- Which of the following, if true, would most seriously weaken the reasoning in the passage?
Answer: In several regions where common schools flourish, rates of imprisonment and pauperism have remained constant or increased.
When a question asks what would "weaken the reasoning," you need to identify the argument's core causal claim and find the choice that directly undermines it. Here, the speaker argues that common schools cause good citizenship and prevent crime and poverty—so much so that skimping on schools produces greater costs in prisons and almshouses.
Choice C strikes at the heart of this claim. If regions with flourishing common schools still show constant or rising rates of imprisonment and pauperism, then the promised cause-and-effect relationship between schooling and reduced social ills breaks down. The speaker's central prediction fails in exactly the conditions where it should succeed.
Choice A is tempting but weaker: it addresses only one half of the argument (self-government) and doesn't refute that schools help produce it—other paths existing doesn't disprove this one. Choice B is irrelevant to the argument's logic; comparing rates of cost increase says nothing about whether schools actually reduce crime. Choice D attacks the quality of some teachers, not the institution's overall social effect—the speaker could easily concede this without abandoning the main claim.
The trap in A is treating "alternative causes exist" as equivalent to "the stated cause doesn't work." The trap in D is mistaking a partial exception for a systemic refutation.
Strategy tip: On weaken/strengthen questions, always locate the argument's causal spine first, then test each choice against that specific link. The best answer attacks the mechanism itself, not peripheral facts or isolated exceptions.
- The author's critique of the President's advocates rests principally on the claim that:
Answer: The advocates draw a conclusion about one power (funding) from a premise about a different power (making), improperly conflating the two.
Questions about an author's "principal claim" or "critique" ask you to identify the structure of the argument, not just its topic. Look for what the author is actually attacking: is it a factual claim, a value judgment, or—as here—a logical move?
The author's key sentence is "this conclusion outruns its premise." That's a logical objection: the advocates start with a premise about treaty-making (which excludes the House) and slide into a conclusion about treaty-funding (which they claim also excludes the House). The author's point is that these are two distinct enumerated powers, and you cannot let one "silently swallow" the other. That precisely matches A—the critique is that the advocates improperly conflate two different powers.
B is wrong because the author never disputes the Senate's authority to consent to treaties; in fact, the opening sentence concedes that power. C overreaches: the author defends the House's independent judgment over funding, not an implied veto over treaties themselves. D introduces a framers-vs.-text debate that appears nowhere in the passage; the author's argument is about logical structure, not interpretive philosophy.
When a passage uses phrases like "outruns its premise," "does not entail," or "one X silently swallows another," the author is flagging a logical flaw—usually a non sequitur or conflation. Match the answer choice to the type of flaw identified, and be suspicious of choices that introduce outside debates (like framers' intent) the passage never raises.
- Which of the following best captures the logical structure of the author's response?
Answer: He challenges the employers' use of a key term, arguing that their notion of 'freedom' presupposes conditions of equality that do not obtain in practice.
When you're asked about the "logical structure" of an argument, you're not just being asked what the author believes—you're being asked how the argument works. Look for the specific move the author makes: Do they deny a premise? Redefine a term? Concede and pivot? Appeal to authority?
Here, the employers rest their case on the phrase "freedom of contract." The author's move is to attack that phrase itself, arguing that "freedom" only means something real when both parties can walk away from the table. When one party is starving and the other can wait, calling their agreement "free" empties the word of meaning—just as tyrants emptied "justice" of meaning by using it to describe their own will. This is a challenge to the meaning of a key term, showing that the employers' use of it assumes conditions (rough equality of bargaining power) that don't actually exist. That matches A precisely.
B overstates the argument: the author never claims all such agreements involve outright coercion or that workers never consent—only that consent under desperation isn't truly "free." C is wrong because the author doesn't concede the freedom-of-contract premise; he attacks it directly. D introduces historical government regulation, which the passage never mentions.
When a question asks about the structure of a response, watch especially for arguments that turn on the definition or application of a key word. Authors often win debates not by rejecting their opponent's values but by showing that a crucial term doesn't mean what the opponent assumes it means.
- The rhetorical strategy the author employs in this passage is best characterized as:
Answer: Accepting the opponents' criterion and demonstrating that its consistent application would produce results the opponents themselves would reject.
Questions about rhetorical strategy ask you to identify how an argument works, not just what it claims. Read for the underlying logical move: is the author appealing to emotion, redefining terms, citing data, or turning the opponent's own logic against them?
Here, the author grants — at least for the sake of argument — the opponents' premise that sentimentality disqualifies a voter. He then shows that if you actually applied this standard consistently, you'd have to disenfranchise huge numbers of men too, a result the opponents would never accept. This is the classic reductio ad absurdum combined with a charge of inconsistency: "your rule proves too much." That matches C precisely.
A is wrong because the passage is coolly logical, not emotional; the author doesn't try to move readers to pity or shame, but to see a contradiction. B is wrong because no statistics or empirical data appear — the argument is purely deductive. D is tempting because "sentiment" is discussed, but the author doesn't claim opponents are using the word in two different senses; he accepts their meaning and attacks the application of the standard, not its definition.
A useful tip: when a passage says something like "the argument proves too much" or shows that a principle, applied evenly, would yield unacceptable consequences, you're almost certainly looking at a reductio or consistency argument. Learn to distinguish this from equivocation (which requires a shift in meaning) and from emotional appeals (which target feelings rather than logic).
- Which of the following most accurately describes the author's reasoning?
Answer: The author distinguishes between legitimate constitutional grounds and illegitimate policy grounds for exercising the veto.
When a passage evaluates multiple items and treats them differently, your first job is to identify the principle of distinction the author is using. Don't just ask "what does the author think?" — ask "on what basis is the author sorting these things?"
Here, the author lists the President's three reasons for the veto: (1) unconstitutionality, (2) sectional favoritism, and (3) fiscal imprudence. The author accepts only the first and rejects the other two. The reason given is crucial: the veto exists as "a check upon unconstitutional legislation, not as a general license to substitute the Executive's judgment for the Legislature's on questions of policy." That's a clean divide between constitutional grounds (legitimate) and policy grounds (illegitimate), which is exactly what C captures.
A misreads the passage — the author never disputes the factual accuracy of any reason; the argument is about which kinds of reasons are permissible, not whether they are true. B invents a claim about majority support that appears nowhere in the text; the author's concern is the type of objection, not congressional vote counts. D introduces the judiciary, which the passage never mentions; the author actually implies the Executive may veto on constitutional grounds, so a judiciary-only view would contradict the text.
When a passage sorts items into "acceptable" and "unacceptable" categories, always pin down the criterion being applied. Wrong answers on reading questions often distort that criterion by substituting a different (but plausible-sounding) standard the author never actually used.
- Which of the following best describes the author's critique of the proponents' argument?
Answer: The author challenges a key premise by supplying counterexamples and by suggesting that the premise disguises a different motive.
When you're asked to describe an author's critique of an argument, look carefully at which specific move the author makes: are they attacking a premise, attacking the logical connection between premises and conclusion, or offering a competing conclusion? Each of these is a distinct rhetorical strategy.
Here, the author zeroes in on the second premise—that "contiguous territories are naturally drawn into political union." Two tactics are used against it. First, counterexamples: Belgium/France, Portugal/Spain, Canada/US are all contiguous pairs that have not merged, which undermines the claim that contiguity naturally produces union. Second, the author suggests the premise is a disguise—what looks like a geographic "law" is really "ambition, dressed in geography's clothing." That double move—empirical refutation plus motive-unmasking—matches C precisely.
A is wrong because the author doesn't claim the reasoning is formally invalid; in fact, if premise 2 were true, the conclusion would follow reasonably well. The attack is on premise truth, not logical structure. B misidentifies the target: the author never disputes that the territory is contiguous (premise 1)—that's granted. The challenge is to premise 2. D is wrong because the author doesn't accept the premises, and no moral argument is offered; the critique is analytical, exposing the argument as "a decorated wish."
When a question asks about the type of critique, distinguish sharply between (1) denying a premise, (2) denying the inference, and (3) offering counter-values. Misreading which layer is under attack is the most common trap in argument-analysis questions.
- The author's strategy in the second paragraph is best described as:
Answer: Exposing the hidden premises on which the opponents' argument depends and showing each to be objectionable.
Rhetorical strategy questions ask you to describe what the author is doing, not just what the author says. Look for the structural moves: is the writer refuting, conceding, illustrating, analogizing? Then match that move to the answer choices with precision.
Here, the second paragraph opens by claiming the opposing argument "fails at every joint," then walks through three assumptions ("First… Second… Third") buried inside that argument. Each assumption is identified and then shown to be untenable—respect based on ignorance isn't real respect, truth shouldn't be irrelevant to suppression, and no party should judge its own case. That's precisely what B describes: surfacing hidden premises and attacking each.
A is wrong because the author offers no historical evidence—no examples of past regimes, revolutions, or press cases. The reasoning is entirely analytical, not empirical. C is tempting because the mosquito analogy appears in paragraph one, but the second paragraph never returns to it or dissects why the comparison fails; it attacks the logical assumptions, not the figure of speech. D misreads the passage entirely—the author concedes nothing. He says the argument "collapses," which is total rejection, not partial acceptance.
When a passage uses enumeration ("First… Second… Third"), that's a strong signal the author is breaking an opposing position into component parts to attack each. Watch for that structural cue: it usually points toward an answer involving "premises," "assumptions," or "components"—and away from answers about evidence, analogy, or concession.
- The author's argument is best characterized as resting on which of the following distinctions?
Answer: A distinction between the primary purpose of a legislative act and its secondary or incidental consequences.
Questions about the structure of an argument ask you to identify the underlying logical distinction the author uses to sort acceptable cases from unacceptable ones. Read for the pivot — the word or phrase where the author separates what he approves from what he rejects.
Here, the author explicitly says he approves a duty "laid principally for revenue" that "incidentally" protects, but rejects a duty "laid principally for protection" whose "incidental effect is revenue." The very same economic outcome (both revenue and protection) is present in both cases — what differs is which was the primary object and which was incidental. That is exactly the distinction in D.
A is wrong because the author never discusses enumerated versus implied powers; he grants that Congress has the taxing power and asks only how it may be used. B misreads the passage — the "general welfare" language appears only in the tariff advocates' position the author is evaluating, not in his own distinction. C is tempting but backwards: the author acknowledges that protective duties often do raise revenue (that's their "incidental effect"). His test isn't whether revenue results, but whether revenue was the aim.
Strategy tip: On rhetorical-structure questions, underline hedging words like "principally," "incidentally," "primary," and "secondary." When an author uses such paired terms, the argument almost always turns on a purpose-versus-effect (or intent-versus-consequence) distinction — not on whether a particular outcome occurs.
- The author's response to the objection turns primarily on which of the following?
Answer: A distinction between two kinds of lawbreaking that the objection improperly treats as equivalent.
When a passage presents an objection and then a reply, your job is to identify the structure of the reply — what logical move does the author actually make? Rhetorical passages often hinge on distinctions, concessions, or redefinitions, so read carefully for those moves.
Here, the objection claims that disobeying an unjust law dissolves society by example. The author's response doesn't deny this outright; instead, he splits lawbreaking into two categories: the self-serving kind (which would dissolve society if imitated) and the conscience-driven kind (whose imitation strengthens society in crisis). He even concedes the objection against the first type. His entire reply rests on saying the objection lumps together two things "which ought to be kept distinct." That's exactly what A describes.
B is wrong because the author actually grants that one kind of lawbreaking would harm society — he doesn't deny harmful consequences universally. C introduces a claim the author never makes; he doesn't argue that unjust laws aren't really laws (that's closer to a natural-law argument from thinkers like Aquinas or King, but it's absent here). D is tempting because the passage mentions societies being "held together in times of crisis," but the author offers no actual historical examples — his argument is conceptual, not evidentiary.
When a question asks what an argument "turns on," look for the pivotal logical move — often a distinction, definition, or concession. Don't be misled by answer choices that sound thematically related but describe a different argumentative strategy than the one actually used.
- The author's argument depends most critically on which of the following unstated assumptions?
Answer: That the Constitution can function as a restraint on legislative power only if some body outside the legislature is empowered to interpret it.
Questions about "unstated assumptions" ask you to find the hidden premise that must be true for the argument to hold together. Think of it as the missing link: if you negate this assumption, does the argument collapse? If yes, you've found it.
Here, the author argues by elimination: the Constitution is supreme, so some body must decide when statutes conflict with it; it can't be the legislature (that would let it judge its own powers) or the executive; therefore, it must be the judiciary. The whole chain of reasoning rests on the premise that leaving interpretation to the legislature would gut the Constitution's restraining function. In other words, the author takes for granted that constitutional restraint requires an external interpreter. That's exactly what D captures.
A is wrong because the author never claims judicial review is exclusive to federal courts—the passage doesn't even distinguish federal from state judiciaries. B is wrong because the superiority of written over unwritten constitutions is never at issue; the argument begins by accepting the written Constitution as given. C is a tempting trap, but the author explicitly says the judiciary gets this role "not by conquest but by default"—meaning by process of elimination, not because judges are wiser or more virtuous. In fact, the argument would be weaker if it depended on judicial superiority.
When tackling assumption questions, try the "negation test": negate each choice and ask which one, if false, would destroy the argument. Only D passes that test here.
- Which of the following best describes the central flaw the speaker identifies in his opponents' reasoning?
Answer: The opponents establish that a problem exists but do not demonstrate that their proposed solution is the appropriate one.
Questions about the "central flaw" in an argument ask you to identify the logical gap the speaker exposes—not just any weakness they mention in passing. Look for the sentence where the speaker explicitly names what's wrong with the opponents' reasoning, then match that to the answer choice that generalizes it accurately.
Here, the pivotal moment is the second paragraph: "That some disorder exists proves only that some remedy is wanting—not that this particular remedy is fit." The physician analogy reinforces this: observing a fever doesn't justify amputation. The speaker concedes every premise (disorders, murmurings, foreign threats) but denies that these premises justify the specific solution proposed. That is precisely what B captures—the opponents have shown a problem exists but haven't shown their solution fits the problem.
A is tempting because the speaker does invoke Rome and the Italian principalities, but he uses these to reinforce his own case, not to accuse opponents of relying on bad analogies. C misreads the passage: the speaker actually grants the disorders rather than accusing opponents of exaggerating them. D inverts the speaker's point—he never ranks foreign versus domestic threats, and suggesting he thinks foreign threats are underweighted contradicts his overall skepticism toward the standing army.
When a passage concedes the opponent's factual premises but rejects the conclusion, the flaw being identified is almost always a logical gap between premise and conclusion—what philosophers call a non sequitur. Train yourself to spot concession language ("I grant... but") as a signal that the author is targeting reasoning, not facts.
- The author refutes his opponents' argument primarily by:
Answer: Extending the opponents' reasoning to analogous cases in order to reveal its unacceptable consequences.
Questions about how an argument works ask you to identify the rhetorical strategy, not just the conclusion. When you see a writer respond to an opposing view, ask yourself: Are they attacking the facts? Redefining the moral stakes? Or showing that the logic itself leads somewhere absurd?
Here, the author uses that last move—a technique called reductio ad absurdum. He takes his opponents' reasoning ("we should keep doing X because others will do X anyway") and applies it to parallel situations: a pirate justifying piracy by pointing to other pirates, a thief justifying theft by pointing to other thieves. If the logic works for the slave trade, it must work for these cases too—but clearly it doesn't. That exposes the reasoning as untenable, which is exactly what B describes.
A is wrong because the author never disputes the factual claim that other nations will continue the trade; he grants it for the sake of argument and attacks the inference drawn from it. C is wrong because the author isn't making a consequence-free deontological claim—he's showing the opponents' logic leads to absurd consequences, which is itself a consequences-based critique. D is wrong because the passage never mentions national identity or founding principles; it stays focused on the structure of the argument itself.
When a question asks how an author refutes an opponent, watch for signal moves: analogies ("the pirate...the thief..."), extensions of logic ("by such reasoning..."), and hypotheticals. These almost always point to a *reductio*-style strategy rather than a factual or emotional appeal.
