LSAT Practice Test 4 – Reading Comprehension

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1 / 27

1.


According to the passage, until the mid-twentieth century there were few jurisdictional disputes over international waters because


The extent of a nation’s power over its coastal
ecosystems and the natural resources in its coastal
waters has been defined by two international law
doctrines: freedom of the seas and adjacent state
(5) sovereignty. Until the mid-twentieth century, most
nations favored application of broad open-seas
freedoms and limited sovereign rights over coastal
waters. A nation had the right to include within its
territorial dominion only a very narrow band of
(10) coastal waters (generally extending three miles from
the shoreline), within which it had the authority, but
not the responsibility, to regulate all activities. But,
because this area of territorial dominion was so
limited, most nations did not establish rules for
(15) management or protection of their territorial waters.


Regardless of whether or not nations enforced
regulations in their territorial waters, large ocean
areas remained free of controls or restrictions. The
citizens of all nations had the right to use these
(20) unrestricted ocean areas for any innocent purpose,
including navigation and fishing. Except for controls
over its own citizens, no nation had the responsibility,
let alone the unilateral authority, to control such
activities in international waters. And, since there
(25) were few standards of conduct that applied on the
“open seas,” there were few jurisdictional conflicts
between nations.


The lack of standards is traceable to popular
perceptions held before the middle of this century.
(30) By and large, marine pollution was not perceived as a
significant problem, in part because the adverse
effect of coastal activities on ocean ecosystems was
not widely recognized, and pollution caused by
human activities was generally believed to be limited
(35) to that caused by navigation. Moreover, the freedom
to fish, or overfish, was an essential element of the
traditional legal doctrine of freedom of the seas that
no maritime country wished to see limited. And
finally, the technology that later allowed exploitation
(40) of other ocean resources, such as oil, did not yet exist.


To date, controlling pollution and regulating
ocean resources have still not been comprehensively
addressed by law, but international law—established
through the customs and practices of nations—does
(45) not preclude such efforts. And two recent
developments may actually lead to future
international rules providing for ecosystem
management. First, the establishment of extensive
fishery zones, extending territorial authority as far as
(50) 200 miles out from a country’s coast, has provided
the opportunity for nations individually to manage
larger ecosystems. This opportunity, combined with
national self-interest in maintaining fish populations,
could lead nations to reevaluate policies for
(55) management of their fisheries and to address the
problem of pollution in territorial waters. Second, the
international community is beginning to understand
the importance of preserving the resources and
ecology of international waters and to show signs of
(60) accepting responsibility for doing so. As an
international consensus regarding the need for
comprehensive management of ocean resources
develops, it will become more likely that
international standards and policies for broader
(65) regulation of human activities that affect ocean
ecosystems will be adopted and implemented.

2 / 27

2.


According to the international law doctrines applicable before the mid-twentieth century, if commercial activity within a particular nation’s territorial waters threatened all marine life in those waters, the nation would have been


The extent of a nation’s power over its coastal
ecosystems and the natural resources in its coastal
waters has been defined by two international law
doctrines: freedom of the seas and adjacent state
(5) sovereignty. Until the mid-twentieth century, most
nations favored application of broad open-seas
freedoms and limited sovereign rights over coastal
waters. A nation had the right to include within its
territorial dominion only a very narrow band of
(10) coastal waters (generally extending three miles from
the shoreline), within which it had the authority, but
not the responsibility, to regulate all activities. But,
because this area of territorial dominion was so
limited, most nations did not establish rules for
(15) management or protection of their territorial waters.


Regardless of whether or not nations enforced
regulations in their territorial waters, large ocean
areas remained free of controls or restrictions. The
citizens of all nations had the right to use these
(20) unrestricted ocean areas for any innocent purpose,
including navigation and fishing. Except for controls
over its own citizens, no nation had the responsibility,
let alone the unilateral authority, to control such
activities in international waters. And, since there
(25) were few standards of conduct that applied on the
“open seas,” there were few jurisdictional conflicts
between nations.


The lack of standards is traceable to popular
perceptions held before the middle of this century.
(30) By and large, marine pollution was not perceived as a
significant problem, in part because the adverse
effect of coastal activities on ocean ecosystems was
not widely recognized, and pollution caused by
human activities was generally believed to be limited
(35) to that caused by navigation. Moreover, the freedom
to fish, or overfish, was an essential element of the
traditional legal doctrine of freedom of the seas that
no maritime country wished to see limited. And
finally, the technology that later allowed exploitation
(40) of other ocean resources, such as oil, did not yet exist.


To date, controlling pollution and regulating
ocean resources have still not been comprehensively
addressed by law, but international law—established
through the customs and practices of nations—does
(45) not preclude such efforts. And two recent
developments may actually lead to future
international rules providing for ecosystem
management. First, the establishment of extensive
fishery zones, extending territorial authority as far as
(50) 200 miles out from a country’s coast, has provided
the opportunity for nations individually to manage
larger ecosystems. This opportunity, combined with
national self-interest in maintaining fish populations,
could lead nations to reevaluate policies for
(55) management of their fisheries and to address the
problem of pollution in territorial waters. Second, the
international community is beginning to understand
the importance of preserving the resources and
ecology of international waters and to show signs of
(60) accepting responsibility for doing so. As an
international consensus regarding the need for
comprehensive management of ocean resources
develops, it will become more likely that
international standards and policies for broader
(65) regulation of human activities that affect ocean
ecosystems will be adopted and implemented.

3 / 27

3.


The author suggests that, before the mid-twentieth century, most nations’ actions with respect to territorial and international waters indicated that


The extent of a nation’s power over its coastal
ecosystems and the natural resources in its coastal
waters has been defined by two international law
doctrines: freedom of the seas and adjacent state
(5) sovereignty. Until the mid-twentieth century, most
nations favored application of broad open-seas
freedoms and limited sovereign rights over coastal
waters. A nation had the right to include within its
territorial dominion only a very narrow band of
(10) coastal waters (generally extending three miles from
the shoreline), within which it had the authority, but
not the responsibility, to regulate all activities. But,
because this area of territorial dominion was so
limited, most nations did not establish rules for
(15) management or protection of their territorial waters.


Regardless of whether or not nations enforced
regulations in their territorial waters, large ocean
areas remained free of controls or restrictions. The
citizens of all nations had the right to use these
(20) unrestricted ocean areas for any innocent purpose,
including navigation and fishing. Except for controls
over its own citizens, no nation had the responsibility,
let alone the unilateral authority, to control such
activities in international waters. And, since there
(25) were few standards of conduct that applied on the
“open seas,” there were few jurisdictional conflicts
between nations.


The lack of standards is traceable to popular
perceptions held before the middle of this century.
(30) By and large, marine pollution was not perceived as a
significant problem, in part because the adverse
effect of coastal activities on ocean ecosystems was
not widely recognized, and pollution caused by
human activities was generally believed to be limited
(35) to that caused by navigation. Moreover, the freedom
to fish, or overfish, was an essential element of the
traditional legal doctrine of freedom of the seas that
no maritime country wished to see limited. And
finally, the technology that later allowed exploitation
(40) of other ocean resources, such as oil, did not yet exist.


To date, controlling pollution and regulating
ocean resources have still not been comprehensively
addressed by law, but international law—established
through the customs and practices of nations—does
(45) not preclude such efforts. And two recent
developments may actually lead to future
international rules providing for ecosystem
management. First, the establishment of extensive
fishery zones, extending territorial authority as far as
(50) 200 miles out from a country’s coast, has provided
the opportunity for nations individually to manage
larger ecosystems. This opportunity, combined with
national self-interest in maintaining fish populations,
could lead nations to reevaluate policies for
(55) management of their fisheries and to address the
problem of pollution in territorial waters. Second, the
international community is beginning to understand
the importance of preserving the resources and
ecology of international waters and to show signs of
(60) accepting responsibility for doing so. As an
international consensus regarding the need for
comprehensive management of ocean resources
develops, it will become more likely that
international standards and policies for broader
(65) regulation of human activities that affect ocean
ecosystems will be adopted and implemented.

4 / 27

4.


The author cites which one of the following as an effect of the extension of territorial waters beyond the three-mile limit?


The extent of a nation’s power over its coastal
ecosystems and the natural resources in its coastal
waters has been defined by two international law
doctrines: freedom of the seas and adjacent state
(5) sovereignty. Until the mid-twentieth century, most
nations favored application of broad open-seas
freedoms and limited sovereign rights over coastal
waters. A nation had the right to include within its
territorial dominion only a very narrow band of
(10) coastal waters (generally extending three miles from
the shoreline), within which it had the authority, but
not the responsibility, to regulate all activities. But,
because this area of territorial dominion was so
limited, most nations did not establish rules for
(15) management or protection of their territorial waters.


Regardless of whether or not nations enforced
regulations in their territorial waters, large ocean
areas remained free of controls or restrictions. The
citizens of all nations had the right to use these
(20) unrestricted ocean areas for any innocent purpose,
including navigation and fishing. Except for controls
over its own citizens, no nation had the responsibility,
let alone the unilateral authority, to control such
activities in international waters. And, since there
(25) were few standards of conduct that applied on the
“open seas,” there were few jurisdictional conflicts
between nations.


The lack of standards is traceable to popular
perceptions held before the middle of this century.
(30) By and large, marine pollution was not perceived as a
significant problem, in part because the adverse
effect of coastal activities on ocean ecosystems was
not widely recognized, and pollution caused by
human activities was generally believed to be limited
(35) to that caused by navigation. Moreover, the freedom
to fish, or overfish, was an essential element of the
traditional legal doctrine of freedom of the seas that
no maritime country wished to see limited. And
finally, the technology that later allowed exploitation
(40) of other ocean resources, such as oil, did not yet exist.


To date, controlling pollution and regulating
ocean resources have still not been comprehensively
addressed by law, but international law—established
through the customs and practices of nations—does
(45) not preclude such efforts. And two recent
developments may actually lead to future
international rules providing for ecosystem
management. First, the establishment of extensive
fishery zones, extending territorial authority as far as
(50) 200 miles out from a country’s coast, has provided
the opportunity for nations individually to manage
larger ecosystems. This opportunity, combined with
national self-interest in maintaining fish populations,
could lead nations to reevaluate policies for
(55) management of their fisheries and to address the
problem of pollution in territorial waters. Second, the
international community is beginning to understand
the importance of preserving the resources and
ecology of international waters and to show signs of
(60) accepting responsibility for doing so. As an
international consensus regarding the need for
comprehensive management of ocean resources
develops, it will become more likely that
international standards and policies for broader
(65) regulation of human activities that affect ocean
ecosystems will be adopted and implemented.

5 / 27

5.


According to the passage, before the middle of the twentieth century, nations failed to establish rules protecting their territorial waters because


The extent of a nation’s power over its coastal
ecosystems and the natural resources in its coastal
waters has been defined by two international law
doctrines: freedom of the seas and adjacent state
(5) sovereignty. Until the mid-twentieth century, most
nations favored application of broad open-seas
freedoms and limited sovereign rights over coastal
waters. A nation had the right to include within its
territorial dominion only a very narrow band of
(10) coastal waters (generally extending three miles from
the shoreline), within which it had the authority, but
not the responsibility, to regulate all activities. But,
because this area of territorial dominion was so
limited, most nations did not establish rules for
(15) management or protection of their territorial waters.


Regardless of whether or not nations enforced
regulations in their territorial waters, large ocean
areas remained free of controls or restrictions. The
citizens of all nations had the right to use these
(20) unrestricted ocean areas for any innocent purpose,
including navigation and fishing. Except for controls
over its own citizens, no nation had the responsibility,
let alone the unilateral authority, to control such
activities in international waters. And, since there
(25) were few standards of conduct that applied on the
“open seas,” there were few jurisdictional conflicts
between nations.


The lack of standards is traceable to popular
perceptions held before the middle of this century.
(30) By and large, marine pollution was not perceived as a
significant problem, in part because the adverse
effect of coastal activities on ocean ecosystems was
not widely recognized, and pollution caused by
human activities was generally believed to be limited
(35) to that caused by navigation. Moreover, the freedom
to fish, or overfish, was an essential element of the
traditional legal doctrine of freedom of the seas that
no maritime country wished to see limited. And
finally, the technology that later allowed exploitation
(40) of other ocean resources, such as oil, did not yet exist.


To date, controlling pollution and regulating
ocean resources have still not been comprehensively
addressed by law, but international law—established
through the customs and practices of nations—does
(45) not preclude such efforts. And two recent
developments may actually lead to future
international rules providing for ecosystem
management. First, the establishment of extensive
fishery zones, extending territorial authority as far as
(50) 200 miles out from a country’s coast, has provided
the opportunity for nations individually to manage
larger ecosystems. This opportunity, combined with
national self-interest in maintaining fish populations,
could lead nations to reevaluate policies for
(55) management of their fisheries and to address the
problem of pollution in territorial waters. Second, the
international community is beginning to understand
the importance of preserving the resources and
ecology of international waters and to show signs of
(60) accepting responsibility for doing so. As an
international consensus regarding the need for
comprehensive management of ocean resources
develops, it will become more likely that
international standards and policies for broader
(65) regulation of human activities that affect ocean
ecosystems will be adopted and implemented.

6 / 27

6.


The passage as a whole can best be described as


The extent of a nation’s power over its coastal
ecosystems and the natural resources in its coastal
waters has been defined by two international law
doctrines: freedom of the seas and adjacent state
(5) sovereignty. Until the mid-twentieth century, most
nations favored application of broad open-seas
freedoms and limited sovereign rights over coastal
waters. A nation had the right to include within its
territorial dominion only a very narrow band of
(10) coastal waters (generally extending three miles from
the shoreline), within which it had the authority, but
not the responsibility, to regulate all activities. But,
because this area of territorial dominion was so
limited, most nations did not establish rules for
(15) management or protection of their territorial waters.


Regardless of whether or not nations enforced
regulations in their territorial waters, large ocean
areas remained free of controls or restrictions. The
citizens of all nations had the right to use these
(20) unrestricted ocean areas for any innocent purpose,
including navigation and fishing. Except for controls
over its own citizens, no nation had the responsibility,
let alone the unilateral authority, to control such
activities in international waters. And, since there
(25) were few standards of conduct that applied on the
“open seas,” there were few jurisdictional conflicts
between nations.


The lack of standards is traceable to popular
perceptions held before the middle of this century.
(30) By and large, marine pollution was not perceived as a
significant problem, in part because the adverse
effect of coastal activities on ocean ecosystems was
not widely recognized, and pollution caused by
human activities was generally believed to be limited
(35) to that caused by navigation. Moreover, the freedom
to fish, or overfish, was an essential element of the
traditional legal doctrine of freedom of the seas that
no maritime country wished to see limited. And
finally, the technology that later allowed exploitation
(40) of other ocean resources, such as oil, did not yet exist.


To date, controlling pollution and regulating
ocean resources have still not been comprehensively
addressed by law, but international law—established
through the customs and practices of nations—does
(45) not preclude such efforts. And two recent
developments may actually lead to future
international rules providing for ecosystem
management. First, the establishment of extensive
fishery zones, extending territorial authority as far as
(50) 200 miles out from a country’s coast, has provided
the opportunity for nations individually to manage
larger ecosystems. This opportunity, combined with
national self-interest in maintaining fish populations,
could lead nations to reevaluate policies for
(55) management of their fisheries and to address the
problem of pollution in territorial waters. Second, the
international community is beginning to understand
the importance of preserving the resources and
ecology of international waters and to show signs of
(60) accepting responsibility for doing so. As an
international consensus regarding the need for
comprehensive management of ocean resources
develops, it will become more likely that
international standards and policies for broader
(65) regulation of human activities that affect ocean
ecosystems will be adopted and implemented.

7 / 27

7.


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


The human species came into being at the time
of the greatest biological diversity in the history of
the Earth. Today, as human populations expand and
alter the natural environment, they are reducing
(5) biological diversity to its lowest level since the end of
the Mesozoic era, 65 million years ago. The ultimate
consequences of this biological collision are beyond
calculation, but they are certain to be harmful. That,
in essence, is the biodiversity crisis.


(10) The history of global diversity can be summarized
as follows: after the initial flowering of multicellular
animals, there was a swift rise in the number of
species in early Paleozoic times (between 600 and
430 million years ago), then plateaulike stagnation
(15) for the remaining 200 million years of the Paleozoic
era, and finally a slow but steady climb through the
Mesozoic and Cenozoic eras to diversity’s all-time
high. This history suggests that biological diversity
was hard won and a long time in coming.


(20) Furthermore, this pattern of increase was set back by
five massive extinction episodes. The most recent of
these, during the Cretaceous period, is by far the
most famous, because it ended the age of the
dinosaurs, conferred hegemony on the mammals, and
(25) ultimately made possible the ascendancy of the
human species. But the Cretaceous crisis was minor
compared with the Permian extinctions 240 million
years ago, during which between 77 and 96 percent
of marine animal species perished. It took 5 million
(30) years, well into Mesozoic times, for species diversity
to begin a significant recovery.


Within the past 10,000 years biological diversity
has entered a wholly new era. Human activity has
had a devastating effect on species diversity, and the
(35) rate of human-induced extinctions is accelerating.
Half of the bird species of Polynesia have been
eliminated through hunting and the destruction of
native forests. Hundreds of fish species endemic to
Lake Victoria are now threatened with extinction
(40) following the careless introduction of one species of
fish, the Nile perch. The list of such biogeographic
disasters is extensive.


Because every species is unique and irreplaceable,
the loss of biodiversity is the most profound process
(45) of environmental change. Its consequences are also
the least predictable because the value of the Earth’s
biota (the fauna and flora collectively) remains
largely unstudied and unappreciated; unlike material
and cultural wealth, which we understand because
(50) they are the substance of our everyday lives,
biological wealth is usually taken for granted. This is
a serious strategic error, one that will be increasingly
regretted as time passes. The biota is not only part of
a country’s heritage, the product of millions of years
(55) of evolution centered on that place; it is also a
potential source for immense untapped material
wealth in the form of food, medicine, and other
commercially important substances.

8 / 27

8.


Which one of the following situations is most analogous to the history of global diversity summarized in lines 10-18 of the passage?


The human species came into being at the time
of the greatest biological diversity in the history of
the Earth. Today, as human populations expand and
alter the natural environment, they are reducing
(5) biological diversity to its lowest level since the end of
the Mesozoic era, 65 million years ago. The ultimate
consequences of this biological collision are beyond
calculation, but they are certain to be harmful. That,
in essence, is the biodiversity crisis.


(10) The history of global diversity can be summarized
as follows: after the initial flowering of multicellular
animals, there was a swift rise in the number of
species in early Paleozoic times (between 600 and
430 million years ago), then plateaulike stagnation
(15) for the remaining 200 million years of the Paleozoic
era, and finally a slow but steady climb through the
Mesozoic and Cenozoic eras to diversity’s all-time
high. This history suggests that biological diversity
was hard won and a long time in coming.


(20) Furthermore, this pattern of increase was set back by
five massive extinction episodes. The most recent of
these, during the Cretaceous period, is by far the
most famous, because it ended the age of the
dinosaurs, conferred hegemony on the mammals, and
(25) ultimately made possible the ascendancy of the
human species. But the Cretaceous crisis was minor
compared with the Permian extinctions 240 million
years ago, during which between 77 and 96 percent
of marine animal species perished. It took 5 million
(30) years, well into Mesozoic times, for species diversity
to begin a significant recovery.


Within the past 10,000 years biological diversity
has entered a wholly new era. Human activity has
had a devastating effect on species diversity, and the
(35) rate of human-induced extinctions is accelerating.
Half of the bird species of Polynesia have been
eliminated through hunting and the destruction of
native forests. Hundreds of fish species endemic to
Lake Victoria are now threatened with extinction
(40) following the careless introduction of one species of
fish, the Nile perch. The list of such biogeographic
disasters is extensive.


Because every species is unique and irreplaceable,
the loss of biodiversity is the most profound process
(45) of environmental change. Its consequences are also
the least predictable because the value of the Earth’s
biota (the fauna and flora collectively) remains
largely unstudied and unappreciated; unlike material
and cultural wealth, which we understand because
(50) they are the substance of our everyday lives,
biological wealth is usually taken for granted. This is
a serious strategic error, one that will be increasingly
regretted as time passes. The biota is not only part of
a country’s heritage, the product of millions of years
(55) of evolution centered on that place; it is also a
potential source for immense untapped material
wealth in the form of food, medicine, and other
commercially important substances.

9 / 27

9.


The author suggests which one of the following about the Cretaceous crisis?


The human species came into being at the time
of the greatest biological diversity in the history of
the Earth. Today, as human populations expand and
alter the natural environment, they are reducing
(5) biological diversity to its lowest level since the end of
the Mesozoic era, 65 million years ago. The ultimate
consequences of this biological collision are beyond
calculation, but they are certain to be harmful. That,
in essence, is the biodiversity crisis.


(10) The history of global diversity can be summarized
as follows: after the initial flowering of multicellular
animals, there was a swift rise in the number of
species in early Paleozoic times (between 600 and
430 million years ago), then plateaulike stagnation
(15) for the remaining 200 million years of the Paleozoic
era, and finally a slow but steady climb through the
Mesozoic and Cenozoic eras to diversity’s all-time
high. This history suggests that biological diversity
was hard won and a long time in coming.


(20) Furthermore, this pattern of increase was set back by
five massive extinction episodes. The most recent of
these, during the Cretaceous period, is by far the
most famous, because it ended the age of the
dinosaurs, conferred hegemony on the mammals, and
(25) ultimately made possible the ascendancy of the
human species. But the Cretaceous crisis was minor
compared with the Permian extinctions 240 million
years ago, during which between 77 and 96 percent
of marine animal species perished. It took 5 million
(30) years, well into Mesozoic times, for species diversity
to begin a significant recovery.


Within the past 10,000 years biological diversity
has entered a wholly new era. Human activity has
had a devastating effect on species diversity, and the
(35) rate of human-induced extinctions is accelerating.
Half of the bird species of Polynesia have been
eliminated through hunting and the destruction of
native forests. Hundreds of fish species endemic to
Lake Victoria are now threatened with extinction
(40) following the careless introduction of one species of
fish, the Nile perch. The list of such biogeographic
disasters is extensive.


Because every species is unique and irreplaceable,
the loss of biodiversity is the most profound process
(45) of environmental change. Its consequences are also
the least predictable because the value of the Earth’s
biota (the fauna and flora collectively) remains
largely unstudied and unappreciated; unlike material
and cultural wealth, which we understand because
(50) they are the substance of our everyday lives,
biological wealth is usually taken for granted. This is
a serious strategic error, one that will be increasingly
regretted as time passes. The biota is not only part of
a country’s heritage, the product of millions of years
(55) of evolution centered on that place; it is also a
potential source for immense untapped material
wealth in the form of food, medicine, and other
commercially important substances.

10 / 27

10.


The author mentions the Nile perch in order to provide an example of


The human species came into being at the time
of the greatest biological diversity in the history of
the Earth. Today, as human populations expand and
alter the natural environment, they are reducing
(5) biological diversity to its lowest level since the end of
the Mesozoic era, 65 million years ago. The ultimate
consequences of this biological collision are beyond
calculation, but they are certain to be harmful. That,
in essence, is the biodiversity crisis.


(10) The history of global diversity can be summarized
as follows: after the initial flowering of multicellular
animals, there was a swift rise in the number of
species in early Paleozoic times (between 600 and
430 million years ago), then plateaulike stagnation
(15) for the remaining 200 million years of the Paleozoic
era, and finally a slow but steady climb through the
Mesozoic and Cenozoic eras to diversity’s all-time
high. This history suggests that biological diversity
was hard won and a long time in coming.


(20) Furthermore, this pattern of increase was set back by
five massive extinction episodes. The most recent of
these, during the Cretaceous period, is by far the
most famous, because it ended the age of the
dinosaurs, conferred hegemony on the mammals, and
(25) ultimately made possible the ascendancy of the
human species. But the Cretaceous crisis was minor
compared with the Permian extinctions 240 million
years ago, during which between 77 and 96 percent
of marine animal species perished. It took 5 million
(30) years, well into Mesozoic times, for species diversity
to begin a significant recovery.


Within the past 10,000 years biological diversity
has entered a wholly new era. Human activity has
had a devastating effect on species diversity, and the
(35) rate of human-induced extinctions is accelerating.
Half of the bird species of Polynesia have been
eliminated through hunting and the destruction of
native forests. Hundreds of fish species endemic to
Lake Victoria are now threatened with extinction
(40) following the careless introduction of one species of
fish, the Nile perch. The list of such biogeographic
disasters is extensive.


Because every species is unique and irreplaceable,
the loss of biodiversity is the most profound process
(45) of environmental change. Its consequences are also
the least predictable because the value of the Earth’s
biota (the fauna and flora collectively) remains
largely unstudied and unappreciated; unlike material
and cultural wealth, which we understand because
(50) they are the substance of our everyday lives,
biological wealth is usually taken for granted. This is
a serious strategic error, one that will be increasingly
regretted as time passes. The biota is not only part of
a country’s heritage, the product of millions of years
(55) of evolution centered on that place; it is also a
potential source for immense untapped material
wealth in the form of food, medicine, and other
commercially important substances.

11 / 27

11.


All of the following are explicitly mentioned in the passage as contributing to the extinction of species EXCEPT


The human species came into being at the time
of the greatest biological diversity in the history of
the Earth. Today, as human populations expand and
alter the natural environment, they are reducing
(5) biological diversity to its lowest level since the end of
the Mesozoic era, 65 million years ago. The ultimate
consequences of this biological collision are beyond
calculation, but they are certain to be harmful. That,
in essence, is the biodiversity crisis.


(10) The history of global diversity can be summarized
as follows: after the initial flowering of multicellular
animals, there was a swift rise in the number of
species in early Paleozoic times (between 600 and
430 million years ago), then plateaulike stagnation
(15) for the remaining 200 million years of the Paleozoic
era, and finally a slow but steady climb through the
Mesozoic and Cenozoic eras to diversity’s all-time
high. This history suggests that biological diversity
was hard won and a long time in coming.


(20) Furthermore, this pattern of increase was set back by
five massive extinction episodes. The most recent of
these, during the Cretaceous period, is by far the
most famous, because it ended the age of the
dinosaurs, conferred hegemony on the mammals, and
(25) ultimately made possible the ascendancy of the
human species. But the Cretaceous crisis was minor
compared with the Permian extinctions 240 million
years ago, during which between 77 and 96 percent
of marine animal species perished. It took 5 million
(30) years, well into Mesozoic times, for species diversity
to begin a significant recovery.


Within the past 10,000 years biological diversity
has entered a wholly new era. Human activity has
had a devastating effect on species diversity, and the
(35) rate of human-induced extinctions is accelerating.
Half of the bird species of Polynesia have been
eliminated through hunting and the destruction of
native forests. Hundreds of fish species endemic to
Lake Victoria are now threatened with extinction
(40) following the careless introduction of one species of
fish, the Nile perch. The list of such biogeographic
disasters is extensive.


Because every species is unique and irreplaceable,
the loss of biodiversity is the most profound process
(45) of environmental change. Its consequences are also
the least predictable because the value of the Earth’s
biota (the fauna and flora collectively) remains
largely unstudied and unappreciated; unlike material
and cultural wealth, which we understand because
(50) they are the substance of our everyday lives,
biological wealth is usually taken for granted. This is
a serious strategic error, one that will be increasingly
regretted as time passes. The biota is not only part of
a country’s heritage, the product of millions of years
(55) of evolution centered on that place; it is also a
potential source for immense untapped material
wealth in the form of food, medicine, and other
commercially important substances.

12 / 27

12.


The passage suggests which one of the following about material and cultural wealth?


The human species came into being at the time
of the greatest biological diversity in the history of
the Earth. Today, as human populations expand and
alter the natural environment, they are reducing
(5) biological diversity to its lowest level since the end of
the Mesozoic era, 65 million years ago. The ultimate
consequences of this biological collision are beyond
calculation, but they are certain to be harmful. That,
in essence, is the biodiversity crisis.


(10) The history of global diversity can be summarized
as follows: after the initial flowering of multicellular
animals, there was a swift rise in the number of
species in early Paleozoic times (between 600 and
430 million years ago), then plateaulike stagnation
(15) for the remaining 200 million years of the Paleozoic
era, and finally a slow but steady climb through the
Mesozoic and Cenozoic eras to diversity’s all-time
high. This history suggests that biological diversity
was hard won and a long time in coming.


(20) Furthermore, this pattern of increase was set back by
five massive extinction episodes. The most recent of
these, during the Cretaceous period, is by far the
most famous, because it ended the age of the
dinosaurs, conferred hegemony on the mammals, and
(25) ultimately made possible the ascendancy of the
human species. But the Cretaceous crisis was minor
compared with the Permian extinctions 240 million
years ago, during which between 77 and 96 percent
of marine animal species perished. It took 5 million
(30) years, well into Mesozoic times, for species diversity
to begin a significant recovery.


Within the past 10,000 years biological diversity
has entered a wholly new era. Human activity has
had a devastating effect on species diversity, and the
(35) rate of human-induced extinctions is accelerating.
Half of the bird species of Polynesia have been
eliminated through hunting and the destruction of
native forests. Hundreds of fish species endemic to
Lake Victoria are now threatened with extinction
(40) following the careless introduction of one species of
fish, the Nile perch. The list of such biogeographic
disasters is extensive.


Because every species is unique and irreplaceable,
the loss of biodiversity is the most profound process
(45) of environmental change. Its consequences are also
the least predictable because the value of the Earth’s
biota (the fauna and flora collectively) remains
largely unstudied and unappreciated; unlike material
and cultural wealth, which we understand because
(50) they are the substance of our everyday lives,
biological wealth is usually taken for granted. This is
a serious strategic error, one that will be increasingly
regretted as time passes. The biota is not only part of
a country’s heritage, the product of millions of years
(55) of evolution centered on that place; it is also a
potential source for immense untapped material
wealth in the form of food, medicine, and other
commercially important substances.

13 / 27

13.


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


The human species came into being at the time
of the greatest biological diversity in the history of
the Earth. Today, as human populations expand and
alter the natural environment, they are reducing
(5) biological diversity to its lowest level since the end of
the Mesozoic era, 65 million years ago. The ultimate
consequences of this biological collision are beyond
calculation, but they are certain to be harmful. That,
in essence, is the biodiversity crisis.


(10) The history of global diversity can be summarized
as follows: after the initial flowering of multicellular
animals, there was a swift rise in the number of
species in early Paleozoic times (between 600 and
430 million years ago), then plateaulike stagnation
(15) for the remaining 200 million years of the Paleozoic
era, and finally a slow but steady climb through the
Mesozoic and Cenozoic eras to diversity’s all-time
high. This history suggests that biological diversity
was hard won and a long time in coming.


(20) Furthermore, this pattern of increase was set back by
five massive extinction episodes. The most recent of
these, during the Cretaceous period, is by far the
most famous, because it ended the age of the
dinosaurs, conferred hegemony on the mammals, and
(25) ultimately made possible the ascendancy of the
human species. But the Cretaceous crisis was minor
compared with the Permian extinctions 240 million
years ago, during which between 77 and 96 percent
of marine animal species perished. It took 5 million
(30) years, well into Mesozoic times, for species diversity
to begin a significant recovery.


Within the past 10,000 years biological diversity
has entered a wholly new era. Human activity has
had a devastating effect on species diversity, and the
(35) rate of human-induced extinctions is accelerating.
Half of the bird species of Polynesia have been
eliminated through hunting and the destruction of
native forests. Hundreds of fish species endemic to
Lake Victoria are now threatened with extinction
(40) following the careless introduction of one species of
fish, the Nile perch. The list of such biogeographic
disasters is extensive.


Because every species is unique and irreplaceable,
the loss of biodiversity is the most profound process
(45) of environmental change. Its consequences are also
the least predictable because the value of the Earth’s
biota (the fauna and flora collectively) remains
largely unstudied and unappreciated; unlike material
and cultural wealth, which we understand because
(50) they are the substance of our everyday lives,
biological wealth is usually taken for granted. This is
a serious strategic error, one that will be increasingly
regretted as time passes. The biota is not only part of
a country’s heritage, the product of millions of years
(55) of evolution centered on that place; it is also a
potential source for immense untapped material
wealth in the form of food, medicine, and other
commercially important substances.

14 / 27

14.


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


Women’s participation in the revolutionary events
in France between 1789 and 1795 has only recently
been given nuanced treatment. Early twentieth
century historians of the French Revolution are
(5) typified by Jaures, who, though sympathetic to the
women’s movement of his own time, never even
mentions its antecedents in revolutionary France.
Even today most general histories treat only cursorily
a few individual women, like Marie Antoinette. The
(10) recent studies by Landes, Badinter, Godineau, and
Roudinesco, however, should signal a much-needed
reassessment of women’s participation.


Godineau and Roudinesco point to three
significant phases in that participation. The first, up
(15) to mid-1792, involved those women who wrote
political tracts. Typical of their orientation to
theoretical issues—in Godineau’s view, without
practical effect—is Marie Gouze’s Declaration of the
Rights of Women. The emergence of vocal middle
(20) class women’s political clubs marks the second phase.
Formed in 1791 as adjuncts of middle-class male
political clubs, and originally philanthropic in
function, by late 1792 independent clubs of women
began to advocate military participation for women.
(25) In the final phase, the famine of 1795 occasioned a
mass women’s movement: women seized food
supplies, held officials hostage, and argued for the
implementation of democratic politics. This phase
ended in May of 1795 with the military suppression
(30) of this multiclass movement. In all three phases
women’s participation in politics contrasted
markedly with their participation before 1789.
Before that date some noblewomen participated
indirectly in elections, but such participation by more
(35) than a narrow range of the population—women or
men—came only with the Revolution.


What makes the recent studies particularly
compelling, however, is not so much their
organization of chronology as their unflinching
(40) willingness to confront the reasons for the collapse of
the women’s movement. For Landes and Badinter,
the necessity of women’s having to speak in the
established vocabularies of certain intellectual and
political traditions diminished the ability of the
(45) women’s movement to resist suppression. Many
women,and many men, they argue, located their
vision within the confining tradition of Jean-Jacques
Rousseau, who linked male and female roles with
public and private spheres respectively. But, when
(50) women went on to make political alliances with
radical Jacobin men, Badinter asserts, they adopted a
vocabulary and a violently extremist viewpoint that
unfortunately was even more damaging to their
political interests.


(55) Each of these scholars has a different political
agenda and takes a different approach—Godineau,
for example, works with police archives while
Roudinesco uses explanatory schema from modern
psychology. Yet, admirably, each gives center stage
(60) to a group that previously has been marginalized, or
at best undifferentiated, by historians. And in the case
of Landes and Badinter, the reader is left with a
sobering awareness of the cost to the women of the
Revolution of speaking in borrowed voices.

15 / 27

15.


The passage suggests that Godineau would be likely to agree with which one of the following statements about Marie Gouze’s Declaration of the Rights of Women?


Women’s participation in the revolutionary events
in France between 1789 and 1795 has only recently
been given nuanced treatment. Early twentieth
century historians of the French Revolution are
(5) typified by Jaures, who, though sympathetic to the
women’s movement of his own time, never even
mentions its antecedents in revolutionary France.
Even today most general histories treat only cursorily
a few individual women, like Marie Antoinette. The
(10) recent studies by Landes, Badinter, Godineau, and
Roudinesco, however, should signal a much-needed
reassessment of women’s participation.


Godineau and Roudinesco point to three
significant phases in that participation. The first, up
(15) to mid-1792, involved those women who wrote
political tracts. Typical of their orientation to
theoretical issues—in Godineau’s view, without
practical effect—is Marie Gouze’s Declaration of the
Rights of Women. The emergence of vocal middle
(20) class women’s political clubs marks the second phase.
Formed in 1791 as adjuncts of middle-class male
political clubs, and originally philanthropic in
function, by late 1792 independent clubs of women
began to advocate military participation for women.
(25) In the final phase, the famine of 1795 occasioned a
mass women’s movement: women seized food
supplies, held officials hostage, and argued for the
implementation of democratic politics. This phase
ended in May of 1795 with the military suppression
(30) of this multiclass movement. In all three phases
women’s participation in politics contrasted
markedly with their participation before 1789.
Before that date some noblewomen participated
indirectly in elections, but such participation by more
(35) than a narrow range of the population—women or
men—came only with the Revolution.


What makes the recent studies particularly
compelling, however, is not so much their
organization of chronology as their unflinching
(40) willingness to confront the reasons for the collapse of
the women’s movement. For Landes and Badinter,
the necessity of women’s having to speak in the
established vocabularies of certain intellectual and
political traditions diminished the ability of the
(45) women’s movement to resist suppression. Many
women,and many men, they argue, located their
vision within the confining tradition of Jean-Jacques
Rousseau, who linked male and female roles with
public and private spheres respectively. But, when
(50) women went on to make political alliances with
radical Jacobin men, Badinter asserts, they adopted a
vocabulary and a violently extremist viewpoint that
unfortunately was even more damaging to their
political interests.


(55) Each of these scholars has a different political
agenda and takes a different approach—Godineau,
for example, works with police archives while
Roudinesco uses explanatory schema from modern
psychology. Yet, admirably, each gives center stage
(60) to a group that previously has been marginalized, or
at best undifferentiated, by historians. And in the case
of Landes and Badinter, the reader is left with a
sobering awareness of the cost to the women of the
Revolution of speaking in borrowed voices.

16 / 27

16.


According to the passage, which one of the following is a true statement about the purpose of the women’s political clubs mentioned in line 20?


Women’s participation in the revolutionary events
in France between 1789 and 1795 has only recently
been given nuanced treatment. Early twentieth
century historians of the French Revolution are
(5) typified by Jaures, who, though sympathetic to the
women’s movement of his own time, never even
mentions its antecedents in revolutionary France.
Even today most general histories treat only cursorily
a few individual women, like Marie Antoinette. The
(10) recent studies by Landes, Badinter, Godineau, and
Roudinesco, however, should signal a much-needed
reassessment of women’s participation.


Godineau and Roudinesco point to three
significant phases in that participation. The first, up
(15) to mid-1792, involved those women who wrote
political tracts. Typical of their orientation to
theoretical issues—in Godineau’s view, without
practical effect—is Marie Gouze’s Declaration of the
Rights of Women. The emergence of vocal middle
(20) class women’s political clubs marks the second phase.
Formed in 1791 as adjuncts of middle-class male
political clubs, and originally philanthropic in
function, by late 1792 independent clubs of women
began to advocate military participation for women.
(25) In the final phase, the famine of 1795 occasioned a
mass women’s movement: women seized food
supplies, held officials hostage, and argued for the
implementation of democratic politics. This phase
ended in May of 1795 with the military suppression
(30) of this multiclass movement. In all three phases
women’s participation in politics contrasted
markedly with their participation before 1789.
Before that date some noblewomen participated
indirectly in elections, but such participation by more
(35) than a narrow range of the population—women or
men—came only with the Revolution.


What makes the recent studies particularly
compelling, however, is not so much their
organization of chronology as their unflinching
(40) willingness to confront the reasons for the collapse of
the women’s movement. For Landes and Badinter,
the necessity of women’s having to speak in the
established vocabularies of certain intellectual and
political traditions diminished the ability of the
(45) women’s movement to resist suppression. Many
women,and many men, they argue, located their
vision within the confining tradition of Jean-Jacques
Rousseau, who linked male and female roles with
public and private spheres respectively. But, when
(50) women went on to make political alliances with
radical Jacobin men, Badinter asserts, they adopted a
vocabulary and a violently extremist viewpoint that
unfortunately was even more damaging to their
political interests.


(55) Each of these scholars has a different political
agenda and takes a different approach—Godineau,
for example, works with police archives while
Roudinesco uses explanatory schema from modern
psychology. Yet, admirably, each gives center stage
(60) to a group that previously has been marginalized, or
at best undifferentiated, by historians. And in the case
of Landes and Badinter, the reader is left with a
sobering awareness of the cost to the women of the
Revolution of speaking in borrowed voices.

17 / 27

17.


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


Women’s participation in the revolutionary events
in France between 1789 and 1795 has only recently
been given nuanced treatment. Early twentieth
century historians of the French Revolution are
(5) typified by Jaures, who, though sympathetic to the
women’s movement of his own time, never even
mentions its antecedents in revolutionary France.
Even today most general histories treat only cursorily
a few individual women, like Marie Antoinette. The
(10) recent studies by Landes, Badinter, Godineau, and
Roudinesco, however, should signal a much-needed
reassessment of women’s participation.


Godineau and Roudinesco point to three
significant phases in that participation. The first, up
(15) to mid-1792, involved those women who wrote
political tracts. Typical of their orientation to
theoretical issues—in Godineau’s view, without
practical effect—is Marie Gouze’s Declaration of the
Rights of Women. The emergence of vocal middle
(20) class women’s political clubs marks the second phase.
Formed in 1791 as adjuncts of middle-class male
political clubs, and originally philanthropic in
function, by late 1792 independent clubs of women
began to advocate military participation for women.
(25) In the final phase, the famine of 1795 occasioned a
mass women’s movement: women seized food
supplies, held officials hostage, and argued for the
implementation of democratic politics. This phase
ended in May of 1795 with the military suppression
(30) of this multiclass movement. In all three phases
women’s participation in politics contrasted
markedly with their participation before 1789.
Before that date some noblewomen participated
indirectly in elections, but such participation by more
(35) than a narrow range of the population—women or
men—came only with the Revolution.


What makes the recent studies particularly
compelling, however, is not so much their
organization of chronology as their unflinching
(40) willingness to confront the reasons for the collapse of
the women’s movement. For Landes and Badinter,
the necessity of women’s having to speak in the
established vocabularies of certain intellectual and
political traditions diminished the ability of the
(45) women’s movement to resist suppression. Many
women,and many men, they argue, located their
vision within the confining tradition of Jean-Jacques
Rousseau, who linked male and female roles with
public and private spheres respectively. But, when
(50) women went on to make political alliances with
radical Jacobin men, Badinter asserts, they adopted a
vocabulary and a violently extremist viewpoint that
unfortunately was even more damaging to their
political interests.


(55) Each of these scholars has a different political
agenda and takes a different approach—Godineau,
for example, works with police archives while
Roudinesco uses explanatory schema from modern
psychology. Yet, admirably, each gives center stage
(60) to a group that previously has been marginalized, or
at best undifferentiated, by historians. And in the case
of Landes and Badinter, the reader is left with a
sobering awareness of the cost to the women of the
Revolution of speaking in borrowed voices.

18 / 27

18.


The passage suggests that Landes and Badinter would be likely to agree with which one of the following statements about the women’s movement in France in the 1790s?


Women’s participation in the revolutionary events
in France between 1789 and 1795 has only recently
been given nuanced treatment. Early twentieth
century historians of the French Revolution are
(5) typified by Jaures, who, though sympathetic to the
women’s movement of his own time, never even
mentions its antecedents in revolutionary France.
Even today most general histories treat only cursorily
a few individual women, like Marie Antoinette. The
(10) recent studies by Landes, Badinter, Godineau, and
Roudinesco, however, should signal a much-needed
reassessment of women’s participation.


Godineau and Roudinesco point to three
significant phases in that participation. The first, up
(15) to mid-1792, involved those women who wrote
political tracts. Typical of their orientation to
theoretical issues—in Godineau’s view, without
practical effect—is Marie Gouze’s Declaration of the
Rights of Women. The emergence of vocal middle
(20) class women’s political clubs marks the second phase.
Formed in 1791 as adjuncts of middle-class male
political clubs, and originally philanthropic in
function, by late 1792 independent clubs of women
began to advocate military participation for women.
(25) In the final phase, the famine of 1795 occasioned a
mass women’s movement: women seized food
supplies, held officials hostage, and argued for the
implementation of democratic politics. This phase
ended in May of 1795 with the military suppression
(30) of this multiclass movement. In all three phases
women’s participation in politics contrasted
markedly with their participation before 1789.
Before that date some noblewomen participated
indirectly in elections, but such participation by more
(35) than a narrow range of the population—women or
men—came only with the Revolution.


What makes the recent studies particularly
compelling, however, is not so much their
organization of chronology as their unflinching
(40) willingness to confront the reasons for the collapse of
the women’s movement. For Landes and Badinter,
the necessity of women’s having to speak in the
established vocabularies of certain intellectual and
political traditions diminished the ability of the
(45) women’s movement to resist suppression. Many
women,and many men, they argue, located their
vision within the confining tradition of Jean-Jacques
Rousseau, who linked male and female roles with
public and private spheres respectively. But, when
(50) women went on to make political alliances with
radical Jacobin men, Badinter asserts, they adopted a
vocabulary and a violently extremist viewpoint that
unfortunately was even more damaging to their
political interests.


(55) Each of these scholars has a different political
agenda and takes a different approach—Godineau,
for example, works with police archives while
Roudinesco uses explanatory schema from modern
psychology. Yet, admirably, each gives center stage
(60) to a group that previously has been marginalized, or
at best undifferentiated, by historians. And in the case
of Landes and Badinter, the reader is left with a
sobering awareness of the cost to the women of the
Revolution of speaking in borrowed voices.

19 / 27

19.


In the context of the passage, the word “cost” in line 63 refers to the


Women’s participation in the revolutionary events
in France between 1789 and 1795 has only recently
been given nuanced treatment. Early twentieth
century historians of the French Revolution are
(5) typified by Jaures, who, though sympathetic to the
women’s movement of his own time, never even
mentions its antecedents in revolutionary France.
Even today most general histories treat only cursorily
a few individual women, like Marie Antoinette. The
(10) recent studies by Landes, Badinter, Godineau, and
Roudinesco, however, should signal a much-needed
reassessment of women’s participation.


Godineau and Roudinesco point to three
significant phases in that participation. The first, up
(15) to mid-1792, involved those women who wrote
political tracts. Typical of their orientation to
theoretical issues—in Godineau’s view, without
practical effect—is Marie Gouze’s Declaration of the
Rights of Women. The emergence of vocal middle
(20) class women’s political clubs marks the second phase.
Formed in 1791 as adjuncts of middle-class male
political clubs, and originally philanthropic in
function, by late 1792 independent clubs of women
began to advocate military participation for women.
(25) In the final phase, the famine of 1795 occasioned a
mass women’s movement: women seized food
supplies, held officials hostage, and argued for the
implementation of democratic politics. This phase
ended in May of 1795 with the military suppression
(30) of this multiclass movement. In all three phases
women’s participation in politics contrasted
markedly with their participation before 1789.
Before that date some noblewomen participated
indirectly in elections, but such participation by more
(35) than a narrow range of the population—women or
men—came only with the Revolution.


What makes the recent studies particularly
compelling, however, is not so much their
organization of chronology as their unflinching
(40) willingness to confront the reasons for the collapse of
the women’s movement. For Landes and Badinter,
the necessity of women’s having to speak in the
established vocabularies of certain intellectual and
political traditions diminished the ability of the
(45) women’s movement to resist suppression. Many
women,and many men, they argue, located their
vision within the confining tradition of Jean-Jacques
Rousseau, who linked male and female roles with
public and private spheres respectively. But, when
(50) women went on to make political alliances with
radical Jacobin men, Badinter asserts, they adopted a
vocabulary and a violently extremist viewpoint that
unfortunately was even more damaging to their
political interests.


(55) Each of these scholars has a different political
agenda and takes a different approach—Godineau,
for example, works with police archives while
Roudinesco uses explanatory schema from modern
psychology. Yet, admirably, each gives center stage
(60) to a group that previously has been marginalized, or
at best undifferentiated, by historians. And in the case
of Landes and Badinter, the reader is left with a
sobering awareness of the cost to the women of the
Revolution of speaking in borrowed voices.

20 / 27

20.


The author of the passage is primarily concerned with


Women’s participation in the revolutionary events
in France between 1789 and 1795 has only recently
been given nuanced treatment. Early twentieth
century historians of the French Revolution are
(5) typified by Jaures, who, though sympathetic to the
women’s movement of his own time, never even
mentions its antecedents in revolutionary France.
Even today most general histories treat only cursorily
a few individual women, like Marie Antoinette. The
(10) recent studies by Landes, Badinter, Godineau, and
Roudinesco, however, should signal a much-needed
reassessment of women’s participation.


Godineau and Roudinesco point to three
significant phases in that participation. The first, up
(15) to mid-1792, involved those women who wrote
political tracts. Typical of their orientation to
theoretical issues—in Godineau’s view, without
practical effect—is Marie Gouze’s Declaration of the
Rights of Women. The emergence of vocal middle
(20) class women’s political clubs marks the second phase.
Formed in 1791 as adjuncts of middle-class male
political clubs, and originally philanthropic in
function, by late 1792 independent clubs of women
began to advocate military participation for women.
(25) In the final phase, the famine of 1795 occasioned a
mass women’s movement: women seized food
supplies, held officials hostage, and argued for the
implementation of democratic politics. This phase
ended in May of 1795 with the military suppression
(30) of this multiclass movement. In all three phases
women’s participation in politics contrasted
markedly with their participation before 1789.
Before that date some noblewomen participated
indirectly in elections, but such participation by more
(35) than a narrow range of the population—women or
men—came only with the Revolution.


What makes the recent studies particularly
compelling, however, is not so much their
organization of chronology as their unflinching
(40) willingness to confront the reasons for the collapse of
the women’s movement. For Landes and Badinter,
the necessity of women’s having to speak in the
established vocabularies of certain intellectual and
political traditions diminished the ability of the
(45) women’s movement to resist suppression. Many
women,and many men, they argue, located their
vision within the confining tradition of Jean-Jacques
Rousseau, who linked male and female roles with
public and private spheres respectively. But, when
(50) women went on to make political alliances with
radical Jacobin men, Badinter asserts, they adopted a
vocabulary and a violently extremist viewpoint that
unfortunately was even more damaging to their
political interests.


(55) Each of these scholars has a different political
agenda and takes a different approach—Godineau,
for example, works with police archives while
Roudinesco uses explanatory schema from modern
psychology. Yet, admirably, each gives center stage
(60) to a group that previously has been marginalized, or
at best undifferentiated, by historians. And in the case
of Landes and Badinter, the reader is left with a
sobering awareness of the cost to the women of the
Revolution of speaking in borrowed voices.

21 / 27

21.


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


Art historians’ approach to French Impressionism
has changed significantly in recent years. While a
decade ago Rewald’s History of Impressionism,
which emphasizes Impressionist painters’ stylistic
(5) innovations, was unchallenged, the literature on
Impressionism has now become a kind of ideological
battlefield, in which more attention is paid to the
subject matter of the paintings, and to the social and
moral issues raised by it, than to their style.
(10) Recently, politically charged discussions that address
the Impressionists’ unequal treatment of men and
women and the exclusion of modern industry and
labor from their pictures have tended to crowd out
the stylistic analysis favored by Rewald and his
(15) followers. In a new work illustrating this trend,
Robert L. Herbert dissociates himself from
formalists whose preoccupation with the stylistic
features of Impressionist painting has, in Herbert’s
view, left the history out of art history; his aim is to
(20) restore Impressionist paintings “to their sociocultural
context.” However, his arguments are not, finally,
persuasive.


In attempting to place Impressionist painting in
its proper historical context, Herbert has redrawn the
(25) traditional boundaries of Impressionism. Limiting
himself to the two decades between 1860 and 1880,
he assembles under the Impressionist banner what
can only be described as a somewhat eccentric
grouping of painters. Cezanne, Pisarro, and Sisley
(30) are almost entirely ignored, largely because their
paintings do not suit Herbert’s emphasis on themes
of urban life and suburban leisure, while Manet,
Degas, and Caillebotte—who paint scenes of urban
life but whom many would hardly characterize as
(35) Impressionists—dominate the first half of the book.
Although this new description of Impressionist
painting provides a more unified conception of
nineteenth-century French painting by grouping
quite disparate modernist painters together and
(40) emphasizing their common concerns rather than
their stylistic differences, it also forces Herbert to
overlook some of the most important genres of
Impressionist painting—portraiture, pure landscape,
and still-life painting.


(45) Moreover, the rationale for Herbert’s emphasis on
the social and political realities that Impressionist
paintings can be said to communicate rather than on
their style is finally undermined by what even
Herbert concedes was the failure of Impressionist
(50) painters to serve as particularly conscientious
illustrators of their social milieu. They left much
ordinary experience—work and poverty, for
example—out of their paintings, and what they did
put in was transformed by a style that had only an
(55) indirect relationship to the social realities of the
world they depicted. Not only were their pictures
inventions rather than photographs, they were
inventions in which style to some degree disrupted
description. Their paintings in effect have two levels
(60) of “subject”: what is represented and how it is
represented, and no art historian can afford to
emphasize one at the expense of the other.

22 / 27

22.


According to the passage, Rewald’s book on Impressionism was characterized by which one of the following?


Art historians’ approach to French Impressionism
has changed significantly in recent years. While a
decade ago Rewald’s History of Impressionism,
which emphasizes Impressionist painters’ stylistic
(5) innovations, was unchallenged, the literature on
Impressionism has now become a kind of ideological
battlefield, in which more attention is paid to the
subject matter of the paintings, and to the social and
moral issues raised by it, than to their style.
(10) Recently, politically charged discussions that address
the Impressionists’ unequal treatment of men and
women and the exclusion of modern industry and
labor from their pictures have tended to crowd out
the stylistic analysis favored by Rewald and his
(15) followers. In a new work illustrating this trend,
Robert L. Herbert dissociates himself from
formalists whose preoccupation with the stylistic
features of Impressionist painting has, in Herbert’s
view, left the history out of art history; his aim is to
(20) restore Impressionist paintings “to their sociocultural
context.” However, his arguments are not, finally,
persuasive.


In attempting to place Impressionist painting in
its proper historical context, Herbert has redrawn the
(25) traditional boundaries of Impressionism. Limiting
himself to the two decades between 1860 and 1880,
he assembles under the Impressionist banner what
can only be described as a somewhat eccentric
grouping of painters. Cezanne, Pisarro, and Sisley
(30) are almost entirely ignored, largely because their
paintings do not suit Herbert’s emphasis on themes
of urban life and suburban leisure, while Manet,
Degas, and Caillebotte—who paint scenes of urban
life but whom many would hardly characterize as
(35) Impressionists—dominate the first half of the book.
Although this new description of Impressionist
painting provides a more unified conception of
nineteenth-century French painting by grouping
quite disparate modernist painters together and
(40) emphasizing their common concerns rather than
their stylistic differences, it also forces Herbert to
overlook some of the most important genres of
Impressionist painting—portraiture, pure landscape,
and still-life painting.


(45) Moreover, the rationale for Herbert’s emphasis on
the social and political realities that Impressionist
paintings can be said to communicate rather than on
their style is finally undermined by what even
Herbert concedes was the failure of Impressionist
(50) painters to serve as particularly conscientious
illustrators of their social milieu. They left much
ordinary experience—work and poverty, for
example—out of their paintings, and what they did
put in was transformed by a style that had only an
(55) indirect relationship to the social realities of the
world they depicted. Not only were their pictures
inventions rather than photographs, they were
inventions in which style to some degree disrupted
description. Their paintings in effect have two levels
(60) of “subject”: what is represented and how it is
represented, and no art historian can afford to
emphasize one at the expense of the other.

23 / 27

23.


The author implies that Herbert’s redefinition of the boundaries of Impressionism resulted from which one of the following?


Art historians’ approach to French Impressionism
has changed significantly in recent years. While a
decade ago Rewald’s History of Impressionism,
which emphasizes Impressionist painters’ stylistic
(5) innovations, was unchallenged, the literature on
Impressionism has now become a kind of ideological
battlefield, in which more attention is paid to the
subject matter of the paintings, and to the social and
moral issues raised by it, than to their style.
(10) Recently, politically charged discussions that address
the Impressionists’ unequal treatment of men and
women and the exclusion of modern industry and
labor from their pictures have tended to crowd out
the stylistic analysis favored by Rewald and his
(15) followers. In a new work illustrating this trend,
Robert L. Herbert dissociates himself from
formalists whose preoccupation with the stylistic
features of Impressionist painting has, in Herbert’s
view, left the history out of art history; his aim is to
(20) restore Impressionist paintings “to their sociocultural
context.” However, his arguments are not, finally,
persuasive.


In attempting to place Impressionist painting in
its proper historical context, Herbert has redrawn the
(25) traditional boundaries of Impressionism. Limiting
himself to the two decades between 1860 and 1880,
he assembles under the Impressionist banner what
can only be described as a somewhat eccentric
grouping of painters. Cezanne, Pisarro, and Sisley
(30) are almost entirely ignored, largely because their
paintings do not suit Herbert’s emphasis on themes
of urban life and suburban leisure, while Manet,
Degas, and Caillebotte—who paint scenes of urban
life but whom many would hardly characterize as
(35) Impressionists—dominate the first half of the book.
Although this new description of Impressionist
painting provides a more unified conception of
nineteenth-century French painting by grouping
quite disparate modernist painters together and
(40) emphasizing their common concerns rather than
their stylistic differences, it also forces Herbert to
overlook some of the most important genres of
Impressionist painting—portraiture, pure landscape,
and still-life painting.


(45) Moreover, the rationale for Herbert’s emphasis on
the social and political realities that Impressionist
paintings can be said to communicate rather than on
their style is finally undermined by what even
Herbert concedes was the failure of Impressionist
(50) painters to serve as particularly conscientious
illustrators of their social milieu. They left much
ordinary experience—work and poverty, for
example—out of their paintings, and what they did
put in was transformed by a style that had only an
(55) indirect relationship to the social realities of the
world they depicted. Not only were their pictures
inventions rather than photographs, they were
inventions in which style to some degree disrupted
description. Their paintings in effect have two levels
(60) of “subject”: what is represented and how it is
represented, and no art historian can afford to
emphasize one at the expense of the other.

24 / 27

24.


The author states which one of the following about modern industry and labor as subjects for painting?


Art historians’ approach to French Impressionism
has changed significantly in recent years. While a
decade ago Rewald’s History of Impressionism,
which emphasizes Impressionist painters’ stylistic
(5) innovations, was unchallenged, the literature on
Impressionism has now become a kind of ideological
battlefield, in which more attention is paid to the
subject matter of the paintings, and to the social and
moral issues raised by it, than to their style.
(10) Recently, politically charged discussions that address
the Impressionists’ unequal treatment of men and
women and the exclusion of modern industry and
labor from their pictures have tended to crowd out
the stylistic analysis favored by Rewald and his
(15) followers. In a new work illustrating this trend,
Robert L. Herbert dissociates himself from
formalists whose preoccupation with the stylistic
features of Impressionist painting has, in Herbert’s
view, left the history out of art history; his aim is to
(20) restore Impressionist paintings “to their sociocultural
context.” However, his arguments are not, finally,
persuasive.


In attempting to place Impressionist painting in
its proper historical context, Herbert has redrawn the
(25) traditional boundaries of Impressionism. Limiting
himself to the two decades between 1860 and 1880,
he assembles under the Impressionist banner what
can only be described as a somewhat eccentric
grouping of painters. Cezanne, Pisarro, and Sisley
(30) are almost entirely ignored, largely because their
paintings do not suit Herbert’s emphasis on themes
of urban life and suburban leisure, while Manet,
Degas, and Caillebotte—who paint scenes of urban
life but whom many would hardly characterize as
(35) Impressionists—dominate the first half of the book.
Although this new description of Impressionist
painting provides a more unified conception of
nineteenth-century French painting by grouping
quite disparate modernist painters together and
(40) emphasizing their common concerns rather than
their stylistic differences, it also forces Herbert to
overlook some of the most important genres of
Impressionist painting—portraiture, pure landscape,
and still-life painting.


(45) Moreover, the rationale for Herbert’s emphasis on
the social and political realities that Impressionist
paintings can be said to communicate rather than on
their style is finally undermined by what even
Herbert concedes was the failure of Impressionist
(50) painters to serve as particularly conscientious
illustrators of their social milieu. They left much
ordinary experience—work and poverty, for
example—out of their paintings, and what they did
put in was transformed by a style that had only an
(55) indirect relationship to the social realities of the
world they depicted. Not only were their pictures
inventions rather than photographs, they were
inventions in which style to some degree disrupted
description. Their paintings in effect have two levels
(60) of “subject”: what is represented and how it is
represented, and no art historian can afford to
emphasize one at the expense of the other.

25 / 27

25.


Which one of the following most accurately describes the structure of the author’s argument in the passage?


Art historians’ approach to French Impressionism
has changed significantly in recent years. While a
decade ago Rewald’s History of Impressionism,
which emphasizes Impressionist painters’ stylistic
(5) innovations, was unchallenged, the literature on
Impressionism has now become a kind of ideological
battlefield, in which more attention is paid to the
subject matter of the paintings, and to the social and
moral issues raised by it, than to their style.
(10) Recently, politically charged discussions that address
the Impressionists’ unequal treatment of men and
women and the exclusion of modern industry and
labor from their pictures have tended to crowd out
the stylistic analysis favored by Rewald and his
(15) followers. In a new work illustrating this trend,
Robert L. Herbert dissociates himself from
formalists whose preoccupation with the stylistic
features of Impressionist painting has, in Herbert’s
view, left the history out of art history; his aim is to
(20) restore Impressionist paintings “to their sociocultural
context.” However, his arguments are not, finally,
persuasive.


In attempting to place Impressionist painting in
its proper historical context, Herbert has redrawn the
(25) traditional boundaries of Impressionism. Limiting
himself to the two decades between 1860 and 1880,
he assembles under the Impressionist banner what
can only be described as a somewhat eccentric
grouping of painters. Cezanne, Pisarro, and Sisley
(30) are almost entirely ignored, largely because their
paintings do not suit Herbert’s emphasis on themes
of urban life and suburban leisure, while Manet,
Degas, and Caillebotte—who paint scenes of urban
life but whom many would hardly characterize as
(35) Impressionists—dominate the first half of the book.
Although this new description of Impressionist
painting provides a more unified conception of
nineteenth-century French painting by grouping
quite disparate modernist painters together and
(40) emphasizing their common concerns rather than
their stylistic differences, it also forces Herbert to
overlook some of the most important genres of
Impressionist painting—portraiture, pure landscape,
and still-life painting.


(45) Moreover, the rationale for Herbert’s emphasis on
the social and political realities that Impressionist
paintings can be said to communicate rather than on
their style is finally undermined by what even
Herbert concedes was the failure of Impressionist
(50) painters to serve as particularly conscientious
illustrators of their social milieu. They left much
ordinary experience—work and poverty, for
example—out of their paintings, and what they did
put in was transformed by a style that had only an
(55) indirect relationship to the social realities of the
world they depicted. Not only were their pictures
inventions rather than photographs, they were
inventions in which style to some degree disrupted
description. Their paintings in effect have two levels
(60) of “subject”: what is represented and how it is
represented, and no art historian can afford to
emphasize one at the expense of the other.

26 / 27

26.


The author’s statement that Impressionist paintings “were inventions in which style to some degree disrupted description” (lines 57–59) serves to


Art historians’ approach to French Impressionism
has changed significantly in recent years. While a
decade ago Rewald’s History of Impressionism,
which emphasizes Impressionist painters’ stylistic
(5) innovations, was unchallenged, the literature on
Impressionism has now become a kind of ideological
battlefield, in which more attention is paid to the
subject matter of the paintings, and to the social and
moral issues raised by it, than to their style.
(10) Recently, politically charged discussions that address
the Impressionists’ unequal treatment of men and
women and the exclusion of modern industry and
labor from their pictures have tended to crowd out
the stylistic analysis favored by Rewald and his
(15) followers. In a new work illustrating this trend,
Robert L. Herbert dissociates himself from
formalists whose preoccupation with the stylistic
features of Impressionist painting has, in Herbert’s
view, left the history out of art history; his aim is to
(20) restore Impressionist paintings “to their sociocultural
context.” However, his arguments are not, finally,
persuasive.


In attempting to place Impressionist painting in
its proper historical context, Herbert has redrawn the
(25) traditional boundaries of Impressionism. Limiting
himself to the two decades between 1860 and 1880,
he assembles under the Impressionist banner what
can only be described as a somewhat eccentric
grouping of painters. Cezanne, Pisarro, and Sisley
(30) are almost entirely ignored, largely because their
paintings do not suit Herbert’s emphasis on themes
of urban life and suburban leisure, while Manet,
Degas, and Caillebotte—who paint scenes of urban
life but whom many would hardly characterize as
(35) Impressionists—dominate the first half of the book.
Although this new description of Impressionist
painting provides a more unified conception of
nineteenth-century French painting by grouping
quite disparate modernist painters together and
(40) emphasizing their common concerns rather than
their stylistic differences, it also forces Herbert to
overlook some of the most important genres of
Impressionist painting—portraiture, pure landscape,
and still-life painting.


(45) Moreover, the rationale for Herbert’s emphasis on
the social and political realities that Impressionist
paintings can be said to communicate rather than on
their style is finally undermined by what even
Herbert concedes was the failure of Impressionist
(50) painters to serve as particularly conscientious
illustrators of their social milieu. They left much
ordinary experience—work and poverty, for
example—out of their paintings, and what they did
put in was transformed by a style that had only an
(55) indirect relationship to the social realities of the
world they depicted. Not only were their pictures
inventions rather than photographs, they were
inventions in which style to some degree disrupted
description. Their paintings in effect have two levels
(60) of “subject”: what is represented and how it is
represented, and no art historian can afford to
emphasize one at the expense of the other.

27 / 27

27.


The author would most likely regard a book on the Impressionists that focused entirely on their style as


Art historians’ approach to French Impressionism
has changed significantly in recent years. While a
decade ago Rewald’s History of Impressionism,
which emphasizes Impressionist painters’ stylistic
(5) innovations, was unchallenged, the literature on
Impressionism has now become a kind of ideological
battlefield, in which more attention is paid to the
subject matter of the paintings, and to the social and
moral issues raised by it, than to their style.
(10) Recently, politically charged discussions that address
the Impressionists’ unequal treatment of men and
women and the exclusion of modern industry and
labor from their pictures have tended to crowd out
the stylistic analysis favored by Rewald and his
(15) followers. In a new work illustrating this trend,
Robert L. Herbert dissociates himself from
formalists whose preoccupation with the stylistic
features of Impressionist painting has, in Herbert’s
view, left the history out of art history; his aim is to
(20) restore Impressionist paintings “to their sociocultural
context.” However, his arguments are not, finally,
persuasive.


In attempting to place Impressionist painting in
its proper historical context, Herbert has redrawn the
(25) traditional boundaries of Impressionism. Limiting
himself to the two decades between 1860 and 1880,
he assembles under the Impressionist banner what
can only be described as a somewhat eccentric
grouping of painters. Cezanne, Pisarro, and Sisley
(30) are almost entirely ignored, largely because their
paintings do not suit Herbert’s emphasis on themes
of urban life and suburban leisure, while Manet,
Degas, and Caillebotte—who paint scenes of urban
life but whom many would hardly characterize as
(35) Impressionists—dominate the first half of the book.
Although this new description of Impressionist
painting provides a more unified conception of
nineteenth-century French painting by grouping
quite disparate modernist painters together and
(40) emphasizing their common concerns rather than
their stylistic differences, it also forces Herbert to
overlook some of the most important genres of
Impressionist painting—portraiture, pure landscape,
and still-life painting.


(45) Moreover, the rationale for Herbert’s emphasis on
the social and political realities that Impressionist
paintings can be said to communicate rather than on
their style is finally undermined by what even
Herbert concedes was the failure of Impressionist
(50) painters to serve as particularly conscientious
illustrators of their social milieu. They left much
ordinary experience—work and poverty, for
example—out of their paintings, and what they did
put in was transformed by a style that had only an
(55) indirect relationship to the social realities of the
world they depicted. Not only were their pictures
inventions rather than photographs, they were
inventions in which style to some degree disrupted
description. Their paintings in effect have two levels
(60) of “subject”: what is represented and how it is
represented, and no art historian can afford to
emphasize one at the expense of the other.

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