CARS Q Pack 2

It is not in the American experience to think about limits on energy. . . . Yet by the late 1960s and early 1970s, limits on the energy base in [the United States] began to surface. . . . Environmentalism made its influence felt in a large number of ways: in such legislation as the National Environmental Policy Act, the Clean Air Act, the Clean Water Act, and the Endangered Species Act; in the establishment of environmental impact statements; in the creation of the federal Environmental Protection Agency; and in the development of the significant new industry of pollution control. As far as energy was concerned, environmentalism had its major [effect] on the burning of coal. Concern about air pollution led to fuel switching, especially by electric utilities, away from domestically produced coal to low-sulfur oil, which had to be imported. Although not particularly noticeable at the time, this change led to a significant increase in the demand for oil. Between 1968 and 1973, oil consumption by electric utilities more than tripled. Another limitation on [the U.S.] energy base was [that the] U.S. was an aging producer. It was outrunning its geological base. But this highly relevant fact was not represented in either the consumption pattern or in prices. . . . The turning point came in 1970, when U.S. oil production reached its peak and then began to decline. . . . In terms of solving the supply side of the energy equation, the choices most talked about can be classified into two categories: hard versus soft energy paths. . . . The usual proposed hard-path solution is the rapid expansion of three sectors: coal (mainly strip-mined, then made into electricity and synthetic fluid fuels); oil and gas (increasingly from Arctic and offshore wells); and nuclear fission (eventually in fast-breeder reactors). Soft technologies, on the other hand, use to the greatest possible extent nondepletable resources like sun, wind, and vegetation. They emphasize diversification and dispersal of energy sources so as to avoid in the future the sort of dependence we now have on fossil fuels. . . . An increasing number of individuals and communities in the U.S. are shifting to the soft path. . . . A more rapid spread of this approach is being hindered by government (taxpayer) subsidies of the hard-path approach, outdated building codes that discourage energy conservation and sometimes require unnecessary backup [by] conventional heating systems, inadequate access to capital for development of solar energy resources, and the false belief that it will be a long time before solar energy can provide a significant fraction of primary energy. In 1984, for example, about 18% of all primary energy used in the world and 8.5% of that used in the U.S. came from renewable solar energy resources. . . . Diversification into solar energy is a primary reason for the dramatic acquisition of copper mines by oil companies. Each solar collector for heating and cooling systems requires about a pound of copper, and oil companies now control almost 60% of domestic copper production in the U.S. . . . Until recently, energy and high technology companies disparaged solar energy. . . . Worried that every rooftop could become its own power plant and sensing that the cry for solar energy was a revolt against huge companies, utilities, and staggering electric bills, large corporations spent a share of their public relations budget playing down the solar "messiahs." At the same time, they began buying up solar technology companies. Which of the following forms of legislation would an advocate of the soft-energy path probably support? Tax credits for corporations that install solar panels in office buildings A mandate to increase the ratio of soft- to hard-energy sources by a specified amount within ten years Cash incentives to homeowners who convert their heating systems from oil to natural gas I only I and II only I and III only II and III only Which of the following inferences is justified by information in the passage? The U.S. leads the world in the use of solar energy. The burning of imported oil pollutes the air less than does the burning of coal. Oil companies have a global monopoly on copper production. The consumption of natural gas has declined in the U.S. since the 1970s.

I and II only The burning of imported oil pollutes the air less than does the burning of coal

Human rights as an idea, as an issue in religious, political, and moral philosophy, has an ancient and illustrious pedigree. The English Bill of Rights, and more emphatically the U.S. Declaration of Independence and the French Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen, were all based on the idea of inalienable, universal, and absolute rights. Nor is it true that the idea of human rights is an invention alien to most non-Western cultures and that it has been foisted on a more or less unwilling world. Even if there were no explicit covenants to that effect in traditional societies in Asia, Africa, and Latin America, the idea of freedom was hardly alien to those civilizations. Throughout the last century, it was commonly argued that international law concerned states alone, but this interpretation is no longer widely held. A new approach manifested itself in the Atlantic Charter of 1941, in the Declaration of the United Nations the year after, and in countless speeches of wartime leaders. This new approach found expression in the United Nations Charter and, more specifically, in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, approved without a dissenting voice in December 1948. The president of the General Assembly, Dr. H. V. Evatt of Australia, said at the time that this was the first occasion on which the organized world community had recognized the existence of human rights and fundamental freedoms transcending the laws of sovereign states. But although millions of men and women have indeed turned to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, they have received very little guidance and no help from the organization that propagated it. The failure of the United Nations to live up to early expectations and to become an effective instrument for the promotion of human rights has induced individual governments and nongovernmental bodies to take fresh initiatives in this area. In 1947, the Organization of American States passed a declaration on the rights and duties of humankind; in 1950, the Council of Europe agreed on a covenant for the protection of human rights and fundamental freedoms and established the European Commission for Human Rights as well as a European court in Strasbourg that has heard many cases since it first met in 1960. Various private bodies, such as the International League for Human Rights, Freedom House, and Amnesty International, have published reports about conditions of oppression in various parts of the world, drawing attention to particularly flagrant violations, and on occasion mobilizing public support to bring pressure on the governments concerned. It was clear from the very beginning that the walls of oppression would not crumble at the first clarion call. The cultural and social context, the level of development of each country, are factors that have to be taken into account. What has especially to be considered is the general trend in a country: Has there been a movement toward greater human rights or away from them? However underdeveloped a country, there is no convincing argument in favor of torture, of arbitrary execution, of keeping sections of a population or a whole people in a state of slavery. The case for human rights is unassailable. According to the passage, when judging the human rights record of a country, one must take into account: the country's level of development. the country's social and cultural circumstances. whether the country is moving toward or away from greater human rights. II only III only I and II only I, II, and III

I, II and III

Nature is extraordinarily fertile and ingenious in devising means, but it has no ends that the human mind has been able to discover or comprehend. Perhaps, indeed, the very conception of an end or ultimate purpose is exclusively human; but at least it must be said that the most characteristically human effort is to transform a means into an end. Sensibility and intelligence arose in the animal in order to serve animal purposes, for through the first, it was able to distinguish those things that favor the survival of it and its race, and through the second, it was able to go about in a more efficient manner to secure them. Both were, like all things in nature, merely means toward the achievement of that humanly incomprehensible end, mere survival. But the philosopher-artist has detached both from their natural places. When sensibility has been detached from its animal setting, it may develop into a quest for that self-justifying beauty which is humanly valuable but biologically useless. When intelligence is detached, it not only tends to paralyze natural impulse by criticizing natural aims but develops certain intellectual virtues which are biological vices. We are, for example, inclined to regard skepticism, irony, and above all, the power of dispassionate analysis as the marks of the most distinctly human intelligence. We admire anyone whose reason is capable of more than scheming, whose logic is not the mere rationalization of desires. But intelligence as detached as this is a vital liability. It puts its possessor at a disadvantage in dealing with those whose intelligence faithfully serves their purpose by enabling them to scheme for their ends and to justify to themselves their desires. Such is the animal function of intelligence, and whenever it develops beyond this level, it inhibits rather than aids that effective action in the pursuit of natural ends which was the original function of mind. The same process occurs in every nation that has developed a national mind capable of detachment and has passed beyond that stage of invigorating delusion which could make it fancy itself master by right of an inherent superiority. One after another, the great nations of history have founded on aggression the civilization that then supported for a time, but for a time only, great periods of human culture, that flourished at their height just as the substructure crumbled. Animals made humans possible, and conquerors prepared the way for poets and philosophers, but neither poet nor philosopher can survive long after the conquest. Nor need we be surprised to see nations enfeebled by civilization as though by vice. That detachment of mind from its function which makes philosophy possible and which encourages dispassionate analysis is exactly parallel to the detachment of the sexual functions from their purposes, which results in the cult of the senses. Thought for thought's sake is a kind of perversion. Civilizations die from philosophical calm, irony, and the sense of fair play quite as surely as they die of debauchery. Nor can it be said that to understand this paradox of humanism helps us in any way to solve it. The analysis that we perform is, indeed, itself an example of one of those exercises of the mind that is perverse because it does not serve as a means toward a natural end. And when we have admitted that the human ideal is one that the human animal cannot even approach without tending to destroy itself, we have, by that very admission, diminished our biological fitness. Which of the following passage contentions might it be possible to refute by clear counterexamples? The intelligence of poets tends to paralyze natural impulse. Transforming means into ends is the most characteristically human effort. The great nations of history were founded on aggression. II only III only I and II only I and III only Some research into unconscious motivation suggests that even apparently impartial thought processes may be deeply self-serving. What is the relevance of this consideration to the author's argument? It weakens the distinction drawn between "animal" and "human" uses of intelligence. It challenges the assumption that humans value dispassionate analysis. It supports the observation that intellectual detachment is biologically useless. It strengthens the contention that some uses of intelligence are biological vices.

III Only It weakens the distinction drawn between "animal" and "human" uses of intelligence.

patronizing

act like its positive but put it down "childish"

Research traditions and theories can encounter serious cognitive difficulties if they are incompatible with certain broader systems of belief within a given culture. Such incompatibilities constitute conceptual problems that may seriously challenge the acceptability of the theory. But it may equally well happen that a highly successful research tradition will lead to the abandonment of that world view which is incompatible with it and to the elaboration of a new world view compatible with the research tradition. Indeed, it is in precisely this manner that many radically new scientific systems eventually come to be "canonized" as part of our collective "common sense." In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, for instance, the new research traditions of Descartes and Newton went violently counter to many of the most cherished beliefs of the age on such questions as "humanity's place in Nature," the history and extent of the cosmos, and more generally, the nature of physical processes. Everyone at the time acknowledged the existence of these conceptual problems. They were eventually resolved, not by modifying the offending research traditions to bring them in line with more traditional world views, but rather by forging a new world view which could be reconciled with the scientific research traditions. A similar process of readjustment occurred in response to the Darwinian and Marxist research traditions in the late nineteenth century; in each case, the core, "nonscientific" beliefs of reflective people were eventually modified to bring them in line with highly successful scientific systems. But it would be a mistake to assume that world views always crumble in the face of new scientific research traditions which challenge them. To the contrary, they often exhibit a remarkable resilience which belies the (positivistic) tendency to dismiss them as mere fluff. The history of science, both recent and distant, is replete with cases in which world views have not evaporated in the face of scientific theories which challenged them. In our own time, for instance, neither quantum mechanics nor behavioristic psychology has shifted most people's beliefs about the world or themselves. Contrary to quantum mechanics, most people still conceive of the world as being populated by substantial objects, with fixed and precise properties; contrary to behaviorism, most people still find it helpful to talk about the inner, mental states of themselves and others. Confronted with such examples, one might claim that these research traditions are still new and that older world views predominate only because the newer insights have not yet penetrated the general consciousness. Such a claim may prove to be correct, but before we accept it uncritically, there are certain more striking historical cases that need to be aired. Ever since the seventeenth century, the dominant research traditions within the physical sciences have presupposed that all physical changes are subject to invariable natural laws (either statistical or nonstatistical). Given certain initial conditions, certain consequences would inevitably ensue. Strictly speaking, this claim should be as true of humans and other animals as it is of stars, planets, and molecules. Yet in our own time as much as in the seventeenth century, very few people are prepared to abandon the conviction that human beings (and some of the higher animals) have a degree of indetermination in their actions and their thoughts. Virtually all of our social institutions, most of our social and political theory, and the bulk of our moral philosophy are still based on a world view seemingly incompatible with a law-governed universe. According to the author, our social, political, and moral beliefs: are rooted in the idea that the same set of laws should apply to everyone. often coexist with a broader system of cultural attitudes with which they are inconsistent. conflict with scientific research traditions that have been accepted since the seventeenth century. grew out of the acceptance of Darwinism and Marxism among educated people in the late nineteenth century.

conflict with scientific research traditions that have been accepted since the seventeenth century.

No matter how noble the effort, the burden of proof always lies with the reformer. Many empirically sound proposals to increase the effectiveness of elementary schools in the United States have been dismissed with the response, "If it is so necessary, why has the need not been recognized before?" To counter this response, a reformer should make clear that a problem has been identified. If the condition addressed has not been completely and clearly established as a problem, those concerned should ensure that it is accurately measured. The appropriate instrument for measuring educational effectiveness is a test noted for its reliability and validity. If the researchers believe that no existing test is adequate, they should develop their own test. Since the burden of proof for their methods is then focused on their instrument, sincere reformers will be very serious about establishing its credentials. When a proposed intervention is not justified in the most minimal fashion, the public has to wonder why not. It is thus reasonable to be suspicious of the promoters of the Generalized School Readiness Program. What is their motivation? Are they agents of an unfriendly power bent on "dumbing down" U.S. education? Are educational entrepreneurs trying cynically to profit from the general dissatisfaction with the nation's schools? Such speculations may appear to border on the absurd; however, stranger motivations have been discovered. It is more useful, however, to assume that the promoters, wishing to keep their business financially solvent, have opted not to address school-based problems from the viewpoint of children, or parents, or even teachers. They are merely following the usual practice at the professional level of education of treating learning as an abstraction that has little to do with the learner. This outlook is one that Jean Piaget, John Dewey, and A. L. Gesell-theoreticians with empirical evidence about children's intellectual development-all worked to counter. Piaget and Gesell, although from different schools of thought, also had direct experience with children in an educational setting, and both contributed profoundly useful principles to the field of education. Yet the conclusions of both about the need to consider developmental level are opposed by advocates of Generalized School Readiness. One must wonder about the experience these self-proclaimed experts have had with children. Their description of a child learning to draw, for example, assumes a struggle from stage to stage. Most modern observers of children think that if a task is developmentally appropriate and has personal meaning for a child, it is approached as a pleasing challenge, not a struggle. In the literature promoting their approach, the advocates of generalized readiness are clearly directing their appeal to school administrators. Parents who do not understand their "readiness" concept are dismissed as "uncaring." Teachers who question it are described as "uninitiated," in the sense that someday they will accept it. Yet this literature expresses no doubt that the administrators will cooperate with them in ensuring that their viewpoint prevails. An administrator wise enough to adopt the readiness program is promised higher percentages on standardized tests and more content teachers. With comparative data on the results of alternative approaches as ambiguous as they are in the U.S., the odds favor acceptance by a school system of a poorly researched but slickly presented program. Readiness, although a confused approach, is easily implemented because its promoters are positioned to move immediately. Developmentally appropriate instruction, which parents are likely to judge the more reasonable approach, appears to be hard to sell to decision makers concerned with uniformity. In the long run, however, it is the forgotten parents and the children themselves who will pay for the short‑sighted ambition of this policy. The most reasonable inference from passage statements is that administrators are relatively reluctant to institute developmentally appropriate instruction because: it is favored by parents and therefore represents the views of those with little understanding of learning. it is based on untested theories and therefore requires extensive research to demonstrate its effectiveness. it is individualized and therefore involves an inconvenient process of changing traditional methods. it is promoted in slick presentations and therefore justifies skepticism about its cost effectiveness.

it is individualized and therefore involves an inconvenient process of changing traditional methods.

vices

something bad

There is no doubt that what we call the modern movement in art begins with the single-minded determination of a French painter to see the world objectively. There need be no mystery about this word: what Cézanne wished to see was the world, or that part of it he was contemplating, as an object, without any intervention either of the tidy mind or the untidy emotions. His immediate predecessors, the Impressionists, had seen the world subjectively-that is to say, as it presented itself to their senses in various lights, or from various points of view. Each occasion made a different and distinct impression on their senses, and for each occasion there must necessarily be a separate work of art. But Cézanne wished to exclude this shimmering and ambiguous surface of things and penetrate to the reality that did not change, that was present beneath the bright but deceptive picture presented by the kaleidoscope of the senses. Great revolutionary leaders are people with a single and a simple idea, and it is the very persistency with which they pursue this idea that endows it with power. But let us ask why, in the long history of art, it had never previously happened that an artist should wish to see the world objectively. We know, for example, that at various stages in the history of art there have been attempts to make art "imitative"; and not only Greek and Roman art, but the Renaissance of Classical art in Europe, were periods of art possessed by a desire to represent the world "as it really is." But there always intervened between the visual event and the act of realizing the vision an activity which we can only call interpretative. This intervention seemed to be made necessary by the very nature of perception, which does not present to the senses a flat two-dimensional picture with precise boundaries but a central focus with a periphery of vaguely apprehended and seemingly distorted objects. The artist might focus on a single object, say a human figure or even a human face; but even then there were problems such as that of representing the solidity of the object, its place in space. In every instance before Cézanne, in order to solve such problems the artist brought in extra-visual faculties-imagination, which enabled the artist to transform the objects of the visible world and thus to create an ideal space occupied by ideal forms; or intellect, which enabled the artist to construct a scientific chart, a perspective, in which the object could be given an exact situation. But a system of perspective is no more an accurate representation of what the eye sees than a Mercator's projection is what the world looks like from Sirius. Like the map, it serves to guide the intellect; perspective does not give us any glimpse of the reality. One might conclude from the history of art that reality in this sense is a will-o'-the-wisp, an actuality we can see but never grasp. Nature, as we say, is one thing, art quite another. But Cézanne, though he was familiar with the "art of the museums" and respected the attempts of his predecessors to come to terms with nature, did not despair of succeeding where they had failed-that is to say, in "realizing" his sensations in the presence of nature. Which of the following statements best summarizes the central thesis of the passage? For the Impressionists, each sensory occasion required a separate work of art. The use of perspective prevents artists from effectively interpreting reality. Cézanne tried to solve the problem of interpretation by attempting to view the world objectively. Before Cézanne, many periods of art reflected a desire to represent the world "as it really is." The author's assertion that Greek, Roman, and Renaissance art tried to represent the world accurately is: illustrated in the passage by examples of specific works of art. not supported by evidence in the passage. supported in the passage by a discussion of the nature of perception. contradicted by evidence later in the passage. It can most reasonably be concluded from the passage that Cézanne's work exerted a powerful influence because Cézanne: pursued the concept of objectivity with persistence. brought extra-visual faculties into his work. expanded the concept of interpretation. painted scenes as they were presented to his senses.

Cezanne tried to solve the problem of interpretation by attempting to view the world objectively. Not supported by evidence pursued the concept of objectivity with persistence.

The Greeks were traditionally a religious people. Yet there had always been a tendency, at the same time, to treat the gods with a certain familiar flippancy - this is already very apparent in the Iliad and the Homeric Hymns. The rationalist movements of the later fifth century had subjected the reputation of the divine personages to a further battering. The inquisitive spirit of Euripides, when not (as in the Bacchae) interpreting the gods as profound psychological forces, was capable of presenting them as shady seducers or discredited figures of fun. And at the same time Socrates was questioning the whole traditional fabric so indefatigably that his prosecutors, who secured his death sentence, were hardly wrong to accuse him of "not believing in the gods in whom the city believes." Then the early Hellenistic age that followed produced numerous slighting references to the Olympian powers. Many people had come to regard them as merely symbolic, and even the Stoics, for all their belief in divine Providence, reinterpreted and accommodated many individual deities as merely allegorical explanations of natural phenomena. Like Hellenistic sculptors, who began to represent some of these gods in much less idealistic forms than those their predecessors had favoured, the poets Callimachus and Theocritus showed that they were living in an age when the old gods were no longer a matter of belief or serious concern. Other writers were even more specific. Thus the idea of Euhemerus that the gods Uranus, Cronus, and Zeus had once been great human kings upon the earth may have been a flattering gesture in favour of worshipping living monarchs as their equals; but it was also, in another sense, little more than a rationalization of atheism; and his younger contemporary Strato of Lampsacus declared that he did not need the help of the gods at all in order to construct an understandable world. Meanwhile, an Athenian's hymn to Demetrius I Poliorcetes had asserted that the gods of the city, if not non-existent, were at least indifferent: and both Menander (in passing) and Epicurus (in an elaborate series of philosophical arguments) found this latter conclusion an obviously correct one, since the traditional gods seemed able to do nothing to ease people's daily encounters with the vicissitudes of Hellenistic life. St. Paul, after such ideas had been going round for three or four centuries, understandably saw pagan Hellenism as a "world without hope - and without God." All the same, his impression was misleading. Pagan religion was not already dying or dead when Christianity overtook it; it had remained very lively indeed. But it had deviated, and continued to deviate throughout the Hellenistic age, from the traditional mainstream of the classical Olympian cults. They continued, it is true, to receive impressive ceremonial worship, but a person of this epoch no longer pinned his or her faith on those gods, but on a number of Divine Saviours. These Saviours were relied on, passionately, for two quite distinct miraculous gifts, of which their various cults held out hopes in varying proportions: the conferment of strength and holiness to endure our present life upon this earth, and the gift of immortality and happiness after death. And so religion was not moribund at all, but turned out to be one of the most vital elements in the Hellenistic world. The claim that religion was one of the most vital elements in the Hellenistic world is based mainly on the: comments of St. Paul regarding pagan Hellenism. existence of cults devoted to Divine Saviours. writings of Menander and Epicurus. idea that Olympian gods had once been human kings. The Iliad and the Homeric Hymns are cited in the passage as evidence for the claim that: the rationalist movements of the fifth century diminished the reputations of the Olympian gods. poets believed that the old gods were no longer a matter of serious concern. Greeks had a tendency to treat the Olympian gods irreverently. some Greeks believed that the gods of the city were indifferent.

Existence of cults devoted to Divine Saviours Greeks had a tendency to treat Olympian gods irreverently

During the second half of the sixteenth century the appearance of the [Piazza della Signoria] changed considerably. Many statues and works of art were placed in the loggia and in other parts of the square, making it look rather like an open air museum. . . . The statues placed in the loggia changed the focal point of the square, so that if one looks into the square from Via dei Cerchi, which runs parallel to the main façade of the Palazzo Vecchio, one's eye is drawn to the loggia. . . . The first statue one sees from this viewpoint is the Equestrian Monument of Cosimo I, by Giambologna, finished in 1598. The bas-reliefs at its base, and especially the one representing Cosimo's Entrance into Siena, inspired Rubens who saw them during his visit to Florence in 1600. This monument was however the last to be placed in the square in the sixteenth century. Behind this we see the Fountain of Neptune by Ammannati, finished in 1575. This fountain probably was meant to celebrate Cosimo's maritime successes (in fact, Neptune does bear a resemblance to the duke): but it is not the colossal and rather clumsy figure of the god, whom the Florentines rather wickedly call 'Il Biancone', 'the big white one', which attracts one's interest, as much as the purely decorative figures around the base. Some of these sea gods and goddesses, with their stylized elongated bodies, are mannerist in style; but the satyrs, vital and full of movement, are naturalistic in a warm and sensual way. When the old Ammannati, a few years later, was seized by religious scruples under the influence of the Counter-Reformation, he apparently repented having filled his fountain with 'so many nudes', and even begged Cosimo to have them removed, fearing - he wrote - 'that people might think Florence a nest of idols, or of libidinous things'. It is true that by this time Ammannati was considered very pious, but also, according to Borghini in 1583, 'not very right in the head'. The next statues are those lined along the steps of the palace, where the "aringhiera" used to be. The Marzocco, the heraldic icon lion of Florence, is only a copy of Donatello's original, today in the Bargello. The Judith and Holophernes, also by Donatello, is an original, but perhaps it would be wise to remove it, to protect it both from bad weather and from the pigeons in the square. It would not be the first time this bronze has been moved; sculpted in 1456, it was suspected of bringing bad luck to the city, because "Judith is a sign of death . . . and it is not right that a woman should kill a man", and it was substituted by Michelangelo's David. So the statue was first moved into Palazzo Vecchio, then into the loggia, and was finally placed here, next to the Marzocco, in 1919. The contrast between Donatello's statue and that of Michelangelo which replaced it is immediately apparent: the former is tragic, Judith lifts her scimitar to cut off the head of the dead Holophernes; whereas the David is of colossal dimensions, with a calm but titanic strength, expressing the new atmosphere of the sixteenth century. This figure, almost four and a half metres high, is a paragon of beauty and strength, rather like a synthesis of Apollo and Hercules; the Romantics pointed out that this is the turning point in Michelangelo's art, from the "sweet" to the "terrible", although here the two manage to co-exist. This is because of the exaggerated size of this adolescent, strong but slim, calm but ready to fight. In 1873 the original was placed in the Academy and this statue is a copy. It is, however, necessary to look at this copy, where it stands, to form an idea of what the original impression was: in front of the enormous palace and in the open space of the square, the David must have looked quite different. It has been said that it is impossible for anyone today to understand the David, situated as it is in the Academy, where everything about it appears grotesquely out of proportion. From Luciano Berti. Florence: The City and Its Art. © 1979 by Luciano Berti That some Florentines refer to Ammannati's statue of Neptune as "Il Biancone" would most directly tend to challenge the assumption that: Florentines were well versed in mythology. the statue is greatly admired in Florence. Ammannati's work was sometimes clumsy. Cosimo I respected Ammannati's work.

The statue is greatly admired in Florence

Television is not the "dream factory" which Hollywood was once said to be by dour sociologists: it is a reality factory. It is truer to life than life is. Television convinces us by immediacy and by repetition, not by structured argument or oratorical exposition. A lack of articulacy is the badge of sincerity; grammar smacks of premeditation. "Series" dominate all program planning. What has been said before - "characters" we have seen before, advertisements we "love" - may well be the evidence that originality (what has never been said before) has scant future on the box. Malcolm Muggeridge has spoken of the numbing effect of the plethora of news. By hosing us with "information" the networks affect to keep us fully up-to-date with the world, yet the segmentation and "personalization" of the "news" actually confuse us with their discontinuous gush, so that we are less set free by the "truth" than addicted to it, not least because it seems always about to tell us something. Frustration accompanies even our most emotional responses: the eyes fill with tears, the lump engorges the throat, as victims or survivors appear on our screens, but catharsis does not follow, nor (in almost all cases) does any active response, in political or social terms. The reward of being a viewer depends on staying passive - if we are moved to leave the viewing chair we may miss the next program. Such movement then is rarely any part of a newscaster's program: "stay tuned" is the eleventh and commanding commandment. What is the language of television? The truth is that it cannot be isolated, for if I am right, television is a voracious recycler and mixer of a confluence of concepts. "Basic television" has no distinct vocabulary: it eavesdrops and cadges with relentless parasitism, but it has no specific dictionary, merely a character, or characters. Being true to life will soon be better (more authentic) than life itself. Television, in fact, suggests that it is already: even television drama, with its almost inescapable naturalism, is more quotidian, so to say, than everyday life. The regularity of its series provides a clock and a monitor by which reality itself is calibrated. "Time for Kojak" becomes a normal way of announcing where we are in the day, while Kojak himself, at the peak of his powers and popularity, gave police officers-as do and did other realistic programs - an indication of how they should behave (and how the public would expect them to behave) if they were to maintain credibility. "As seen on TV" thus becomes a guarantee of quality, not only in advertised products, but in human behavior at large. Mass communication communicates massively: its language lacks precise articulation and avoids demanding terms; it argues for the kind of behavior in life which will make a "good program." Television writes our scripts and it thus gives us back our language in a verisimilitudinous revision, docked of amateurish or embarrassing passions or obsessions which might cause our audience to switch off. The overfamiliarity of certain television characters or advertisements is cited by the author as evidence for the claim that: there is little place for originality on television. news is not the only programming that has a numbing effect on viewers. television is truer to life than life is. television convinces through immediacy and repetition.

There is little place for originality on television

Poussin had come to Rome one or two years after Guercino had left it. And a few years later (presumably about 1630), he produced the earlier of his two Et in Arcadia ego compositions. Being a classicist, Poussin revised Guercino's composition by adding the Arcadian river god Alpheus and by transforming the decaying masonry into a classical sarcophagus. But in spite of these improvements, Poussin's picture does not conceal its derivation from Guercino's. In the first place, it retains to some extent the element of drama and surprise: The shepherds approach as a group from the left and are unexpectedly stopped by the tomb. In the second place, there is still the actual skull, placed upon the sarcophagus above the word Arcadia, although it has become quite small and inconspicuous and fails to attract the attention of the shepherds, who seem to be more intensely fascinated by the inscription than they are shocked by the death's-head. After another five or six years, however, Poussin produced a second and final version of the Et in Arcadia ego theme, the famous picture in the Louvre. And in this painting we can observe a radical break with the medieval, moralizing tradition. The element of drama and surprise has disappeared. Instead of two or three Arcadians approaching from the left in a group, we have four, symmetrically arranged on either side of a sepulchral monument. Instead of being checked in their progress by an unexpected and terrifying phenomenon, they are absorbed in calm discussion and pensive contemplation. The form of the tomb is simplified into a plain rectangular block, and the death's-head is eliminated altogether. Here, then, we have a basic change in interpretation. The Arcadians are not so much warned of an implacable future as they are immersed in mellow meditation on a beautiful past. In short, Poussin's Louvre picture no longer shows a dramatic encounter with Death but a contemplative absorption in the idea of mortality. We are confronted with a change from thinly veiled moralism to undisguised elegiac sentiment. When read according to the rules of Latin grammar ("Even in Arcady, there am I"), the phrase had been consistent and easily intelligible as long as the words could be attributed to a death's-head and as long as the shepherds were suddenly and frighteningly interrupted in their walk. These conditions are manifestly true of Guercino's painting, and they are also true, if in a considerably lesser degree, of Poussin's earlier picture. When facing the Louvre painting, however, the beholder finds it difficult to accept the inscription in its literal, grammatically correct, significance. In the absence of a death's-head, the ego in the phrase might seem to refer to the tomb itself. But it is infinitely more natural to ascribe the words to the person buried therein. Such is the case with 99 percent of all epitaphs. Thus Poussin himself, while making no verbal change in the inscription, invites, almost compels, the beholder to mistranslate it by relating the ego to a dead person and by connecting the et with ego instead of with Arcadia. The development of his pictorial vision had outgrown the significance of the literary formula, and we may say that those who, under the influence of the Louvre picture, decided to render the phrase Et in Arcadia ego as "I, too, lived in Arcady," rather than as "Even in Arcady, there am I," did violence to Latin grammar but justice to the meaning of Poussin's art. Suppose that a painting contained words with no apparent relevance to the scene depicted. The passage suggests that in discussing this painting, the passage author would be most likely to: assume that the artist intended to puzzle the viewer. interpret the scene on the basis of the words. interpret the words on the basis of the scene. discuss the scene without reference to the words. According to the author, which details of Poussin's Louvre painting support the belief that it reveals his decision to reject the moralizing tradition in art? A classical tomb A pagan river god A symmetrical composition II only III only I and II only I and III only Which of the following statements, if true, would most weaken the author's reasoning about the historical significance of the changes introduced in Poussin's second Arcadia painting? Guercino's Arcadia painting contains as many classical elements as do either of Poussin's versions. The skull in Guercino's Arcadia painting is small and inconspicuous. The painting was completed by one of Poussin's students. Many of Poussin's later paintings have strongly moralistic themes.

interpret the words on the basis of the scene. III Only Many of Poussin's later paintings have strongly moralistic themes

Americans were raised with a sentimental attachment to rural living and with a series of notions about rural people and rural life that I have chosen to designate as the agrarian myth. The agrarian myth represents a kind of homage that Americans have paid to the fancied innocence of their origins. Like any complex of ideas, the agrarian myth cannot be defined in a phrase, but its component themes form a clear pattern. Its hero was the yeoman farmer, its central conception the notion that he is the ideal man and the ideal citizen. Unstinted praise of the special virtues of the farmer and the special values of rural life was coupled with the assertion that agriculture, as a calling uniquely productive and uniquely important to society, had a special right to the concern and protection of government. The yeoman, who owned a small farm and worked it with the aid of his family, was the incarnation of the simple, honest, independent, healthy, happy human being. Because he lived in close communion with beneficent nature, his life was believed to have a wholesomeness and integrity impossible for the depraved populations of cities. In origin the agrarian myth was not a popular but a literary idea, a preoccupation of the upper classes, of those who enjoyed a classical education, read pastoral poetry, experimented with breeding stock, and owned plantations or country estates. It was clearly formulated and almost universally accepted in America during the last half of the eighteenth century. By the early nineteenth century it had become a mass creed, a part of the country's political folklore and its nationalist ideology. The roots of this change may be found as far back as the American Revolution, which, appearing to many Americans as the victory of a band of embattled farmers over an empire, seemed to confirm the moral and civic superiority of the yeoman, made the farmer a symbol of the new nation, and wove the agrarian myth into its patriotic sentiments and republican idealism. To what extent was the agrarian myth actually false? When it took form in America during the eighteenth century, its stereotypes did indeed correspond to many of the realities of American agricultural life. There were commercial elements in colonial agriculture almost from the earliest days, but there were also large numbers of the kind of independent yeomen idealized in the myth. Between 1815 and 1860, the character of American agriculture was transformed. The independent yeoman, outside of exceptional or isolated areas, almost disappeared before the relentless advance of commercial agriculture. The cash crop converted the yeoman into a small entrepreneur, and the development of horse-drawn machinery made obsolete the simple old agrarian symbol of the plow. Farmers ceased to be free of what the early agrarian writers had called the "corruptions" of trade. They were, to be sure, still "independent," in the sense that they owned their own land. They were a hardworking lot in the old tradition. But no longer did they grow or manufacture what they needed: They concentrated on the cash crop and began to buy more and more of their supplies from the country store. The triumph of commercial agriculture not only rendered obsolete the objective conditions that had given to the agrarian myth so much of its original force, but also showed that the ideal implicit in the myth was contesting the ground with another, even stronger ideal—the notion of opportunity, of career, of the self-made man. The same forces in American life that had given to the equalitarian theme in the agrarian romance its most compelling appeal had also unleashed in the nation an entrepreneurial zeal probably without precedent in history, a rage for business, for profits, for opportunity, for advancement. The central argument of the passage is that the agrarian myth: has no factual basis in the realities of American agricultural life. is a sentimental representation of the role that agriculture played in American life. accurately reflects the nature of American agriculture, both in the past and today. understates the negative aspects of life on the farm in America. The passage suggests that the agrarian myth originated: in literature. on country estates in Europe. on small farms owned and worked by yeoman farmers. among the urban elite who romanticized the virtues of the simple life of the farmer. Based on the passage, the agrarian myth became part of a mass creed because: the country's nationalist ideology stood in need of the kind of patriotic sentiments that the agrarian myth could provide. farmers were credited with having played a major role in the American victory in the Revolutionary War. most of the American population lived on family farms during the late eighteenth century. the yeoman farmer, as an ideal, corresponded to many of the realities of American life in the late eighteenth century. According to the passage, the agrarian myth implied that yeoman farmers were: honest entrepreneurs. classically educated. sentimentally patriotic. happy and industrious.

is a sentimental representation of the role that agriculture played in American life. In literature Farmers were credited with having played a major role in the American Victory in the Revolutionary war. Happy and inductrious

One of the hottest topics in anthropology today centers on the place of the mysterious Neandertals on the human family tree. These people lived at the juncture between the demise of Homo erectus and the advent of Homo sapiens sapiens, our own species. What role the Neandertals played in this transition has been the subject of long and contentious debate among anthropologists. Call them Homo sapiens neanderthalensisand acknowledge them as direct ancestors of modern humans? Or type them as Homo neanderthalensis and more distant relatives, members of a separate species outside our direct ancestry? If someone were to meet a Neandertal on the New York subway, he or she would be struck by the size and protrusion of the nose, the prominent ridges above the eyes, and the distinct absence of a chin. In addition, the forehead was much flatter and the skull longer, and although not readily apparent to fellow passengers, the bones of the skull would be much thicker than those in modern humans. What was inside that long, low cranium is the key to what it was to be a Neandertal. If quantity was the only measure, then the Neandertal's apparent mental powers were impressive, because the average brain size was larger than a modern human's—about 1,400 cc as compared with 1,360 cc. Some clues to their potential "humanness" do exist. For the first time in history, the Neandertal people performed ritual burials—a uniquely human activity. At the site of Le Moustier in France, the body of a Neandertal teenager was apparently lowered into a pit, where he was placed on his right side, his head resting on his forearm, as if asleep. Around the body were scattered the bones of a wild cow. Some prehistorians speculate that these bones were covered with meat at the time of the boy's burial and were included as sustenance for his journey to the next world. The evolution of the Neandertals was a gradual affair, with roots going back at least 200,000 and maybe even 300,000 years. By 130,000 years ago, they were well established. And by the end of that interglacial respite, which ended 70,000 years ago, the exaggerated features of the classic Neandertals were well set. For the next 35,000 years or so—until they finally disappeared—Neandertals were truly people of the Ice Age, and in many ways their anatomy reflects adaptations to cold climes. Subsistence for these people must have been demanding, particularly for those on the tundra of ice-bound Eurasia. Reindeer, wooly rhinos, and mammoth provided not only meat but also hide for clothing and bone for building shelters, as wood and other plant resources were scarce or absent. The resourceful Neandertals also manufactured a wide range of artifacts with which to tackle their daily chores. Stone tools clearly signal the pace of change in human prehistory. For the million years after the appearance of tools in the record, they remained crude in structure and limited in variety: choppers, scrapers, and flakes. Only about 200,000 years ago did the pace begin to change. The Levallois technique was developed, enabling toolmakers to produce several large flakes from a single lump of rock. When the Neandertals came onto the scene, they further refined this technique. Nevertheless, no further innovations were introduced for more than 50,000 years, when the modern human era began. The author implies that the primary significance of Neandertals is their: uncertain classification. position as premodern humans. use of stone tools. burial of the dead.

uncertain classification (labeling as premodern humans means they are related to humans which is the whole debate)