For months the Japanese searched fitfully for the right word to describe what was happening. At the Bank of Japan, the nation’s central bank, officials spoke of "an adjustment phase.’ Prime Minister admitted only to "a difficult situation." The Economic Planning Agency, the government’s record keeper, referred delicately to a "retreat." Then two weeks ago, for the first time since 1997, the agency dropped its boilerplate reference to the "expansion" from its closely watched Monthly Economic Report, and the word game was over. Japan’s economy, the world’s second largest, conceded the experts, was in recession.
That admission confirmed the bad news businessmen had been reading in their spreadsheets for several months. "In 2001 one market after another turned bad," says Yoshihiko Wakamoto, senior vice president of Toshiba Corp., which now admits that its pretax profits for fiscal 2001, ending March 31, may be down a whopping 42%. In April, when many Japanese companies announce their results for 2001 fiscal year, most will report declining profits. Blue chips like Sony, NEC and Matsushita have all experienced drops of over 40% in pretax profits. Japan’s security houses, hit by declining commissions from a falling stock market, will announce even more dramatic drops. Nomura Securities, once Japan’s most profitable company, is talking about an 80% decline in profits. Auto manufacturers, banks, airlines, steel companies, department stores--all are in a slump.
Technically, what is happening to the Japanese economy does not meet American criteria for a recession, normally defined as at least two consecutive quarters of negative growth. While economic growth has slowed in Japan, it has not ceased. Government economists are predicting a 3.5% increase in GNP for 2002. Outside experts are not so optimistic. But nearly everyone agrees that GNP growth in Japan is unlikely to slip into negative numbers, as it did last year in the U. S. and Britain. "There’s no question that we are in a recession," pronounces Kunio Miyamoto, chief economist of the Sumitomo-Life Research Institute. "But it is a recession, Japanese-style."
During the last half of the 1990s, Japanese companies based much of their expansion around the world on the wildly inflated values of the Tokyo Stock Exchange and Japan’s frenzied real estate market. Now both those markets have collapsed. And with long-term interest rates up from 5% to 7%, Japanese companies are less able to sell vast quantities of high-quality goods at razor-thin profit margins. Added to this are pressures from shareholders for a greater return on investments, from Japan’s trading partners for restraints on its aggressive trade practices, and from its own citizens for a reduction in their working hours so they can enjoy the fruits of 40 years of relentless toil.
The decline of Japanese economy in 2001 is manifested in the fact that the Japanese

A:companies predicted their results for another fiscal year. B:auto industries went bankrupt in a Japanese style. C:security houses suffered great loss of their profits. D:real estate market quieted down after a boom.

For months the Japanese searched fitfully for the right word to describe what was happening. At the Bank of Japan, the nation’s central bank, officials spoke of "an adjustment phase." Prime Minister admitted only to "a difficult situation." The Economic Planning Agency, the government’s record keeper, referred delicately to a "retreat." Then two weeks ago, for the first time since 1997, the agency dropped its boilerplate reference to the "expansion, from its closely watched Monthly Economic Report, and the word game was over. Japan’s economy, the world’s second largest, conceded the experts, was in recession.
That admission confirmed the had news businessmen had been reading in their spreadsheets for several months. "In 2001 one market after another turned bad," says Yoshihiko Wakamoto, senior vice president of Toshiba Corp. , which now admits that its pretax profits for fiscal 2001, ending March 31, may be down a whopping 42%. In April, when many Japanese companies announce their results for 2001 fiscal Year, most will report declining profits. Blue chips like Sony, NEC and Matsushita have all experienced drops of over 40% in pretax profits. Japan’s security houses, hit by declining commissions from a falling stock market, will announce even more dramatic drops. Nomura Securities, once Japan’s most profitable company, is talking about an 80% decline in profits. Auto manufacturers, banks, airlines, steel companies, department stores —all are in a slump.
Technically, what is happening to the Japanese economy does not meet American criteria for a recession, normally defined as at least two consecutive quarters of negative growth. While economic growth has slowed in Japan, it has not ceased. Government economists are predicting a 3.5% increase in GNP for 2002. Outside experts are not so optimistic. But nearly everyone agrees that GNP growth in Japan is unlikely to slip into negative numbers, as it did last year in the U. S. and Britain. "There’s no question that we are in a recession," pronounces Kunio Miyamoto, chief economist of the Sumitomo-Life Research Institute. "But it is a recession, Japanese-style."
During the last half of the 1990s, Japanese companies based much of their expansion around the world on the wildly inflated values of the Tokyo Stock Exchange and Japan’s frenzied real estate market. Now both those markets have collapsed. And with long-term interest rates up from 5% to 7%, Japanese companies are less able to sell vast quantities of high-quality goods at razor-thin profit margins. Added to this are pressures from shareholders for a greater return on investments, from Japan’s trading partners for restraints on its aggressive trade practices, and from its own citizens for a reduction in their working hours so they can enjoy the fruits of 40 years of relentless toil.
The decline of Japanese economy in 2001 is manifested in the fact that the Japanese

A:companies predicted their results for another fiscal year. B:auto industries went bankrupt in a Japanese style. C:security houses suffered great loss of their profits. D:real estate market quieted down after a boom.

We assumed ethics needed the seal of certainty, else it was non-rational. And certainty was to be produced by a deductive model: the correct actions were derivable from classical first principles or a hierarchically ranked pantheon of principles. This model, though, is bankrupt.
I suggest we think of ethics as analogous to language usage. There are no univocal rules of grammar and style which uniquely determine the best sentence for a particular situation. Nor is language usage universalizable. Although a sentence or phrase is warranted in one case, it does not mean it is automatically appropriate in like circumstances. Nonetheless, language usage is not subjective.
This should not surprise us in the least. All intellectual pursuits are relativistic in just these senses. Political science, psychology, chemistry, and physics are not certain, but they are not subjective either. As I see it, ethical inquiry proceed like this: we are taught moral principles by parents, teachers, and society at large. As we grow older we become exposed to competing views. These may lead us to reevaluate presently held beliefs. Or we may find ourselves inexplicably making certain valuations, possibly because of inherited altruistic tendencies. We may "learn the hard way" that some actions generate unacceptable consequences. Or we may reflect upon our own and others’ "theories" or patterns of behavior and decide they are inconsistent. The resulting views are "tested"; we act as we think we should and evaluate the consequences of those actions on ourselves and on others. We thereby correct our mistakes in light of the test of time.
Of course people make different moral judgments; of course we cannot resolve these differences by using some algorithm which is itself beyond judgement. We have no vantage point outside human experience where we can judge right and wrong, good and bad. But then we don’t have a vantage point from where we can be philosophical relativists either.
We are left within the real world, trying to cope with ourselves, with each other, with the world, and with our own fallibility. We do not have all the moral answers; nor do we have an algorithm to discern those answers. Neither do we possess an algorithm for determining correct language usage but that does not make us throw up our hands in despair because we can no longer communicate.
If we understand ethics in this way, we can see, I think, the real value of ethical theory. Some people, talk as if ethical theories give us moral prescriptions. They think we should apply ethical principles as we. would a poultice: after diagnosing the ailment, we apply the appropriate dressing. But that is a mistake. No theory provides a set of abstract solutions to apply straightforwardly. Ethical theories are important not because they solve all moral dilemmas but because they help us notice salient features of moral problems and help us understand those problems in context.
It is implied in the passage that a relativistic view of ethnics

A:can only be acquired after real life lessons. B:often generate unacceptable consequences. C:is more mature and rational. D:is too abstract to be of any practical value.

For months the Japanese searched fitfully for the right word to describe what was happening. At the Bank of Japan, the nation’s central bank, officials spoke of "an adjustment phase.’ Prime Minister admitted only to "a difficult situation." The Economic Planning Agency, the government’s record keeper, referred delicately to a "retreat." Then two weeks ago, for the first time since 1997, the agency dropped its boilerplate reference to the "expansion" from its closely watched Monthly Economic Report, and the word game was over. Japan’s economy, the world’s second largest, conceded the experts, was in recession.
That admission confirmed the bad news businessmen had been reading in their spreadsheets for several months. "In 2001 one market after another turned bad," says Yoshihiko Wakamoto, senior vice president of Toshiba Corp., which now admits that its pretax profits for fiscal 2001, ending March 31, may be down a whopping 42%. In April, when many Japanese companies announce their results for 2001 fiscal year, most will report declining profits. Blue chips like Sony, NEC and Matsushita have all experienced drops of over 40% in pretax profits. Japan’s security houses, hit by declining commissions from a falling stock market, will announce even more dramatic drops. Nomura Securities, once Japan’s most profitable company, is talking about an 80% decline in profits. Auto manufacturers, banks, airlines, steel companies, department stores--all are in a slump.
Technically, what is happening to the Japanese economy does not meet American criteria for a recession, normally defined as at least two consecutive quarters of negative growth. While economic growth has slowed in Japan, it has not ceased. Government economists are predicting a 3.5% increase in GNP for 2002. Outside experts are not so optimistic. But nearly everyone agrees that GNP growth in Japan is unlikely to slip into negative numbers, as it did last year in the U. S. and Britain. "There’s no question that we are in a recession," pronounces Kunio Miyamoto, chief economist of the Sumitomo-Life Research Institute. "But it is a recession, Japanese-style."
During the last half of the 1990s, Japanese companies based much of their expansion around the world on the wildly inflated values of the Tokyo Stock Exchange and Japan’s frenzied real estate market. Now both those markets have collapsed. And with long-term interest rates up from 5% to 7%, Japanese companies are less able to sell vast quantities of high-quality goods at razor-thin profit margins. Added to this are pressures from shareholders for a greater return on investments, from Japan’s trading partners for restraints on its aggressive trade practices, and from its own citizens for a reduction in their working hours so they can enjoy the fruits of 40 years of relentless toil.

The decline of Japanese economy in 2001 is manifested in the fact that the Japanese（）

A:companies predicted their results for another fiscal year. B:auto industries went bankrupt in a Japanese style. C:security houses suffered great loss of their profits. D:real estate market quieted down after a boom.

We assumed ethics needed the seal of certainty, else it was non-rational. And certainty was to be produced by a deductive model: the correct actions were derivable from classical first principles or a hierarchical ranked pantheon of principles. This model, though, is bankrupt.
I suggest we think of ethics as analogous to language usage. There are no univocal rules of grammar and style which uniquely determine the best sentence for a particular situation. Nor is language usage universalizable. Although a sentence or phrase is warranted in one case, it does not mean it is automatically appropriate in like circumstances. Nonetheless, language usage is not subjective.
This should not surprise us in the least. All intellectual pursuits are relativistic in just these senses. Political science, psychology, chemistry, and physics are not certain, but they are not subjective either. As I see it, ethical inquiry proceed like this: we are taught moral principles by parents, teachers, and society at large. As we grow older we become exposed to competing views. These may lead us to reevaluate presently held beliefs. Or we may find ourselves inexplicably making certain valuations, possibly because of inherited altruistic tendencies. We may "learn the hard way, that some actions generate unacceptable consequences. Or we may reflect upon our own and others’ "theories" or patterns of behavior and decide they are inconsistent. The resulting views are "tested;" we act as we think we should and evaluate the consequences of those actions on ourselves and on others. We thereby correct our mistakes in light of the test of time.
Of course people make different moral judgments; of course we cannot resolve these differences by using some algorithm which is itself beyond judgment. We have no vantage point outside human experience where we can judge right and wrong, good and bad. But then we don’t have a vantage point from where we can be philosophical relativists either.
We are left within the real world, trying to cope with ourselves, with each other, with the world, and with our own mistakes. We do not have all the moral answers; nor do we have an algorithm to discern those answers. Neither do we possess an algorithm for determining correct language usage but that does not make us throw up our hands in despair because we can no longer communicate.
If we understand ethics in this way, we can see, I think, the real value of ethical theory. Some people talk as if ethical theories give us moral prescriptions. They think we should apply ethical principles as we would a poultice: after diagnosing the illness, we apply the appropriate dressing. But that is a mistake. No theory provides a set of abstract solutions to apply straightforwardly. Ethical theories are important not because they solve all moral dilemmas but because they help us notice salient features of moral problems and help us understand those problems in context.

In Line 6, Para. 3, the author use the expression of "learn the hard way" to mean that（）

A:we try to reevaluate our previously held beliefs as we grow older. B:we refute some moral principles only after we find them inconsistent. C:we acquire a sense of right and wrong from our real life lessons. D:we become mature through ignoring our inherited unselfish tendencies.

For months the Japanese searched fitfully for the right word to describe what was happening. At the Bank of Japan, the nation’s central bank, officials spoke of "an adjustment phase." Prime Minister admitted only to "a difficult situation." The Economic Planning Agency, the government’s record keeper, referred delicately to a "retreat." Then two weeks ago, for the first time since 1997, the agency dropped its boilerplate reference to the "expansion, from its closely watched Monthly Economic Report, and the word game was over. Japan’s economy, the world’s second largest, conceded the experts, was in recession.
That admission confirmed the had news businessmen had been reading in their spreadsheets for several months. "In 2001 one market after another turned bad," says Yoshihiko Wakamoto, senior vice president of Toshiba Corp. , which now admits that its pretax profits for fiscal 2001, ending March 31, may be down a whopping 42%. In April, when many Japanese companies announce their results for 2001 fiscal Year, most will report declining profits. Blue chips like Sony, NEC and Matsushita have all experienced drops of over 40% in pretax profits. Japan’s security houses, hit by declining commissions from a falling stock market, will announce even more dramatic drops. Nomura Securities, once Japan’s most profitable company, is talking about an 80% decline in profits. Auto manufacturers, banks, airlines, steel companies, department stores —all are in a slump.
Technically, what is happening to the Japanese economy does not meet American criteria for a recession, normally defined as at least two consecutive quarters of negative growth. While economic growth has slowed in Japan, it has not ceased. Government economists are predicting a 3.5% increase in GNP for 2002. Outside experts are not so optimistic. But nearly everyone agrees that GNP growth in Japan is unlikely to slip into negative numbers, as it did last year in the U. S. and Britain. "There’s no question that we are in a recession," pronounces Kunio Miyamoto, chief economist of the Sumitomo-Life Research Institute. "But it is a recession, Japanese-style."
During the last half of the 1990s, Japanese companies based much of their expansion around the world on the wildly inflated values of the Tokyo Stock Exchange and Japan’s frenzied real estate market. Now both those markets have collapsed. And with long-term interest rates up from 5% to 7%, Japanese companies are less able to sell vast quantities of high-quality goods at razor-thin profit margins. Added to this are pressures from shareholders for a greater return on investments, from Japan’s trading partners for restraints on its aggressive trade practices, and from its own citizens for a reduction in their working hours so they can enjoy the fruits of 40 years of relentless toil.

The decline of Japanese economy in 2001 is manifested in the fact that the Japanese（）

A:companies predicted their results for another fiscal year. B:auto industries went bankrupt in a Japanese style. C:security houses suffered great loss of their profits. D:real estate market quieted down after a boom.

We assumed ethics needed the seal of certainty, else it was non-rational. And certainty was to be produced by a deductive model: the correct actions were derivable from classical first principles or a hierarchically ranked pantheon of principles. This model, though, is bankrupt.
I suggest we think of ethics as analogous to language usage. There are no univocal rules of grammar and style which uniquely determine the best sentence for a particular situation. Nor is language usage universalizable. Although a sentence or phrase is warranted in one case, it does not mean it is automatically appropriate in like circumstances. Nonetheless, language usage is not subjective.
This should not surprise us in the least. All intellectual pursuits are relativistic in just these senses. Political science, psychology, chemistry, and physics are not certain, but they are not subjective either. As I see it, ethical inquiry proceed like this: we are taught moral principles by parents, teachers, and society at large. As we grow older we become exposed to competing views. These may lead us to reevaluate presently held beliefs. Or we may find ourselves inexplicably making certain valuations, possibly because of inherited altruistic tendencies. We may "learn the hard way" that some actions generate unacceptable consequences. Or we may reflect upon our own and others’ "theories" or patterns of behavior and decide they are inconsistent. The resulting views are "tested"; we act as we think we should and evaluate the consequences of those actions on ourselves and on others. We thereby correct our mistakes in light of the test of time.
Of course people make different moral judgments; of course we cannot resolve these differences by using some algorithm which is itself beyond judgement. We have no vantage point outside human experience where we can judge right and wrong, good and bad. But then we don’t have a vantage point from where we can be philosophical relativists either.
We are left within the real world, trying to cope with ourselves, with each other, with the world, and with our own fallibility. We do not have all the moral answers; nor do we have an algorithm to discern those answers. Neither do we possess an algorithm for determining correct language usage but that does not make us throw up our hands in despair because we can no longer communicate.
If we understand ethics in this way, we can see, I think, the real value of ethical theory. Some people, talk as if ethical theories give us moral prescriptions. They think we should apply ethical principles as we. would a poultice: after diagnosing the ailment, we apply the appropriate dressing. But that is a mistake. No theory provides a set of abstract solutions to apply straightforwardly. Ethical theories are important not because they solve all moral dilemmas but because they help us notice salient features of moral problems and help us understand those problems in context.

It is implied in the passage that a relativistic view of ethnics（）

A:can only be acquired after real life lessons B:often generate unacceptable consequences C:is more mature and rational D:is too abstract to be of any practical value

We assumed ethics needed the seal of certainty, else it was non-rational. And certainty was to be produced by a deductive model: the correct actions were derivable from classical first principles or a hierarchically ranked pantheon of principles. This model, though, is bankrupt.
I suggest we think of ethics as analogous to language usage. There are no univocal rules of grammar and style which uniquely determine the best sentence for a particular situation. Nor is language usage universalizable. Although a sentence or phrase is warranted in one case, it does not mean it is automatically appropriate in like circumstances. Nonetheless, language usage is not subjective.
This should not surprise us in the least. All intellectual pursuits are relativistic in just these senses. Political science, psychology, chemistry, and physics are not certain, but they are not subjective either. As I see it, ethical inquiry proceed like this: we are taught moral principles by parents, teachers, and society at large. As we grow older we become exposed to competing views. These may lead us to reevaluate presently held beliefs. Or we may find ourselves inexplicably making certain valuations, possibly because of inherited altruistic tendencies. We may "learn the hard way" that some actions generate unacceptable consequences. Or we may reflect upon our own and others’ "theories" or patterns of behavior and decide they are inconsistent. The resulting views are "tested"; we act as we think we should and evaluate the consequences of those actions on ourselves and on others. We thereby correct our mistakes in light of the test of time.
Of course people make different moral judgments; of course we cannot resolve these differences by using some algorithm which is itself beyond judgement. We have no vantage point outside human experience where we can judge right and wrong, good and bad. But then we don’t have a vantage point from where we can be philosophical relativists either.
We are left within the real world, trying to cope with ourselves, with each other, with the world, and with our own fallibility. We do not have all the moral answers; nor do we have an algorithm to discern those answers. Neither do we possess an algorithm for determining correct language usage but that does not make us throw up our hands in despair because we can no longer communicate.
If we understand ethics in this way, we can see, I think, the real value of ethical theory. Some people, talk as if ethical theories give us moral prescriptions. They think we should apply ethical principles as we. would a poultice: after diagnosing the ailment, we apply the appropriate dressing. But that is a mistake. No theory provides a set of abstract solutions to apply straightforwardly. Ethical theories are important not because they solve all moral dilemmas but because they help us notice salient features of moral problems and help us understand those problems in context.

It is implied in the passage that a relativistic view of ethnics（）

A:can only be acquired after real life lessons B:often generate unacceptable consequences C:is more mature and rational D:is too abstract to be of any practical value