Inglês — CACD 2010

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Oriana, the agitator

1 Oriana Fallaci, the Italian writer and journalist bestknown for her abrasive tone and provocative stances, was fortwo decades, from the mid-nineteen-sixties to the4mid-nineteen-eighties, one of the sharpest politicalinterviewers in the world. Her subjects were among theworld’s most powerful figures: Yasser Arafat, Golda Meir,7Indira Ghandi, Haile Selassie, Deng Xiaoping. HenryKissinger, who later wrote that his 1972 interview with herwas “the single most disastrous conversation I have ever had10with any member of the press,” said that he had been flatteredinto granting it by the company he’d be keeping as part ofFallaci’s “journalistic pantheon.” It was more like a collection13of pelts: Fallaci never left her subjects unskinned. Her manner of interviewing was deliberatelyunsettling: she approached each encounter with studied16aggressiveness, made frequent nods to Europeanexistentialism (she often disarmed her subjects with baldquestions about death, God, and pity), and displayed a19sinuous, crafty intelligence. It didn’t hurt that she was petiteand beautiful, with perfect cheekbones, straight, smooth hairthat she wore parted in the middle or in pigtails; melancholy22blue-grey eyes, set off by eyeliner; a cigarette-cured voice;and an adorable Italian accent. During the Vietnam War, shewas sometimes photographed in fatigues and a helmet; her25rucksack bore handwritten instructions to return her body tothe Italian Ambassador “if K.I.A.” In these images she lookedslight and vulnerable as a child. Her essential toughness never28stopped taking people — men, especially — by surprise. Fallaci’s journalism was infused with a “mythic senseof political evil”, an almost adolescent aversion to power,31which suited the temperament of the times. “Whether”, shewould say, “it comes from a despotic sovereign or an electedpresident, from a murderous general or a beloved leader, I see34power as an inhuman and hateful phenomenon… I havealways looked on disobedience towards the oppressive as theonly way to use the miracle of having been born.” In her37interview with Kissinger, she told him that he had becomeknown as “Nixon’s mental wet nurse,” and lured him intoboasting that Americans admired him because he “always40acted alone” — like “the cowboy who leads the wagon trainby riding ahead alone on his horse, the cowboy who rides allalone into the town.” Political cartoonists mercilessly43lampooned this remark, and, according to Kissinger’smemoirs, the quote soured his relations with Nixon (Kissingerclaimed that she had taken his words out of context). But the46most remarkable moment in the interview came when Fallacibluntly asked him, about Vietnam, “Don’t you find, Dr.Kissinger, that it’s been a useless war?”, and he began his49reply with the words, “On this, I can agree.”

Internet: <www.newyorker.com> (adapted).

Judge the following item, according to the text.

  1. 1.

    From the text, it can be inferred that Oriana Fallaci grew tired of the Vietnam War.

  2. 2.

    From the text, it can be inferred that Oriana Fallaci tried deliberately to use the music-like quality of her mother tongue to lure her interviewers.

  3. 3.

    From the text, it can be inferred that Oriana Fallaci had become a close friend of the Italian Ambassador in Hanoi at the time of the war.

  4. 4.

    From the text, it can be inferred that Oriana Fallaci had just quit smoking cigarettes.

  5. 5.

    From the text, it can be inferred that Oriana Fallaci seemed at times defenceless, vulnerable, and child-like.

Amartya Sen

1 Freedom, in the eyes of Amartya Sen, the famousIndian economist and philosopher, does not consist merely ofbeing left to our own devices. It also requires that people have4the necessary resources to lead lives that they themselvesconsider to be good ones. The focus on the individual has ledsome critics to accuse Sen of “methodological individualism”7— not a compliment. Communitarian opponents, in particular,think that he pays insufficient regard to the broader socialgroup. In response, he — usually an unfailingly courteous10writer — becomes a bit cross, pointing out that “people whothink, choose and act” are simply “a manifest reality in theworld”. Of course communities influence people, “but13ultimately it is individual valuation on which we have to draw,while recognising the profound interdependence of thevaluations of people who interact with each other”.16 Nor is Sen easily caricatured as an egalitarian:“capabilities”, for example, do not have to be entirely equal.He is a pluralist, and recognises that even capabilities cannot19always trump other values. Liberty has priority, Sen insists,but not in an absurdly purist fashion that would dictate“treating the slightest gain of liberty — no matter how small22— as enough reason to make huge sacrifices in otheramenities of a good life — no matter how large”. Throughout, Sen remains true to his Indian roots. One25of the joys of his recently published book entitled The Ideaof Justice is the rich use of Indian classical thought — thedebate between 3rd-century emperor Ashoka, a liberal28optimist, and Kautilya, a downbeat institutionalist, is muchmore enlightening than, say, a tired contrast between Hobbesand Hume.31 Despite these diverting stories, the volume cannot besaid to fall into the category of a “beach read”: subtitles suchas “The Plurality of Non-Rejectability” provide plenty of34warning. But for those who like their summer dinner tables tobe filled with intelligent, dissenting discourse, the book isworth the weight. There is plenty here to argue with. Sen37wouldn’t have it any other way.

Internet: <http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk> (adapted).

Judge the following item, according to the text.

  1. 6.

    The relationship established between the ideas of “unfailingly courteous” (l.9) and “cross” (l.10) is one of contrast.

  2. 7.

    The relationship established between the ideas of “unfailingly courteous” (l.9) and “cross” (l.10) is one of inclusion.

  3. 8.

    The relationship established between the ideas of “unfailingly courteous” (l.9) and “cross” (l.10) is one of addition.

  4. 9.

    The relationship established between the ideas of “unfailingly courteous” (l.9) and “cross” (l.10) is one of reiteration.

  5. 10.

    The relationship established between the ideas of “unfailingly courteous” (l.9) and “cross” (l.10) is one of result.

Oriana, the agitator

1 Oriana Fallaci, the Italian writer and journalist bestknown for her abrasive tone and provocative stances, was fortwo decades, from the mid-nineteen-sixties to the4mid-nineteen-eighties, one of the sharpest politicalinterviewers in the world. Her subjects were among theworld’s most powerful figures: Yasser Arafat, Golda Meir,7Indira Ghandi, Haile Selassie, Deng Xiaoping. HenryKissinger, who later wrote that his 1972 interview with herwas “the single most disastrous conversation I have ever had10with any member of the press,” said that he had been flatteredinto granting it by the company he’d be keeping as part ofFallaci’s “journalistic pantheon.” It was more like a collection13of pelts: Fallaci never left her subjects unskinned. Her manner of interviewing was deliberatelyunsettling: she approached each encounter with studied16aggressiveness, made frequent nods to Europeanexistentialism (she often disarmed her subjects with baldquestions about death, God, and pity), and displayed a19sinuous, crafty intelligence. It didn’t hurt that she was petiteand beautiful, with perfect cheekbones, straight, smooth hairthat she wore parted in the middle or in pigtails; melancholy22blue-grey eyes, set off by eyeliner; a cigarette-cured voice;and an adorable Italian accent. During the Vietnam War, shewas sometimes photographed in fatigues and a helmet; her25rucksack bore handwritten instructions to return her body tothe Italian Ambassador “if K.I.A.” In these images she lookedslight and vulnerable as a child. Her essential toughness never28stopped taking people — men, especially — by surprise. Fallaci’s journalism was infused with a “mythic senseof political evil”, an almost adolescent aversion to power,31which suited the temperament of the times. “Whether”, shewould say, “it comes from a despotic sovereign or an electedpresident, from a murderous general or a beloved leader, I see34power as an inhuman and hateful phenomenon… I havealways looked on disobedience towards the oppressive as theonly way to use the miracle of having been born.” In her37interview with Kissinger, she told him that he had becomeknown as “Nixon’s mental wet nurse,” and lured him intoboasting that Americans admired him because he “always40acted alone” — like “the cowboy who leads the wagon trainby riding ahead alone on his horse, the cowboy who rides allalone into the town.” Political cartoonists mercilessly43lampooned this remark, and, according to Kissinger’smemoirs, the quote soured his relations with Nixon (Kissingerclaimed that she had taken his words out of context). But the46most remarkable moment in the interview came when Fallacibluntly asked him, about Vietnam, “Don’t you find, Dr.Kissinger, that it’s been a useless war?”, and he began his49reply with the words, “On this, I can agree.”

Internet: <www.newyorker.com> (adapted).

Judge the following item, concerning the fragment “lured him into boasting that Americans admired him” (l.38-39).

  1. 11.

    In this fragment, the words “lured” and “boasting” mean, respectively, challenged and acknowledging.

  2. 12.

    In this fragment, the words “lured” and “boasting” mean, respectively, coerced and showing off.

  3. 13.

    In this fragment, the words “lured” and “boasting” mean, respectively, pressed and stating.

  4. 14.

    In this fragment, the words “lured” and “boasting” mean, respectively, enticed and bragging.

  5. 15.

    In this fragment, the words “lured” and “boasting” mean, respectively, tempted and denying.

Oriana, the agitator

1 Oriana Fallaci, the Italian writer and journalist bestknown for her abrasive tone and provocative stances, was fortwo decades, from the mid-nineteen-sixties to the4mid-nineteen-eighties, one of the sharpest politicalinterviewers in the world. Her subjects were among theworld’s most powerful figures: Yasser Arafat, Golda Meir,7Indira Ghandi, Haile Selassie, Deng Xiaoping. HenryKissinger, who later wrote that his 1972 interview with herwas “the single most disastrous conversation I have ever had10with any member of the press,” said that he had been flatteredinto granting it by the company he’d be keeping as part ofFallaci’s “journalistic pantheon.” It was more like a collection13of pelts: Fallaci never left her subjects unskinned. Her manner of interviewing was deliberatelyunsettling: she approached each encounter with studied16aggressiveness, made frequent nods to Europeanexistentialism (she often disarmed her subjects with baldquestions about death, God, and pity), and displayed a19sinuous, crafty intelligence. It didn’t hurt that she was petiteand beautiful, with perfect cheekbones, straight, smooth hairthat she wore parted in the middle or in pigtails; melancholy22blue-grey eyes, set off by eyeliner; a cigarette-cured voice;and an adorable Italian accent. During the Vietnam War, shewas sometimes photographed in fatigues and a helmet; her25rucksack bore handwritten instructions to return her body tothe Italian Ambassador “if K.I.A.” In these images she lookedslight and vulnerable as a child. Her essential toughness never28stopped taking people — men, especially — by surprise. Fallaci’s journalism was infused with a “mythic senseof political evil”, an almost adolescent aversion to power,31which suited the temperament of the times. “Whether”, shewould say, “it comes from a despotic sovereign or an electedpresident, from a murderous general or a beloved leader, I see34power as an inhuman and hateful phenomenon… I havealways looked on disobedience towards the oppressive as theonly way to use the miracle of having been born.” In her37interview with Kissinger, she told him that he had becomeknown as “Nixon’s mental wet nurse,” and lured him intoboasting that Americans admired him because he “always40acted alone” — like “the cowboy who leads the wagon trainby riding ahead alone on his horse, the cowboy who rides allalone into the town.” Political cartoonists mercilessly43lampooned this remark, and, according to Kissinger’smemoirs, the quote soured his relations with Nixon (Kissingerclaimed that she had taken his words out of context). But the46most remarkable moment in the interview came when Fallacibluntly asked him, about Vietnam, “Don’t you find, Dr.Kissinger, that it’s been a useless war?”, and he began his49reply with the words, “On this, I can agree.”

Internet: <www.newyorker.com> (adapted).

Based on the text, judge — right (C) or wrong (E) the following items.

  1. 16.

    Although fascinated by power, Fallaci was more lenient with democratically elected politicians.

  2. 17.

    One of the basic criteria Fallaci adopted to handpick her interviewees was gender-based: half of them had to be necessarily women politicians.

  3. 18.

    Kissinger believed he rightfully belonged to the very select group of world politicians Fallaci had already interviewed.

  4. 19.

    Fallaci, in her interview with Kissinger, praised President Nixon to constraint Kissinger.

Amartya Sen

1 Freedom, in the eyes of Amartya Sen, the famousIndian economist and philosopher, does not consist merely ofbeing left to our own devices. It also requires that people have4the necessary resources to lead lives that they themselvesconsider to be good ones. The focus on the individual has ledsome critics to accuse Sen of “methodological individualism”7— not a compliment. Communitarian opponents, in particular,think that he pays insufficient regard to the broader socialgroup. In response, he — usually an unfailingly courteous10writer — becomes a bit cross, pointing out that “people whothink, choose and act” are simply “a manifest reality in theworld”. Of course communities influence people, “but13ultimately it is individual valuation on which we have to draw,while recognising the profound interdependence of thevaluations of people who interact with each other”.16 Nor is Sen easily caricatured as an egalitarian:“capabilities”, for example, do not have to be entirely equal.He is a pluralist, and recognises that even capabilities cannot19always trump other values. Liberty has priority, Sen insists,but not in an absurdly purist fashion that would dictate“treating the slightest gain of liberty — no matter how small22— as enough reason to make huge sacrifices in otheramenities of a good life — no matter how large”. Throughout, Sen remains true to his Indian roots. One25of the joys of his recently published book entitled The Ideaof Justice is the rich use of Indian classical thought — thedebate between 3rd-century emperor Ashoka, a liberal28optimist, and Kautilya, a downbeat institutionalist, is muchmore enlightening than, say, a tired contrast between Hobbesand Hume.31 Despite these diverting stories, the volume cannot besaid to fall into the category of a “beach read”: subtitles suchas “The Plurality of Non-Rejectability” provide plenty of34warning. But for those who like their summer dinner tables tobe filled with intelligent, dissenting discourse, the book isworth the weight. There is plenty here to argue with. Sen37wouldn’t have it any other way.

Internet: <http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk> (adapted).

Judge the following item, concerning the fragment “even capabilities cannot always trump other values” (l.18-19).

  1. 20.

    In this fragment, the verb “trump” means to foster.

  2. 21.

    In this fragment, the verb “trump” means to be bracketed with.

  3. 22.

    In this fragment, the verb “trump” means to hold on to.

  4. 23.

    In this fragment, the verb “trump” means to prevail over.

  5. 24.

    In this fragment, the verb “trump” means to vie against.

Oriana, the agitator

1 Oriana Fallaci, the Italian writer and journalist bestknown for her abrasive tone and provocative stances, was fortwo decades, from the mid-nineteen-sixties to the4mid-nineteen-eighties, one of the sharpest politicalinterviewers in the world. Her subjects were among theworld’s most powerful figures: Yasser Arafat, Golda Meir,7Indira Ghandi, Haile Selassie, Deng Xiaoping. HenryKissinger, who later wrote that his 1972 interview with herwas “the single most disastrous conversation I have ever had10with any member of the press,” said that he had been flatteredinto granting it by the company he’d be keeping as part ofFallaci’s “journalistic pantheon.” It was more like a collection13of pelts: Fallaci never left her subjects unskinned. Her manner of interviewing was deliberatelyunsettling: she approached each encounter with studied16aggressiveness, made frequent nods to Europeanexistentialism (she often disarmed her subjects with baldquestions about death, God, and pity), and displayed a19sinuous, crafty intelligence. It didn’t hurt that she was petiteand beautiful, with perfect cheekbones, straight, smooth hairthat she wore parted in the middle or in pigtails; melancholy22blue-grey eyes, set off by eyeliner; a cigarette-cured voice;and an adorable Italian accent. During the Vietnam War, shewas sometimes photographed in fatigues and a helmet; her25rucksack bore handwritten instructions to return her body tothe Italian Ambassador “if K.I.A.” In these images she lookedslight and vulnerable as a child. Her essential toughness never28stopped taking people — men, especially — by surprise. Fallaci’s journalism was infused with a “mythic senseof political evil”, an almost adolescent aversion to power,31which suited the temperament of the times. “Whether”, shewould say, “it comes from a despotic sovereign or an electedpresident, from a murderous general or a beloved leader, I see34power as an inhuman and hateful phenomenon… I havealways looked on disobedience towards the oppressive as theonly way to use the miracle of having been born.” In her37interview with Kissinger, she told him that he had becomeknown as “Nixon’s mental wet nurse,” and lured him intoboasting that Americans admired him because he “always40acted alone” — like “the cowboy who leads the wagon trainby riding ahead alone on his horse, the cowboy who rides allalone into the town.” Political cartoonists mercilessly43lampooned this remark, and, according to Kissinger’smemoirs, the quote soured his relations with Nixon (Kissingerclaimed that she had taken his words out of context). But the46most remarkable moment in the interview came when Fallacibluntly asked him, about Vietnam, “Don’t you find, Dr.Kissinger, that it’s been a useless war?”, and he began his49reply with the words, “On this, I can agree.”

Internet: <www.newyorker.com> (adapted).

Based on the text, judge — right (C) or wrong (E) — the items below.

  1. 25.

    Fallaci exploited Kissinger’s somewhat big ego to trick him into making some public statements he would later regret.

  2. 26.

    Fallaci had either been a heavy smoker or had smoked for a long time.

  3. 27.

    The highly professional sense of Fallaci as a journalist in search of truth made her avoid any sort of tricks in approaching her interviewees, both powerful figures and common people.

  4. 28.

    Kissinger seems to suggest that Fallaci was not entirely professionally ethical or honest when dealing with the interview he had granted her.

Amartya Sen

1 Freedom, in the eyes of Amartya Sen, the famousIndian economist and philosopher, does not consist merely ofbeing left to our own devices. It also requires that people have4the necessary resources to lead lives that they themselvesconsider to be good ones. The focus on the individual has ledsome critics to accuse Sen of “methodological individualism”7— not a compliment. Communitarian opponents, in particular,think that he pays insufficient regard to the broader socialgroup. In response, he — usually an unfailingly courteous10writer — becomes a bit cross, pointing out that “people whothink, choose and act” are simply “a manifest reality in theworld”. Of course communities influence people, “but13ultimately it is individual valuation on which we have to draw,while recognising the profound interdependence of thevaluations of people who interact with each other”.16 Nor is Sen easily caricatured as an egalitarian:“capabilities”, for example, do not have to be entirely equal.He is a pluralist, and recognises that even capabilities cannot19always trump other values. Liberty has priority, Sen insists,but not in an absurdly purist fashion that would dictate“treating the slightest gain of liberty — no matter how small22— as enough reason to make huge sacrifices in otheramenities of a good life — no matter how large”. Throughout, Sen remains true to his Indian roots. One25of the joys of his recently published book entitled The Ideaof Justice is the rich use of Indian classical thought — thedebate between 3rd-century emperor Ashoka, a liberal28optimist, and Kautilya, a downbeat institutionalist, is muchmore enlightening than, say, a tired contrast between Hobbesand Hume.31 Despite these diverting stories, the volume cannot besaid to fall into the category of a “beach read”: subtitles suchas “The Plurality of Non-Rejectability” provide plenty of34warning. But for those who like their summer dinner tables tobe filled with intelligent, dissenting discourse, the book isworth the weight. There is plenty here to argue with. Sen37wouldn’t have it any other way.

Internet: <http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk> (adapted).

According to the text, judge — right (C) or wrong (E) — the items below.

  1. 29.

    South-east Asian classical economics rather than European philosophy laid the main theoretical and practical foundation for Sen’s theses.

  2. 30.

    Sen’s work, although focused on the individual and on the idea of liberty, does not lose sight of the inherent dynamics of the different communities.

  3. 31.

    Communitarian opponents make up the largest and most vocal group of Sen’s critics.

  4. 32.

    Sen dismisses out of hand the ideas advanced by English philosophers of the XVII and XVIII centuries.

1 “For heaven’s sake,” my father said, seeing me off atthe airport, “don’t get drunk, don’t get pregnant — and don’tget involved in politics.” He was right to be concerned.4Rhodes University in the late 1970s, with its Sir HerbertBaker-designed campus and lush green lawns, lookedprosperous and sedate. But the Sunday newspapers had been7full of the escapades of its notorious drinking clubs and loosemorals; the Eastern Cape was, after the riots of 1976, a placeof turmoil and desperate poverty; and the campus was thought10by most conservative parents to be a hotbed of politicalactivity. The Nationalist policy of forced removals meant13thousands of black people had been moved from the citiesinto the nearby black “homelands” of Transkei and Ciskei,and dumped there with only a standpipe and a couple of huts16for company; two out of three children died of malnutritionbefore the age of three. I arrived in 1977, the year after theSoweto riots, to study journalism. Months later, Steve Biko19was murdered in custody. The campus tipped over intoturmoil. There were demonstrations and hunger strikes. For most of us, Rhodes was a revelation. We had been22brought up to respect authority. Here, we could forge a wholenew identity, personally and politically. Out of that class of1979 came two women whose identities merge with the25painful birth of the new South Africa: two journalism studentswhose journey was to take them through defiance,imprisonment and torture during the apartheid years.28 One of the quietest girls in the class, Marion Sparg,joined the ANC’s military wing, Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK),and was eventually convicted of bombing two police stations.31An Asian journalist, Zubeida Jaffer, was imprisoned andtortured, yet ultimately chose not to prosecute her torturers. Today you can trace the footprints of my classmates34across the opposition press in South Africa and the liberalpress in the UK — The Guardian, the Observer and theFinancial Times. Even the Spectator (that’s me). Because37journalism was not a course offered at “black” universities,we had a scattering of black students. It was the first timemany of us would ever have met anyone who was black and40not a servant. I went to hear Pik Botha, the foreign minister,a Hitlerian figure with a narrow moustache, an imposing bulkand a posse of security men. His reception was suitably43stormy, even mocking — students flapping their arms andsaying, “Pik-pik-pik-P-I-I-I-K!’, like chattering hens. But students who asked questions had to identify46themselves first. There were spies in every class. We neverworked out who they were, although some of us suspected thefriendly Afrikaans guy with the shark’s tooth necklace.

Janice Warman. South Africa’s Rebel Whites. In: The Guardian Weekly, 20/11/2009 (adapted).

Judge the following item, according to the text.

  1. 33.

    The author creates in the reader’s mind the distinct impression that her father was a caring parent who was well-aware of the peculiar atmosphere that pervaded college campuses in the late ‘70s: permissive, in a state of constant political unrest, and overindulgent in terms of drinking.

  2. 34.

    The overall view the author outlines of late ‘70s South Africa is basically descriptive and provides information about a politically, socially, and racially unequal and unfair society poised on the verge of momentous changes.

  3. 35.

    The author creates in the reader’s mind the distinct impression that her father was prudish parent who persistently demanded that his daughter be or appear to be very prim, proper, modest and righteous at all times.

  4. 36.

    The author creates in the reader’s mind the distinct impression that her father was an overprotective and controlling individual who wanted to be an integral part in all aspects of his daughter’s life.

  5. 37.

    The author creates in the reader’s mind the distinct impression that her father was a paranoid father who refused to let go, and clamped her down with hard and fast rules and strict discipline.

  6. 38.

    The overall view the author outlines of late ‘70s South Africa is inherently flawed and, therefore, pointless for it fails to place the country in a broader regional, African, or world context.

  7. 39.

    The overall view the author outlines of late ‘70s South Africa is unduly optimistic, coloured by the typically unattainable idealism of young people.

  8. 40.

    The author creates in the reader’s mind the distinct impression that her father was a doting father whose motto could very well be “Spare the rod, spoil the child”.

  9. 41.

    The overall view the author outlines of late ‘70s South Africa is predictably hopelessly distorted by the author’s white middle-class background and petit bourgeois values.

  10. 42.

    The overall view the author outlines of late ‘70s South Africa is oddly detached and unemotional due, perhaps, to the fact that she can only sympathize with the oppressed black population’s plight up to a point.

Amartya Sen

1 Freedom, in the eyes of Amartya Sen, the famousIndian economist and philosopher, does not consist merely ofbeing left to our own devices. It also requires that people have4the necessary resources to lead lives that they themselvesconsider to be good ones. The focus on the individual has ledsome critics to accuse Sen of “methodological individualism”7— not a compliment. Communitarian opponents, in particular,think that he pays insufficient regard to the broader socialgroup. In response, he — usually an unfailingly courteous10writer — becomes a bit cross, pointing out that “people whothink, choose and act” are simply “a manifest reality in theworld”. Of course communities influence people, “but13ultimately it is individual valuation on which we have to draw,while recognising the profound interdependence of thevaluations of people who interact with each other”.16 Nor is Sen easily caricatured as an egalitarian:“capabilities”, for example, do not have to be entirely equal.He is a pluralist, and recognises that even capabilities cannot19always trump other values. Liberty has priority, Sen insists,but not in an absurdly purist fashion that would dictate“treating the slightest gain of liberty — no matter how small22— as enough reason to make huge sacrifices in otheramenities of a good life — no matter how large”. Throughout, Sen remains true to his Indian roots. One25of the joys of his recently published book entitled The Ideaof Justice is the rich use of Indian classical thought — thedebate between 3rd-century emperor Ashoka, a liberal28optimist, and Kautilya, a downbeat institutionalist, is muchmore enlightening than, say, a tired contrast between Hobbesand Hume.31 Despite these diverting stories, the volume cannot besaid to fall into the category of a “beach read”: subtitles suchas “The Plurality of Non-Rejectability” provide plenty of34warning. But for those who like their summer dinner tables tobe filled with intelligent, dissenting discourse, the book isworth the weight. There is plenty here to argue with. Sen37wouldn’t have it any other way.

Internet: <http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk> (adapted).

Based on the text, judge — right (C) or wrong (E) the following items.

  1. 43.

    Despite having a usually gentle disposition, Sen often flies into a nasty temper whenever any of his ideas are challenged.

  2. 44.

    Sen finds the theses put forward by Ashoka and Kautilya to be more ground-breaking and insightful than those proposed by some major Western philosophers 14 or 15 centuries later.

  3. 45.

    Communitarians’ major objection against Sen is based on his vigorous defence of unmitigated individualism.

  4. 46.

    Even Sen’s followers resent the sheer lack of purism in his championing of freedom.

1 “For heaven’s sake,” my father said, seeing me off atthe airport, “don’t get drunk, don’t get pregnant — and don’tget involved in politics.” He was right to be concerned.4Rhodes University in the late 1970s, with its Sir HerbertBaker-designed campus and lush green lawns, lookedprosperous and sedate. But the Sunday newspapers had been7full of the escapades of its notorious drinking clubs and loosemorals; the Eastern Cape was, after the riots of 1976, a placeof turmoil and desperate poverty; and the campus was thought10by most conservative parents to be a hotbed of politicalactivity. The Nationalist policy of forced removals meant13thousands of black people had been moved from the citiesinto the nearby black “homelands” of Transkei and Ciskei,and dumped there with only a standpipe and a couple of huts16for company; two out of three children died of malnutritionbefore the age of three. I arrived in 1977, the year after theSoweto riots, to study journalism. Months later, Steve Biko19was murdered in custody. The campus tipped over intoturmoil. There were demonstrations and hunger strikes. For most of us, Rhodes was a revelation. We had been22brought up to respect authority. Here, we could forge a wholenew identity, personally and politically. Out of that class of1979 came two women whose identities merge with the25painful birth of the new South Africa: two journalism studentswhose journey was to take them through defiance,imprisonment and torture during the apartheid years.28 One of the quietest girls in the class, Marion Sparg,joined the ANC’s military wing, Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK),and was eventually convicted of bombing two police stations.31An Asian journalist, Zubeida Jaffer, was imprisoned andtortured, yet ultimately chose not to prosecute her torturers. Today you can trace the footprints of my classmates34across the opposition press in South Africa and the liberalpress in the UK — The Guardian, the Observer and theFinancial Times. Even the Spectator (that’s me). Because37journalism was not a course offered at “black” universities,we had a scattering of black students. It was the first timemany of us would ever have met anyone who was black and40not a servant. I went to hear Pik Botha, the foreign minister,a Hitlerian figure with a narrow moustache, an imposing bulkand a posse of security men. His reception was suitably43stormy, even mocking — students flapping their arms andsaying, “Pik-pik-pik-P-I-I-I-K!’, like chattering hens. But students who asked questions had to identify46themselves first. There were spies in every class. We neverworked out who they were, although some of us suspected thefriendly Afrikaans guy with the shark’s tooth necklace.

Janice Warman. South Africa’s Rebel Whites. In: The Guardian Weekly, 20/11/2009 (adapted).

In the text,

  1. 47.

    “scattering” (l.38) can be paraphrased as an unruly mob.

  2. 48.

    “tipped over” (l.19) can be replaced by was plunged.

  3. 49.

    “hotbed” (l.10) is synonymous with breeding ground.

  4. 50.

    “posse” (l.42) and entourage are interchangeable.

1 “For heaven’s sake,” my father said, seeing me off atthe airport, “don’t get drunk, don’t get pregnant — and don’tget involved in politics.” He was right to be concerned.4Rhodes University in the late 1970s, with its Sir HerbertBaker-designed campus and lush green lawns, lookedprosperous and sedate. But the Sunday newspapers had been7full of the escapades of its notorious drinking clubs and loosemorals; the Eastern Cape was, after the riots of 1976, a placeof turmoil and desperate poverty; and the campus was thought10by most conservative parents to be a hotbed of politicalactivity. The Nationalist policy of forced removals meant13thousands of black people had been moved from the citiesinto the nearby black “homelands” of Transkei and Ciskei,and dumped there with only a standpipe and a couple of huts16for company; two out of three children died of malnutritionbefore the age of three. I arrived in 1977, the year after theSoweto riots, to study journalism. Months later, Steve Biko19was murdered in custody. The campus tipped over intoturmoil. There were demonstrations and hunger strikes. For most of us, Rhodes was a revelation. We had been22brought up to respect authority. Here, we could forge a wholenew identity, personally and politically. Out of that class of1979 came two women whose identities merge with the25painful birth of the new South Africa: two journalism studentswhose journey was to take them through defiance,imprisonment and torture during the apartheid years.28 One of the quietest girls in the class, Marion Sparg,joined the ANC’s military wing, Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK),and was eventually convicted of bombing two police stations.31An Asian journalist, Zubeida Jaffer, was imprisoned andtortured, yet ultimately chose not to prosecute her torturers. Today you can trace the footprints of my classmates34across the opposition press in South Africa and the liberalpress in the UK — The Guardian, the Observer and theFinancial Times. Even the Spectator (that’s me). Because37journalism was not a course offered at “black” universities,we had a scattering of black students. It was the first timemany of us would ever have met anyone who was black and40not a servant. I went to hear Pik Botha, the foreign minister,a Hitlerian figure with a narrow moustache, an imposing bulkand a posse of security men. His reception was suitably43stormy, even mocking — students flapping their arms andsaying, “Pik-pik-pik-P-I-I-I-K!’, like chattering hens. But students who asked questions had to identify46themselves first. There were spies in every class. We neverworked out who they were, although some of us suspected thefriendly Afrikaans guy with the shark’s tooth necklace.

Janice Warman. South Africa’s Rebel Whites. In: The Guardian Weekly, 20/11/2009 (adapted).

Based on the text, judge — right (C) or wrong (E) — the items below.

  1. 51.

    The author clearly underscores the striking resemblance the Nationalist Party of South Africa bears to its Nazi counterpart.

  2. 52.

    Students decided to burlesque Botha’s performance as an ineffectual and chicken-hearted foreign minister by doing a ludicrous and crude imitation of a bird.

  3. 53.

    Of the three journalism students mentioned in the text, it can be said that the most self-effacing and reserved of them all turned out to be the one to deliver a most violent blow against the apartheid security apparatus.

  4. 54.

    The university the author attended can be described as a place where neither the teaching staff nor school officials exacted blind obedience from students.

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