CAT Mock Test- 10 - CAT MCQ
30 Questions MCQ Test - CAT Mock Test- 10
Read the passage and answer the following questions:
To better understand how the brain underlies selfhood, we need to understand its complex form; its intricate structure at the level of connections between neurons. After all, understanding biological structure has revealed the nature of many diverse life forms. Plants thrive because their typically broad leaves are perfect for transducing light energy into vital chemical energy. Similarly, eyes, whether human or insect, enable the transduction of light from one’s surroundings into electrical signals within the nervous system. These impulses carry information that represents features of the surrounding environment. But when it comes to the relationship between structure and function, brains have remained an enigma. There’s a lot more to them than to other organs that have specific functions, such as eyes, hearts or even hands. These organs can now be surgically replaced. Yet, even if a brain transplant were possible, you couldn’t just switch your brain with another person’s and maintain the same mind. Upon birth, a person’s brain structure is largely prescribed by experience in the womb and their unique genetic code. As we age, experience continues to imprint unique changes on the brain’s neural connectivity, increasing connections in some areas while decreasing them in others, accumulating reroutes upon reroutes as a person ages and learns, gaining knowledge and experience. Additionally, there are alterations in the strength of existing connections. These processes are especially evident in twins, whose brains are strikingly similar when born. However, as they grow, learn and experience the world, their brains diverge, and their essential selves become increasingly unique.
Although there are indeed anatomical regions that appear to serve relatively specific functions, one’s memory is not formed, stored or recalled within the activity of any single brain region. Certain structures, such as the amygdala and the hippocampus, play key roles but trying to find memory in one specific area is simply impossible. It would be like trying to listen to Beethoven’s Fifth but hearing only the strings. Instead, memory, in its broadest sense, lies in the uniqueness of a brain’s entire connective structure, known as the connectome. The connectome consists of its complete network of neurons and all the connections between them, called synapses. It is argued that, fundamentally, ‘you are your connectome’.
Mapping a connectome at the level of single neurons, however, is currently impossible in a living animal. Instead, animal brains must be extracted, perfused with a fixative such as formaldehyde and sliced up as many times as possible before being analysed structurally in order to painstakingly find individual neurons and trace their paths. To achieve this, the properties of each new slice are recorded using various microscopy techniques. Once that’s been done, patterns of electrical flow can be estimated from different neuron types and from connections that excite or inhibit other neurons. What’s crucial is that the extracted brain is preserved accurately enough to maintain its intricate, complex connectome before it’s sliced up.
Currently, it’s unlikely that any human brain has been preserved with its entire connectome perfectly intact as our brains degrade too quickly after death.
Which of the following can be inferred from the passage?
To better understand how the brain underlies selfhood, we need to understand its complex form; its intricate structure at the level of connections between neurons. After all, understanding biological structure has revealed the nature of many diverse life forms. Plants thrive because their typically broad leaves are perfect for transducing light energy into vital chemical energy. Similarly, eyes, whether human or insect, enable the transduction of light from one’s surroundings into electrical signals within the nervous system. These impulses carry information that represents features of the surrounding environment. But when it comes to the relationship between structure and function, brains have remained an enigma. There’s a lot more to them than to other organs that have specific functions, such as eyes, hearts or even hands. These organs can now be surgically replaced. Yet, even if a brain transplant were possible, you couldn’t just switch your brain with another person’s and maintain the same mind. Upon birth, a person’s brain structure is largely prescribed by experience in the womb and their unique genetic code. As we age, experience continues to imprint unique changes on the brain’s neural connectivity, increasing connections in some areas while decreasing them in others, accumulating reroutes upon reroutes as a person ages and learns, gaining knowledge and experience. Additionally, there are alterations in the strength of existing connections. These processes are especially evident in twins, whose brains are strikingly similar when born. However, as they grow, learn and experience the world, their brains diverge, and their essential selves become increasingly unique.
Although there are indeed anatomical regions that appear to serve relatively specific functions, one’s memory is not formed, stored or recalled within the activity of any single brain region. Certain structures, such as the amygdala and the hippocampus, play key roles but trying to find memory in one specific area is simply impossible. It would be like trying to listen to Beethoven’s Fifth but hearing only the strings. Instead, memory, in its broadest sense, lies in the uniqueness of a brain’s entire connective structure, known as the connectome. The connectome consists of its complete network of neurons and all the connections between them, called synapses. It is argued that, fundamentally, ‘you are your connectome’.
Mapping a connectome at the level of single neurons, however, is currently impossible in a living animal. Instead, animal brains must be extracted, perfused with a fixative such as formaldehyde and sliced up as many times as possible before being analysed structurally in order to painstakingly find individual neurons and trace their paths. To achieve this, the properties of each new slice are recorded using various microscopy techniques. Once that’s been done, patterns of electrical flow can be estimated from different neuron types and from connections that excite or inhibit other neurons. What’s crucial is that the extracted brain is preserved accurately enough to maintain its intricate, complex connectome before it’s sliced up.
Currently, it’s unlikely that any human brain has been preserved with its entire connectome perfectly intact as our brains degrade too quickly after death.
Read the passage and answer the following questions:
To better understand how the brain underlies selfhood, we need to understand its complex form; its intricate structure at the level of connections between neurons. After all, understanding biological structure has revealed the nature of many diverse life forms. Plants thrive because their typically broad leaves are perfect for transducing light energy into vital chemical energy. Similarly, eyes, whether human or insect, enable the transduction of light from one’s surroundings into electrical signals within the nervous system. These impulses carry information that represents features of the surrounding environment. But when it comes to the relationship between structure and function, brains have remained an enigma. There’s a lot more to them than to other organs that have specific functions, such as eyes, hearts or even hands. These organs can now be surgically replaced. Yet, even if a brain transplant were possible, you couldn’t just switch your brain with another person’s and maintain the same mind. Upon birth, a person’s brain structure is largely prescribed by experience in the womb and their unique genetic code. As we age, experience continues to imprint unique changes on the brain’s neural connectivity, increasing connections in some areas while decreasing them in others, accumulating reroutes upon reroutes as a person ages and learns, gaining knowledge and experience. Additionally, there are alterations in the strength of existing connections. These processes are especially evident in twins, whose brains are strikingly similar when born. However, as they grow, learn and experience the world, their brains diverge, and their essential selves become increasingly unique.
Although there are indeed anatomical regions that appear to serve relatively specific functions, one’s memory is not formed, stored or recalled within the activity of any single brain region. Certain structures, such as the amygdala and the hippocampus, play key roles but trying to find memory in one specific area is simply impossible. It would be like trying to listen to Beethoven’s Fifth but hearing only the strings. Instead, memory, in its broadest sense, lies in the uniqueness of a brain’s entire connective structure, known as the connectome. The connectome consists of its complete network of neurons and all the connections between them, called synapses. It is argued that, fundamentally, ‘you are your connectome’.
Mapping a connectome at the level of single neurons, however, is currently impossible in a living animal. Instead, animal brains must be extracted, perfused with a fixative such as formaldehyde and sliced up as many times as possible before being analysed structurally in order to painstakingly find individual neurons and trace their paths. To achieve this, the properties of each new slice are recorded using various microscopy techniques. Once that’s been done, patterns of electrical flow can be estimated from different neuron types and from connections that excite or inhibit other neurons. What’s crucial is that the extracted brain is preserved accurately enough to maintain its intricate, complex connectome before it’s sliced up.
Currently, it’s unlikely that any human brain has been preserved with its entire connectome perfectly intact as our brains degrade too quickly after death.
The author mentions the example of plants and eyes at the beginning to...
To better understand how the brain underlies selfhood, we need to understand its complex form; its intricate structure at the level of connections between neurons. After all, understanding biological structure has revealed the nature of many diverse life forms. Plants thrive because their typically broad leaves are perfect for transducing light energy into vital chemical energy. Similarly, eyes, whether human or insect, enable the transduction of light from one’s surroundings into electrical signals within the nervous system. These impulses carry information that represents features of the surrounding environment. But when it comes to the relationship between structure and function, brains have remained an enigma. There’s a lot more to them than to other organs that have specific functions, such as eyes, hearts or even hands. These organs can now be surgically replaced. Yet, even if a brain transplant were possible, you couldn’t just switch your brain with another person’s and maintain the same mind. Upon birth, a person’s brain structure is largely prescribed by experience in the womb and their unique genetic code. As we age, experience continues to imprint unique changes on the brain’s neural connectivity, increasing connections in some areas while decreasing them in others, accumulating reroutes upon reroutes as a person ages and learns, gaining knowledge and experience. Additionally, there are alterations in the strength of existing connections. These processes are especially evident in twins, whose brains are strikingly similar when born. However, as they grow, learn and experience the world, their brains diverge, and their essential selves become increasingly unique.
Although there are indeed anatomical regions that appear to serve relatively specific functions, one’s memory is not formed, stored or recalled within the activity of any single brain region. Certain structures, such as the amygdala and the hippocampus, play key roles but trying to find memory in one specific area is simply impossible. It would be like trying to listen to Beethoven’s Fifth but hearing only the strings. Instead, memory, in its broadest sense, lies in the uniqueness of a brain’s entire connective structure, known as the connectome. The connectome consists of its complete network of neurons and all the connections between them, called synapses. It is argued that, fundamentally, ‘you are your connectome’.
Mapping a connectome at the level of single neurons, however, is currently impossible in a living animal. Instead, animal brains must be extracted, perfused with a fixative such as formaldehyde and sliced up as many times as possible before being analysed structurally in order to painstakingly find individual neurons and trace their paths. To achieve this, the properties of each new slice are recorded using various microscopy techniques. Once that’s been done, patterns of electrical flow can be estimated from different neuron types and from connections that excite or inhibit other neurons. What’s crucial is that the extracted brain is preserved accurately enough to maintain its intricate, complex connectome before it’s sliced up.
Currently, it’s unlikely that any human brain has been preserved with its entire connectome perfectly intact as our brains degrade too quickly after death.
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Read the passage and answer the following questions:
To better understand how the brain underlies selfhood, we need to understand its complex form; its intricate structure at the level of connections between neurons. After all, understanding biological structure has revealed the nature of many diverse life forms. Plants thrive because their typically broad leaves are perfect for transducing light energy into vital chemical energy. Similarly, eyes, whether human or insect, enable the transduction of light from one’s surroundings into electrical signals within the nervous system. These impulses carry information that represents features of the surrounding environment. But when it comes to the relationship between structure and function, brains have remained an enigma. There’s a lot more to them than to other organs that have specific functions, such as eyes, hearts or even hands. These organs can now be surgically replaced. Yet, even if a brain transplant were possible, you couldn’t just switch your brain with another person’s and maintain the same mind. Upon birth, a person’s brain structure is largely prescribed by experience in the womb and their unique genetic code. As we age, experience continues to imprint unique changes on the brain’s neural connectivity, increasing connections in some areas while decreasing them in others, accumulating reroutes upon reroutes as a person ages and learns, gaining knowledge and experience. Additionally, there are alterations in the strength of existing connections. These processes are especially evident in twins, whose brains are strikingly similar when born. However, as they grow, learn and experience the world, their brains diverge, and their essential selves become increasingly unique.
Although there are indeed anatomical regions that appear to serve relatively specific functions, one’s memory is not formed, stored or recalled within the activity of any single brain region. Certain structures, such as the amygdala and the hippocampus, play key roles but trying to find memory in one specific area is simply impossible. It would be like trying to listen to Beethoven’s Fifth but hearing only the strings. Instead, memory, in its broadest sense, lies in the uniqueness of a brain’s entire connective structure, known as the connectome. The connectome consists of its complete network of neurons and all the connections between them, called synapses. It is argued that, fundamentally, ‘you are your connectome’.
Mapping a connectome at the level of single neurons, however, is currently impossible in a living animal. Instead, animal brains must be extracted, perfused with a fixative such as formaldehyde and sliced up as many times as possible before being analysed structurally in order to painstakingly find individual neurons and trace their paths. To achieve this, the properties of each new slice are recorded using various microscopy techniques. Once that’s been done, patterns of electrical flow can be estimated from different neuron types and from connections that excite or inhibit other neurons. What’s crucial is that the extracted brain is preserved accurately enough to maintain its intricate, complex connectome before it’s sliced up.
Currently, it’s unlikely that any human brain has been preserved with its entire connectome perfectly intact as our brains degrade too quickly after death.
Why does the author cite the example of Beethoven’s Fifth?
To better understand how the brain underlies selfhood, we need to understand its complex form; its intricate structure at the level of connections between neurons. After all, understanding biological structure has revealed the nature of many diverse life forms. Plants thrive because their typically broad leaves are perfect for transducing light energy into vital chemical energy. Similarly, eyes, whether human or insect, enable the transduction of light from one’s surroundings into electrical signals within the nervous system. These impulses carry information that represents features of the surrounding environment. But when it comes to the relationship between structure and function, brains have remained an enigma. There’s a lot more to them than to other organs that have specific functions, such as eyes, hearts or even hands. These organs can now be surgically replaced. Yet, even if a brain transplant were possible, you couldn’t just switch your brain with another person’s and maintain the same mind. Upon birth, a person’s brain structure is largely prescribed by experience in the womb and their unique genetic code. As we age, experience continues to imprint unique changes on the brain’s neural connectivity, increasing connections in some areas while decreasing them in others, accumulating reroutes upon reroutes as a person ages and learns, gaining knowledge and experience. Additionally, there are alterations in the strength of existing connections. These processes are especially evident in twins, whose brains are strikingly similar when born. However, as they grow, learn and experience the world, their brains diverge, and their essential selves become increasingly unique.
Although there are indeed anatomical regions that appear to serve relatively specific functions, one’s memory is not formed, stored or recalled within the activity of any single brain region. Certain structures, such as the amygdala and the hippocampus, play key roles but trying to find memory in one specific area is simply impossible. It would be like trying to listen to Beethoven’s Fifth but hearing only the strings. Instead, memory, in its broadest sense, lies in the uniqueness of a brain’s entire connective structure, known as the connectome. The connectome consists of its complete network of neurons and all the connections between them, called synapses. It is argued that, fundamentally, ‘you are your connectome’.
Mapping a connectome at the level of single neurons, however, is currently impossible in a living animal. Instead, animal brains must be extracted, perfused with a fixative such as formaldehyde and sliced up as many times as possible before being analysed structurally in order to painstakingly find individual neurons and trace their paths. To achieve this, the properties of each new slice are recorded using various microscopy techniques. Once that’s been done, patterns of electrical flow can be estimated from different neuron types and from connections that excite or inhibit other neurons. What’s crucial is that the extracted brain is preserved accurately enough to maintain its intricate, complex connectome before it’s sliced up.
Currently, it’s unlikely that any human brain has been preserved with its entire connectome perfectly intact as our brains degrade too quickly after death.
Read the passage and answer the following questions:
To better understand how the brain underlies selfhood, we need to understand its complex form; its intricate structure at the level of connections between neurons. After all, understanding biological structure has revealed the nature of many diverse life forms. Plants thrive because their typically broad leaves are perfect for transducing light energy into vital chemical energy. Similarly, eyes, whether human or insect, enable the transduction of light from one’s surroundings into electrical signals within the nervous system. These impulses carry information that represents features of the surrounding environment. But when it comes to the relationship between structure and function, brains have remained an enigma. There’s a lot more to them than to other organs that have specific functions, such as eyes, hearts or even hands. These organs can now be surgically replaced. Yet, even if a brain transplant were possible, you couldn’t just switch your brain with another person’s and maintain the same mind. Upon birth, a person’s brain structure is largely prescribed by experience in the womb and their unique genetic code. As we age, experience continues to imprint unique changes on the brain’s neural connectivity, increasing connections in some areas while decreasing them in others, accumulating reroutes upon reroutes as a person ages and learns, gaining knowledge and experience. Additionally, there are alterations in the strength of existing connections. These processes are especially evident in twins, whose brains are strikingly similar when born. However, as they grow, learn and experience the world, their brains diverge, and their essential selves become increasingly unique.
Although there are indeed anatomical regions that appear to serve relatively specific functions, one’s memory is not formed, stored or recalled within the activity of any single brain region. Certain structures, such as the amygdala and the hippocampus, play key roles but trying to find memory in one specific area is simply impossible. It would be like trying to listen to Beethoven’s Fifth but hearing only the strings. Instead, memory, in its broadest sense, lies in the uniqueness of a brain’s entire connective structure, known as the connectome. The connectome consists of its complete network of neurons and all the connections between them, called synapses. It is argued that, fundamentally, ‘you are your connectome’.
Mapping a connectome at the level of single neurons, however, is currently impossible in a living animal. Instead, animal brains must be extracted, perfused with a fixative such as formaldehyde and sliced up as many times as possible before being analysed structurally in order to painstakingly find individual neurons and trace their paths. To achieve this, the properties of each new slice are recorded using various microscopy techniques. Once that’s been done, patterns of electrical flow can be estimated from different neuron types and from connections that excite or inhibit other neurons. What’s crucial is that the extracted brain is preserved accurately enough to maintain its intricate, complex connectome before it’s sliced up.
Currently, it’s unlikely that any human brain has been preserved with its entire connectome perfectly intact as our brains degrade too quickly after death.
Which of the following sentences is/are true as per the passage?
Read the passage carefully and answer the following questions:
We must dispense with the idea that democracy is like a torch that gets passed from one leading society to another. The core feature of democracy - that those who rule can do so only with the consent of the people - wasn’t invented in one place at one time: it evolved independently in a great many human societies. Over several millennia and across multiple continents, early democracy was an institution in which rulers governed jointly with councils and assemblies of the people. Classical Greece provided particularly important instances of this democratic practice, and it’s true that the Greeks gave us a language for thinking about democracy, including the word demokratia itself. But they didn’t invent the practice. The core feature of early democracy was that the people had power, even if multiparty elections didn’t happen. The people, or at least some significant fraction of them, exercised this power in many different ways. In some cases, a ruler was chosen by a council or assembly, and was limited to being first among equals. In other instances, a ruler inherited their position, but faced constraints to seek consent from the people before taking actions both large and small.
The first difference between early democracy and our democracies today is that this earlier form of rule was a small-scale phenomenon. In Classical Athens those who had the right to participate in politics tended to do so in a very direct and intensive way, particularly in local assemblies. In modern democracy, participation is very broad, but it’s also not deep; for most of us, it’s limited to voting in elections every few years, and in between these moments others make the decisions. The potential risk of this arrangement, as has been noted by astute observers since the birth of modern republics, is that citizens might grow distrustful of the people who are actually running government on a daily basis and of the special influences to which they might be subject. One way to address the problem of scale is to delegate much more power to states, provinces and localities. But on crucial issues of foreign trade, diplomacy or pressing constitutional questions, it’s impractical for individual states, regions or provinces to set their own policy. If large scale has the potential to lead to distrust and disengagement in a democracy, then a closely related problem is that of polarisation, which can take many forms, such as that involving tensions between different classes of people in the same location, or a difference of opinions between people living in different locations.
The absence of a state bureaucracy was a chief reason why early democracy proved to be such a stable form of rule for so many societies. With little autonomous power - apart from the ability to persuade - those who would have liked to rule as autocrats found themselves without the means to do so. The flipside of this was that, in many early democracies, those who were unhappy with a central decision could simply refuse to participate or even decamp to a new locality. Modern democracy lacks the same protections from central power that early democracies enjoyed. At the same time, having a powerful central state can allow a society to achieve goals such as universal education and prosperity, to name but a few. The question then is how to live with a state while preserving democracy.
Which of the following can be inferred from the passage?
Read the passage carefully and answer the following questions:
We must dispense with the idea that democracy is like a torch that gets passed from one leading society to another. The core feature of democracy - that those who rule can do so only with the consent of the people - wasn’t invented in one place at one time: it evolved independently in a great many human societies. Over several millennia and across multiple continents, early democracy was an institution in which rulers governed jointly with councils and assemblies of the people. Classical Greece provided particularly important instances of this democratic practice, and it’s true that the Greeks gave us a language for thinking about democracy, including the word demokratia itself. But they didn’t invent the practice. The core feature of early democracy was that the people had power, even if multiparty elections didn’t happen. The people, or at least some significant fraction of them, exercised this power in many different ways. In some cases, a ruler was chosen by a council or assembly, and was limited to being first among equals. In other instances, a ruler inherited their position, but faced constraints to seek consent from the people before taking actions both large and small.
The first difference between early democracy and our democracies today is that this earlier form of rule was a small-scale phenomenon. In Classical Athens those who had the right to participate in politics tended to do so in a very direct and intensive way, particularly in local assemblies. In modern democracy, participation is very broad, but it’s also not deep; for most of us, it’s limited to voting in elections every few years, and in between these moments others make the decisions. The potential risk of this arrangement, as has been noted by astute observers since the birth of modern republics, is that citizens might grow distrustful of the people who are actually running government on a daily basis and of the special influences to which they might be subject. One way to address the problem of scale is to delegate much more power to states, provinces and localities. But on crucial issues of foreign trade, diplomacy or pressing constitutional questions, it’s impractical for individual states, regions or provinces to set their own policy. If large scale has the potential to lead to distrust and disengagement in a democracy, then a closely related problem is that of polarisation, which can take many forms, such as that involving tensions between different classes of people in the same location, or a difference of opinions between people living in different locations.
The absence of a state bureaucracy was a chief reason why early democracy proved to be such a stable form of rule for so many societies. With little autonomous power - apart from the ability to persuade - those who would have liked to rule as autocrats found themselves without the means to do so. The flipside of this was that, in many early democracies, those who were unhappy with a central decision could simply refuse to participate or even decamp to a new locality. Modern democracy lacks the same protections from central power that early democracies enjoyed. At the same time, having a powerful central state can allow a society to achieve goals such as universal education and prosperity, to name but a few. The question then is how to live with a state while preserving democracy.
Why does the author mention the local assemblies of Classical Athens?
Read the passage carefully and answer the following questions:
We must dispense with the idea that democracy is like a torch that gets passed from one leading society to another. The core feature of democracy - that those who rule can do so only with the consent of the people - wasn’t invented in one place at one time: it evolved independently in a great many human societies. Over several millennia and across multiple continents, early democracy was an institution in which rulers governed jointly with councils and assemblies of the people. Classical Greece provided particularly important instances of this democratic practice, and it’s true that the Greeks gave us a language for thinking about democracy, including the word demokratia itself. But they didn’t invent the practice. The core feature of early democracy was that the people had power, even if multiparty elections didn’t happen. The people, or at least some significant fraction of them, exercised this power in many different ways. In some cases, a ruler was chosen by a council or assembly, and was limited to being first among equals. In other instances, a ruler inherited their position, but faced constraints to seek consent from the people before taking actions both large and small.
The first difference between early democracy and our democracies today is that this earlier form of rule was a small-scale phenomenon. In Classical Athens those who had the right to participate in politics tended to do so in a very direct and intensive way, particularly in local assemblies. In modern democracy, participation is very broad, but it’s also not deep; for most of us, it’s limited to voting in elections every few years, and in between these moments others make the decisions. The potential risk of this arrangement, as has been noted by astute observers since the birth of modern republics, is that citizens might grow distrustful of the people who are actually running government on a daily basis and of the special influences to which they might be subject. One way to address the problem of scale is to delegate much more power to states, provinces and localities. But on crucial issues of foreign trade, diplomacy or pressing constitutional questions, it’s impractical for individual states, regions or provinces to set their own policy. If large scale has the potential to lead to distrust and disengagement in a democracy, then a closely related problem is that of polarisation, which can take many forms, such as that involving tensions between different classes of people in the same location, or a difference of opinions between people living in different locations.
The absence of a state bureaucracy was a chief reason why early democracy proved to be such a stable form of rule for so many societies. With little autonomous power - apart from the ability to persuade - those who would have liked to rule as autocrats found themselves without the means to do so. The flipside of this was that, in many early democracies, those who were unhappy with a central decision could simply refuse to participate or even decamp to a new locality. Modern democracy lacks the same protections from central power that early democracies enjoyed. At the same time, having a powerful central state can allow a society to achieve goals such as universal education and prosperity, to name but a few. The question then is how to live with a state while preserving democracy.
Which of the following is the author of the passage most likely to agree with?
Read the passage carefully and answer the following questions:
We must dispense with the idea that democracy is like a torch that gets passed from one leading society to another. The core feature of democracy - that those who rule can do so only with the consent of the people - wasn’t invented in one place at one time: it evolved independently in a great many human societies. Over several millennia and across multiple continents, early democracy was an institution in which rulers governed jointly with councils and assemblies of the people. Classical Greece provided particularly important instances of this democratic practice, and it’s true that the Greeks gave us a language for thinking about democracy, including the word demokratia itself. But they didn’t invent the practice. The core feature of early democracy was that the people had power, even if multiparty elections didn’t happen. The people, or at least some significant fraction of them, exercised this power in many different ways. In some cases, a ruler was chosen by a council or assembly, and was limited to being first among equals. In other instances, a ruler inherited their position, but faced constraints to seek consent from the people before taking actions both large and small.
The first difference between early democracy and our democracies today is that this earlier form of rule was a small-scale phenomenon. In Classical Athens those who had the right to participate in politics tended to do so in a very direct and intensive way, particularly in local assemblies. In modern democracy, participation is very broad, but it’s also not deep; for most of us, it’s limited to voting in elections every few years, and in between these moments others make the decisions. The potential risk of this arrangement, as has been noted by astute observers since the birth of modern republics, is that citizens might grow distrustful of the people who are actually running government on a daily basis and of the special influences to which they might be subject. One way to address the problem of scale is to delegate much more power to states, provinces and localities. But on crucial issues of foreign trade, diplomacy or pressing constitutional questions, it’s impractical for individual states, regions or provinces to set their own policy. If large scale has the potential to lead to distrust and disengagement in a democracy, then a closely related problem is that of polarisation, which can take many forms, such as that involving tensions between different classes of people in the same location, or a difference of opinions between people living in different locations.
The absence of a state bureaucracy was a chief reason why early democracy proved to be such a stable form of rule for so many societies. With little autonomous power - apart from the ability to persuade - those who would have liked to rule as autocrats found themselves without the means to do so. The flipside of this was that, in many early democracies, those who were unhappy with a central decision could simply refuse to participate or even decamp to a new locality. Modern democracy lacks the same protections from central power that early democracies enjoyed. At the same time, having a powerful central state can allow a society to achieve goals such as universal education and prosperity, to name but a few. The question then is how to live with a state while preserving democracy.
Which of the following cannot be inferred from the passage?
I. Classical Greece did not just invent the practice of democracy, but also gave us the word 'demokratia'.
II. The advantage of early democracies over modern ones is the very direct and intensive participation of the people in local assemblies.
III. The presence or absence of state bureaucracy is a vital factor affecting the stability of a democratic rule.
Read the passage carefully and answer the following questions:
Green energy investment is hot again in the U.S. To some, the new boom will raise the specter of the clean-tech bust that followed a streak of exuberance a decade ago. But there are reasons to believe that this time the trend is no bubble or mirage.
The most basic reason is that the fundamental underlying technology has matured in a way it simply hadn’t a decade ago. In 2009, the levelized cost of solar photovoltaic electricity was $359 per megawatt-hour — more than four times as expensive as electricity from a natural gas plant. By 2019, solar PV had fallen in price to $40 per megawatt-hour, 28% cheaper than gas. That’s an 89% decline in 10 years, with more cost drops yet to come. Meanwhile, lithium-ion batteries have experienced a similar drop in prices.
That order-of-magnitude drop in costs makes all the difference. First of all, it means that solar and wind aren’t risky new technologies. Solyndra, a solar manufacturer, failed in 2011 because it was trying to market an innovative new kind of solar cell, which ended up being too expensive when the tried-and-true design came down in cost. Future investments in solar won’t have to bet on any difficult technological breakthroughs. Batteries might be a different story — lots of money is being thrown at startups trying to create solid-state batteries, which would be a true breakthrough. But Tesla Inc. is doing just fine with the old kind, so that sector is probably going to do OK as well. Venture investing does well when it doesn’t have to bet on “hard tech”, and much of clean tech is no longer hard.
Second, cost drops in clean energy mean that success doesn’t depend on government intervention. In the earlier boom, fickle government subsidies were often necessary for capital-intensive energy companies to succeed. Now, even though President Joe Biden is planning a big push into clean-energy investment, the market is investing quite a lot in renewables all on its own.
Finally, investors have probably learned their lesson. Clean energy itself was never a good fit for venture. It’s capital intensive, since buying solar panels and wind turbines entails a lot of money up front; venture capital tends to focus on cheap, small investments that scale. And instead of companies creating highly differentiated products and new markets, as in software, clean electricity companies are basically all trying to provide the same commodified product.
This time around, venture capitalists are letting bigger investors handle the build out of solar and wind, and finding other niches where low-cost, differentiated startups can add value — such as solar services and financing, lab-grown meat and electric vehicles. Some of those bets are certainly going to fail, but that’s always the case in private equity. The success of Tesla — now with a market cap of almost $700 billion, or 28 times the amount that was lost in the clean-tech bust — demonstrates the time-honored principle that a few big hits can compensate for a lot of little failures.
In other words, clean tech is entering the final stage of the famous Gartner Hype Cycle — a pattern that describes the progression of emerging technologies and business models, starting with an innovation that sees expectations climb and then crash, before they finally rise again to sustained productivity. The clean-tech bust, like the dot-com bust in 2000, was a case of investor enthusiasm for a new technology outstripping the technology itself. But just as few today would question the value of companies like Google and Facebook that came into their own during a trough in investor enthusiasm, eventually the value of clean technology won’t be in question.
The central idea of the passage is that
Read the passage carefully and answer the following questions:
Green energy investment is hot again in the U.S. To some, the new boom will raise the specter of the clean-tech bust that followed a streak of exuberance a decade ago. But there are reasons to believe that this time the trend is no bubble or mirage.
The most basic reason is that the fundamental underlying technology has matured in a way it simply hadn’t a decade ago. In 2009, the levelized cost of solar photovoltaic electricity was $359 per megawatt-hour — more than four times as expensive as electricity from a natural gas plant. By 2019, solar PV had fallen in price to $40 per megawatt-hour, 28% cheaper than gas. That’s an 89% decline in 10 years, with more cost drops yet to come. Meanwhile, lithium-ion batteries have experienced a similar drop in prices.
That order-of-magnitude drop in costs makes all the difference. First of all, it means that solar and wind aren’t risky new technologies. Solyndra, a solar manufacturer, failed in 2011 because it was trying to market an innovative new kind of solar cell, which ended up being too expensive when the tried-and-true design came down in cost. Future investments in solar won’t have to bet on any difficult technological breakthroughs. Batteries might be a different story — lots of money is being thrown at startups trying to create solid-state batteries, which would be a true breakthrough. But Tesla Inc. is doing just fine with the old kind, so that sector is probably going to do OK as well. Venture investing does well when it doesn’t have to bet on “hard tech”, and much of clean tech is no longer hard.
Second, cost drops in clean energy mean that success doesn’t depend on government intervention. In the earlier boom, fickle government subsidies were often necessary for capital-intensive energy companies to succeed. Now, even though President Joe Biden is planning a big push into clean-energy investment, the market is investing quite a lot in renewables all on its own.
Finally, investors have probably learned their lesson. Clean energy itself was never a good fit for venture. It’s capital intensive, since buying solar panels and wind turbines entails a lot of money up front; venture capital tends to focus on cheap, small investments that scale. And instead of companies creating highly differentiated products and new markets, as in software, clean electricity companies are basically all trying to provide the same commodified product.
This time around, venture capitalists are letting bigger investors handle the build out of solar and wind, and finding other niches where low-cost, differentiated startups can add value — such as solar services and financing, lab-grown meat and electric vehicles. Some of those bets are certainly going to fail, but that’s always the case in private equity. The success of Tesla — now with a market cap of almost $700 billion, or 28 times the amount that was lost in the clean-tech bust — demonstrates the time-honored principle that a few big hits can compensate for a lot of little failures.
In other words, clean tech is entering the final stage of the famous Gartner Hype Cycle — a pattern that describes the progression of emerging technologies and business models, starting with an innovation that sees expectations climb and then crash, before they finally rise again to sustained productivity. The clean-tech bust, like the dot-com bust in 2000, was a case of investor enthusiasm for a new technology outstripping the technology itself. But just as few today would question the value of companies like Google and Facebook that came into their own during a trough in investor enthusiasm, eventually the value of clean technology won’t be in question.
The author compares the clean-tech bust to the dot-com bust because
Read the passage carefully and answer the following questions:
Green energy investment is hot again in the U.S. To some, the new boom will raise the specter of the clean-tech bust that followed a streak of exuberance a decade ago. But there are reasons to believe that this time the trend is no bubble or mirage.
The most basic reason is that the fundamental underlying technology has matured in a way it simply hadn’t a decade ago. In 2009, the levelized cost of solar photovoltaic electricity was $359 per megawatt-hour — more than four times as expensive as electricity from a natural gas plant. By 2019, solar PV had fallen in price to $40 per megawatt-hour, 28% cheaper than gas. That’s an 89% decline in 10 years, with more cost drops yet to come. Meanwhile, lithium-ion batteries have experienced a similar drop in prices.
That order-of-magnitude drop in costs makes all the difference. First of all, it means that solar and wind aren’t risky new technologies. Solyndra, a solar manufacturer, failed in 2011 because it was trying to market an innovative new kind of solar cell, which ended up being too expensive when the tried-and-true design came down in cost. Future investments in solar won’t have to bet on any difficult technological breakthroughs. Batteries might be a different story — lots of money is being thrown at startups trying to create solid-state batteries, which would be a true breakthrough. But Tesla Inc. is doing just fine with the old kind, so that sector is probably going to do OK as well. Venture investing does well when it doesn’t have to bet on “hard tech”, and much of clean tech is no longer hard.
Second, cost drops in clean energy mean that success doesn’t depend on government intervention. In the earlier boom, fickle government subsidies were often necessary for capital-intensive energy companies to succeed. Now, even though President Joe Biden is planning a big push into clean-energy investment, the market is investing quite a lot in renewables all on its own.
Finally, investors have probably learned their lesson. Clean energy itself was never a good fit for venture. It’s capital intensive, since buying solar panels and wind turbines entails a lot of money up front; venture capital tends to focus on cheap, small investments that scale. And instead of companies creating highly differentiated products and new markets, as in software, clean electricity companies are basically all trying to provide the same commodified product.
This time around, venture capitalists are letting bigger investors handle the build out of solar and wind, and finding other niches where low-cost, differentiated startups can add value — such as solar services and financing, lab-grown meat and electric vehicles. Some of those bets are certainly going to fail, but that’s always the case in private equity. The success of Tesla — now with a market cap of almost $700 billion, or 28 times the amount that was lost in the clean-tech bust — demonstrates the time-honored principle that a few big hits can compensate for a lot of little failures.
In other words, clean tech is entering the final stage of the famous Gartner Hype Cycle — a pattern that describes the progression of emerging technologies and business models, starting with an innovation that sees expectations climb and then crash, before they finally rise again to sustained productivity. The clean-tech bust, like the dot-com bust in 2000, was a case of investor enthusiasm for a new technology outstripping the technology itself. But just as few today would question the value of companies like Google and Facebook that came into their own during a trough in investor enthusiasm, eventually the value of clean technology won’t be in question.
According to the passage, which of the following is NOT a reason why the increase in green energy investments may not be a bubble this time?
Read the passage carefully and answer the following questions:
Green energy investment is hot again in the U.S. To some, the new boom will raise the specter of the clean-tech bust that followed a streak of exuberance a decade ago. But there are reasons to believe that this time the trend is no bubble or mirage.
The most basic reason is that the fundamental underlying technology has matured in a way it simply hadn’t a decade ago. In 2009, the levelized cost of solar photovoltaic electricity was $359 per megawatt-hour — more than four times as expensive as electricity from a natural gas plant. By 2019, solar PV had fallen in price to $40 per megawatt-hour, 28% cheaper than gas. That’s an 89% decline in 10 years, with more cost drops yet to come. Meanwhile, lithium-ion batteries have experienced a similar drop in prices.
That order-of-magnitude drop in costs makes all the difference. First of all, it means that solar and wind aren’t risky new technologies. Solyndra, a solar manufacturer, failed in 2011 because it was trying to market an innovative new kind of solar cell, which ended up being too expensive when the tried-and-true design came down in cost. Future investments in solar won’t have to bet on any difficult technological breakthroughs. Batteries might be a different story — lots of money is being thrown at startups trying to create solid-state batteries, which would be a true breakthrough. But Tesla Inc. is doing just fine with the old kind, so that sector is probably going to do OK as well. Venture investing does well when it doesn’t have to bet on “hard tech”, and much of clean tech is no longer hard.
Second, cost drops in clean energy mean that success doesn’t depend on government intervention. In the earlier boom, fickle government subsidies were often necessary for capital-intensive energy companies to succeed. Now, even though President Joe Biden is planning a big push into clean-energy investment, the market is investing quite a lot in renewables all on its own.
Finally, investors have probably learned their lesson. Clean energy itself was never a good fit for venture. It’s capital intensive, since buying solar panels and wind turbines entails a lot of money up front; venture capital tends to focus on cheap, small investments that scale. And instead of companies creating highly differentiated products and new markets, as in software, clean electricity companies are basically all trying to provide the same commodified product.
This time around, venture capitalists are letting bigger investors handle the build out of solar and wind, and finding other niches where low-cost, differentiated startups can add value — such as solar services and financing, lab-grown meat and electric vehicles. Some of those bets are certainly going to fail, but that’s always the case in private equity. The success of Tesla — now with a market cap of almost $700 billion, or 28 times the amount that was lost in the clean-tech bust — demonstrates the time-honored principle that a few big hits can compensate for a lot of little failures.
In other words, clean tech is entering the final stage of the famous Gartner Hype Cycle — a pattern that describes the progression of emerging technologies and business models, starting with an innovation that sees expectations climb and then crash, before they finally rise again to sustained productivity. The clean-tech bust, like the dot-com bust in 2000, was a case of investor enthusiasm for a new technology outstripping the technology itself. But just as few today would question the value of companies like Google and Facebook that came into their own during a trough in investor enthusiasm, eventually the value of clean technology won’t be in question.
According to the author, which of the following is NOT a feature of venture investing?
I. Venture investing generally thrives when the decisions are not contingent on technological breakthroughs.
II. Venture capitalists largely invest in low-risk endeavours.
III. Venture capitalists focus on cheap, small investments that are scalable.
IV. Venture capitalists do not invest in established technology companies that have achieved economies of scale.
Read the passage carefully and answer the following questions:
Over the last decade, an increasingly confident right wing has presented disillusioned voters with a simple choice: elitist, neoliberal hyper-globalisation or popular, patriotic nationalism. This new fault-line pits economic and social liberalism against social conservatism and the promise of muscular economic intervention. Despite the defeat of Donald Trump in 2020, progressives have yet to find a strategy to combat this potent—if false—divide.
The traditional right-left dividing line—economic liberalism and social conservatism on the right, economic interventionism and social liberalism on the left—forced working-class nationalists to choose between their socially conservative instincts (including hostility to immigration) and their support for state intervention in the economy. In essence, they had to decide which liberalism—social or economic—to reject.
The 2016 Brexit referendum freed such voters from this restraint—and it certainly set back the old liberal order. But despite many jumping to the conclusion that fervent nationalism explained the whole Brexit phenomenon, it was not clear which liberalism was being rejected. Many of the towns that repudiated the EU were voting just as much against the deindustrialisation that took place during the years Britain was in the EU as they were voting to restore a supposedly Edenic 1950s. Back in the conventional world of parliamentary elections, in 2017 Labour’s anti-neoliberal economic programme under Jeremy Corbyn added 3.5m votes to its 2015 general election tally. But by 2019, identity trumped economics—on which the Tories, Labour's opponents, had anyway begun to change their tune under Boris Johnson—and the red wall crumbled.
The British right was not alone in affecting to spurn both liberalisms. From Warsaw via Workington to Wisconsin, working-class voters received promises from right-wing populists that their economic interests would not be sacrificed on the altar of neoliberalism. Poland’s Law and Justice Party adopted an economic and social programme that would win over “left-behind” Poles. Marine Le Pen’s National Front professed to abandon its fascist past and moved the spotlight onto protecting French industry. Johnson committed his party to an interventionist “levelling-up” agenda. And Trump promised industrial protection against overseas competition, as well as the biggest programme of public works since the New Deal.
This new fault-line not only redrew the political map: it fractured the old consensus around core democratic values—stretching from right to left—that had existed since the Second World War. These values were rooted in the French Revolution and European Enlightenment and comprised an alliance of liberty, equality and solidarity, which could accommodate Christian Democrats, liberals, social democrats and orthodox socialists, albeit in different proportions.
The nationalist far-right rejects these values. Echoing the rhetorical tropes of anti-democratic forces from the interwar years, populists like Trump promote conspiracy theories in which liberal politicians plot to destroy national sovereignty in the interests of global financial capital. A politics of demonisation, exclusion and “othering” has seeped into mainstream right-wing parties. In the United States, it culminated in Trump’s incitement of his supporters to storm the Capitol on 6th January to overturn the result of the 2020 election.
In a recent essay, Timothy Garton Ash argues that “liberals need to join both conservatives and socialists in full-heartedly embracing the value of solidarity.” But for intellectual conservatives like the late Roger Scruton (whom Garton Ash quotes) as well as chauvinist politicians—like Trump, Le Pen, Viktor Orbán and the Italian League’s Matteo Salvini—solidarity always has to rely on an inherently exclusionary notion of identity: we’re who we are because you’re not. Progressive social solidarity is, by contrast, accepting of difference. However, socialists and liberals have much in common in the battle against the far right: together, they can build on the social gains of the Harold Wilson and Tony Blair governments, allying around social and political liberty as well as the economics of equality.
Which of the following statements can be inferred from the passage?
Read the passage carefully and answer the following questions:
Over the last decade, an increasingly confident right wing has presented disillusioned voters with a simple choice: elitist, neoliberal hyper-globalisation or popular, patriotic nationalism. This new fault-line pits economic and social liberalism against social conservatism and the promise of muscular economic intervention. Despite the defeat of Donald Trump in 2020, progressives have yet to find a strategy to combat this potent—if false—divide.
The traditional right-left dividing line—economic liberalism and social conservatism on the right, economic interventionism and social liberalism on the left—forced working-class nationalists to choose between their socially conservative instincts (including hostility to immigration) and their support for state intervention in the economy. In essence, they had to decide which liberalism—social or economic—to reject.
The 2016 Brexit referendum freed such voters from this restraint—and it certainly set back the old liberal order. But despite many jumping to the conclusion that fervent nationalism explained the whole Brexit phenomenon, it was not clear which liberalism was being rejected. Many of the towns that repudiated the EU were voting just as much against the deindustrialisation that took place during the years Britain was in the EU as they were voting to restore a supposedly Edenic 1950s. Back in the conventional world of parliamentary elections, in 2017 Labour’s anti-neoliberal economic programme under Jeremy Corbyn added 3.5m votes to its 2015 general election tally. But by 2019, identity trumped economics—on which the Tories, Labour's opponents, had anyway begun to change their tune under Boris Johnson—and the red wall crumbled.
The British right was not alone in affecting to spurn both liberalisms. From Warsaw via Workington to Wisconsin, working-class voters received promises from right-wing populists that their economic interests would not be sacrificed on the altar of neoliberalism. Poland’s Law and Justice Party adopted an economic and social programme that would win over “left-behind” Poles. Marine Le Pen’s National Front professed to abandon its fascist past and moved the spotlight onto protecting French industry. Johnson committed his party to an interventionist “levelling-up” agenda. And Trump promised industrial protection against overseas competition, as well as the biggest programme of public works since the New Deal.
This new fault-line not only redrew the political map: it fractured the old consensus around core democratic values—stretching from right to left—that had existed since the Second World War. These values were rooted in the French Revolution and European Enlightenment and comprised an alliance of liberty, equality and solidarity, which could accommodate Christian Democrats, liberals, social democrats and orthodox socialists, albeit in different proportions.
The nationalist far-right rejects these values. Echoing the rhetorical tropes of anti-democratic forces from the interwar years, populists like Trump promote conspiracy theories in which liberal politicians plot to destroy national sovereignty in the interests of global financial capital. A politics of demonisation, exclusion and “othering” has seeped into mainstream right-wing parties. In the United States, it culminated in Trump’s incitement of his supporters to storm the Capitol on 6th January to overturn the result of the 2020 election.
In a recent essay, Timothy Garton Ash argues that “liberals need to join both conservatives and socialists in full-heartedly embracing the value of solidarity.” But for intellectual conservatives like the late Roger Scruton (whom Garton Ash quotes) as well as chauvinist politicians—like Trump, Le Pen, Viktor Orbán and the Italian League’s Matteo Salvini—solidarity always has to rely on an inherently exclusionary notion of identity: we’re who we are because you’re not. Progressive social solidarity is, by contrast, accepting of difference. However, socialists and liberals have much in common in the battle against the far right: together, they can build on the social gains of the Harold Wilson and Tony Blair governments, allying around social and political liberty as well as the economics of equality.
How is the modern-day right-wing(MPRW) ideology different from the traditional right-wing(TRW) ideology?
Read the passage carefully and answer the following questions:
Over the last decade, an increasingly confident right wing has presented disillusioned voters with a simple choice: elitist, neoliberal hyper-globalisation or popular, patriotic nationalism. This new fault-line pits economic and social liberalism against social conservatism and the promise of muscular economic intervention. Despite the defeat of Donald Trump in 2020, progressives have yet to find a strategy to combat this potent—if false—divide.
The traditional right-left dividing line—economic liberalism and social conservatism on the right, economic interventionism and social liberalism on the left—forced working-class nationalists to choose between their socially conservative instincts (including hostility to immigration) and their support for state intervention in the economy. In essence, they had to decide which liberalism—social or economic—to reject.
The 2016 Brexit referendum freed such voters from this restraint—and it certainly set back the old liberal order. But despite many jumping to the conclusion that fervent nationalism explained the whole Brexit phenomenon, it was not clear which liberalism was being rejected. Many of the towns that repudiated the EU were voting just as much against the deindustrialisation that took place during the years Britain was in the EU as they were voting to restore a supposedly Edenic 1950s. Back in the conventional world of parliamentary elections, in 2017 Labour’s anti-neoliberal economic programme under Jeremy Corbyn added 3.5m votes to its 2015 general election tally. But by 2019, identity trumped economics—on which the Tories, Labour's opponents, had anyway begun to change their tune under Boris Johnson—and the red wall crumbled.
The British right was not alone in affecting to spurn both liberalisms. From Warsaw via Workington to Wisconsin, working-class voters received promises from right-wing populists that their economic interests would not be sacrificed on the altar of neoliberalism. Poland’s Law and Justice Party adopted an economic and social programme that would win over “left-behind” Poles. Marine Le Pen’s National Front professed to abandon its fascist past and moved the spotlight onto protecting French industry. Johnson committed his party to an interventionist “levelling-up” agenda. And Trump promised industrial protection against overseas competition, as well as the biggest programme of public works since the New Deal.
This new fault-line not only redrew the political map: it fractured the old consensus around core democratic values—stretching from right to left—that had existed since the Second World War. These values were rooted in the French Revolution and European Enlightenment and comprised an alliance of liberty, equality and solidarity, which could accommodate Christian Democrats, liberals, social democrats and orthodox socialists, albeit in different proportions.
The nationalist far-right rejects these values. Echoing the rhetorical tropes of anti-democratic forces from the interwar years, populists like Trump promote conspiracy theories in which liberal politicians plot to destroy national sovereignty in the interests of global financial capital. A politics of demonisation, exclusion and “othering” has seeped into mainstream right-wing parties. In the United States, it culminated in Trump’s incitement of his supporters to storm the Capitol on 6th January to overturn the result of the 2020 election.
In a recent essay, Timothy Garton Ash argues that “liberals need to join both conservatives and socialists in full-heartedly embracing the value of solidarity.” But for intellectual conservatives like the late Roger Scruton (whom Garton Ash quotes) as well as chauvinist politicians—like Trump, Le Pen, Viktor Orbán and the Italian League’s Matteo Salvini—solidarity always has to rely on an inherently exclusionary notion of identity: we’re who we are because you’re not. Progressive social solidarity is, by contrast, accepting of difference. However, socialists and liberals have much in common in the battle against the far right: together, they can build on the social gains of the Harold Wilson and Tony Blair governments, allying around social and political liberty as well as the economics of equality.
Which of the following statements is definitely TRUE according to the passage?
Read the passage carefully and answer the following questions:
Over the last decade, an increasingly confident right wing has presented disillusioned voters with a simple choice: elitist, neoliberal hyper-globalisation or popular, patriotic nationalism. This new fault-line pits economic and social liberalism against social conservatism and the promise of muscular economic intervention. Despite the defeat of Donald Trump in 2020, progressives have yet to find a strategy to combat this potent—if false—divide.
The traditional right-left dividing line—economic liberalism and social conservatism on the right, economic interventionism and social liberalism on the left—forced working-class nationalists to choose between their socially conservative instincts (including hostility to immigration) and their support for state intervention in the economy. In essence, they had to decide which liberalism—social or economic—to reject.
The 2016 Brexit referendum freed such voters from this restraint—and it certainly set back the old liberal order. But despite many jumping to the conclusion that fervent nationalism explained the whole Brexit phenomenon, it was not clear which liberalism was being rejected. Many of the towns that repudiated the EU were voting just as much against the deindustrialisation that took place during the years Britain was in the EU as they were voting to restore a supposedly Edenic 1950s. Back in the conventional world of parliamentary elections, in 2017 Labour’s anti-neoliberal economic programme under Jeremy Corbyn added 3.5m votes to its 2015 general election tally. But by 2019, identity trumped economics—on which the Tories, Labour's opponents, had anyway begun to change their tune under Boris Johnson—and the red wall crumbled.
The British right was not alone in affecting to spurn both liberalisms. From Warsaw via Workington to Wisconsin, working-class voters received promises from right-wing populists that their economic interests would not be sacrificed on the altar of neoliberalism. Poland’s Law and Justice Party adopted an economic and social programme that would win over “left-behind” Poles. Marine Le Pen’s National Front professed to abandon its fascist past and moved the spotlight onto protecting French industry. Johnson committed his party to an interventionist “levelling-up” agenda. And Trump promised industrial protection against overseas competition, as well as the biggest programme of public works since the New Deal.
This new fault-line not only redrew the political map: it fractured the old consensus around core democratic values—stretching from right to left—that had existed since the Second World War. These values were rooted in the French Revolution and European Enlightenment and comprised an alliance of liberty, equality and solidarity, which could accommodate Christian Democrats, liberals, social democrats and orthodox socialists, albeit in different proportions.
The nationalist far-right rejects these values. Echoing the rhetorical tropes of anti-democratic forces from the interwar years, populists like Trump promote conspiracy theories in which liberal politicians plot to destroy national sovereignty in the interests of global financial capital. A politics of demonisation, exclusion and “othering” has seeped into mainstream right-wing parties. In the United States, it culminated in Trump’s incitement of his supporters to storm the Capitol on 6th January to overturn the result of the 2020 election.
In a recent essay, Timothy Garton Ash argues that “liberals need to join both conservatives and socialists in full-heartedly embracing the value of solidarity.” But for intellectual conservatives like the late Roger Scruton (whom Garton Ash quotes) as well as chauvinist politicians—like Trump, Le Pen, Viktor Orbán and the Italian League’s Matteo Salvini—solidarity always has to rely on an inherently exclusionary notion of identity: we’re who we are because you’re not. Progressive social solidarity is, by contrast, accepting of difference. However, socialists and liberals have much in common in the battle against the far right: together, they can build on the social gains of the Harold Wilson and Tony Blair governments, allying around social and political liberty as well as the economics of equality.
According to the passage, which of the following is NOT a strategy adopted by the right-wing populists?
The passage given below is followed by four summaries. Choose the option that best captures the author’s position.
Language bias in academia is something that researchers have been facing for a long time. Not only are the vast majority of scientific papers published in English, the ‘correctness’ of English used in them is a factor that determines their acceptance into top journals—which, incidentally, also publish exclusively in English. It discourages non-English speaking researchers as it prioritizes the purity of the language over the content of their research. This also puts them at a disadvantage professionally, as they’re robbed of the most common, popular platforms that can further their research and careers. In addition, the overwhelming reliance on, and preference of, English favours only research that looks at the world in specific predisposed ways, brought on by the use of English, such as the tendency to prescribe indigenous knowledge as ‘folklore’ and not something that could have factual validity. It discounts anything that digresses from the norm, even when the information might be highly relevant and important.
The four sentences (labelled 1, 2, 3, 4) below, when properly sequenced would yield a coherent paragraph. Decide on the proper sequencing of the order of the sentences and key in the sequence of the four numbers as your answer:
1. This holds troubling implications for freedom of expression and the right to information.
2. However, Electronics and IT Minister Ravi Shankar Prasad, while launching The Information Technology Rules, 2021, presented it as a “soft-touch oversight mechanism”, and it also claimed the rules seek to “address people’s varied concerns while removing any misapprehension about curbing creativity and freedom of speech and expression”.
3. The soft tone notwithstanding, these rules force digital news publishers and video streaming services to adhere to a cumbersome three-tier structure of regulation, with a government committee at its apex.
4. The new rules introduced by the Centre last week to regulate all types of digital platforms, with the idea of redressing user grievances and ensuring compliance with the law, are deeply unsettling as they will end up giving the government a good deal of leverage over online news publishers and intermediaries.
The four sentences (labelled 1, 2, 3, 4) below, when properly sequenced would yield a coherent paragraph. Decide on the proper sequencing of the order of the sentences and key in the sequence of the four numbers as your answer:
1. The church prohibited the eating of eggs during Holy Week, but chickens continued to lay eggs during that week, and the notion of especially identifying those as Holy Week eggs brought about their decoration.
2. The tradition of dyeing and decorating Easter eggs is ancient, and its origin is obscure, but it has been practised in both the Eastern Orthodox and the Western churches since the Middle Ages.
3. The egg itself became a symbol of the Resurrection.
4. Just as Jesus rose from the tomb, the egg symbolized new life emerging from the eggshell.
Five sentences related to a topic are given below. Four of them can be put together to form a meaningful and coherent short paragraph. Identify the odd one out.
1. Gaura Devi led 27 of the village women to the site and confronted the loggers.
2. On 26 March 2018, a Chipko movement conservation initiative was marked by Google Doodle on its 45th anniversary.
3. On 25 March 1974, the day the lumbermen were to cut the trees, the men of Reni village and DGSS workers were in Chamoli, diverted by the state government and contractors to a fictional compensation payment site, while back home labourers arrived by the truckload to start logging operations.
4. When all talking failed, and the loggers started to shout and abuse the women, threatening them with guns, the women resorted to hugging the trees to stop them from being felled.
5. A local girl, on seeing them, rushed to inform Gaura Devi, the head of the village Mahila Mangal Dal, at Reni village.
Five sentences related to a topic are given below. Four of them can be put together to form a meaningful and coherent short paragraph. Identify the odd one out.
1. Recently, however, the Chinese room experiment has goaded me into dwelling on the limits of human cognition.
2. John Searle concocted the Chinese room experiment to convince us that computers don’t really “think” as we do; they manipulate symbols mindlessly, without understanding what they are doing.
3. We humans can be pretty mindless too, even when engaged in a pursuit as lofty as quantum physics.
4. Computer pioneer Alan Turing proposed in 1950 that questions be fed to a machine and a human.
5. Searle meant to make a point about the limits of machine cognition.
Directions: Identify the most appropriate summary for the paragraph and write the key for most appropriate option.
Feudalism represents a change from the ancient form of imperialism to the newer forms of European government. It arose out of the ruins of the Roman system as an essential form of social order. It appears to be the only system fitted to bring order out of the chaotic conditions of society, but by the very nature of affairs it could not long continue as an established system. It is rather surprising, indeed, that it became so universal, for every territory in Europe was subjected to its control in a greater or less degree. Frequently those who were forced to adopt its form condemned its principle, and those who sought to maintain the doctrine of Roman imperialism were subjected to its sway. The church itself, seeking to maintain its autocracy, came into direct contact with feudal theory and opposed it bitterly. The people who submitted to the yoke of personal bondage which it entailed hated the system. Yet the whole European world passed under feudalism. But notwithstanding its universality, feudalism could offer nothing permanent, for in the development of social order it was forced to yield to monarchy, although it made a lasting influence on social life and political and economic usage. (key in your answer option)
1. Feudalism, though extensively used in Europe to varying degrees of success, eventually outlives its usefulness and was replaced by monarchy.
2. What feudalism did to the ancient form of imperialism was done to it by monarchy, when it no longer could offer the benefits it once promised.
3. Feudalism, begrudgingly accepted by many parts of the European society, finally outlived its usefulness and found itself replaced by monarchy despite of its positives and near universal application in Europe.
4. Feudalism, accepted by some and resented by some others, took over Europe in a universal way before it found itself replaced by monarchy in a way similar to the one it which it replaced imperialism.
Cheapness and its cinematic markers, such as hand-held camera work and low or high-contrast light, aren’t themselves guarantors of a tone of artistic authenticity. In fact, they’re often misused by filmmakers short of inspiration as badges of sincerity that take the place of actual artistry. The theatrical realism of many older, ostensibly classic movies have dated terribly and reflect the very exclusions and compromises of the system that produced them. Only the ingenious exertions and inventions of a slender minority of great filmmakers could circumvent and override them. Yet, critics fetishize the styles of studio-era movies and take them for an enduring and immutable aesthetic standard – as if, with an appreciation of Shakespeare came a comparable fixation on lesser Elizabethans and a disdain for latter-day dramatists for not writing in iambic pentameter.
The four sentences (labelled 1, 2, 3, and 4) below, when properly sequenced, would yield a coherent paragraph. Decide on the proper sequencing of the order of the sentences and key in the sequence of the four numbers as your answer:
1. However, such unbridled advancements have also escalated global issues like climate change, resource depletion, and significant socio-economic disparities.
2. The 21st century has been heralded as an era of technological marvels, transforming every facet of human life with unprecedented innovations.
3. These challenges necessitate a reconfiguration of global priorities towards sustainability and equitable progress, demanding collaborative, not isolated, innovation.
4. Consequently, the narrative of development has increasingly become a balancing act between embracing technological growth and acknowledging its consequential perils.
A lock is guarded by a security code that serves as the password. The code is in the following form:
Where a, b, c, d and g are numbers and e, f are alphabets. The following information is also known about the respective characters:
1. 'a' is a prime number from 1 to 10.
2. The 2-digit number 'bc' is also a prime number such that b = a + 1.
3. 'd' = 'bc' % 'a', that is, d is the remainder when the 2-digit number 'bc' is divided by 'a'.
4. 'e' is the alphabet at the index of n, alphabet[n], where n is the highest number of occurrences of any digit(0 to 9) among a,b,c,d. Here,alphabet[1] = A, alphabet[2] = B,..., alphabet[26] = Z.
5. 'f' is the alphabet either preceding or succeeding the alphabet 'e' when all English alphabets are arranged alphabetically.
6. 'g' is the remainder when the sum of digits a, b, c and d is divided by 10. g = (a+b+c+d)%10.
Based on the information given above, answer the questions that follow.
If we consider all possible codes, which digit(0 to 9) does not occur even once in any of the codes? Enter -1 if all 10 digits appear at least once in any of the codes.
A lock is guarded by a security code that serves as the password. The code is in the following form:
Where a, b, c, d and g are numbers and e, f are alphabets. The following information is also known about the respective characters:
1. 'a' is a prime number from 1 to 10.
2. The 2-digit number 'bc' is also a prime number such that b = a + 1.
3. 'd' = 'bc' % 'a', that is, d is the remainder when the 2-digit number 'bc' is divided by 'a'.
4. 'e' is the alphabet at the index of n, alphabet[n], where n is the highest number of occurrences of any digit(0 to 9) among a,b,c,d. Here,alphabet[1] = A, alphabet[2] = B,..., alphabet[26] = Z.
5. 'f' is the alphabet either preceding or succeeding the alphabet 'e' when all English alphabets are arranged alphabetically.
6. 'g' is the remainder when the sum of digits a, b, c and d is divided by 10. g = (a+b+c+d)%10.
Based on the information given above, answer the questions that follow.
If we consider all possible codes, how many distinct alphabets appear at least once in any of the codes?
A lock is guarded by a security code that serves as the password. The code is in the following form:
Where a, b, c, d and g are numbers and e, f are alphabets. The following information is also known about the respective characters:
1. 'a' is a prime number from 1 to 10.
2. The 2-digit number 'bc' is also a prime number such that b = a + 1.
3. 'd' = 'bc' % 'a', that is, d is the remainder when the 2-digit number 'bc' is divided by 'a'.
4. 'e' is the alphabet at the index of n, alphabet[n], where n is the highest number of occurrences of any digit(0 to 9) among a,b,c,d. Here,alphabet[1] = A, alphabet[2] = B,..., alphabet[26] = Z.
5. 'f' is the alphabet either preceding or succeeding the alphabet 'e' when all English alphabets are arranged alphabetically.
6. 'g' is the remainder when the sum of digits a, b, c and d is divided by 10. g = (a+b+c+d)%10.
Based on the information given above, answer the questions that follow.
How many codes are possible?
A lock is guarded by a security code that serves as the password. The code is in the following form:
Where a, b, c, d and g are numbers and e, f are alphabets. The following information is also known about the respective characters:
1. 'a' is a prime number from 1 to 10.
2. The 2-digit number 'bc' is also a prime number such that b = a + 1.
3. 'd' = 'bc' % 'a', that is, d is the remainder when the 2-digit number 'bc' is divided by 'a'.
4. 'e' is the alphabet at the index of n, alphabet[n], where n is the highest number of occurrences of any digit(0 to 9) among a,b,c,d. Here,alphabet[1] = A, alphabet[2] = B,..., alphabet[26] = Z.
5. 'f' is the alphabet either preceding or succeeding the alphabet 'e' when all English alphabets are arranged alphabetically.
6. 'g' is the remainder when the sum of digits a, b, c and d is divided by 10. g = (a+b+c+d)%10.
Based on the information given above, answer the questions that follow.
If it is given that no vowel can be used as an alphabet and no digit should be a multiple of 4, how many codes are possible?
60 students were shortlisted for their Personal Interview by the Indian School of Management. But the interview process was to be conducted online and hence students were sent the KOOM meeting link for the same. All the 60 students were to join the KOOM common room at 9:00 AM sharp and then the admission co-ordinators would send in a certain number of students to different waiting rooms- X, Y and Z prior to their one on one interviews with the panellists. There were 3 panellists- A, B and C who were conducting interviews for the candidates waiting in the rooms X, Y and Z respectively. The capacity for the waiting rooms X, Y and Z were 5, 10 and 15 respectively.
The 60 students were given a rank from 1 to 60 based on their composite score and it is known that no two students got the same score. To start off the interviews, the ones with top 5 ranks are sent to panellist A. The 10 below them are sent to B and students ranked 16 to 30 were sent to C. When the last person from the waiting room X, Y and Z gives an interview, the next set of students are immediately sent to the waiting room as soon as the interview gets over and the priority is maintained as students with higher ranks are sent to X, Y and Z respectively if the interviews of the previous batch end simultaneously.
It is known that:
1. Panellist A takes an interview for 15 minutes and takes a break of 5 minutes only after interviewing 3 candidates
2. Panellist B takes an interview for 10 minutes and takes a break of 5 minutes after interviewing 5 students.
3. Panellist C takes an interview of 5 minutes and takes a break of 5 minutes after interviewing 4 students.
4. Lunch break is scheduled between 12:00 noon to 12:30 PM and students are not cut abruptly if their interview began before 12:00 noon, i.e. the interviewers take the break only after finishing the interview if it started before 12:00 noon.
5. Batches of 5, 10 and 15 students enter the waiting room together such that students who enter the waiting room at a time have continuous ranks. For example, if the interviewer X is ending up the interview of the last student from the previous batch, 5 students with continuous ranks (say 21-25) enter the waiting room X together.
6. Students allotted to a particular waiting room is only interviewed by the designated interviewer and is not interviewed by anyone else even if the other interviewer is free.
7. If panellist A goes into the lunch break after having interviewed 1 student, he will again take his 5 minute break after interviewing 2 students post the lunch break so as to satisfy the condition 1 always. The same applies for panellist B and C who follow conditions 2 and 3 respectively.
When does interviewer B finish his last interview?
60 students were shortlisted for their Personal Interview by the Indian School of Management. But the interview process was to be conducted online and hence students were sent the KOOM meeting link for the same. All the 60 students were to join the KOOM common room at 9:00 AM sharp and then the admission co-ordinators would send in a certain number of students to different waiting rooms- X, Y and Z prior to their one on one interviews with the panellists. There were 3 panellists- A, B and C who were conducting interviews for the candidates waiting in the rooms X, Y and Z respectively. The capacity for the waiting rooms X, Y and Z were 5, 10 and 15 respectively.
The 60 students were given a rank from 1 to 60 based on their composite score and it is known that no two students got the same score. To start off the interviews, the ones with top 5 ranks are sent to panellist A. The 10 below them are sent to B and students ranked 16 to 30 were sent to C. When the last person from the waiting room X, Y and Z gives an interview, the next set of students are immediately sent to the waiting room as soon as the interview gets over and the priority is maintained as students with higher ranks are sent to X, Y and Z respectively if the interviews of the previous batch end simultaneously.
It is known that:
1. Panellist A takes an interview for 15 minutes and takes a break of 5 minutes only after interviewing 3 candidates
2. Panellist B takes an interview for 10 minutes and takes a break of 5 minutes after interviewing 5 students.
3. Panellist C takes an interview of 5 minutes and takes a break of 5 minutes after interviewing 4 students.
4. Lunch break is scheduled between 12:00 noon to 12:30 PM and students are not cut abruptly if their interview began before 12:00 noon, i.e. the interviewers take the break only after finishing the interview if it started before 12:00 noon.
5. Batches of 5, 10 and 15 students enter the waiting room together such that students who enter the waiting room at a time have continuous ranks. For example, if the interviewer X is ending up the interview of the last student from the previous batch, 5 students with continuous ranks (say 21-25) enter the waiting room X together.
6. Students allotted to a particular waiting room is only interviewed by the designated interviewer and is not interviewed by anyone else even if the other interviewer is free.
7. If panellist A goes into the lunch break after having interviewed 1 student, he will again take his 5 minute break after interviewing 2 students post the lunch break so as to satisfy the condition 1 always. The same applies for panellist B and C who follow conditions 2 and 3 respectively.
Which of the following ranked students was interviewed by panellist C?
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