List of top Questions asked in XAT- 2007

Read the following passage and answer the question that follows.

Attempting to understand science and scientific reasoning in terms of the subjective beliefs of scientists would seem to be a disappointing departure for those who seek an objective account of science. Howson and Urbach have an answer to that charge. They insist that the Bayesian theory constitutes an objective theory of scientific inference. That is, given a set of prior probabilities and some new evidence, Bayes' theorem dictates in an objective way what the new, posterior, probabilities must be in the light of that evidence. There is no difference in this respect between Bayesianism and deductive logic, because logic has nothing to say about the source of the propositions that constitute the premises of a deduction either. It simply dictates what follows from those propositions once they are given. The Bayesian defence can be taken a stage further. It can be argued that the beliefs of individual scientists, however much they might differ at the outset, can be made to converge given the appropriate input of evidence. It is easy to see in an informal way how this can come about. Suppose two scientists start out by disagreeing greatly about the probable truth of hypothesis h which predicts otherwise unexpected experimental outcome e. The one who attributes a high probability to h will regard e as less unlikely than the one who attributes a low probability to h. So P(e) will be high for the former and low for the latter. Suppose now that e is experimentally confirmed. Each scientist will have to adjust the probabilities for h by the factor P(e/h)/P(e). However, since we are assuming that e follows from h, P(e/h) is 1 and the scaling factor is 1/P(e). Consequently, the scientist who started with a low probability for h will scale up that probability by a larger factor than the scientist who started with a higher probability for h. As more positive evidence comes in, the original doubter is forced to scale up the probability in such a way that it eventually approaches that of the already convinced scientist. In this way, argue the Bayesians, widely differing subjective opinions can be brought into conformity in response to evidence in an objective way.



Strictly following the idea put forward in the article, which one of the following is a logical possibility:
Read the following passage and answer the question that follows.

The ignorant man is not the unlearned, but he who does not know himself, and the learned man is stupid when he relies on books, on knowledge and on authority to give him understanding. Understanding comes only through self-knowledge, which is awareness of one's total psychological process. Thus education, in the true sense, is the understanding of oneself, for it is within each one of us that the whole of existence is gathered. What we now call education is a matter of accumulating information and knowledge from books, which anyone can do who can read. Such education offers a subtle form of escape from ourselves and, like all escapes, it inevitably creates increasing misery. Conflict and confusion result from our own wrong relationship with people, things and ideas, and until we understand that relationship and alter it, mere learning, the gathering of facts and the acquiring of various skills, can only lead us to engulfing chaos and destruction. As society is now organized, we send our children to school to learn some technique by which they can eventually earn a livelihood. We want to make the child first and foremost a specialist, hoping thus to give him a secure economic position. But does the cultivation of a technique enable us to understand ourselves? While it is obviously necessary to know how to read and write, and to learn engineering or some other profession, will technique give us the capacity to understand life? Surely, technique is secondary; and if technique is the only thing we are striving for, we are obviously denying what is by far the greater part of life. Life is pain, joy, beauty, ugliness, love, and when we understand it as a whole, at every level, that understanding creates its own technique. But the contrary is not true: technique can never bring about creative understanding. Present-day education is a complete failure because it has overemphasized technique. In overemphasizing technique we destroy man. To cultivate capacity and efficiency without understanding life, without having a comprehensive perception of the ways of thought and desire, will only make us increasingly ruthless, which is to engender wars and jeopardize our physical security. The exclusive cultivation of technique has produced scientists, mathematicians, bridge Iwiracrarspace conquerors; but do they understand the total process of life? Can any specialist experience life as a whole? Only when he ceases to be a specialist. Technological progress does solve certain kinds of problems for some people at one level, but it introduces wider and deeper issues too. To live at one level, disregarding the total process of life, is to invite misery and destruction. The greatest need and most pressing problem for even individual is to have an integrated comprehension of life, which will enable him to meet its ever-increasing complexities. Technical knowledge, however necessary, will in no way resolve our inner, psychological pressures and conflict; and it is because we have acquired technical knowledge without understanding the total process of life that technology has become a means of destroying ourselves. The man who knows how to split the atom but has no love in his heart becomes a monster. We choose a vocation according to our capacities; but will the following of a vocation lead us out of conflict and confusion? Some form of technical training seems necessary; but when we have become engineers, physicians, accountants- then what? Is the practice of a profession the fulfilment of life? Apparently with most of us it is. Our various professions may keep us busy for the greater part of our existence; but the very things that we produce and are so entranced with are causing destruction and misery. Our attitudes and values make of things and occupations the instruments of envy, bitterness and hate.



The passage implies that:
Read the following passage and answer the question that follows.

The ignorant man is not the unlearned, but he who does not know himself, and the learned man is stupid when he relies on books, on knowledge and on authority to give him understanding. Understanding comes only through self-knowledge, which is awareness of one's total psychological process. Thus education, in the true sense, is the understanding of oneself, for it is within each one of us that the whole of existence is gathered. What we now call education is a matter of accumulating information and knowledge from books, which anyone can do who can read. Such education offers a subtle form of escape from ourselves and, like all escapes, it inevitably creates increasing misery. Conflict and confusion result from our own wrong relationship with people, things and ideas, and until we understand that relationship and alter it, mere learning, the gathering of facts and the acquiring of various skills, can only lead us to engulfing chaos and destruction. As society is now organized, we send our children to school to learn some technique by which they can eventually earn a livelihood. We want to make the child first and foremost a specialist, hoping thus to give him a secure economic position. But does the cultivation of a technique enable us to understand ourselves? While it is obviously necessary to know how to read and write, and to learn engineering or some other profession, will technique give us the capacity to understand life? Surely, technique is secondary; and if technique is the only thing we are striving for, we are obviously denying what is by far the greater part of life. Life is pain, joy, beauty, ugliness, love, and when we understand it as a whole, at every level, that understanding creates its own technique. But the contrary is not true: technique can never bring about creative understanding. Present-day education is a complete failure because it has overemphasized technique. In overemphasizing technique we destroy man. To cultivate capacity and efficiency without understanding life, without having a comprehensive perception of the ways of thought and desire, will only make us increasingly ruthless, which is to engender wars and jeopardize our physical security. The exclusive cultivation of technique has produced scientists, mathematicians, bridge Iwiracrarspace conquerors; but do they understand the total process of life? Can any specialist experience life as a whole? Only when he ceases to be a specialist. Technological progress does solve certain kinds of problems for some people at one level, but it introduces wider and deeper issues too. To live at one level, disregarding the total process of life, is to invite misery and destruction. The greatest need and most pressing problem for even individual is to have an integrated comprehension of life, which will enable him to meet its ever-increasing complexities. Technical knowledge, however necessary, will in no way resolve our inner, psychological pressures and conflict; and it is because we have acquired technical knowledge without understanding the total process of life that technology has become a means of destroying ourselves. The man who knows how to split the atom but has no love in his heart becomes a monster. We choose a vocation according to our capacities; but will the following of a vocation lead us out of conflict and confusion? Some form of technical training seems necessary; but when we have become engineers, physicians, accountants- then what? Is the practice of a profession the fulfilment of life? Apparently with most of us it is. Our various professions may keep us busy for the greater part of our existence; but the very things that we produce and are so entranced with are causing destruction and misery. Our attitudes and values make of things and occupations the instruments of envy, bitterness and hate.



This passage was most likely written in order to:
Read the following passage and answer the question that follows.

The ignorant man is not the unlearned, but he who does not know himself, and the learned man is stupid when he relies on books, on knowledge and on authority to give him understanding. Understanding comes only through self-knowledge, which is awareness of one's total psychological process. Thus education, in the true sense, is the understanding of oneself, for it is within each one of us that the whole of existence is gathered. What we now call education is a matter of accumulating information and knowledge from books, which anyone can do who can read. Such education offers a subtle form of escape from ourselves and, like all escapes, it inevitably creates increasing misery. Conflict and confusion result from our own wrong relationship with people, things and ideas, and until we understand that relationship and alter it, mere learning, the gathering of facts and the acquiring of various skills, can only lead us to engulfing chaos and destruction. As society is now organized, we send our children to school to learn some technique by which they can eventually earn a livelihood. We want to make the child first and foremost a specialist, hoping thus to give him a secure economic position. But does the cultivation of a technique enable us to understand ourselves? While it is obviously necessary to know how to read and write, and to learn engineering or some other profession, will technique give us the capacity to understand life? Surely, technique is secondary; and if technique is the only thing we are striving for, we are obviously denying what is by far the greater part of life. Life is pain, joy, beauty, ugliness, love, and when we understand it as a whole, at every level, that understanding creates its own technique. But the contrary is not true: technique can never bring about creative understanding. Present-day education is a complete failure because it has overemphasized technique. In overemphasizing technique we destroy man. To cultivate capacity and efficiency without understanding life, without having a comprehensive perception of the ways of thought and desire, will only make us increasingly ruthless, which is to engender wars and jeopardize our physical security. The exclusive cultivation of technique has produced scientists, mathematicians, bridge Iwiracrarspace conquerors; but do they understand the total process of life? Can any specialist experience life as a whole? Only when he ceases to be a specialist. Technological progress does solve certain kinds of problems for some people at one level, but it introduces wider and deeper issues too. To live at one level, disregarding the total process of life, is to invite misery and destruction. The greatest need and most pressing problem for even individual is to have an integrated comprehension of life, which will enable him to meet its ever-increasing complexities. Technical knowledge, however necessary, will in no way resolve our inner, psychological pressures and conflict; and it is because we have acquired technical knowledge without understanding the total process of life that technology has become a means of destroying ourselves. The man who knows how to split the atom but has no love in his heart becomes a monster. We choose a vocation according to our capacities; but will the following of a vocation lead us out of conflict and confusion? Some form of technical training seems necessary; but when we have become engineers, physicians, accountants- then what? Is the practice of a profession the fulfilment of life? Apparently with most of us it is. Our various professions may keep us busy for the greater part of our existence; but the very things that we produce and are so entranced with are causing destruction and misery. Our attitudes and values make of things and occupations the instruments of envy, bitterness and hate.



Which statement would most likely follow the truncated passage above?
Read the following passage and answer the question that follows.

The ignorant man is not the unlearned, but he who does not know himself, and the learned man is stupid when he relies on books, on knowledge and on authority to give him understanding. Understanding comes only through self-knowledge, which is awareness of one's total psychological process. Thus education, in the true sense, is the understanding of oneself, for it is within each one of us that the whole of existence is gathered. What we now call education is a matter of accumulating information and knowledge from books, which anyone can do who can read. Such education offers a subtle form of escape from ourselves and, like all escapes, it inevitably creates increasing misery. Conflict and confusion result from our own wrong relationship with people, things and ideas, and until we understand that relationship and alter it, mere learning, the gathering of facts and the acquiring of various skills, can only lead us to engulfing chaos and destruction. As society is now organized, we send our children to school to learn some technique by which they can eventually earn a livelihood. We want to make the child first and foremost a specialist, hoping thus to give him a secure economic position. But does the cultivation of a technique enable us to understand ourselves? While it is obviously necessary to know how to read and write, and to learn engineering or some other profession, will technique give us the capacity to understand life? Surely, technique is secondary; and if technique is the only thing we are striving for, we are obviously denying what is by far the greater part of life. Life is pain, joy, beauty, ugliness, love, and when we understand it as a whole, at every level, that understanding creates its own technique. But the contrary is not true: technique can never bring about creative understanding. Present-day education is a complete failure because it has overemphasized technique. In overemphasizing technique we destroy man. To cultivate capacity and efficiency without understanding life, without having a comprehensive perception of the ways of thought and desire, will only make us increasingly ruthless, which is to engender wars and jeopardize our physical security. The exclusive cultivation of technique has produced scientists, mathematicians, bridge Iwiracrarspace conquerors; but do they understand the total process of life? Can any specialist experience life as a whole? Only when he ceases to be a specialist. Technological progress does solve certain kinds of problems for some people at one level, but it introduces wider and deeper issues too. To live at one level, disregarding the total process of life, is to invite misery and destruction. The greatest need and most pressing problem for even individual is to have an integrated comprehension of life, which will enable him to meet its ever-increasing complexities. Technical knowledge, however necessary, will in no way resolve our inner, psychological pressures and conflict; and it is because we have acquired technical knowledge without understanding the total process of life that technology has become a means of destroying ourselves. The man who knows how to split the atom but has no love in his heart becomes a monster. We choose a vocation according to our capacities; but will the following of a vocation lead us out of conflict and confusion? Some form of technical training seems necessary; but when we have become engineers, physicians, accountants- then what? Is the practice of a profession the fulfilment of life? Apparently with most of us it is. Our various professions may keep us busy for the greater part of our existence; but the very things that we produce and are so entranced with are causing destruction and misery. Our attitudes and values make of things and occupations the instruments of envy, bitterness and hate.



What might be the most apposite title for the passage above?
Read the following passage and answer the question that follows.

Attempting to understand science and scientific reasoning in terms of the subjective beliefs of scientists would seem to be a disappointing departure for those who seek an objective account of science. Howson and Urbach have an answer to that charge. They insist that the Bayesian theory constitutes an objective theory of scientific inference. That is, given a set of prior probabilities and some new evidence, Bayes' theorem dictates in an objective way what the new, posterior, probabilities must be in the light of that evidence. There is no difference in this respect between Bayesianism and deductive logic, because logic has nothing to say about the source of the propositions that constitute the premises of a deduction either. It simply dictates what follows from those propositions once they are given. The Bayesian defence can be taken a stage further. It can be argued that the beliefs of individual scientists, however much they might differ at the outset, can be made to converge given the appropriate input of evidence. It is easy to see in an informal way how this can come about. Suppose two scientists start out by disagreeing greatly about the probable truth of hypothesis h which predicts otherwise unexpected experimental outcome e. The one who attributes a high probability to h will regard e as less unlikely than the one who attributes a low probability to h. So P(e) will be high for the former and low for the latter. Suppose now that e is experimentally confirmed. Each scientist will have to adjust the probabilities for h by the factor P(e/h)/P(e). However, since we are assuming that e follows from h, P(e/h) is 1 and the scaling factor is 1/P(e). Consequently, the scientist who started with a low probability for h will scale up that probability by a larger factor than the scientist who started with a higher probability for h. As more positive evidence comes in, the original doubter is forced to scale up the probability in such a way that it eventually approaches that of the already convinced scientist. In this way, argue the Bayesians, widely differing subjective opinions can be brought into conformity in response to evidence in an objective way.



Using the idea explicated in the passage above, the only scientific way to deny the validity of a counter-hypothesis put forward to explain a natural phenomenon would be to:
Read the following passage and answer the question that follows.

Attempting to understand science and scientific reasoning in terms of the subjective beliefs of scientists would seem to be a disappointing departure for those who seek an objective account of science. Howson and Urbach have an answer to that charge. They insist that the Bayesian theory constitutes an objective theory of scientific inference. That is, given a set of prior probabilities and some new evidence, Bayes' theorem dictates in an objective way what the new, posterior, probabilities must be in the light of that evidence. There is no difference in this respect between Bayesianism and deductive logic, because logic has nothing to say about the source of the propositions that constitute the premises of a deduction either. It simply dictates what follows from those propositions once they are given. The Bayesian defence can be taken a stage further. It can be argued that the beliefs of individual scientists, however much they might differ at the outset, can be made to converge given the appropriate input of evidence. It is easy to see in an informal way how this can come about. Suppose two scientists start out by disagreeing greatly about the probable truth of hypothesis h which predicts otherwise unexpected experimental outcome e. The one who attributes a high probability to h will regard e as less unlikely than the one who attributes a low probability to h. So P(e) will be high for the former and low for the latter. Suppose now that e is experimentally confirmed. Each scientist will have to adjust the probabilities for h by the factor P(e/h)/P(e). However, since we are assuming that e follows from h, P(e/h) is 1 and the scaling factor is 1/P(e). Consequently, the scientist who started with a low probability for h will scale up that probability by a larger factor than the scientist who started with a higher probability for h. As more positive evidence comes in, the original doubter is forced to scale up the probability in such a way that it eventually approaches that of the already convinced scientist. In this way, argue the Bayesians, widely differing subjective opinions can be brought into conformity in response to evidence in an objective way.



The subjective beliefs of scientists referred to in the passage could be due to:
Read the following passage and answer the question that follows.

Attempting to understand science and scientific reasoning in terms of the subjective beliefs of scientists would seem to be a disappointing departure for those who seek an objective account of science. Howson and Urbach have an answer to that charge. They insist that the Bayesian theory constitutes an objective theory of scientific inference. That is, given a set of prior probabilities and some new evidence, Bayes' theorem dictates in an objective way what the new, posterior, probabilities must be in the light of that evidence. There is no difference in this respect between Bayesianism and deductive logic, because logic has nothing to say about the source of the propositions that constitute the premises of a deduction either. It simply dictates what follows from those propositions once they are given. The Bayesian defence can be taken a stage further. It can be argued that the beliefs of individual scientists, however much they might differ at the outset, can be made to converge given the appropriate input of evidence. It is easy to see in an informal way how this can come about. Suppose two scientists start out by disagreeing greatly about the probable truth of hypothesis h which predicts otherwise unexpected experimental outcome e. The one who attributes a high probability to h will regard e as less unlikely than the one who attributes a low probability to h. So P(e) will be high for the former and low for the latter. Suppose now that e is experimentally confirmed. Each scientist will have to adjust the probabilities for h by the factor P(e/h)/P(e). However, since we are assuming that e follows from h, P(e/h) is 1 and the scaling factor is 1/P(e). Consequently, the scientist who started with a low probability for h will scale up that probability by a larger factor than the scientist who started with a higher probability for h. As more positive evidence comes in, the original doubter is forced to scale up the probability in such a way that it eventually approaches that of the already convinced scientist. In this way, argue the Bayesians, widely differing subjective opinions can be brought into conformity in response to evidence in an objective way.



Scientists' beliefs which differ at the outset are related to:

Directions for questions 15 to 20: Read the passage below and answer the question that follows.

A major problem of Indian industrial and commercial development was the supply of capital. Until 1850, British capital was shy of Indian adventure. The risks and unknown factors were too great, and prospects in other directions too bright. The working capital of the agency houses after 1813 at first consisted mainly of the savings of the Company's servants. Their cries of woe when these houses fell as in the crisis of 1831 were loud and poignant. Indian capital was also shy for different reasons. It needed to acquire confidence in the new regime, and outside the presidency towns, to acquire the habit of investment. Investment for large-scale production for 'enabling' works like railways was an unfamiliar and suspected practice. Thus the first big developments came when European capital was coaxed into the country by government guarantees or went of its own free will to develop industries with which it was already familiar as in the case of jute or coal. Indian capital followed where it was in touch with European practice as in Bombay and dealing with familiar products like cotton. These considerations throw into all the greater relief the achievement of the Tatas in developing iron and steel. Thus the major part of the capital provided was British with a steadily increasing Indian proportion from 1900. As late as 1931-32 the capital of companies registered abroad was nearly four times that of companies registered in India. But this is not an exact guide because it leaves out of account the stock in British companies held by Indians, as well as government stocks. Speaking generally it may be said that the capital of the cotton industry was mainly Indian, that of the iron and steel industry entirely so, that of the jute industry about half and half, while the coal and plantation industries were mainly British, together with that used for the building of railways, irrigation, and other public works. Management in the cotton and steel industries was mainly Indian though European technicians were freely employed, that of the jute, coal, and the plantation industries being European, the jute men in particular being Scotch. Their capital, apart of course from government enterprise, operated through joint-stock companies and managing agencies. The latter arose through the convenience found by bodies of capitalists seeking to develop some new activity and lacking any Indian experience, of operating through local agents. It arose in the period after 1813 when private merchants took over the trade formerly monopolized by the Company. The money would be found in Britain to promote a tea garden, a coal mine, or a jute mill, but the management would be confided to a firm already on the spot. The managing agency was the hyphen connecting capital with experience and local knowledge.

Until 1914 the policy of the government continued in the main to be one of 'enabling' private capital and enterprise to develop the country. Direct promotion was confined to public utilities like canals and railways. The line between enabling and interfering action became distinctly blurred, however, in the case of the cotton industry and there was a tendency for enabling action to pass over into the positive promotion of particular projects. This was most noticeable in the time of Lord Curzon with his establishment of an imperial department of agriculture with a research station at Pusa and a department of commerce and industry presided over by a sixth member of the Viceroy's Council. The first World War began the transition to a new period of active promotion and positive support. As the conflict lengthened there arose a demand for Indian manufactured goods. India failed to take full advantage of this opportunity, partly because of uncertainty as to the future and partly because the means for sudden expansion were lacking. The outcome of this situation was the appointment of an industrial commission in 1916 under pressure from London. The commission criticized the unequal development of Indian industry which had led to the missing of her war opportunity. A much closer co-operation with industry was planned through provincial departments of industry. Increased technical training and technical assistance to industry was proposed while it was suggested that the Central government should set up a stores department which should aim at making India self-sufficing in this respect. The commission's report was only partially implemented, but a stores department and provincial industrial departments were created and something was done towards promoting technical assistance. The importance of the report and its aftermath was that it marked the transition from the conception of Indian economy in broadly colonial terms with freedom for private enterprise to the conception of India as an autonomous economic unit.

From this passage, it can be inferred that one of the problem that could have cropped up in the early stages of industrialization might have been:

Read the following passage and answer the question that follows.

A major problem of Indian industrial and commercial development was the supply of capital. Until 1850, British capital was shy of Indian adventure. The risks and unknown factors were too great, and prospects in other directions too bright. The working capital of the agency houses after 1813 at first consisted mainly of the savings of the Company's servants. Their cries of woe when these houses fell as in the crisis of 1831 were loud and poignant. Indian capital was also shy for different reasons. It needed to acquire confidence in the new regime, and outside the presidency towns, to acquire the habit of investment. Investment for large-scale production for 'enabling' works like railways was an unfamiliar and suspected practice. Thus the first big developments came when European capital was coaxed into the country by government guarantees or went of its own free will to develop industries with which it was already familiar as in the case of jute or coal. Indian capital followed where it was in touch with European practice as in Bombay and dealing with familiar products like cotton. These considerations throw into all the greater relief the achievement of the Tatas in developing iron and steel. Thus the major part of the capital provided was British with a steadily increasing Indian proportion from 1900. As late as 1931-32 the capital of companies registered abroad was nearly four times that of companies registered in India. But this is not an exact guide because it leaves out of account the stock in British companies held by Indians, as well as government stocks. Speaking generally it may be said that the capital of the cotton industry was mainly Indian, that of the iron and steel industry entirely so, that of the jute industry about half and half, while the coal and plantation industries were mainly British, together with that used for the building of railways, irrigation, and other public works. Management in the cotton and steel industries was mainly Indian though European technicians were freely employed, that of the jute, coal, and the plantation industries being European, the jute men in particular being Scotch. Their capital, apart of course from government enterprise, operated through joint-stock companies and managing agencies. The latter arose through the convenience found by bodies of capitalists seeking to develop some new activity and lacking any Indian experience, of operating through local agents. It arose in the period after 1813 when private merchants took over the trade formerly monopolized by the Company. The money would be found in Britain to promote a tea garden, a coal mine, or a jute mill, but the management would be confided to a firm already on the spot. The managing agency was the hyphen connecting capital with experience and local knowledge. Until 1914 the policy of the government continued in the main to be one of 'enabling' private capital and enterprise to develop the country. Direct promotion was confined to public utilities like canals and railways. The line between enabling and interfering action became distinctly blurred, however, in the case of the cotton industry and there was a tendency for enabling action to pass over into the positive promotion of particular projects. This was most noticeable in the time of Lord Curzon with his establishment of an imperial department of agriculture with a research station at Pusa and a department of commerce and industry presided over by a sixth member of the Viceroy's Council. The first World War began the transition to a new period of active promotion and positive support. As the conflict lengthened there arose a demand for Indian manufactured goods. India failed to take full advantage of this opportunity, partly because of uncertainty as to the future and partly because the means for sudden expansion were lacking. The outcome of this situation was the appointment of an industrial commission in 1916 under pressure from London. The commission criticized the unequal development of Indian industry which had led to the missing of her war opportunity. A much closer co-operation with industry was planned through provincial departments of industry. Increased technical training and technical assistance to industry was proposed while it was suggested that the Central government should set up a stores department which should aim at making India self-sufficing in this respect. The commission's report was only partially implemented, but a stores department and provincial industrial departments were created and something was done towards promoting technical assistance. The importance of the report and its aftermath was that it marked the transition from the conception of Indian economy in broadly colonial terms with freedom for private enterprise to the conception of India as an autonomous economic unit.



From the passage it can be inferred that during the early part of twentieth century, starting a Greenfield project was more difficult for an Indian capitalist than for an European.
Read the following passage and answer the question that follows.

A major problem of Indian industrial and commercial development was the supply of capital. Until 1850, British capital was shy of Indian adventure. The risks and unknown factors were too great, and prospects in other directions too bright. The working capital of the agency houses after 1813 at first consisted mainly of the savings of the Company's servants. Their cries of woe when these houses fell as in the crisis of 1831 were loud and poignant. Indian capital was also shy for different reasons. It needed to acquire confidence in the new regime, and outside the presidency towns, to acquire the habit of investment. Investment for large-scale production for 'enabling' works like railways was an unfamiliar and suspected practice. Thus the first big developments came when European capital was coaxed into the country by government guarantees or went of its own free will to develop industries with which it was already familiar as in the case of jute or coal. Indian capital followed where it was in touch with European practice as in Bombay and dealing with familiar products like cotton. These considerations throw into all the greater relief the achievement of the Tatas in developing iron and steel. Thus the major part of the capital provided was British with a steadily increasing Indian proportion from 1900. As late as 1931-32 the capital of companies registered abroad was nearly four times that of companies registered in India. But this is not an exact guide because it leaves out of account the stock in British companies held by Indians, as well as government stocks. Speaking generally it may be said that the capital of the cotton industry was mainly Indian, that of the iron and steel industry entirely so, that of the jute industry about half and half, while the coal and plantation industries were mainly British, together with that used for the building of railways, irrigation, and other public works. Management in the cotton and steel industries was mainly Indian though European technicians were freely employed, that of the jute, coal, and the plantation industries being European, the jute men in particular being Scotch. Their capital, apart of course from government enterprise, operated through joint-stock companies and managing agencies. The latter arose through the convenience found by bodies of capitalists seeking to develop some new activity and lacking any Indian experience, of operating through local agents. It arose in the period after 1813 when private merchants took over the trade formerly monopolized by the Company. The money would be found in Britain to promote a tea garden, a coal mine, or a jute mill, but the management would be confided to a firm already on the spot. The managing agency was the hyphen connecting capital with experience and local knowledge. Until 1914 the policy of the government continued in the main to be one of 'enabling' private capital and enterprise to develop the country. Direct promotion was confined to public utilities like canals and railways. The line between enabling and interfering action became distinctly blurred, however, in the case of the cotton industry and there was a tendency for enabling action to pass over into the positive promotion of particular projects. This was most noticeable in the time of Lord Curzon with his establishment of an imperial department of agriculture with a research station at Pusa and a department of commerce and industry presided over by a sixth member of the Viceroy's Council. The first World War began the transition to a new period of active promotion and positive support. As the conflict lengthened there arose a demand for Indian manufactured goods. India failed to take full advantage of this opportunity, partly because of uncertainty as to the future and partly because the means for sudden expansion were lacking. The outcome of this situation was the appointment of an industrial commission in 1916 under pressure from London. The commission criticized the unequal development of Indian industry which had led to the missing of her war opportunity. A much closer co-operation with industry was planned through provincial departments of industry. Increased technical training and technical assistance to industry was proposed while it was suggested that the Central government should set up a stores department which should aim at making India self-sufficing in this respect. The commission's report was only partially implemented, but a stores department and provincial industrial departments were created and something was done towards promoting technical assistance. The importance of the report and its aftermath was that it marked the transition from the conception of Indian economy in broadly colonial terms with freedom for private enterprise to the conception of India as an autonomous economic unit.



During the early twentieth century, Indians were restricted to making investment in stocks of companies that were necessarily listed in India. This was done with the aim of confining Indian capital to India so that it could not compete with British capital.
Read the following passage and answer the question that follows.

This confusion concerns nothing less than the concept of socialism itself. It may mean, and is often used to describe, merely the ideals of social justice, greater equality and security which are the ultimate aims of socialism. But it means also the particular method by which most socialists hope to attain these ends and which many competent people regard as the only methods by which they can be fully and quickly attained. In this sense socialism means the abolition of private enterprise, of private ownership of the means of production, and the creation of a system of "planned economy" in which the entrepreneur working for profit is replaced by a central planning body. There are many people who call themselves socialists although they care only about the first, who fervently believe in those ultimate aims of socialism but neither care nor understand how they can be achieved, and who are merely certain they must be achieved, whatever the cost. But to nearly all those to whom socialism is not merely a hope but an object of practical politics, the characteristic methods of modern socialism are as essential as the ends themselves. Most people, on the other hand, who value the ultimate ends of socialism no less than the socialists, refuse to support socialism because of the dangers to other values they see in the methods proposed by the socialists. The dispute about socialism has thus become largely a dispute about means and not about ends-although the question whether the different ends of socialism can be simultaneously achieved is also involved. This would be enough to create confusion. And the confusion has been further increased by the common practice of denying that those who repudiate the means value the ends. But this is not all. The situation is still more complicated by the fact that the same means, the "economic planning" which is the prime instrument for socialist reform, can be used for many other purposes. We must centrally direct economic activity if we want to make the distribution of income conform to current ideas of social justice. "Planning", therefore, is wanted by all those who demand that "production for use" be substituted for production for profit. But such planning is no less indispensable if the distribution of incomes is to be regulated in a way which to us appears to be the opposite of just. Whether we should wish that more of the good things of this world should go to some racial elite, the Nordic men, or the members of a party or an aristocracy, the methods which we shall have to employ are the same as those which could ensure an equalitarian distribution. It may, perhaps, seem unfair to use the term socialism to describe its methods rather than its aims, to use for a particular method a term which for many people stand for an ultimate ideal. It is probably preferable to describe the methods which can be used for a great variety of ends as collectivism and to regard socialism as a species of that genus. Yet, although to most socialists only one species of collectivism will represent true socialism, it must always be remembered that socialism is a species of collectivism and that therefore everything which is true for collectivism as such must apply to socialism. Nearly all the points which are disputed between socialists and liberals concerns the methods common to all forms of collectivism and not the particular ends for which the socialists want to use them; and all the consequences with which we shall be concerned in this book follow from the methods of collectivism irrespective of the ends for which they are used. It must also not be forgotten that socialism is not only by far the most important species of collectivism or "planning"; but that it is socialism which has persuaded liberal-minded people to submit once more to that regimentation of economic life which they had overthrown because, in the words of Adam Smith, it puts governments in a position where "to support themselves they are obliged to be oppressive and tyrannical".



The statement that the author of the passage would support the most is:
Read the following passage and answer the question that follows.

This confusion concerns nothing less than the concept of socialism itself. It may mean, and is often used to describe, merely the ideals of social justice, greater equality and security which are the ultimate aims of socialism. But it means also the particular method by which most socialists hope to attain these ends and which many competent people regard as the only methods by which they can be fully and quickly attained. In this sense socialism means the abolition of private enterprise, of private ownership of the means of production, and the creation of a system of "planned economy" in which the entrepreneur working for profit is replaced by a central planning body. There are many people who call themselves socialists although they care only about the first, who fervently believe in those ultimate aims of socialism but neither care nor understand how they can be achieved, and who are merely certain they must be achieved, whatever the cost. But to nearly all those to whom socialism is not merely a hope but an object of practical politics, the characteristic methods of modern socialism are as essential as the ends themselves. Most people, on the other hand, who value the ultimate ends of socialism no less than the socialists, refuse to support socialism because of the dangers to other values they see in the methods proposed by the socialists. The dispute about socialism has thus become largely a dispute about means and not about ends-although the question whether the different ends of socialism can be simultaneously achieved is also involved. This would be enough to create confusion. And the confusion has been further increased by the common practice of denying that those who repudiate the means value the ends. But this is not all. The situation is still more complicated by the fact that the same means, the "economic planning" which is the prime instrument for socialist reform, can be used for many other purposes. We must centrally direct economic activity if we want to make the distribution of income conform to current ideas of social justice. "Planning", therefore, is wanted by all those who demand that "production for use" be substituted for production for profit. But such planning is no less indispensable if the distribution of incomes is to be regulated in a way which to us appears to be the opposite of just. Whether we should wish that more of the good things of this world should go to some racial elite, the Nordic men, or the members of a party or an aristocracy, the methods which we shall have to employ are the same as those which could ensure an equalitarian distribution. It may, perhaps, seem unfair to use the term socialism to describe its methods rather than its aims, to use for a particular method a term which for many people stand for an ultimate ideal. It is probably preferable to describe the methods which can be used for a great variety of ends as collectivism and to regard socialism as a species of that genus. Yet, although to most socialists only one species of collectivism will represent true socialism, it must always be remembered that socialism is a species of collectivism and that therefore everything which is true for collectivism as such must apply to socialism. Nearly all the points which are disputed between socialists and liberals concerns the methods common to all forms of collectivism and not the particular ends for which the socialists want to use them; and all the consequences with which we shall be concerned in this book follow from the methods of collectivism irrespective of the ends for which they are used. It must also not be forgotten that socialism is not only by far the most important species of collectivism or "planning"; but that it is socialism which has persuaded liberal-minded people to submit once more to that regimentation of economic life which they had overthrown because, in the words of Adam Smith, it puts governments in a position where "to support themselves they are obliged to be oppressive and tyrannical".



Amongst the options below, the one that best captures the ideology being advocated by the author is:
Read the following passage and answer the question that follows.

This confusion concerns nothing less than the concept of socialism itself. It may mean, and is often used to describe, merely the ideals of social justice, greater equality and security which are the ultimate aims of socialism. But it means also the particular method by which most socialists hope to attain these ends and which many competent people regard as the only methods by which they can be fully and quickly attained. In this sense socialism means the abolition of private enterprise, of private ownership of the means of production, and the creation of a system of "planned economy" in which the entrepreneur working for profit is replaced by a central planning body. There are many people who call themselves socialists although they care only about the first, who fervently believe in those ultimate aims of socialism but neither care nor understand how they can be achieved, and who are merely certain they must be achieved, whatever the cost. But to nearly all those to whom socialism is not merely a hope but an object of practical politics, the characteristic methods of modern socialism are as essential as the ends themselves. Most people, on the other hand, who value the ultimate ends of socialism no less than the socialists, refuse to support socialism because of the dangers to other values they see in the methods proposed by the socialists. The dispute about socialism has thus become largely a dispute about means and not about ends-although the question whether the different ends of socialism can be simultaneously achieved is also involved. This would be enough to create confusion. And the confusion has been further increased by the common practice of denying that those who repudiate the means value the ends. But this is not all. The situation is still more complicated by the fact that the same means, the "economic planning" which is the prime instrument for socialist reform, can be used for many other purposes. We must centrally direct economic activity if we want to make the distribution of income conform to current ideas of social justice. "Planning", therefore, is wanted by all those who demand that "production for use" be substituted for production for profit. But such planning is no less indispensable if the distribution of incomes is to be regulated in a way which to us appears to be the opposite of just. Whether we should wish that more of the good things of this world should go to some racial elite, the Nordic men, or the members of a party or an aristocracy, the methods which we shall have to employ are the same as those which could ensure an equalitarian distribution. It may, perhaps, seem unfair to use the term socialism to describe its methods rather than its aims, to use for a particular method a term which for many people stand for an ultimate ideal. It is probably preferable to describe the methods which can be used for a great variety of ends as collectivism and to regard socialism as a species of that genus. Yet, although to most socialists only one species of collectivism will represent true socialism, it must always be remembered that socialism is a species of collectivism and that therefore everything which is true for collectivism as such must apply to socialism. Nearly all the points which are disputed between socialists and liberals concerns the methods common to all forms of collectivism and not the particular ends for which the socialists want to use them; and all the consequences with which we shall be concerned in this book follow from the methods of collectivism irrespective of the ends for which they are used. It must also not be forgotten that socialism is not only by far the most important species of collectivism or "planning"; but that it is socialism which has persuaded liberal-minded people to submit once more to that regimentation of economic life which they had overthrown because, in the words of Adam Smith, it puts governments in a position where "to support themselves they are obliged to be oppressive and tyrannical".



Amongst the options given below, the one most opposite to the ideology being advocated by the author:

Directions for questions 15 to 20: Read the passage below and answer the question that follows.

A major problem of Indian industrial and commercial development was the supply of capital. Until 1850, British capital was shy of Indian adventure. The risks and unknown factors were too great, and prospects in other directions too bright. The working capital of the agency houses after 1813 at first consisted mainly of the savings of the Company's servants. Their cries of woe when these houses fell as in the crisis of 1831 were loud and poignant. Indian capital was also shy for different reasons. It needed to acquire confidence in the new regime, and outside the presidency towns, to acquire the habit of investment. Investment for large-scale production for 'enabling' works like railways was an unfamiliar and suspected practice. Thus the first big developments came when European capital was coaxed into the country by government guarantees or went of its own free will to develop industries with which it was already familiar as in the case of jute or coal. Indian capital followed where it was in touch with European practice as in Bombay and dealing with familiar products like cotton. These considerations throw into all the greater relief the achievement of the Tatas in developing iron and steel. Thus the major part of the capital provided was British with a steadily increasing Indian proportion from 1900. As late as 1931-32 the capital of companies registered abroad was nearly four times that of companies registered in India. But this is not an exact guide because it leaves out of account the stock in British companies held by Indians, as well as government stocks. Speaking generally it may be said that the capital of the cotton industry was mainly Indian, that of the iron and steel industry entirely so, that of the jute industry about half and half, while the coal and plantation industries were mainly British, together with that used for the building of railways, irrigation, and other public works. Management in the cotton and steel industries was mainly Indian though European technicians were freely employed, that of the jute, coal, and the plantation industries being European, the jute men in particular being Scotch. Their capital, apart of course from government enterprise, operated through joint-stock companies and managing agencies. The latter arose through the convenience found by bodies of capitalists seeking to develop some new activity and lacking any Indian experience, of operating through local agents. It arose in the period after 1813 when private merchants took over the trade formerly monopolized by the Company. The money would be found in Britain to promote a tea garden, a coal mine, or a jute mill, but the management would be confided to a firm already on the spot. The managing agency was the hyphen connecting capital with experience and local knowledge.

Until 1914 the policy of the government continued in the main to be one of 'enabling' private capital and enterprise to develop the country. Direct promotion was confined to public utilities like canals and railways. The line between enabling and interfering action became distinctly blurred, however, in the case of the cotton industry and there was a tendency for enabling action to pass over into the positive promotion of particular projects. This was most noticeable in the time of Lord Curzon with his establishment of an imperial department of agriculture with a research station at Pusa and a department of commerce and industry presided over by a sixth member of the Viceroy's Council. The first World War began the transition to a new period of active promotion and positive support. As the conflict lengthened there arose a demand for Indian manufactured goods. India failed to take full advantage of this opportunity, partly because of uncertainty as to the future and partly because the means for sudden expansion were lacking. The outcome of this situation was the appointment of an industrial commission in 1916 under pressure from London. The commission criticized the unequal development of Indian industry which had led to the missing of her war opportunity. A much closer co-operation with industry was planned through provincial departments of industry. Increased technical training and technical assistance to industry was proposed while it was suggested that the Central government should set up a stores department which should aim at making India self-sufficing in this respect. The commission's report was only partially implemented, but a stores department and provincial industrial departments were created and something was done towards promoting technical assistance. The importance of the report and its aftermath was that it marked the transition from the conception of Indian economy in broadly colonial terms with freedom for private enterprise to the conception of India as an autonomous economic unit.

The following can be inferred from the passage:

I. Industrial development of a country requires supply of external capital
II. Investment in uncertain industries is more when government provides guarantees against failure
III. Lack of indigenous technical expertise can be a constraining factor in a country's economic development
IV. Enabling infrastructure like railways would have to be provided necessarily by the government
V. Market development for the final products is an important prerequisite for industrial development

Directions for questions 15 to 20: Read the passage below and answer the question that follows.

A major problem of Indian industrial and commercial development was the supply of capital. Until 1850, British capital was shy of Indian adventure. The risks and unknown factors were too great, and prospects in other directions too bright. The working capital of the agency houses after 1813 at first consisted mainly of the savings of the Company's servants. Their cries of woe when these houses fell as in the crisis of 1831 were loud and poignant. Indian capital was also shy for different reasons. It needed to acquire confidence in the new regime, and outside the presidency towns, to acquire the habit of investment. Investment for large-scale production for 'enabling' works like railways was an unfamiliar and suspected practice. Thus the first big developments came when European capital was coaxed into the country by government guarantees or went of its own free will to develop industries with which it was already familiar as in the case of jute or coal. Indian capital followed where it was in touch with European practice as in Bombay and dealing with familiar products like cotton. These considerations throw into all the greater relief the achievement of the Tatas in developing iron and steel. Thus the major part of the capital provided was British with a steadily increasing Indian proportion from 1900. As late as 1931-32 the capital of companies registered abroad was nearly four times that of companies registered in India. But this is not an exact guide because it leaves out of account the stock in British companies held by Indians, as well as government stocks. Speaking generally it may be said that the capital of the cotton industry was mainly Indian, that of the iron and steel industry entirely so, that of the jute industry about half and half, while the coal and plantation industries were mainly British, together with that used for the building of railways, irrigation, and other public works. Management in the cotton and steel industries was mainly Indian though European technicians were freely employed, that of the jute, coal, and the plantation industries being European, the jute men in particular being Scotch. Their capital, apart of course from government enterprise, operated through joint-stock companies and managing agencies. The latter arose through the convenience found by bodies of capitalists seeking to develop some new activity and lacking any Indian experience, of operating through local agents. It arose in the period after 1813 when private merchants took over the trade formerly monopolized by the Company. The money would be found in Britain to promote a tea garden, a coal mine, or a jute mill, but the management would be confided to a firm already on the spot. The managing agency was the hyphen connecting capital with experience and local knowledge.

Until 1914 the policy of the government continued in the main to be one of 'enabling' private capital and enterprise to develop the country. Direct promotion was confined to public utilities like canals and railways. The line between enabling and interfering action became distinctly blurred, however, in the case of the cotton industry and there was a tendency for enabling action to pass over into the positive promotion of particular projects. This was most noticeable in the time of Lord Curzon with his establishment of an imperial department of agriculture with a research station at Pusa and a department of commerce and industry presided over by a sixth member of the Viceroy's Council. The first World War began the transition to a new period of active promotion and positive support. As the conflict lengthened there arose a demand for Indian manufactured goods. India failed to take full advantage of this opportunity, partly because of uncertainty as to the future and partly because the means for sudden expansion were lacking. The outcome of this situation was the appointment of an industrial commission in 1916 under pressure from London. The commission criticized the unequal development of Indian industry which had led to the missing of her war opportunity. A much closer co-operation with industry was planned through provincial departments of industry. Increased technical training and technical assistance to industry was proposed while it was suggested that the Central government should set up a stores department which should aim at making India self-sufficing in this respect. The commission's report was only partially implemented, but a stores department and provincial industrial departments were created and something was done towards promoting technical assistance. The importance of the report and its aftermath was that it marked the transition from the conception of Indian economy in broadly colonial terms with freedom for private enterprise to the conception of India as an autonomous economic unit.

The first capitalists investing in Indian economy were:

Directions for questions 15 to 20: Read the passage below and answer the question that follows.

A major problem of Indian industrial and commercial development was the supply of capital. Until 1850, British capital was shy of Indian adventure. The risks and unknown factors were too great, and prospects in other directions too bright. The working capital of the agency houses after 1813 at first consisted mainly of the savings of the Company's servants. Their cries of woe when these houses fell as in the crisis of 1831 were loud and poignant. Indian capital was also shy for different reasons. It needed to acquire confidence in the new regime, and outside the presidency towns, to acquire the habit of investment. Investment for large-scale production for 'enabling' works like railways was an unfamiliar and suspected practice. Thus the first big developments came when European capital was coaxed into the country by government guarantees or went of its own free will to develop industries with which it was already familiar as in the case of jute or coal. Indian capital followed where it was in touch with European practice as in Bombay and dealing with familiar products like cotton. These considerations throw into all the greater relief the achievement of the Tatas in developing iron and steel. Thus the major part of the capital provided was British with a steadily increasing Indian proportion from 1900. As late as 1931-32 the capital of companies registered abroad was nearly four times that of companies registered in India. But this is not an exact guide because it leaves out of account the stock in British companies held by Indians, as well as government stocks. Speaking generally it may be said that the capital of the cotton industry was mainly Indian, that of the iron and steel industry entirely so, that of the jute industry about half and half, while the coal and plantation industries were mainly British, together with that used for the building of railways, irrigation, and other public works. Management in the cotton and steel industries was mainly Indian though European technicians were freely employed, that of the jute, coal, and the plantation industries being European, the jute men in particular being Scotch. Their capital, apart of course from government enterprise, operated through joint-stock companies and managing agencies. The latter arose through the convenience found by bodies of capitalists seeking to develop some new activity and lacking any Indian experience, of operating through local agents. It arose in the period after 1813 when private merchants took over the trade formerly monopolized by the Company. The money would be found in Britain to promote a tea garden, a coal mine, or a jute mill, but the management would be confided to a firm already on the spot. The managing agency was the hyphen connecting capital with experience and local knowledge.

Until 1914 the policy of the government continued in the main to be one of 'enabling' private capital and enterprise to develop the country. Direct promotion was confined to public utilities like canals and railways. The line between enabling and interfering action became distinctly blurred, however, in the case of the cotton industry and there was a tendency for enabling action to pass over into the positive promotion of particular projects. This was most noticeable in the time of Lord Curzon with his establishment of an imperial department of agriculture with a research station at Pusa and a department of commerce and industry presided over by a sixth member of the Viceroy's Council. The first World War began the transition to a new period of active promotion and positive support. As the conflict lengthened there arose a demand for Indian manufactured goods. India failed to take full advantage of this opportunity, partly because of uncertainty as to the future and partly because the means for sudden expansion were lacking. The outcome of this situation was the appointment of an industrial commission in 1916 under pressure from London. The commission criticized the unequal development of Indian industry which had led to the missing of her war opportunity. A much closer co-operation with industry was planned through provincial departments of industry. Increased technical training and technical assistance to industry was proposed while it was suggested that the Central government should set up a stores department which should aim at making India self-sufficing in this respect. The commission's report was only partially implemented, but a stores department and provincial industrial departments were created and something was done towards promoting technical assistance. The importance of the report and its aftermath was that it marked the transition from the conception of Indian economy in broadly colonial terms with freedom for private enterprise to the conception of India as an autonomous economic unit.

After the start of the first World War, all of the following could be likely reasons for the British government adopting a proactive stance towards Indian industry except:

Read the following passage and answer the question that follows.

This confusion concerns nothing less than the concept of socialism itself. It may mean, and is often used to describe, merely the ideals of social justice, greater equality and security which are the ultimate aims of socialism. But it means also the particular method by which most socialists hope to attain these ends and which many competent people regard as the only methods by which they can be fully and quickly attained. In this sense socialism means the abolition of private enterprise, of private ownership of the means of production, and the creation of a system of "planned economy" in which the entrepreneur working for profit is replaced by a central planning body. There are many people who call themselves socialists although they care only about the first, who fervently believe in those ultimate aims of socialism but neither care nor understand how they can be achieved, and who are merely certain they must be achieved, whatever the cost. But to nearly all those to whom socialism is not merely a hope but an object of practical politics, the characteristic methods of modern socialism are as essential as the ends themselves. Most people, on the other hand, who value the ultimate ends of socialism no less than the socialists, refuse to support socialism because of the dangers to other values they see in the methods proposed by the socialists. The dispute about socialism has thus become largely a dispute about means and not about ends-although the question whether the different ends of socialism can be simultaneously achieved is also involved. This would be enough to create confusion. And the confusion has been further increased by the common practice of denying that those who repudiate the means value the ends. But this is not all. The situation is still more complicated by the fact that the same means, the "economic planning" which is the prime instrument for socialist reform, can be used for many other purposes. We must centrally direct economic activity if we want to make the distribution of income conform to current ideas of social justice. "Planning", therefore, is wanted by all those who demand that "production for use" be substituted for production for profit. But such planning is no less indispensable if the distribution of incomes is to be regulated in a way which to us appears to be the opposite of just. Whether we should wish that more of the good things of this world should go to some racial elite, the Nordic men, or the members of a party or an aristocracy, the methods which we shall have to employ are the same as those which could ensure an equalitarian distribution. It may, perhaps, seem unfair to use the term socialism to describe its methods rather than its aims, to use for a particular method a term which for many people stand for an ultimate ideal. It is probably preferable to describe the methods which can be used for a great variety of ends as collectivism and to regard socialism as a species of that genus. Yet, although to most socialists only one species of collectivism will represent true socialism, it must always be remembered that socialism is a species of collectivism and that therefore everything which is true for collectivism as such must apply to socialism. Nearly all the points which are disputed between socialists and liberals concerns the methods common to all forms of collectivism and not the particular ends for which the socialists want to use them; and all the consequences with which we shall be concerned in this book follow from the methods of collectivism irrespective of the ends for which they are used. It must also not be forgotten that socialism is not only by far the most important species of collectivism or "planning"; but that it is socialism which has persuaded liberal-minded people to submit once more to that regimentation of economic life which they had overthrown because, in the words of Adam Smith, it puts governments in a position where "to support themselves they are obliged to be oppressive and tyrannical".



According to the author, those who agree to the aims of socialism would:
Read the following passage and answer the question that follows.

This confusion concerns nothing less than the concept of socialism itself. It may mean, and is often used to describe, merely the ideals of social justice, greater equality and security which are the ultimate aims of socialism. But it means also the particular method by which most socialists hope to attain these ends and which many competent people regard as the only methods by which they can be fully and quickly attained. In this sense socialism means the abolition of private enterprise, of private ownership of the means of production, and the creation of a system of "planned economy" in which the entrepreneur working for profit is replaced by a central planning body. There are many people who call themselves socialists although they care only about the first, who fervently believe in those ultimate aims of socialism but neither care nor understand how they can be achieved, and who are merely certain they must be achieved, whatever the cost. But to nearly all those to whom socialism is not merely a hope but an object of practical politics, the characteristic methods of modern socialism are as essential as the ends themselves. Most people, on the other hand, who value the ultimate ends of socialism no less than the socialists, refuse to support socialism because of the dangers to other values they see in the methods proposed by the socialists. The dispute about socialism has thus become largely a dispute about means and not about ends-although the question whether the different ends of socialism can be simultaneously achieved is also involved. This would be enough to create confusion. And the confusion has been further increased by the common practice of denying that those who repudiate the means value the ends. But this is not all. The situation is still more complicated by the fact that the same means, the "economic planning" which is the prime instrument for socialist reform, can be used for many other purposes. We must centrally direct economic activity if we want to make the distribution of income conform to current ideas of social justice. "Planning", therefore, is wanted by all those who demand that "production for use" be substituted for production for profit. But such planning is no less indispensable if the distribution of incomes is to be regulated in a way which to us appears to be the opposite of just. Whether we should wish that more of the good things of this world should go to some racial elite, the Nordic men, or the members of a party or an aristocracy, the methods which we shall have to employ are the same as those which could ensure an equalitarian distribution. It may, perhaps, seem unfair to use the term socialism to describe its methods rather than its aims, to use for a particular method a term which for many people stand for an ultimate ideal. It is probably preferable to describe the methods which can be used for a great variety of ends as collectivism and to regard socialism as a species of that genus. Yet, although to most socialists only one species of collectivism will represent true socialism, it must always be remembered that socialism is a species of collectivism and that therefore everything which is true for collectivism as such must apply to socialism. Nearly all the points which are disputed between socialists and liberals concerns the methods common to all forms of collectivism and not the particular ends for which the socialists want to use them; and all the consequences with which we shall be concerned in this book follow from the methods of collectivism irrespective of the ends for which they are used. It must also not be forgotten that socialism is not only by far the most important species of collectivism or "planning"; but that it is socialism which has persuaded liberal-minded people to submit once more to that regimentation of economic life which they had overthrown because, in the words of Adam Smith, it puts governments in a position where "to support themselves they are obliged to be oppressive and tyrannical".



From the passage, it may be inferred that the author is a supporter of: