latitudes is causing a southward expansion of the circumpolar vortex—the high-altitude westerly winds that circle the Northern Hemisphere at middle latitudes. According to this hypothesis, as the circumpolar vortex expands, it forces south other components of large-scale atmospheric circulation and, in effect, displaces the northward-moving monsoon that ordinarily brings sub-Saharan rain. Proponents have further argued that this change in atmospheric circulation might be long-term since cooling in the Northern Hemisphere could be perpetuated by increases in ice and snow coverage there, which would lead to reflection of more sunlight away from the Earth, to further cooling, and, indirectly, to further drought in sub-Saharan West Africa. Despite these dire predictions, and even though the current African drought has lasted longer than any other in this century, the notion that the drought is caused by cooling of the Northern Hemisphere is, in fact, not well supported. Contrary to the predictions of the cooling hypothesis, during one period of rapid Northern Hemisphere cooling in the early 1950s, the sub-Sahara was unusually rainy. Moreover, in the early 1980s, when the drought was particularly severe, Northern Hemisphere lands actually warmed slightly. And further doubt has been cast on the hypothesis by recent analyses suggesting that, when surface temperatures of water as well as land are taken into account, the Northern Hemisphere may not have cooled at all.

199512_4-RC_4_23

The author's attitude toward the cooling hypothesis is best described as one of

Some meteorologists have insisted that the severity of the drought in sub-Saharan West Africa and its long duration (nearly 40 years to date) must be a sign of a long-term alteration in climate. Among the theories proposed to explain this change, one hypothesis that has gained widespread attention attributes the drought to a cooling of the Northern Hemisphere. This hypothesis is based on the fact that, between 1945 and the early 1970s, the average annual air temperatures over the landmasses of the Northern Hemisphere decreased by about half a degree Fahrenheit (approximately one quarter of a degree Celsius—a small but significant amount). Several meteorologists have suggested that this cooling was caused by an increase in atmospheric dust emanating from volcanic eruptions and from urban and industrial pollution; the dust reflected incoming sunlight, causing the ground to receive less solar radiation and to transfer less heat to the atmosphere. The cooling seemed to be more pronounced in the middle and high latitudes than in the tropics, an observation that is consistent with the fact that the Sun's rays enter the atmosphere at a greater angle farther north, and so have to pass through more dust-laden atmosphere on the way to the Earth. Since winds are set in motion by differences in air pressure caused by unequal heating of the atmosphere, supporters of the cooling hypothesis have argued that a growing temperature differential between the unusually cool middle and high latitudes and the warm tropical latitudes is causing a southward expansion of the circumpolar vortex—the high-altitude westerly winds that circle the Northern Hemisphere at middle latitudes. According to this hypothesis, as the circumpolar vortex expands, it forces south other components of large-scale atmospheric circulation and, in effect, displaces the northward-moving monsoon that ordinarily brings sub-Saharan rain. Proponents have further argued that this change in atmospheric circulation might be long-term since cooling in the Northern Hemisphere could be perpetuated by increases in ice and snow coverage there, which would lead to reflection of more sunlight away from the Earth, to further cooling, and, indirectly, to further drought in sub-Saharan West Africa. Despite these dire predictions, and even though the current African drought has lasted longer than any other in this century, the notion that the drought is caused by cooling of the Northern Hemisphere is, in fact, not well supported. Contrary to the predictions of the cooling hypothesis, during one period of rapid Northern Hemisphere cooling in the early 1950s, the sub-Sahara was unusually rainy. Moreover, in the early 1980s, when the drought was particularly severe, Northern Hemisphere lands actually warmed slightly. And further doubt has been cast on the hypothesis by recent analyses suggesting that, when surface temperatures of water as well as land are taken into account, the Northern Hemisphere may not have cooled at all.

199512_4-RC_4_24

According to the passage, proponents of the cooling hypothesis suggested that the circumpolar vortex is likely to expand when which one of the following occurs?

Some meteorologists have insisted that the severity of the drought in sub-Saharan West Africa and its long duration (nearly 40 years to date) must be a sign of a long-term alteration in climate. Among the theories proposed to explain this change, one hypothesis that has gained widespread attention attributes the drought to a cooling of the Northern Hemisphere. This hypothesis is based on the fact that, between 1945 and the early 1970s, the average annual air temperatures over the landmasses of the Northern Hemisphere decreased by about half a degree Fahrenheit (approximately one quarter of a degree Celsius—a small but significant amount). Several meteorologists have suggested that this cooling was caused by an increase in atmospheric dust emanating from volcanic eruptions and from urban and industrial pollution; the dust reflected incoming sunlight, causing the ground to receive less solar radiation and to transfer less heat to the atmosphere. The cooling seemed to be more pronounced in the middle and high latitudes than in the tropics, an observation that is consistent with the fact that the Sun's rays enter the atmosphere at a greater angle farther north, and so have to pass through more dust-laden atmosphere on the way to the Earth. Since winds are set in motion by differences in air pressure caused by unequal heating of the atmosphere, supporters of the cooling hypothesis have argued that a growing temperature differential between the unusually cool middle and high latitudes and the warm tropical latitudes is causing a southward expansion of the circumpolar vortex—the high-altitude westerly winds that circle the Northern Hemisphere at middle latitudes. According to this hypothesis, as the circumpolar vortex expands, it forces south other components of large-scale atmospheric circulation and, in effect, displaces the northward-moving monsoon that ordinarily brings sub-Saharan rain. Proponents have further argued that this change in atmospheric circulation might be long-term since cooling in the Northern Hemisphere could be perpetuated by increases in ice and snow coverage there, which would lead to reflection of more sunlight away from the Earth, to further cooling, and, indirectly, to further drought in sub-Saharan West Africa. Despite these dire predictions, and even though the current African drought has lasted longer than any other in this century, the notion that the drought is caused by cooling of the Northern Hemisphere is, in fact, not well supported. Contrary to the predictions of the cooling hypothesis, during one period of rapid Northern Hemisphere cooling in the early 1950s, the sub-Sahara was unusually rainy. Moreover, in the early 1980s, when the drought was particularly severe, Northern Hemisphere lands actually warmed slightly. And further doubt has been cast on the hypothesis by recent analyses suggesting that, when surface temperatures of water as well as land are taken into account, the Northern Hemisphere may not have cooled at all.

199512_4-RC_4_25

Which one of the following can be inferred from the passage about the average annual temperature of the air over Northern Hemisphere landmasses before 1945?

Some meteorologists have insisted that the severity of the drought in sub-Saharan West Africa and its long duration (nearly 40 years to date) must be a sign of a long-term alteration in climate. Among the theories proposed to explain this change, one hypothesis that has gained widespread attention attributes the drought to a cooling of the Northern Hemisphere. This hypothesis is based on the fact that, between 1945 and the early 1970s, the average annual air temperatures over the landmasses of the Northern Hemisphere decreased by about half a degree Fahrenheit (approximately one quarter of a degree Celsius—a small but significant amount). Several meteorologists have suggested that this cooling was caused by an increase in atmospheric dust emanating from volcanic eruptions and from urban and industrial pollution; the dust reflected incoming sunlight, causing the ground to receive less solar radiation and to transfer less heat to the atmosphere. The cooling seemed to be more pronounced in the middle and high latitudes than in the tropics, an observation that is consistent with the fact that the Sun's rays enter the atmosphere at a greater angle farther north, and so have to pass through more dust-laden atmosphere on the way to the Earth. Since winds are set in motion by differences in air pressure caused by unequal heating of the atmosphere, supporters of the cooling hypothesis have argued that a growing temperature differential between the unusually cool middle and high latitudes and the warm tropical latitudes is causing a southward expansion of the circumpolar vortex—the high-altitude westerly winds that circle the Northern Hemisphere at middle latitudes. According to this hypothesis, as the circumpolar vortex expands, it forces south other components of large-scale atmospheric circulation and, in effect, displaces the northward-moving monsoon that ordinarily brings sub-Saharan rain. Proponents have further argued that this change in atmospheric circulation might be long-term since cooling in the Northern Hemisphere could be perpetuated by increases in ice and snow coverage there, which would lead to reflection of more sunlight away from the Earth, to further cooling, and, indirectly, to further drought in sub-Saharan West Africa. Despite these dire predictions, and even though the current African drought has lasted longer than any other in this century, the notion that the drought is caused by cooling of the Northern Hemisphere is, in fact, not well supported. Contrary to the predictions of the cooling hypothesis, during one period of rapid Northern Hemisphere cooling in the early 1950s, the sub-Sahara was unusually rainy. Moreover, in the early 1980s, when the drought was particularly severe, Northern Hemisphere lands actually warmed slightly. And further doubt has been cast on the hypothesis by recent analyses suggesting that, when surface temperatures of water as well as land are taken into account, the Northern Hemisphere may not have cooled at all.

199512_4-RC_4_26

Which one of the following best describes the organization of the passage?

Some meteorologists have insisted that the severity of the drought in sub-Saharan West Africa and its long duration (nearly 40 years to date) must be a sign of a long-term alteration in climate. Among the theories proposed to explain this change, one hypothesis that has gained widespread attention attributes the drought to a cooling of the Northern Hemisphere. This hypothesis is based on the fact that, between 1945 and the early 1970s, the average annual air temperatures over the landmasses of the Northern Hemisphere decreased by about half a degree Fahrenheit (approximately one quarter of a degree Celsius—a small but significant amount). Several meteorologists have suggested that this cooling was caused by an increase in atmospheric dust emanating from volcanic eruptions and from urban and industrial pollution; the dust reflected incoming sunlight, causing the ground to receive less solar radiation and to transfer less heat to the atmosphere. The cooling seemed to be more pronounced in the middle and high latitudes than in the tropics, an observation that is consistent with the fact that the Sun's rays enter the atmosphere at a greater angle farther north, and so have to pass through more dust-laden atmosphere on the way to the Earth. Since winds are set in motion by differences in air pressure caused by unequal heating of the atmosphere, supporters of the cooling hypothesis have argued that a growing temperature differential between the unusually cool middle and high latitudes and the warm tropical latitudes is causing a southward expansion of the circumpolar vortex—the high-altitude westerly winds that circle the Northern Hemisphere at middle latitudes. According to this hypothesis, as the circumpolar vortex expands, it forces south other components of large-scale atmospheric circulation and, in effect, displaces the northward-moving monsoon that ordinarily brings sub-Saharan rain. Proponents have further argued that this change in atmospheric circulation might be long-term since cooling in the Northern Hemisphere could be perpetuated by increases in ice and snow coverage there, which would lead to reflection of more sunlight away from the Earth, to further cooling, and, indirectly, to further drought in sub-Saharan West Africa. Despite these dire predictions, and even though the current African drought has lasted longer than any other in this century, the notion that the drought is caused by cooling of the Northern Hemisphere is, in fact, not well supported. Contrary to the predictions of the cooling hypothesis, during one period of rapid Northern Hemisphere cooling in the early 1950s, the sub-Sahara was unusually rainy. Moreover, in the early 1980s, when the drought was particularly severe, Northern Hemisphere lands actually warmed slightly. And further doubt has been cast on the hypothesis by recent analyses suggesting that, when surface temperatures of water as well as land are taken into account, the Northern Hemisphere may not have cooled at all.

199512_4-RC_4_27

A proponent of the cooling hypothesis would most likely argue that the return of the monsoon rains to sub-Saharan West Africa would indicate that which one of the following has also occurred?

Historians of medieval marriage practices ascribe particular significance to Pope Alexander III's twelfth-century synthesis of existing ecclesiastical and legal opinion concerning marriage. Alexander produced a doctrine that treated marriage as a consensual union rather than as an arrangement made by parents for reasons of economic expediency: under Alexandrine doctrine, a couple could establish marriage by words of mutual consent and without the consent of parents. These contracts were of two kinds. On the one hand, a binding and immediately effective union was created through the exchange of words of present consent (per verba de praesenti). Neither the prior announcement of the intention to wed nor the solemnization conferred by Church ritual added anything to the validity and permanence of such a contract. On the other hand, a promise to marry was expressed by words of future consent (per verba de futuro); such a contract might be terminated by the agreement of the parties or by a subsequent de praesenti contract. Although Alexandrine doctrine accepted the secular legal validity of those contracts that lacked public announcement and ritual solemnization, it nonetheless attempted to discourage such clandestine unions and to regulate marriage procedures. According to the doctrine, a marriage was to be preceded by the publication of the marriage announcements, or banns, on three successive Sundays to allow community members to raise any legal objections to the intended union. Those couples ignoring this requirement were to be excommunicated, and any priest solemnizing an unpublicized union could be suspended for up to three years. However, the essential secular legal validity of the marriage was in no way impaired. The presence or absence of the banns became the acid test to determine whether a contract was considered clandestine. Consequently, the very term "clandestine" came to cover a multitude of sins. It could apply just as much to the publicly solemnized marriage that violated Church law with regard to the time and place of the banns as it could to the informal de praesenti contract. Historian Charles Donahue has stressed the controversial nature of Alexander's view that the consent of the individuals concerned was sufficient to produce a legally binding marriage; so long as they acted in accordance with established bann procedures, a couple could marry without parental consent and still enjoy the blessing of the Church. Furthermore, Donahue suggests that Alexandrine doctrine can be seen as encouraging marriage as a spiritual union rather than a merely pragmatic arrangement: marriages of love were to be promoted at the expense of those of economic convenience, and the Church was made the guardian of individual freedom in this area. This interpretation is indeed a radical one, given traditional perceptions of the medieval Church as the most potent authoritarian force in a rigidly hierarchical society.

199602_2-RC_1_1

Which one of the following best states the main idea of the message?

Historians of medieval marriage practices ascribe particular significance to Pope Alexander III's twelfth-century synthesis of existing ecclesiastical and legal opinion concerning marriage. Alexander produced a doctrine that treated marriage as a consensual union rather than as an arrangement made by parents for reasons of economic expediency: under Alexandrine doctrine, a couple could establish marriage by words of mutual consent and without the consent of parents. These contracts were of two kinds. On the one hand, a binding and immediately effective union was created through the exchange of words of present consent (per verba de praesenti). Neither the prior announcement of the intention to wed nor the solemnization conferred by Church ritual added anything to the validity and permanence of such a contract. On the other hand, a promise to marry was expressed by words of future consent (per verba de futuro); such a contract might be terminated by the agreement of the parties or by a subsequent de praesenti contract. Although Alexandrine doctrine accepted the secular legal validity of those contracts that lacked public announcement and ritual solemnization, it nonetheless attempted to discourage such clandestine unions and to regulate marriage procedures. According to the doctrine, a marriage was to be preceded by the publication of the marriage announcements, or banns, on three successive Sundays to allow community members to raise any legal objections to the intended union. Those couples ignoring this requirement were to be excommunicated, and any priest solemnizing an unpublicized union could be suspended for up to three years. However, the essential secular legal validity of the marriage was in no way impaired. The presence or absence of the banns became the acid test to determine whether a contract was considered clandestine. Consequently, the very term "clandestine" came to cover a multitude of sins. It could apply just as much to the publicly solemnized marriage that violated Church law with regard to the time and place of the banns as it could to the informal de praesenti contract. Historian Charles Donahue has stressed the controversial nature of Alexander's view that the consent of the individuals concerned was sufficient to produce a legally binding marriage; so long as they acted in accordance with established bann procedures, a couple could marry without parental consent and still enjoy the blessing of the Church. Furthermore, Donahue suggests that Alexandrine doctrine can be seen as encouraging marriage as a spiritual union rather than a merely pragmatic arrangement: marriages of love were to be promoted at the expense of those of economic convenience, and the Church was made the guardian of individual freedom in this area. This interpretation is indeed a radical one, given traditional perceptions of the medieval Church as the most potent authoritarian force in a rigidly hierarchical society.

199602_2-RC_1_2

Which one of the following can be inferred about the role of parents in medieval marriage practices?

Historians of medieval marriage practices ascribe particular significance to Pope Alexander III's twelfth-century synthesis of existing ecclesiastical and legal opinion concerning marriage. Alexander produced a doctrine that treated marriage as a consensual union rather than as an arrangement made by parents for reasons of economic expediency: under Alexandrine doctrine, a couple could establish marriage by words of mutual consent and without the consent of parents. These contracts were of two kinds. On the one hand, a binding and immediately effective union was created through the exchange of words of present consent (per verba de praesenti). Neither the prior announcement of the intention to wed nor the solemnization conferred by Church ritual added anything to the validity and permanence of such a contract. On the other hand, a promise to marry was expressed by words of future consent (per verba de futuro); such a contract might be terminated by the agreement of the parties or by a subsequent de praesenti contract. Although Alexandrine doctrine accepted the secular legal validity of those contracts that lacked public announcement and ritual solemnization, it nonetheless attempted to discourage such clandestine unions and to regulate marriage procedures. According to the doctrine, a marriage was to be preceded by the publication of the marriage announcements, or banns, on three successive Sundays to allow community members to raise any legal objections to the intended union. Those couples ignoring this requirement were to be excommunicated, and any priest solemnizing an unpublicized union could be suspended for up to three years. However, the essential secular legal validity of the marriage was in no way impaired. The presence or absence of the banns became the acid test to determine whether a contract was considered clandestine. Consequently, the very term "clandestine" came to cover a multitude of sins. It could apply just as much to the publicly solemnized marriage that violated Church law with regard to the time and place of the banns as it could to the informal de praesenti contract. Historian Charles Donahue has stressed the controversial nature of Alexander's view that the consent of the individuals concerned was sufficient to produce a legally binding marriage; so long as they acted in accordance with established bann procedures, a couple could marry without parental consent and still enjoy the blessing of the Church. Furthermore, Donahue suggests that Alexandrine doctrine can be seen as encouraging marriage as a spiritual union rather than a merely pragmatic arrangement: marriages of love were to be promoted at the expense of those of economic convenience, and the Church was made the guardian of individual freedom in this area. This interpretation is indeed a radical one, given traditional perceptions of the medieval Church as the most potent authoritarian force in a rigidly hierarchical society.

199602_2-RC_1_3

According to the passage, which one of the following placed couples at risk of being excommunicated under Alexandrine doctrine?

Historians of medieval marriage practices ascribe particular significance to Pope Alexander III's twelfth-century synthesis of existing ecclesiastical and legal opinion concerning marriage. Alexander produced a doctrine that treated marriage as a consensual union rather than as an arrangement made by parents for reasons of economic expediency: under Alexandrine doctrine, a couple could establish marriage by words of mutual consent and without the consent of parents. These contracts were of two kinds. On the one hand, a binding and immediately effective union was created through the exchange of words of present consent (per verba de praesenti). Neither the prior announcement of the intention to wed nor the solemnization conferred by Church ritual added anything to the validity and permanence of such a contract. On the other hand, a promise to marry was expressed by words of future consent (per verba de futuro); such a contract might be terminated by the agreement of the parties or by a subsequent de praesenti contract. Although Alexandrine doctrine accepted the secular legal validity of those contracts that lacked public announcement and ritual solemnization, it nonetheless attempted to discourage such clandestine unions and to regulate marriage procedures. According to the doctrine, a marriage was to be preceded by the publication of the marriage announcements, or banns, on three successive Sundays to allow community members to raise any legal objections to the intended union. Those couples ignoring this requirement were to be excommunicated, and any priest solemnizing an unpublicized union could be suspended for up to three years. However, the essential secular legal validity of the marriage was in no way impaired. The presence or absence of the banns became the acid test to determine whether a contract was considered clandestine. Consequently, the very term "clandestine" came to cover a multitude of sins. It could apply just as much to the publicly solemnized marriage that violated Church law with regard to the time and place of the banns as it could to the informal de praesenti contract. Historian Charles Donahue has stressed the controversial nature of Alexander's view that the consent of the individuals concerned was sufficient to produce a legally binding marriage; so long as they acted in accordance with established bann procedures, a couple could marry without parental consent and still enjoy the blessing of the Church. Furthermore, Donahue suggests that Alexandrine doctrine can be seen as encouraging marriage as a spiritual union rather than a merely pragmatic arrangement: marriages of love were to be promoted at the expense of those of economic convenience, and the Church was made the guardian of individual freedom in this area. This interpretation is indeed a radical one, given traditional perceptions of the medieval Church as the most potent authoritarian force in a rigidly hierarchical society.

199602_2-RC_1_4

Which one of the following best defines "clandestine" as that word is used in the second paragraph of the passage?

Historians of medieval marriage practices ascribe particular significance to Pope Alexander III's twelfth-century synthesis of existing ecclesiastical and legal opinion concerning marriage. Alexander produced a doctrine that treated marriage as a consensual union rather than as an arrangement made by parents for reasons of economic expediency: under Alexandrine doctrine, a couple could establish marriage by words of mutual consent and without the consent of parents. These contracts were of two kinds. On the one hand, a binding and immediately effective union was created through the exchange of words of present consent (per verba de praesenti). Neither the prior announcement of the intention to wed nor the solemnization conferred by Church ritual added anything to the validity and permanence of such a contract. On the other hand, a promise to marry was expressed by words of future consent (per verba de futuro); such a contract might be terminated by the agreement of the parties or by a subsequent de praesenti contract. Although Alexandrine doctrine accepted the secular legal validity of those contracts that lacked public announcement and ritual solemnization, it nonetheless attempted to discourage such clandestine unions and to regulate marriage procedures. According to the doctrine, a marriage was to be preceded by the publication of the marriage announcements, or banns, on three successive Sundays to allow community members to raise any legal objections to the intended union. Those couples ignoring this requirement were to be excommunicated, and any priest solemnizing an unpublicized union could be suspended for up to three years. However, the essential secular legal validity of the marriage was in no way impaired. The presence or absence of the banns became the acid test to determine whether a contract was considered clandestine. Consequently, the very term "clandestine" came to cover a multitude of sins. It could apply just as much to the publicly solemnized marriage that violated Church law with regard to the time and place of the banns as it could to the informal de praesenti contract. Historian Charles Donahue has stressed the controversial nature of Alexander's view that the consent of the individuals concerned was sufficient to produce a legally binding marriage; so long as they acted in accordance with established bann procedures, a couple could marry without parental consent and still enjoy the blessing of the Church. Furthermore, Donahue suggests that Alexandrine doctrine can be seen as encouraging marriage as a spiritual union rather than a merely pragmatic arrangement: marriages of love were to be promoted at the expense of those of economic convenience, and the Church was made the guardian of individual freedom in this area. This interpretation is indeed a radical one, given traditional perceptions of the medieval Church as the most potent authoritarian force in a rigidly hierarchical society.

199602_2-RC_1_5

The primary purpose of the passage is to

Historians of medieval marriage practices ascribe particular significance to Pope Alexander III's twelfth-century synthesis of existing ecclesiastical and legal opinion concerning marriage. Alexander produced a doctrine that treated marriage as a consensual union rather than as an arrangement made by parents for reasons of economic expediency: under Alexandrine doctrine, a couple could establish marriage by words of mutual consent and without the consent of parents. These contracts were of two kinds. On the one hand, a binding and immediately effective union was created through the exchange of words of present consent (per verba de praesenti). Neither the prior announcement of the intention to wed nor the solemnization conferred by Church ritual added anything to the validity and permanence of such a contract. On the other hand, a promise to marry was expressed by words of future consent (per verba de futuro); such a contract might be terminated by the agreement of the parties or by a subsequent de praesenti contract. Although Alexandrine doctrine accepted the secular legal validity of those contracts that lacked public announcement and ritual solemnization, it nonetheless attempted to discourage such clandestine unions and to regulate marriage procedures. According to the doctrine, a marriage was to be preceded by the publication of the marriage announcements, or banns, on three successive Sundays to allow community members to raise any legal objections to the intended union. Those couples ignoring this requirement were to be excommunicated, and any priest solemnizing an unpublicized union could be suspended for up to three years. However, the essential secular legal validity of the marriage was in no way impaired. The presence or absence of the banns became the acid test to determine whether a contract was considered clandestine. Consequently, the very term "clandestine" came to cover a multitude of sins. It could apply just as much to the publicly solemnized marriage that violated Church law with regard to the time and place of the banns as it could to the informal de praesenti contract. Historian Charles Donahue has stressed the controversial nature of Alexander's view that the consent of the individuals concerned was sufficient to produce a legally binding marriage; so long as they acted in accordance with established bann procedures, a couple could marry without parental consent and still enjoy the blessing of the Church. Furthermore, Donahue suggests that Alexandrine doctrine can be seen as encouraging marriage as a spiritual union rather than a merely pragmatic arrangement: marriages of love were to be promoted at the expense of those of economic convenience, and the Church was made the guardian of individual freedom in this area. This interpretation is indeed a radical one, given traditional perceptions of the medieval Church as the most potent authoritarian force in a rigidly hierarchical society.

199602_2-RC_1_6

Which one of the following can be inferred from the passage concerning the differences between Charles Donahue's interpretation of medieval marriage practices and other interpretations?

Historians of medieval marriage practices ascribe particular significance to Pope Alexander III's twelfth-century synthesis of existing ecclesiastical and legal opinion concerning marriage. Alexander produced a doctrine that treated marriage as a consensual union rather than as an arrangement made by parents for reasons of economic expediency: under Alexandrine doctrine, a couple could establish marriage by words of mutual consent and without the consent of parents. These contracts were of two kinds. On the one hand, a binding and immediately effective union was created through the exchange of words of present consent (per verba de praesenti). Neither the prior announcement of the intention to wed nor the solemnization conferred by Church ritual added anything to the validity and permanence of such a contract. On the other hand, a promise to marry was expressed by words of future consent (per verba de futuro); such a contract might be terminated by the agreement of the parties or by a subsequent de praesenti contract. Although Alexandrine doctrine accepted the secular legal validity of those contracts that lacked public announcement and ritual solemnization, it nonetheless attempted to discourage such clandestine unions and to regulate marriage procedures. According to the doctrine, a marriage was to be preceded by the publication of the marriage announcements, or banns, on three successive Sundays to allow community members to raise any legal objections to the intended union. Those couples ignoring this requirement were to be excommunicated, and any priest solemnizing an unpublicized union could be suspended for up to three years. However, the essential secular legal validity of the marriage was in no way impaired. The presence or absence of the banns became the acid test to determine whether a contract was considered clandestine. Consequently, the very term "clandestine" came to cover a multitude of sins. It could apply just as much to the publicly solemnized marriage that violated Church law with regard to the time and place of the banns as it could to the informal de praesenti contract. Historian Charles Donahue has stressed the controversial nature of Alexander's view that the consent of the individuals concerned was sufficient to produce a legally binding marriage; so long as they acted in accordance with established bann procedures, a couple could marry without parental consent and still enjoy the blessing of the Church. Furthermore, Donahue suggests that Alexandrine doctrine can be seen as encouraging marriage as a spiritual union rather than a merely pragmatic arrangement: marriages of love were to be promoted at the expense of those of economic convenience, and the Church was made the guardian of individual freedom in this area. This interpretation is indeed a radical one, given traditional perceptions of the medieval Church as the most potent authoritarian force in a rigidly hierarchical society.

199602_2-RC_1_7

According to the passage, which one of the following distinguished the de futuro contract from the de praesenti contract?

Historians of medieval marriage practices ascribe particular significance to Pope Alexander III's twelfth-century synthesis of existing ecclesiastical and legal opinion concerning marriage. Alexander produced a doctrine that treated marriage as a consensual union rather than as an arrangement made by parents for reasons of economic expediency: under Alexandrine doctrine, a couple could establish marriage by words of mutual consent and without the consent of parents. These contracts were of two kinds. On the one hand, a binding and immediately effective union was created through the exchange of words of present consent (per verba de praesenti). Neither the prior announcement of the intention to wed nor the solemnization conferred by Church ritual added anything to the validity and permanence of such a contract. On the other hand, a promise to marry was expressed by words of future consent (per verba de futuro); such a contract might be terminated by the agreement of the parties or by a subsequent de praesenti contract. Although Alexandrine doctrine accepted the secular legal validity of those contracts that lacked public announcement and ritual solemnization, it nonetheless attempted to discourage such clandestine unions and to regulate marriage procedures. According to the doctrine, a marriage was to be preceded by the publication of the marriage announcements, or banns, on three successive Sundays to allow community members to raise any legal objections to the intended union. Those couples ignoring this requirement were to be excommunicated, and any priest solemnizing an unpublicized union could be suspended for up to three years. However, the essential secular legal validity of the marriage was in no way impaired. The presence or absence of the banns became the acid test to determine whether a contract was considered clandestine. Consequently, the very term "clandestine" came to cover a multitude of sins. It could apply just as much to the publicly solemnized marriage that violated Church law with regard to the time and place of the banns as it could to the informal de praesenti contract. Historian Charles Donahue has stressed the controversial nature of Alexander's view that the consent of the individuals concerned was sufficient to produce a legally binding marriage; so long as they acted in accordance with established bann procedures, a couple could marry without parental consent and still enjoy the blessing of the Church. Furthermore, Donahue suggests that Alexandrine doctrine can be seen as encouraging marriage as a spiritual union rather than a merely pragmatic arrangement: marriages of love were to be promoted at the expense of those of economic convenience, and the Church was made the guardian of individual freedom in this area. This interpretation is indeed a radical one, given traditional perceptions of the medieval Church as the most potent authoritarian force in a rigidly hierarchical society.

199602_2-RC_1_8

Which one of the following best describes the function of the second paragraph of the passage?

Nontraditional black women filmmakers share with the broader community of radical filmmakers a problematic relation to mainstream, realist cinematic practice. Realist filmmakers manipulate the use of the camera and techniques of editing and lighting in ways that create the illusion that cinema is like life, that it may indeed be the same as life. In contrast, avant-garde and many minority and feminist filmmakers who seek to tell new stories resist the conventions of cinematic realism precisely because these practices conceal the artificiality of the filmmaking process, thereby implying that narrative structures, and thus social relations, are inevitable, and that circumstances are as they should be. For example, precisely because one might expect that a scene depicting a family dinner would entail a continuous view of several people seated together eating and conversing, an avant-garde filmmaker might intersperse images of the dining family with a seemingly arbitrary image—people standing in a breadline during the Depression of the 1930s, for example. The outcome, according to many film theorists, is that our notion of reality is violated: the images do not make immediate sense, and we are therefore forced to question our convictions about the "reality" to which we are committed. The very techniques that create the illusion of visual continuity, some theorists say, smooth over contradictions and incoherences that might reflect a reality that Hollywood—and the majority culture that is its audience—does not want to admit or know. The ideological content of these conservative cinematic techniques notwithstanding, some nontraditional black women filmmakers do tend to explore the formal possibilities of realism in documentaries instead of experimenting with more daring modes. They may choose to work within the realist form because it is more accessible to a broad audience, or because of the financial constraints under which they labor. It is important to emphasize, however, that the prevailing notion that such filmmakers cannot be called experimental, because only technical experimentation counts as "experimental," places an undue emphasis on form at the expense of content. A realist work that centers on a nontraditional subject might rightfully be called experimental in its own way. For example, Fannie's Film (1981) by Fronza Woods provides the opportunity for a working woman to tell her own story. This film belongs to a group of films that, by presenting the stories of "ordinary" women whose experiences have usually been trivialized or ignored by mainstream media, expose the thematic assumptions and stylistic conventions of realistic filmmaking. Documentaries have also attracted these directors because documentaries provide opportunities for revising the list of traditionally acknowledged prominent figures by creating more accounts of black public figures. Films like Michelle Parkerson's . . . But Then, She's Betty Carter (1980), by examining and preserving the lives and works of the visual and performing artists who are their subjects, urge their audiences to question their own expectations about who gains public recognition and why.

199602_2-RC_2_9

Which one of the following best states the main idea of the passage?

Nontraditional black women filmmakers share with the broader community of radical filmmakers a problematic relation to mainstream, realist cinematic practice. Realist filmmakers manipulate the use of the camera and techniques of editing and lighting in ways that create the illusion that cinema is like life, that it may indeed be the same as life. In contrast, avant-garde and many minority and feminist filmmakers who seek to tell new stories resist the conventions of cinematic realism precisely because these practices conceal the artificiality of the filmmaking process, thereby implying that narrative structures, and thus social relations, are inevitable, and that circumstances are as they should be. For example, precisely because one might expect that a scene depicting a family dinner would entail a continuous view of several people seated together eating and conversing, an avant-garde filmmaker might intersperse images of the dining family with a seemingly arbitrary image—people standing in a breadline during the Depression of the 1930s, for example. The outcome, according to many film theorists, is that our notion of reality is violated: the images do not make immediate sense, and we are therefore forced to question our convictions about the "reality" to which we are committed. The very techniques that create the illusion of visual continuity, some theorists say, smooth over contradictions and incoherences that might reflect a reality that Hollywood—and the majority culture that is its audience—does not want to admit or know. The ideological content of these conservative cinematic techniques notwithstanding, some nontraditional black women filmmakers do tend to explore the formal possibilities of realism in documentaries instead of experimenting with more daring modes. They may choose to work within the realist form because it is more accessible to a broad audience, or because of the financial constraints under which they labor. It is important to emphasize, however, that the prevailing notion that such filmmakers cannot be called experimental, because only technical experimentation counts as "experimental," places an undue emphasis on form at the expense of content. A realist work that centers on a nontraditional subject might rightfully be called experimental in its own way. For example, Fannie's Film (1981) by Fronza Woods provides the opportunity for a working woman to tell her own story. This film belongs to a group of films that, by presenting the stories of "ordinary" women whose experiences have usually been trivialized or ignored by mainstream media, expose the thematic assumptions and stylistic conventions of realistic filmmaking. Documentaries have also attracted these directors because documentaries provide opportunities for revising the list of traditionally acknowledged prominent figures by creating more accounts of black public figures. Films like Michelle Parkerson's . . . But Then, She's Betty Carter (1980), by examining and preserving the lives and works of the visual and performing artists who are their subjects, urge their audiences to question their own expectations about who gains public recognition and why.

199602_2-RC_2_10

It can be inferred that the author of the passage believes which one of the following about the "prevailing notion" (line 40) of what constitutes an experimental film?