CLAT Practice Test- 30 - CLAT MCQ
30 Questions MCQ Test - CLAT Practice Test- 30
Poetry is an art form that has survived for thousands and thousands of years. We study it in school, and we hear quotes from poems scattered throughout our life.
But do we ever truly make meaning of it? Does it even matter? My answer to you is yes it does. Reading poetry and or writing poetry can drastically improve your life.
Poetry is one of the most powerful forms of writing because it takes the English language, a language we believe we know, and transforms it. The pattern of the sentences sounds new and melodious. It is truly another language exclusively for the writer and the reader. No poem can be read in the same way, because the words mean something different to each of us. For this reason, many find poetry an elusive art form. However, the issue in understanding poetry lies in how you read poetry.
Anyone who writes poetry can attest, you have to write it with an open heart. So, as a reader, we must do the same. Opening your heart to poetry is the only way to get fulfillment from it.
From a writer's perspective, writing poetry can be equally elusive as reading poetry. When I first started writing poetry, the advice I always heard was practice, find your voice, keep a journal. I did all these things but still my poems were flat and inert. What was I missing? I poured over poems by Angelou, Shakespeare, Austen, and Wilde looking for a pattern, something I could emulate. This was the problem. I was unwilling to open my heart. I thought poetry could be a mask I could craft. But no matter how beautiful I made it; it would never come to life. It would never fit on another person's face. It did not ever fit on mine.
My first poem that came alive was written in the dark late at night. Vulnerability was the key. Poetry is about expressing those thoughts and feelings we keep the most suppressed. We must be honest with ourselves about what we feel in order to write anything worth reading. It's stopping and grabbing a thought by the tail and pulling it up into our conscious mind. It's trying to express the beauty, and wonder we see. It's about connecting our hearts and our minds to ourselves and our surroundings.
It's about finding peace.
So, reach for the pen, and let go of those things that have been burdening your freedom. Read poetry with your heart and let it affect you. The answer to our questions about the meaning of life, and the purpose of pain were written in poems. They have always been there.
Q. Which of the following best describes the writing style of the author?
Poetry is an art form that has survived for thousands and thousands of years. We study it in school, and we hear quotes from poems scattered throughout our life.
But do we ever truly make meaning of it? Does it even matter? My answer to you is yes it does. Reading poetry and or writing poetry can drastically improve your life.
Poetry is one of the most powerful forms of writing because it takes the English language, a language we believe we know, and transforms it. The pattern of the sentences sounds new and melodious. It is truly another language exclusively for the writer and the reader. No poem can be read in the same way, because the words mean something different to each of us. For this reason, many find poetry an elusive art form. However, the issue in understanding poetry lies in how you read poetry.
Anyone who writes poetry can attest, you have to write it with an open heart. So, as a reader, we must do the same. Opening your heart to poetry is the only way to get fulfillment from it.
From a writer's perspective, writing poetry can be equally elusive as reading poetry. When I first started writing poetry, the advice I always heard was practice, find your voice, keep a journal. I did all these things but still my poems were flat and inert. What was I missing? I poured over poems by Angelou, Shakespeare, Austen, and Wilde looking for a pattern, something I could emulate. This was the problem. I was unwilling to open my heart. I thought poetry could be a mask I could craft. But no matter how beautiful I made it; it would never come to life. It would never fit on another person's face. It did not ever fit on mine.
My first poem that came alive was written in the dark late at night. Vulnerability was the key. Poetry is about expressing those thoughts and feelings we keep the most suppressed. We must be honest with ourselves about what we feel in order to write anything worth reading. It's stopping and grabbing a thought by the tail and pulling it up into our conscious mind. It's trying to express the beauty, and wonder we see. It's about connecting our hearts and our minds to ourselves and our surroundings.
It's about finding peace.
So, reach for the pen, and let go of those things that have been burdening your freedom. Read poetry with your heart and let it affect you. The answer to our questions about the meaning of life, and the purpose of pain were written in poems. They have always been there.
Q. Which of the following is required to realize the true essence of poetry?
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Poetry is an art form that has survived for thousands and thousands of years. We study it in school, and we hear quotes from poems scattered throughout our life.
But do we ever truly make meaning of it? Does it even matter? My answer to you is yes it does. Reading poetry and or writing poetry can drastically improve your life.
Poetry is one of the most powerful forms of writing because it takes the English language, a language we believe we know, and transforms it. The pattern of the sentences sounds new and melodious. It is truly another language exclusively for the writer and the reader. No poem can be read in the same way, because the words mean something different to each of us. For this reason, many find poetry an elusive art form. However, the issue in understanding poetry lies in how you read poetry.
Anyone who writes poetry can attest, you have to write it with an open heart. So, as a reader, we must do the same. Opening your heart to poetry is the only way to get fulfillment from it.
From a writer's perspective, writing poetry can be equally elusive as reading poetry. When I first started writing poetry, the advice I always heard was practice, find your voice, keep a journal. I did all these things but still my poems were flat and inert. What was I missing? I poured over poems by Angelou, Shakespeare, Austen, and Wilde looking for a pattern, something I could emulate. This was the problem. I was unwilling to open my heart. I thought poetry could be a mask I could craft. But no matter how beautiful I made it; it would never come to life. It would never fit on another person's face. It did not ever fit on mine.
My first poem that came alive was written in the dark late at night. Vulnerability was the key. Poetry is about expressing those thoughts and feelings we keep the most suppressed. We must be honest with ourselves about what we feel in order to write anything worth reading. It's stopping and grabbing a thought by the tail and pulling it up into our conscious mind. It's trying to express the beauty, and wonder we see. It's about connecting our hearts and our minds to ourselves and our surroundings.
It's about finding peace.
So, reach for the pen, and let go of those things that have been burdening your freedom. Read poetry with your heart and let it affect you. The answer to our questions about the meaning of life, and the purpose of pain were written in poems. They have always been there.
Q. According to the writer, what makes a poem worth reading?
Poetry is an art form that has survived for thousands and thousands of years. We study it in school, and we hear quotes from poems scattered throughout our life.
But do we ever truly make meaning of it? Does it even matter? My answer to you is yes it does. Reading poetry and or writing poetry can drastically improve your life.
Poetry is one of the most powerful forms of writing because it takes the English language, a language we believe we know, and transforms it. The pattern of the sentences sounds new and melodious. It is truly another language exclusively for the writer and the reader. No poem can be read in the same way, because the words mean something different to each of us. For this reason, many find poetry an elusive art form. However, the issue in understanding poetry lies in how you read poetry.
Anyone who writes poetry can attest, you have to write it with an open heart. So, as a reader, we must do the same. Opening your heart to poetry is the only way to get fulfillment from it.
From a writer's perspective, writing poetry can be equally elusive as reading poetry. When I first started writing poetry, the advice I always heard was practice, find your voice, keep a journal. I did all these things but still my poems were flat and inert. What was I missing? I poured over poems by Angelou, Shakespeare, Austen, and Wilde looking for a pattern, something I could emulate. This was the problem. I was unwilling to open my heart. I thought poetry could be a mask I could craft. But no matter how beautiful I made it; it would never come to life. It would never fit on another person's face. It did not ever fit on mine.
My first poem that came alive was written in the dark late at night. Vulnerability was the key. Poetry is about expressing those thoughts and feelings we keep the most suppressed. We must be honest with ourselves about what we feel in order to write anything worth reading. It's stopping and grabbing a thought by the tail and pulling it up into our conscious mind. It's trying to express the beauty, and wonder we see. It's about connecting our hearts and our minds to ourselves and our surroundings.
It's about finding peace.
So, reach for the pen, and let go of those things that have been burdening your freedom. Read poetry with your heart and let it affect you. The answer to our questions about the meaning of life, and the purpose of pain were written in poems. They have always been there.
Q. As mentioned in the passage, "nuances" most nearly means
Poetry is an art form that has survived for thousands and thousands of years. We study it in school, and we hear quotes from poems scattered throughout our life.
But do we ever truly make meaning of it? Does it even matter? My answer to you is yes it does. Reading poetry and or writing poetry can drastically improve your life.
Poetry is one of the most powerful forms of writing because it takes the English language, a language we believe we know, and transforms it. The pattern of the sentences sounds new and melodious. It is truly another language exclusively for the writer and the reader. No poem can be read in the same way, because the words mean something different to each of us. For this reason, many find poetry an elusive art form. However, the issue in understanding poetry lies in how you read poetry.
Anyone who writes poetry can attest, you have to write it with an open heart. So, as a reader, we must do the same. Opening your heart to poetry is the only way to get fulfillment from it.
From a writer's perspective, writing poetry can be equally elusive as reading poetry. When I first started writing poetry, the advice I always heard was practice, find your voice, keep a journal. I did all these things but still my poems were flat and inert. What was I missing? I poured over poems by Angelou, Shakespeare, Austen, and Wilde looking for a pattern, something I could emulate. This was the problem. I was unwilling to open my heart. I thought poetry could be a mask I could craft. But no matter how beautiful I made it; it would never come to life. It would never fit on another person's face. It did not ever fit on mine.
My first poem that came alive was written in the dark late at night. Vulnerability was the key. Poetry is about expressing those thoughts and feelings we keep the most suppressed. We must be honest with ourselves about what we feel in order to write anything worth reading. It's stopping and grabbing a thought by the tail and pulling it up into our conscious mind. It's trying to express the beauty, and wonder we see. It's about connecting our hearts and our minds to ourselves and our surroundings.
It's about finding peace.
So, reach for the pen, and let go of those things that have been burdening your freedom. Read poetry with your heart and let it affect you. The answer to our questions about the meaning of life, and the purpose of pain were written in poems. They have always been there.
Q. Which of the following correctly mentions the demerit of emulating others in writing poetry?
British filmmaker Richard Curtis has written iconic popcultural classics like Mr. Bean, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Notting Hill and Bridget Jones's Diary. His directorial debut, Love Actually, remains a rare film that at once parodies, celebrates, and reclaims, storytelling's most bastardised genre. But Curtis' most accomplished movie has everything and nothing to do with his reputation as the King of (Romantic) Comedy.
About Time (2013), starring Irish actor Domhnall Gleeson in a breakthrough role, cleverly weaponises its maker's stature. It counts on the fact that we anticipate an innovative (buzzword: time travel) but typically breezy love story. But the girl-boy arc fades into the background, and the film subverts our expectations by instead morphing into a deeply contemplative and winning tragedy about human nature. Curtis virtually uses his own career as a smokescreen to transform About Time into an affecting ode to closure and its elastic relationship with time. Early in the film, a retired James (Bill Nighy) informs his son Tim, a boy on the verge of big-city adulthood, that the men of the family possess the power to travel back in time. Naturally, at first, Tim abuses this cosmic gift like any red-blooded, teething male hero would - to find, and refine, his pursuit of love. He meets Mary, an American girl, and manipulates time in a manner that compels her to fall for him. You'd imagine any writer at this point would be tempted to use time travel as the pivot to continue navigating the cross-cultural politics of companionship. But Curtis refrains from old-school gimmickry. He designs the narrative device as a trigger that forces Tim's conflict to be conceived in the personal chasm that separates selfishness from selflessness: The selfishness of love from the selflessness of family.
Tim's story gets us thinking: do some of us subconsciously fail to sustain romantic relationships because we're unwilling to snap that umbilical cord? Do we postpone marriage - a family, children, onwardness -to preserve the fading remnants of our family? To keep our history accessible? The film's lyrical circularity exposes an uncomfortable truth about life - that romance is inherently an act of self-preservation. That loving someone, often, is a mechanism aimed at leaving something - and some times - behind. We choose to get consumed by life so that its origins are exhumed no more. For every child Tim has, the more irrevocably he drifts away from his own childhood. Every birth is inextricably linked to his rebirth. For each milestone he crosses as a life partner, the rules of time travel - a cinematic allegory for the texture of remembrance - force him to live rather than relive. Love is, after all, the emotional manifestation of the precise moment the future decides to break up with the past.
Q. Which genre has been referred as to as the 'most bastardised genre' initially in the passage?
British filmmaker Richard Curtis has written iconic popcultural classics like Mr. Bean, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Notting Hill and Bridget Jones's Diary. His directorial debut, Love Actually, remains a rare film that at once parodies, celebrates, and reclaims, storytelling's most bastardised genre. But Curtis' most accomplished movie has everything and nothing to do with his reputation as the King of (Romantic) Comedy.
About Time (2013), starring Irish actor Domhnall Gleeson in a breakthrough role, cleverly weaponises its maker's stature. It counts on the fact that we anticipate an innovative (buzzword: time travel) but typically breezy love story. But the girl-boy arc fades into the background, and the film subverts our expectations by instead morphing into a deeply contemplative and winning tragedy about human nature. Curtis virtually uses his own career as a smokescreen to transform About Time into an affecting ode to closure and its elastic relationship with time. Early in the film, a retired James (Bill Nighy) informs his son Tim, a boy on the verge of big-city adulthood, that the men of the family possess the power to travel back in time. Naturally, at first, Tim abuses this cosmic gift like any red-blooded, teething male hero would - to find, and refine, his pursuit of love. He meets Mary, an American girl, and manipulates time in a manner that compels her to fall for him. You'd imagine any writer at this point would be tempted to use time travel as the pivot to continue navigating the cross-cultural politics of companionship. But Curtis refrains from old-school gimmickry. He designs the narrative device as a trigger that forces Tim's conflict to be conceived in the personal chasm that separates selfishness from selflessness: The selfishness of love from the selflessness of family.
Tim's story gets us thinking: do some of us subconsciously fail to sustain romantic relationships because we're unwilling to snap that umbilical cord? Do we postpone marriage - a family, children, onwardness -to preserve the fading remnants of our family? To keep our history accessible? The film's lyrical circularity exposes an uncomfortable truth about life - that romance is inherently an act of self-preservation. That loving someone, often, is a mechanism aimed at leaving something - and some times - behind. We choose to get consumed by life so that its origins are exhumed no more. For every child Tim has, the more irrevocably he drifts away from his own childhood. Every birth is inextricably linked to his rebirth. For each milestone he crosses as a life partner, the rules of time travel - a cinematic allegory for the texture of remembrance - force him to live rather than relive. Love is, after all, the emotional manifestation of the precise moment the future decides to break up with the past.
Q. How did Curtis refrain from following the usual story arc?
British filmmaker Richard Curtis has written iconic popcultural classics like Mr. Bean, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Notting Hill and Bridget Jones's Diary. His directorial debut, Love Actually, remains a rare film that at once parodies, celebrates, and reclaims, storytelling's most bastardised genre. But Curtis' most accomplished movie has everything and nothing to do with his reputation as the King of (Romantic) Comedy.
About Time (2013), starring Irish actor Domhnall Gleeson in a breakthrough role, cleverly weaponises its maker's stature. It counts on the fact that we anticipate an innovative (buzzword: time travel) but typically breezy love story. But the girl-boy arc fades into the background, and the film subverts our expectations by instead morphing into a deeply contemplative and winning tragedy about human nature. Curtis virtually uses his own career as a smokescreen to transform About Time into an affecting ode to closure and its elastic relationship with time. Early in the film, a retired James (Bill Nighy) informs his son Tim, a boy on the verge of big-city adulthood, that the men of the family possess the power to travel back in time. Naturally, at first, Tim abuses this cosmic gift like any red-blooded, teething male hero would - to find, and refine, his pursuit of love. He meets Mary, an American girl, and manipulates time in a manner that compels her to fall for him. You'd imagine any writer at this point would be tempted to use time travel as the pivot to continue navigating the cross-cultural politics of companionship. But Curtis refrains from old-school gimmickry. He designs the narrative device as a trigger that forces Tim's conflict to be conceived in the personal chasm that separates selfishness from selflessness: The selfishness of love from the selflessness of family.
Tim's story gets us thinking: do some of us subconsciously fail to sustain romantic relationships because we're unwilling to snap that umbilical cord? Do we postpone marriage - a family, children, onwardness -to preserve the fading remnants of our family? To keep our history accessible? The film's lyrical circularity exposes an uncomfortable truth about life - that romance is inherently an act of self-preservation. That loving someone, often, is a mechanism aimed at leaving something - and some times - behind. We choose to get consumed by life so that its origins are exhumed no more. For every child Tim has, the more irrevocably he drifts away from his own childhood. Every birth is inextricably linked to his rebirth. For each milestone he crosses as a life partner, the rules of time travel - a cinematic allegory for the texture of remembrance - force him to live rather than relive. Love is, after all, the emotional manifestation of the precise moment the future decides to break up with the past.
Q. 'Loving someone, often, is a mechanism aimed at leaving something'- Which of the following statements most appropriately justifies this point?
British filmmaker Richard Curtis has written iconic popcultural classics like Mr. Bean, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Notting Hill and Bridget Jones's Diary. His directorial debut, Love Actually, remains a rare film that at once parodies, celebrates, and reclaims, storytelling's most bastardised genre. But Curtis' most accomplished movie has everything and nothing to do with his reputation as the King of (Romantic) Comedy.
About Time (2013), starring Irish actor Domhnall Gleeson in a breakthrough role, cleverly weaponises its maker's stature. It counts on the fact that we anticipate an innovative (buzzword: time travel) but typically breezy love story. But the girl-boy arc fades into the background, and the film subverts our expectations by instead morphing into a deeply contemplative and winning tragedy about human nature. Curtis virtually uses his own career as a smokescreen to transform About Time into an affecting ode to closure and its elastic relationship with time. Early in the film, a retired James (Bill Nighy) informs his son Tim, a boy on the verge of big-city adulthood, that the men of the family possess the power to travel back in time. Naturally, at first, Tim abuses this cosmic gift like any red-blooded, teething male hero would - to find, and refine, his pursuit of love. He meets Mary, an American girl, and manipulates time in a manner that compels her to fall for him. You'd imagine any writer at this point would be tempted to use time travel as the pivot to continue navigating the cross-cultural politics of companionship. But Curtis refrains from old-school gimmickry. He designs the narrative device as a trigger that forces Tim's conflict to be conceived in the personal chasm that separates selfishness from selflessness: The selfishness of love from the selflessness of family.
Tim's story gets us thinking: do some of us subconsciously fail to sustain romantic relationships because we're unwilling to snap that umbilical cord? Do we postpone marriage - a family, children, onwardness -to preserve the fading remnants of our family? To keep our history accessible? The film's lyrical circularity exposes an uncomfortable truth about life - that romance is inherently an act of self-preservation. That loving someone, often, is a mechanism aimed at leaving something - and some times - behind. We choose to get consumed by life so that its origins are exhumed no more. For every child Tim has, the more irrevocably he drifts away from his own childhood. Every birth is inextricably linked to his rebirth. For each milestone he crosses as a life partner, the rules of time travel - a cinematic allegory for the texture of remembrance - force him to live rather than relive. Love is, after all, the emotional manifestation of the precise moment the future decides to break up with the past.
Q. As mentioned in the passage, the word "subverts" means
British filmmaker Richard Curtis has written iconic popcultural classics like Mr. Bean, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Notting Hill and Bridget Jones's Diary. His directorial debut, Love Actually, remains a rare film that at once parodies, celebrates, and reclaims, storytelling's most bastardised genre. But Curtis' most accomplished movie has everything and nothing to do with his reputation as the King of (Romantic) Comedy.
About Time (2013), starring Irish actor Domhnall Gleeson in a breakthrough role, cleverly weaponises its maker's stature. It counts on the fact that we anticipate an innovative (buzzword: time travel) but typically breezy love story. But the girl-boy arc fades into the background, and the film subverts our expectations by instead morphing into a deeply contemplative and winning tragedy about human nature. Curtis virtually uses his own career as a smokescreen to transform About Time into an affecting ode to closure and its elastic relationship with time. Early in the film, a retired James (Bill Nighy) informs his son Tim, a boy on the verge of big-city adulthood, that the men of the family possess the power to travel back in time. Naturally, at first, Tim abuses this cosmic gift like any red-blooded, teething male hero would - to find, and refine, his pursuit of love. He meets Mary, an American girl, and manipulates time in a manner that compels her to fall for him. You'd imagine any writer at this point would be tempted to use time travel as the pivot to continue navigating the cross-cultural politics of companionship. But Curtis refrains from old-school gimmickry. He designs the narrative device as a trigger that forces Tim's conflict to be conceived in the personal chasm that separates selfishness from selflessness: The selfishness of love from the selflessness of family.
Tim's story gets us thinking: do some of us subconsciously fail to sustain romantic relationships because we're unwilling to snap that umbilical cord? Do we postpone marriage - a family, children, onwardness -to preserve the fading remnants of our family? To keep our history accessible? The film's lyrical circularity exposes an uncomfortable truth about life - that romance is inherently an act of self-preservation. That loving someone, often, is a mechanism aimed at leaving something - and some times - behind. We choose to get consumed by life so that its origins are exhumed no more. For every child Tim has, the more irrevocably he drifts away from his own childhood. Every birth is inextricably linked to his rebirth. For each milestone he crosses as a life partner, the rules of time travel - a cinematic allegory for the texture of remembrance - force him to live rather than relive. Love is, after all, the emotional manifestation of the precise moment the future decides to break up with the past.
Q. 'Fortunately, he manages to be both selfless and selfish without compromising on the recipients of either trait.' What can be inferred from this line in the context of the passage?
Why on Earth is it taking so long for the world's richest countries to take action on climate change? For a partial answer, we can look back to the controversy that started a decade ago this November, which came to be known as Climategate. In a 2010 paper in the journal Environmental Values, the sociologist Brigitte Nerlich looked at what happened.
Climategate began with the leaking of emails sent to and from climate scientists at the University of East Anglia, in the UK. The leaked file included more than 1,000 emails, but climate skeptics quickly seized on just a few of them: some messages in which scientists debated the publication of potentially flawed work, and some others in which they discussed adjusting data using a "trick"-a piece of mathematical jargon that commentators misinterpreted as an effort to deceive the public.
In the U.S. and UK, conservative bloggers quickly latched onto the messages as proof of dishonesty among climate scientists. Nerlich writes that they effectively reached their audiences with a few specific phrases. One of these was the word "climategate" itself apparently first used by conservative UK writer James Delingpole. The -gate suffix, referring back to Watergate, is a familiar method used by partisans and members of the media to indicate a serious scandal.
Looking at the messaging in blog posts about climategate, Nerlich found that another common theme was "science as a religion." Climate change deniers accused environmentalists and scientists of irrationally clinging to their belief in human-made climate change in the face of what they saw as evidence that it was a hoax. "The Global Warming religion is as virulent and insidious as all mind-bending cults of absolute certitude, and yet it has become mainstream orthodoxy and infallible spirituality faster than any faith-based cult in history," as one blogger put it.
Nerlich notes that, when it comes to scientists' levels of certainty, climate change deniers wanted to have it both ways. Any hint of uncertainty-which is almost always a factor in scientific analyses, especially concerning predictions about complex systems-was presented as a reason not to believe that change was happening at all. But too much certainty became proof that scientists were no longer operating from evidence, but instead trying to justify a cult-like faith.
Ultimately, Climategate was shown to be a fabrication.
In April 2010, an independent panel cleared the climate scientists of any wrongdoing in the leaked messages.
Yet the controversy apparently succeeded in changing public opinion, at least temporarily. In February of 2010, the Guardian reported that, in the previous year, the proportion of British adults who believed that climate change was "definitely" a reality had dropped from 44 to 31 percent.
Q. In the second paragraph the author mentions "trick" in quotes in order to highlight that the adjusting of data was:
Why on Earth is it taking so long for the world's richest countries to take action on climate change? For a partial answer, we can look back to the controversy that started a decade ago this November, which came to be known as Climategate. In a 2010 paper in the journal Environmental Values, the sociologist Brigitte Nerlich looked at what happened.
Climategate began with the leaking of emails sent to and from climate scientists at the University of East Anglia, in the UK. The leaked file included more than 1,000 emails, but climate skeptics quickly seized on just a few of them: some messages in which scientists debated the publication of potentially flawed work, and some others in which they discussed adjusting data using a "trick"-a piece of mathematical jargon that commentators misinterpreted as an effort to deceive the public.
In the U.S. and UK, conservative bloggers quickly latched onto the messages as proof of dishonesty among climate scientists. Nerlich writes that they effectively reached their audiences with a few specific phrases. One of these was the word "climategate" itself apparently first used by conservative UK writer James Delingpole. The -gate suffix, referring back to Watergate, is a familiar method used by partisans and members of the media to indicate a serious scandal.
Looking at the messaging in blog posts about climategate, Nerlich found that another common theme was "science as a religion." Climate change deniers accused environmentalists and scientists of irrationally clinging to their belief in human-made climate change in the face of what they saw as evidence that it was a hoax. "The Global Warming religion is as virulent and insidious as all mind-bending cults of absolute certitude, and yet it has become mainstream orthodoxy and infallible spirituality faster than any faith-based cult in history," as one blogger put it.
Nerlich notes that, when it comes to scientists' levels of certainty, climate change deniers wanted to have it both ways. Any hint of uncertainty-which is almost always a factor in scientific analyses, especially concerning predictions about complex systems-was presented as a reason not to believe that change was happening at all. But too much certainty became proof that scientists were no longer operating from evidence, but instead trying to justify a cult-like faith.
Ultimately, Climategate was shown to be a fabrication.
In April 2010, an independent panel cleared the climate scientists of any wrongdoing in the leaked messages.
Yet the controversy apparently succeeded in changing public opinion, at least temporarily. In February of 2010, the Guardian reported that, in the previous year, the proportion of British adults who believed that climate change was "definitely" a reality had dropped from 44 to 31 percent.
Q. Why did the climate change deniers use the analogy of science as a religion?
Why on Earth is it taking so long for the world's richest countries to take action on climate change? For a partial answer, we can look back to the controversy that started a decade ago this November, which came to be known as Climategate. In a 2010 paper in the journal Environmental Values, the sociologist Brigitte Nerlich looked at what happened.
Climategate began with the leaking of emails sent to and from climate scientists at the University of East Anglia, in the UK. The leaked file included more than 1,000 emails, but climate skeptics quickly seized on just a few of them: some messages in which scientists debated the publication of potentially flawed work, and some others in which they discussed adjusting data using a "trick"-a piece of mathematical jargon that commentators misinterpreted as an effort to deceive the public.
In the U.S. and UK, conservative bloggers quickly latched onto the messages as proof of dishonesty among climate scientists. Nerlich writes that they effectively reached their audiences with a few specific phrases. One of these was the word "climategate" itself apparently first used by conservative UK writer James Delingpole. The -gate suffix, referring back to Watergate, is a familiar method used by partisans and members of the media to indicate a serious scandal.
Looking at the messaging in blog posts about climategate, Nerlich found that another common theme was "science as a religion." Climate change deniers accused environmentalists and scientists of irrationally clinging to their belief in human-made climate change in the face of what they saw as evidence that it was a hoax. "The Global Warming religion is as virulent and insidious as all mind-bending cults of absolute certitude, and yet it has become mainstream orthodoxy and infallible spirituality faster than any faith-based cult in history," as one blogger put it.
Nerlich notes that, when it comes to scientists' levels of certainty, climate change deniers wanted to have it both ways. Any hint of uncertainty-which is almost always a factor in scientific analyses, especially concerning predictions about complex systems-was presented as a reason not to believe that change was happening at all. But too much certainty became proof that scientists were no longer operating from evidence, but instead trying to justify a cult-like faith.
Ultimately, Climategate was shown to be a fabrication.
In April 2010, an independent panel cleared the climate scientists of any wrongdoing in the leaked messages.
Yet the controversy apparently succeeded in changing public opinion, at least temporarily. In February of 2010, the Guardian reported that, in the previous year, the proportion of British adults who believed that climate change was "definitely" a reality had dropped from 44 to 31 percent.
Q. Which one of the following can replace the phrase "absolute certitude" as used in the fourth paragraph?
Why on Earth is it taking so long for the world's richest countries to take action on climate change? For a partial answer, we can look back to the controversy that started a decade ago this November, which came to be known as Climategate. In a 2010 paper in the journal Environmental Values, the sociologist Brigitte Nerlich looked at what happened.
Climategate began with the leaking of emails sent to and from climate scientists at the University of East Anglia, in the UK. The leaked file included more than 1,000 emails, but climate skeptics quickly seized on just a few of them: some messages in which scientists debated the publication of potentially flawed work, and some others in which they discussed adjusting data using a "trick"-a piece of mathematical jargon that commentators misinterpreted as an effort to deceive the public.
In the U.S. and UK, conservative bloggers quickly latched onto the messages as proof of dishonesty among climate scientists. Nerlich writes that they effectively reached their audiences with a few specific phrases. One of these was the word "climategate" itself apparently first used by conservative UK writer James Delingpole. The -gate suffix, referring back to Watergate, is a familiar method used by partisans and members of the media to indicate a serious scandal.
Looking at the messaging in blog posts about climategate, Nerlich found that another common theme was "science as a religion." Climate change deniers accused environmentalists and scientists of irrationally clinging to their belief in human-made climate change in the face of what they saw as evidence that it was a hoax. "The Global Warming religion is as virulent and insidious as all mind-bending cults of absolute certitude, and yet it has become mainstream orthodoxy and infallible spirituality faster than any faith-based cult in history," as one blogger put it.
Nerlich notes that, when it comes to scientists' levels of certainty, climate change deniers wanted to have it both ways. Any hint of uncertainty-which is almost always a factor in scientific analyses, especially concerning predictions about complex systems-was presented as a reason not to believe that change was happening at all. But too much certainty became proof that scientists were no longer operating from evidence, but instead trying to justify a cult-like faith.
Ultimately, Climategate was shown to be a fabrication.
In April 2010, an independent panel cleared the climate scientists of any wrongdoing in the leaked messages.
Yet the controversy apparently succeeded in changing public opinion, at least temporarily. In February of 2010, the Guardian reported that, in the previous year, the proportion of British adults who believed that climate change was "definitely" a reality had dropped from 44 to 31 percent.
Q. Why did some of the conservative users add the suffix -gate in climategate?
Why on Earth is it taking so long for the world's richest countries to take action on climate change? For a partial answer, we can look back to the controversy that started a decade ago this November, which came to be known as Climategate. In a 2010 paper in the journal Environmental Values, the sociologist Brigitte Nerlich looked at what happened.
Climategate began with the leaking of emails sent to and from climate scientists at the University of East Anglia, in the UK. The leaked file included more than 1,000 emails, but climate skeptics quickly seized on just a few of them: some messages in which scientists debated the publication of potentially flawed work, and some others in which they discussed adjusting data using a "trick"-a piece of mathematical jargon that commentators misinterpreted as an effort to deceive the public.
In the U.S. and UK, conservative bloggers quickly latched onto the messages as proof of dishonesty among climate scientists. Nerlich writes that they effectively reached their audiences with a few specific phrases. One of these was the word "climategate" itself apparently first used by conservative UK writer James Delingpole. The -gate suffix, referring back to Watergate, is a familiar method used by partisans and members of the media to indicate a serious scandal.
Looking at the messaging in blog posts about climategate, Nerlich found that another common theme was "science as a religion." Climate change deniers accused environmentalists and scientists of irrationally clinging to their belief in human-made climate change in the face of what they saw as evidence that it was a hoax. "The Global Warming religion is as virulent and insidious as all mind-bending cults of absolute certitude, and yet it has become mainstream orthodoxy and infallible spirituality faster than any faith-based cult in history," as one blogger put it.
Nerlich notes that, when it comes to scientists' levels of certainty, climate change deniers wanted to have it both ways. Any hint of uncertainty-which is almost always a factor in scientific analyses, especially concerning predictions about complex systems-was presented as a reason not to believe that change was happening at all. But too much certainty became proof that scientists were no longer operating from evidence, but instead trying to justify a cult-like faith.
Ultimately, Climategate was shown to be a fabrication.
In April 2010, an independent panel cleared the climate scientists of any wrongdoing in the leaked messages.
Yet the controversy apparently succeeded in changing public opinion, at least temporarily. In February of 2010, the Guardian reported that, in the previous year, the proportion of British adults who believed that climate change was "definitely" a reality had dropped from 44 to 31 percent.
Q. Why does the author mention that the proportion of British adults who believed that climate change was "definitely" a reality had dropped from 44 to 31 percent?
One of the kinds of human enhancement that has received extensive philosophical attention in recent years is the use of biomedical interventions to improve the physical performance of athletes in the context of sports.
One reason athletic performance enhancement garners so much attention is because of its currency, given the epidemic of "doping" scandals in contemporary sport.
At first impression, the ethical problem with performance enhancement in sport would seem to be simply a problem of cheating. If the rules of sport forbid the use of performance enhancements, then their illicit use confers an advantage to users against other athletes. That advantage, in turn, can create pressure for more athletes to cheat in the same way, undermining the basis for the competitions at stake and exacerbating the gap between those who can afford enhancements and those who cannot.
The rules of a game can be changed. In sports, novel forms of performance enhancing equipment and training are routinely introduced as athletic technology and expertise evolve. Where issues of athletes' equitable access arise, they can be dealt with in one of two ways.
Sometimes it is possible to ensure fair distribution, as for example, when the International Olympic Committee negotiated an agreement with the manufacturer of the new "FastSkin" swimming suit to provide suits to all the teams at the Sydney Olympics. In other cases, inequalities may simply come to be accepted as unfortunate but not unfair. This is, for example, how many people would view a story about an equatorial country that could not afford year-round artificial snow for its ski team, and so could not compete evenly with the ski teams of northern countries. If enhancement interventions can either be distributed fairly or the inequities they create can be written into the rules of the social game in question as part of the given advantages of the more fortunate, then individual users no longer face a fairness problem.
For those who can afford it, for example, what would be ethically suspect about mounting a mirror image of the "Special Olympics" for athletes with disabilities: a "Super Olympics", featuring athletes universally equipped with the latest modifications and enhancements? For answers to that challenge, the critics of biomedical enhancement have to dig beyond concerns about the fair governance of games to a deeper and broader sense of "cheating", in terms of the corrosive effects of enhancement on the integrity of admirable human practices.
Q. According to the passage, one of the reasons as to why athletic performance enhancements get so much attention is:
One of the kinds of human enhancement that has received extensive philosophical attention in recent years is the use of biomedical interventions to improve the physical performance of athletes in the context of sports.
One reason athletic performance enhancement garners so much attention is because of its currency, given the epidemic of "doping" scandals in contemporary sport.
At first impression, the ethical problem with performance enhancement in sport would seem to be simply a problem of cheating. If the rules of sport forbid the use of performance enhancements, then their illicit use confers an advantage to users against other athletes. That advantage, in turn, can create pressure for more athletes to cheat in the same way, undermining the basis for the competitions at stake and exacerbating the gap between those who can afford enhancements and those who cannot.
The rules of a game can be changed. In sports, novel forms of performance enhancing equipment and training are routinely introduced as athletic technology and expertise evolve. Where issues of athletes' equitable access arise, they can be dealt with in one of two ways.
Sometimes it is possible to ensure fair distribution, as for example, when the International Olympic Committee negotiated an agreement with the manufacturer of the new "FastSkin" swimming suit to provide suits to all the teams at the Sydney Olympics. In other cases, inequalities may simply come to be accepted as unfortunate but not unfair. This is, for example, how many people would view a story about an equatorial country that could not afford year-round artificial snow for its ski team, and so could not compete evenly with the ski teams of northern countries. If enhancement interventions can either be distributed fairly or the inequities they create can be written into the rules of the social game in question as part of the given advantages of the more fortunate, then individual users no longer face a fairness problem.
For those who can afford it, for example, what would be ethically suspect about mounting a mirror image of the "Special Olympics" for athletes with disabilities: a "Super Olympics", featuring athletes universally equipped with the latest modifications and enhancements? For answers to that challenge, the critics of biomedical enhancement have to dig beyond concerns about the fair governance of games to a deeper and broader sense of "cheating", in terms of the corrosive effects of enhancement on the integrity of admirable human practices.
Q. Which of the following is analogous to the example of equatorial countries' inability to complete in ski competitions?
One of the kinds of human enhancement that has received extensive philosophical attention in recent years is the use of biomedical interventions to improve the physical performance of athletes in the context of sports.
One reason athletic performance enhancement garners so much attention is because of its currency, given the epidemic of "doping" scandals in contemporary sport.
At first impression, the ethical problem with performance enhancement in sport would seem to be simply a problem of cheating. If the rules of sport forbid the use of performance enhancements, then their illicit use confers an advantage to users against other athletes. That advantage, in turn, can create pressure for more athletes to cheat in the same way, undermining the basis for the competitions at stake and exacerbating the gap between those who can afford enhancements and those who cannot.
The rules of a game can be changed. In sports, novel forms of performance enhancing equipment and training are routinely introduced as athletic technology and expertise evolve. Where issues of athletes' equitable access arise, they can be dealt with in one of two ways.
Sometimes it is possible to ensure fair distribution, as for example, when the International Olympic Committee negotiated an agreement with the manufacturer of the new "FastSkin" swimming suit to provide suits to all the teams at the Sydney Olympics. In other cases, inequalities may simply come to be accepted as unfortunate but not unfair. This is, for example, how many people would view a story about an equatorial country that could not afford year-round artificial snow for its ski team, and so could not compete evenly with the ski teams of northern countries. If enhancement interventions can either be distributed fairly or the inequities they create can be written into the rules of the social game in question as part of the given advantages of the more fortunate, then individual users no longer face a fairness problem.
For those who can afford it, for example, what would be ethically suspect about mounting a mirror image of the "Special Olympics" for athletes with disabilities: a "Super Olympics", featuring athletes universally equipped with the latest modifications and enhancements? For answers to that challenge, the critics of biomedical enhancement have to dig beyond concerns about the fair governance of games to a deeper and broader sense of "cheating", in terms of the corrosive effects of enhancement on the integrity of admirable human practices.
Q. What does the meaning of the word "exacerbate" as used in the passage mean?
One of the kinds of human enhancement that has received extensive philosophical attention in recent years is the use of biomedical interventions to improve the physical performance of athletes in the context of sports.
One reason athletic performance enhancement garners so much attention is because of its currency, given the epidemic of "doping" scandals in contemporary sport.
At first impression, the ethical problem with performance enhancement in sport would seem to be simply a problem of cheating. If the rules of sport forbid the use of performance enhancements, then their illicit use confers an advantage to users against other athletes. That advantage, in turn, can create pressure for more athletes to cheat in the same way, undermining the basis for the competitions at stake and exacerbating the gap between those who can afford enhancements and those who cannot.
The rules of a game can be changed. In sports, novel forms of performance enhancing equipment and training are routinely introduced as athletic technology and expertise evolve. Where issues of athletes' equitable access arise, they can be dealt with in one of two ways.
Sometimes it is possible to ensure fair distribution, as for example, when the International Olympic Committee negotiated an agreement with the manufacturer of the new "FastSkin" swimming suit to provide suits to all the teams at the Sydney Olympics. In other cases, inequalities may simply come to be accepted as unfortunate but not unfair. This is, for example, how many people would view a story about an equatorial country that could not afford year-round artificial snow for its ski team, and so could not compete evenly with the ski teams of northern countries. If enhancement interventions can either be distributed fairly or the inequities they create can be written into the rules of the social game in question as part of the given advantages of the more fortunate, then individual users no longer face a fairness problem.
For those who can afford it, for example, what would be ethically suspect about mounting a mirror image of the "Special Olympics" for athletes with disabilities: a "Super Olympics", featuring athletes universally equipped with the latest modifications and enhancements? For answers to that challenge, the critics of biomedical enhancement have to dig beyond concerns about the fair governance of games to a deeper and broader sense of "cheating", in terms of the corrosive effects of enhancement on the integrity of admirable human practices.
Q. "Super Olympics", as per the passage:
One of the kinds of human enhancement that has received extensive philosophical attention in recent years is the use of biomedical interventions to improve the physical performance of athletes in the context of sports.
One reason athletic performance enhancement garners so much attention is because of its currency, given the epidemic of "doping" scandals in contemporary sport.
At first impression, the ethical problem with performance enhancement in sport would seem to be simply a problem of cheating. If the rules of sport forbid the use of performance enhancements, then their illicit use confers an advantage to users against other athletes. That advantage, in turn, can create pressure for more athletes to cheat in the same way, undermining the basis for the competitions at stake and exacerbating the gap between those who can afford enhancements and those who cannot.
The rules of a game can be changed. In sports, novel forms of performance enhancing equipment and training are routinely introduced as athletic technology and expertise evolve. Where issues of athletes' equitable access arise, they can be dealt with in one of two ways.
Sometimes it is possible to ensure fair distribution, as for example, when the International Olympic Committee negotiated an agreement with the manufacturer of the new "FastSkin" swimming suit to provide suits to all the teams at the Sydney Olympics. In other cases, inequalities may simply come to be accepted as unfortunate but not unfair. This is, for example, how many people would view a story about an equatorial country that could not afford year-round artificial snow for its ski team, and so could not compete evenly with the ski teams of northern countries. If enhancement interventions can either be distributed fairly or the inequities they create can be written into the rules of the social game in question as part of the given advantages of the more fortunate, then individual users no longer face a fairness problem.
For those who can afford it, for example, what would be ethically suspect about mounting a mirror image of the "Special Olympics" for athletes with disabilities: a "Super Olympics", featuring athletes universally equipped with the latest modifications and enhancements? For answers to that challenge, the critics of biomedical enhancement have to dig beyond concerns about the fair governance of games to a deeper and broader sense of "cheating", in terms of the corrosive effects of enhancement on the integrity of admirable human practices.
Q. In the last paragraph, what is the author's appeal to the critics of biomedical enhancements?
There's been an incredible outpouring of grief across Canada since Ukraine International Airlines Flight PS752 was shot down by Iran, killing all 176 passengers and crew on board.
We have learned that among the 57 Canadians killed, there were beloved students, professors, doctors and engineers. Children, newlyweds and entire families perished. Many of them have been described by Canadian news media and leaders as "exceptional." They belonged to Canada's vibrant Iranian communities and are being remembered as such in tributes and memorial services across the nation.
I've spent more than a dozen years researching public memory of another air disaster that resulted in an even greater number of Canadian casualties-the Air India tragedy.
Indeed, news of PS752 is triggering memories of June 23, 1985, when Air India Flight 182 fell into the Atlantic Ocean near Cork, Ireland, after a bomb hidden in the luggage exploded. All 329 passengers and crew on board that flight were killed. Among them were 280 Canadians, the majority from Indian-Canadian families, as reported by the official inquiry by Public Safety Canada.
Winnipeg resident Nicky Mehta was 13 at the time that her uncle, aunt and two young cousins were killed on the Air India flight. On the day after Flight PS752 crashed, she woke up to an abbreviated list of "deadly plane crashes that killed Canadians" published in the Winnipeg Free Press that did not include Air India. "I felt gutted," she told me. "It was re-traumatising to see that Air India was not even worth a mention here." The article has since been removed.
Back in 1985, there was no collective outpouring of grief or statement of national solidarity for the victims of Air India Flight 182. Were these victims not "exceptional" enough? In fact, they too were beloved students, professors, doctors and engineers, as well as homemakers, teachers, civil servants and more.
Notoriously, Canadian Prime Minister Brian Mulroney offered his condolences to Prime Minister of India Rajiv Gandhi for India's loss instead of addressing his own citizens.
It is clear that for many Canadians (not just Mulroney) the Air India bombing was unthinkable-and thus unmemorable-as a tragedy of national consequence due to the dominant assumption that Canadian identity is synonymous with whiteness. Indeed, critics, as well as relatives of the dead, have raised the obvious question: would there have been such trouble recognising the bombing as a national tragedy if the majority of those killed were white rather than brown Canadians?
Q. The question raised in the last sentence reiterates the main presumption that the national identity of Canada:
There's been an incredible outpouring of grief across Canada since Ukraine International Airlines Flight PS752 was shot down by Iran, killing all 176 passengers and crew on board.
We have learned that among the 57 Canadians killed, there were beloved students, professors, doctors and engineers. Children, newlyweds and entire families perished. Many of them have been described by Canadian news media and leaders as "exceptional." They belonged to Canada's vibrant Iranian communities and are being remembered as such in tributes and memorial services across the nation.
I've spent more than a dozen years researching public memory of another air disaster that resulted in an even greater number of Canadian casualties-the Air India tragedy.
Indeed, news of PS752 is triggering memories of June 23, 1985, when Air India Flight 182 fell into the Atlantic Ocean near Cork, Ireland, after a bomb hidden in the luggage exploded. All 329 passengers and crew on board that flight were killed. Among them were 280 Canadians, the majority from Indian-Canadian families, as reported by the official inquiry by Public Safety Canada.
Winnipeg resident Nicky Mehta was 13 at the time that her uncle, aunt and two young cousins were killed on the Air India flight. On the day after Flight PS752 crashed, she woke up to an abbreviated list of "deadly plane crashes that killed Canadians" published in the Winnipeg Free Press that did not include Air India. "I felt gutted," she told me. "It was re-traumatising to see that Air India was not even worth a mention here." The article has since been removed.
Back in 1985, there was no collective outpouring of grief or statement of national solidarity for the victims of Air India Flight 182. Were these victims not "exceptional" enough? In fact, they too were beloved students, professors, doctors and engineers, as well as homemakers, teachers, civil servants and more.
Notoriously, Canadian Prime Minister Brian Mulroney offered his condolences to Prime Minister of India Rajiv Gandhi for India's loss instead of addressing his own citizens.
It is clear that for many Canadians (not just Mulroney) the Air India bombing was unthinkable-and thus unmemorable-as a tragedy of national consequence due to the dominant assumption that Canadian identity is synonymous with whiteness. Indeed, critics, as well as relatives of the dead, have raised the obvious question: would there have been such trouble recognising the bombing as a national tragedy if the majority of those killed were white rather than brown Canadians?
Q. Which of the following best describes the word "retraumatizing" in the context of the passage?
There's been an incredible outpouring of grief across Canada since Ukraine International Airlines Flight PS752 was shot down by Iran, killing all 176 passengers and crew on board.
We have learned that among the 57 Canadians killed, there were beloved students, professors, doctors and engineers. Children, newlyweds and entire families perished. Many of them have been described by Canadian news media and leaders as "exceptional." They belonged to Canada's vibrant Iranian communities and are being remembered as such in tributes and memorial services across the nation.
I've spent more than a dozen years researching public memory of another air disaster that resulted in an even greater number of Canadian casualties-the Air India tragedy.
Indeed, news of PS752 is triggering memories of June 23, 1985, when Air India Flight 182 fell into the Atlantic Ocean near Cork, Ireland, after a bomb hidden in the luggage exploded. All 329 passengers and crew on board that flight were killed. Among them were 280 Canadians, the majority from Indian-Canadian families, as reported by the official inquiry by Public Safety Canada.
Winnipeg resident Nicky Mehta was 13 at the time that her uncle, aunt and two young cousins were killed on the Air India flight. On the day after Flight PS752 crashed, she woke up to an abbreviated list of "deadly plane crashes that killed Canadians" published in the Winnipeg Free Press that did not include Air India. "I felt gutted," she told me. "It was re-traumatising to see that Air India was not even worth a mention here." The article has since been removed.
Back in 1985, there was no collective outpouring of grief or statement of national solidarity for the victims of Air India Flight 182. Were these victims not "exceptional" enough? In fact, they too were beloved students, professors, doctors and engineers, as well as homemakers, teachers, civil servants and more.
Notoriously, Canadian Prime Minister Brian Mulroney offered his condolences to Prime Minister of India Rajiv Gandhi for India's loss instead of addressing his own citizens.
It is clear that for many Canadians (not just Mulroney) the Air India bombing was unthinkable-and thus unmemorable-as a tragedy of national consequence due to the dominant assumption that Canadian identity is synonymous with whiteness. Indeed, critics, as well as relatives of the dead, have raised the obvious question: would there have been such trouble recognising the bombing as a national tragedy if the majority of those killed were white rather than brown Canadians?
Q. What is the most likely reason as to why the author used the word "notoriously" in the seventh paragraph?
There's been an incredible outpouring of grief across Canada since Ukraine International Airlines Flight PS752 was shot down by Iran, killing all 176 passengers and crew on board.
We have learned that among the 57 Canadians killed, there were beloved students, professors, doctors and engineers. Children, newlyweds and entire families perished. Many of them have been described by Canadian news media and leaders as "exceptional." They belonged to Canada's vibrant Iranian communities and are being remembered as such in tributes and memorial services across the nation.
I've spent more than a dozen years researching public memory of another air disaster that resulted in an even greater number of Canadian casualties-the Air India tragedy.
Indeed, news of PS752 is triggering memories of June 23, 1985, when Air India Flight 182 fell into the Atlantic Ocean near Cork, Ireland, after a bomb hidden in the luggage exploded. All 329 passengers and crew on board that flight were killed. Among them were 280 Canadians, the majority from Indian-Canadian families, as reported by the official inquiry by Public Safety Canada.
Winnipeg resident Nicky Mehta was 13 at the time that her uncle, aunt and two young cousins were killed on the Air India flight. On the day after Flight PS752 crashed, she woke up to an abbreviated list of "deadly plane crashes that killed Canadians" published in the Winnipeg Free Press that did not include Air India. "I felt gutted," she told me. "It was re-traumatising to see that Air India was not even worth a mention here." The article has since been removed.
Back in 1985, there was no collective outpouring of grief or statement of national solidarity for the victims of Air India Flight 182. Were these victims not "exceptional" enough? In fact, they too were beloved students, professors, doctors and engineers, as well as homemakers, teachers, civil servants and more.
Notoriously, Canadian Prime Minister Brian Mulroney offered his condolences to Prime Minister of India Rajiv Gandhi for India's loss instead of addressing his own citizens.
It is clear that for many Canadians (not just Mulroney) the Air India bombing was unthinkable-and thus unmemorable-as a tragedy of national consequence due to the dominant assumption that Canadian identity is synonymous with whiteness. Indeed, critics, as well as relatives of the dead, have raised the obvious question: would there have been such trouble recognising the bombing as a national tragedy if the majority of those killed were white rather than brown Canadians?
Q. What is the significance of the number 280 in the overall context of the passage?
The eye-popping bids in the current auction of wireless frequencies by the Federal Communications Commission are a testament to soaring demand for mobile Internet service. As of last week, bids in the auction exceeded $38 billion, far more than the $10.5 billion reserve price set by the F.C.C. These frequencies, also known as spectrum, are needed to expand cellular networks so they can carry more phone calls and data.
The superheated bidding provides fresh evidence that the telecommunications industry is thriving despite protests by executives at companies like Verizon and AT&T that they are being stymied by regulation. Phone companies are upset that President Obama recently called for strong rules that would prohibit telecom companies, including wireless businesses, from creating fast and slow lanes on the Internet. His proposal needs to be approved by the F.C.C., an independent agency that is not obliged to do what Mr. Obama wants but that in this case should follow his direction.
Telecom executives have said that such rules would reduce their incentive to invest, presumably because their potential profits would be reduced by any regulation that prevented them from charging fees to big web businesses to deliver some content to consumers faster than other information. But the companies can't be all that worried if they are willing to spend billions of dollars on wireless frequencies.
Some of the money raised in the auction will be used to pay for a $7 billion communications network called FirstNet, for police, fire and other public safety agencies, a network Congress authorized in 2012. The rest of the money will go to the Treasury and help reduce the federal deficit.
Few people expected that the bids would go this high for spectrum that most analysts say is less optimal for carrying wireless phone signals than other, lower frequency airwaves that more easily penetrate buildings.
A separate auction that is expected to be held in 2021 will include more highly valued airwaves that are used by television broadcasters. A portion of the money bid by telecom companies in that auction will be used to pay TV stations that agree to give up some or all of the frequencies they are using.
The auction of TV airwaves was originally expected to take place next year but has been delayed because of disagreements among broadcasters, telecom companies and regulators about how it should be carried out. There are billions of dollars at stake for television stations and phone companies. The high bids in the current auction should encourage them to resolve their differences and avoid further delays. They all have too much to gain from a successful auction.
Americans are increasingly dependent on their cellphones - 63 percent of Americans used their phones to go online in 2013, up from 31 percent in 2009, according to the Pew Research Center. That helps explain why wireless frequencies are becoming more valuable and why the government should make sure spectrum is used efficiently.
Q. The author primarily uses the data regarding the high bidding price of spectrum to:
The eye-popping bids in the current auction of wireless frequencies by the Federal Communications Commission are a testament to soaring demand for mobile Internet service. As of last week, bids in the auction exceeded $38 billion, far more than the $10.5 billion reserve price set by the F.C.C. These frequencies, also known as spectrum, are needed to expand cellular networks so they can carry more phone calls and data.
The superheated bidding provides fresh evidence that the telecommunications industry is thriving despite protests by executives at companies like Verizon and AT&T that they are being stymied by regulation. Phone companies are upset that President Obama recently called for strong rules that would prohibit telecom companies, including wireless businesses, from creating fast and slow lanes on the Internet. His proposal needs to be approved by the F.C.C., an independent agency that is not obliged to do what Mr. Obama wants but that in this case should follow his direction.
Telecom executives have said that such rules would reduce their incentive to invest, presumably because their potential profits would be reduced by any regulation that prevented them from charging fees to big web businesses to deliver some content to consumers faster than other information. But the companies can't be all that worried if they are willing to spend billions of dollars on wireless frequencies.
Some of the money raised in the auction will be used to pay for a $7 billion communications network called FirstNet, for police, fire and other public safety agencies, a network Congress authorized in 2012. The rest of the money will go to the Treasury and help reduce the federal deficit.
Few people expected that the bids would go this high for spectrum that most analysts say is less optimal for carrying wireless phone signals than other, lower frequency airwaves that more easily penetrate buildings.
A separate auction that is expected to be held in 2021 will include more highly valued airwaves that are used by television broadcasters. A portion of the money bid by telecom companies in that auction will be used to pay TV stations that agree to give up some or all of the frequencies they are using.
The auction of TV airwaves was originally expected to take place next year but has been delayed because of disagreements among broadcasters, telecom companies and regulators about how it should be carried out. There are billions of dollars at stake for television stations and phone companies. The high bids in the current auction should encourage them to resolve their differences and avoid further delays. They all have too much to gain from a successful auction.
Americans are increasingly dependent on their cellphones - 63 percent of Americans used their phones to go online in 2013, up from 31 percent in 2009, according to the Pew Research Center. That helps explain why wireless frequencies are becoming more valuable and why the government should make sure spectrum is used efficiently.
Q. The author of the passage is likely to be:
The eye-popping bids in the current auction of wireless frequencies by the Federal Communications Commission are a testament to soaring demand for mobile Internet service. As of last week, bids in the auction exceeded $38 billion, far more than the $10.5 billion reserve price set by the F.C.C. These frequencies, also known as spectrum, are needed to expand cellular networks so they can carry more phone calls and data.
The superheated bidding provides fresh evidence that the telecommunications industry is thriving despite protests by executives at companies like Verizon and AT&T that they are being stymied by regulation. Phone companies are upset that President Obama recently called for strong rules that would prohibit telecom companies, including wireless businesses, from creating fast and slow lanes on the Internet. His proposal needs to be approved by the F.C.C., an independent agency that is not obliged to do what Mr. Obama wants but that in this case should follow his direction.
Telecom executives have said that such rules would reduce their incentive to invest, presumably because their potential profits would be reduced by any regulation that prevented them from charging fees to big web businesses to deliver some content to consumers faster than other information. But the companies can't be all that worried if they are willing to spend billions of dollars on wireless frequencies.
Some of the money raised in the auction will be used to pay for a $7 billion communications network called FirstNet, for police, fire and other public safety agencies, a network Congress authorized in 2012. The rest of the money will go to the Treasury and help reduce the federal deficit.
Few people expected that the bids would go this high for spectrum that most analysts say is less optimal for carrying wireless phone signals than other, lower frequency airwaves that more easily penetrate buildings.
A separate auction that is expected to be held in 2021 will include more highly valued airwaves that are used by television broadcasters. A portion of the money bid by telecom companies in that auction will be used to pay TV stations that agree to give up some or all of the frequencies they are using.
The auction of TV airwaves was originally expected to take place next year but has been delayed because of disagreements among broadcasters, telecom companies and regulators about how it should be carried out. There are billions of dollars at stake for television stations and phone companies. The high bids in the current auction should encourage them to resolve their differences and avoid further delays. They all have too much to gain from a successful auction.
Americans are increasingly dependent on their cellphones - 63 percent of Americans used their phones to go online in 2013, up from 31 percent in 2009, according to the Pew Research Center. That helps explain why wireless frequencies are becoming more valuable and why the government should make sure spectrum is used efficiently.
Q. Which of the following best describes the passage above?
The eye-popping bids in the current auction of wireless frequencies by the Federal Communications Commission are a testament to soaring demand for mobile Internet service. As of last week, bids in the auction exceeded $38 billion, far more than the $10.5 billion reserve price set by the F.C.C. These frequencies, also known as spectrum, are needed to expand cellular networks so they can carry more phone calls and data.
The superheated bidding provides fresh evidence that the telecommunications industry is thriving despite protests by executives at companies like Verizon and AT&T that they are being stymied by regulation. Phone companies are upset that President Obama recently called for strong rules that would prohibit telecom companies, including wireless businesses, from creating fast and slow lanes on the Internet. His proposal needs to be approved by the F.C.C., an independent agency that is not obliged to do what Mr. Obama wants but that in this case should follow his direction.
Telecom executives have said that such rules would reduce their incentive to invest, presumably because their potential profits would be reduced by any regulation that prevented them from charging fees to big web businesses to deliver some content to consumers faster than other information. But the companies can't be all that worried if they are willing to spend billions of dollars on wireless frequencies.
Some of the money raised in the auction will be used to pay for a $7 billion communications network called FirstNet, for police, fire and other public safety agencies, a network Congress authorized in 2012. The rest of the money will go to the Treasury and help reduce the federal deficit.
Few people expected that the bids would go this high for spectrum that most analysts say is less optimal for carrying wireless phone signals than other, lower frequency airwaves that more easily penetrate buildings.
A separate auction that is expected to be held in 2021 will include more highly valued airwaves that are used by television broadcasters. A portion of the money bid by telecom companies in that auction will be used to pay TV stations that agree to give up some or all of the frequencies they are using.
The auction of TV airwaves was originally expected to take place next year but has been delayed because of disagreements among broadcasters, telecom companies and regulators about how it should be carried out. There are billions of dollars at stake for television stations and phone companies. The high bids in the current auction should encourage them to resolve their differences and avoid further delays. They all have too much to gain from a successful auction.
Americans are increasingly dependent on their cellphones - 63 percent of Americans used their phones to go online in 2013, up from 31 percent in 2009, according to the Pew Research Center. That helps explain why wireless frequencies are becoming more valuable and why the government should make sure spectrum is used efficiently.
Q. Which of the following is not true as per the passage?
KING CHARLES III made the final decision. The election had duly taken place as decreed by royal proclamation.
The polling booths had been closed, the votes counted.
The computers turned off-, and the experts and amateurs alike had collapsed into their beds in disbelief when they had heard the final result. The new King had been unable to sleep that Friday night while he considered yet again all the advice that had been offered to him by his courtiers during the past twenty-four hours. The choice he had been left with was by no means simple. Considering how recently he had ascended the throne.
A few minutes after Big Ben had struck 6 A.M., the morning papers were placed in the corridor outside his bedroom. The King slipped quietly out of bed, put on his dressing gown and smiled at the startled footman when he opened the door. The King gathered up the papers in his arms and took them through to the morning room so that the Queen would not be disturbed. Once he had settled comfortably into his favorite chair, he turned to the editorial pages. Only one subject was worthy of their attention that day. The Fleet Street editors had all come to the same conclusion. The result of the election could not have been closer, and the new King had been placed in a most delicate position as to whom he should call to be his first Prime Minister. Most of the papers went on to give the King their personal advice on whom he should consider according to their own political affiliations. The London Times alone offered no such opinion, but suggested merely that His Majesty would have to show a great deal of courage and fortitude in facing his first constitutional crisis if the monarchy was to remain credible in a modern world. The forty-three-year-old King dropped the papers on the floor by the side of his chair and considered once again the problems of which man to select. What a strange game politics was, he considered. Only a short time ago .there had been clearly three men to consider, and then suddenly one of them was no longer a contender- The two men remaining-who he suspected had also not slept that night - could not have been more different and yet in some ways they were so alike. They had both entered the House of Commons in 1964 and, had then conducted glittering careers in their twenty-five years as members of Parliament. Between them they had held the portfolios of Trade, Defense, the Foreign Office and the Exchequer before being elected to lead their respective parties. As Prince of Wales, the King had watched them both from the sidelines and grown to admire their different contributions to public life. On a personal level, he had to admit, he had always liked one while respecting the other.
Q. It can be inferred that:
KING CHARLES III made the final decision. The election had duly taken place as decreed by royal proclamation.
The polling booths had been closed, the votes counted.
The computers turned off-, and the experts and amateurs alike had collapsed into their beds in disbelief when they had heard the final result. The new King had been unable to sleep that Friday night while he considered yet again all the advice that had been offered to him by his courtiers during the past twenty-four hours. The choice he had been left with was by no means simple. Considering how recently he had ascended the throne.
A few minutes after Big Ben had struck 6 A.M., the morning papers were placed in the corridor outside his bedroom. The King slipped quietly out of bed, put on his dressing gown and smiled at the startled footman when he opened the door. The King gathered up the papers in his arms and took them through to the morning room so that the Queen would not be disturbed. Once he had settled comfortably into his favorite chair, he turned to the editorial pages. Only one subject was worthy of their attention that day. The Fleet Street editors had all come to the same conclusion. The result of the election could not have been closer, and the new King had been placed in a most delicate position as to whom he should call to be his first Prime Minister. Most of the papers went on to give the King their personal advice on whom he should consider according to their own political affiliations. The London Times alone offered no such opinion, but suggested merely that His Majesty would have to show a great deal of courage and fortitude in facing his first constitutional crisis if the monarchy was to remain credible in a modern world. The forty-three-year-old King dropped the papers on the floor by the side of his chair and considered once again the problems of which man to select. What a strange game politics was, he considered. Only a short time ago .there had been clearly three men to consider, and then suddenly one of them was no longer a contender- The two men remaining-who he suspected had also not slept that night - could not have been more different and yet in some ways they were so alike. They had both entered the House of Commons in 1964 and, had then conducted glittering careers in their twenty-five years as members of Parliament. Between them they had held the portfolios of Trade, Defense, the Foreign Office and the Exchequer before being elected to lead their respective parties. As Prince of Wales, the King had watched them both from the sidelines and grown to admire their different contributions to public life. On a personal level, he had to admit, he had always liked one while respecting the other.
Q. What does the word 'amateur' mean in this context?
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