READING PASSAGE 3
You should spend about 20 minutes on Questions 27-40, which are based on Reading Passage 3 below.
Learning about the past
If the past is a foreign country, the version that used to be taught in Irish schools had a simple landscape. For 750 years after the first invasion by an English king, Ireland suffered oppression. Then at Easter 1916, her brave sons rose against the tyrant; their leaders were shot but their cause prevailed, and Ireland (or 26 of her 32 counties) lived happily ever alter. Awkward episodes, like the conflict between rival Irish nationalist groups in 1922-23, were airbrushed away. "The civil war was just an embarrassment, it was hardly mentioned," says Jimmy Joyce, who went to school in Dublin in the 1950s.
These days, Irish history lessons are more sophisticated. They deal happily with facts that have no place in a plain tale of heroes and tyrants: like the fact that hundreds of thousands of Irish people, Catholic and Protestant, fought for Britain during the two world wars. Why the change? First because in the 1980s, some people in Ireland became uneasy about the fact that a crude view of their national history was fuelling a conflict in the north of the island. Then came a fall in the influence of the Catholic church, whose authority had rested on a deft fusion between religion and patriotism. Also at work was an even broader shift: a state that was rich, confident and cosmopolitan saw less need to drum simple ideas into its youth, especially if those ideas risked encouraging violence.
As countries all over the world argue over "what to tell the children" about their collective past, many will look to Ireland rather enviously. Its seamless transition from a nationalist view of history to an open-minded one is an exception. A history curriculum is often a telling sign of how a nation and its elites see themselves: as victims of colonialism or practitioners (either repentant or defiant) of imperial power. In the modern history of Mexico, for example, a big landmark was the introduction, 15 years ago, of textbooks that were a bit less anti-American. Many states still see history teaching, and the inculcation of foundation myths, as a strategic imperative; others see it as an exercise in teaching children to think for themselves. The experience of several countries suggests that, whatever educators and politicians might want, there is a limit to how far history lessons can diverge in their tone from society as a whole.
Take Australia. John Howard, the conservative prime minister, has made history one of his favourite causes. At a "history summit" he held last August, educators were urged to "reestablish a structured narrative" about the nation's past. This was seen by liberal critics as a doomed bid to revive a romantic vision of white settlement in the 18th century. The romantic story has been fading since the 1980s, when a liberal, revisionist view came to dominate curricula: one that replaced "settlement" with "invasion" and that looked for the first time at the stories of aborigines and women. How much difference have Australia's policy battles made to what children in that cosmopolitan land are taught? Under Mr Howard's 11-year government, "multicultural" and "aboriginal reconciliation", two terms that once had currency, have faded from the policy lexicon, but not from classrooms. Australia's curricula are controlled by the states, not from Canberra. Most states have rolled Australian history into social studies courses, often rather muddled. In New South Wales, where the subject is taught in its own right, Mr Howard's bid to promote a patriotic view of history meets strong resistance.
Judy King, head of Riverside Girls High School in Sydney, has students from more than 40 ethnic groups at her school. "It's simply not possible to present one story to them, and nor do we," she says. "We canvass all the terms for white settlement: colonialism, i
A. it didn't fit in with the history of the Irish fighting British rule.
B. the Irish people couldn't understand why it happened.
C. the Irish didn't want to anger the British.