The message of the text is that Australia is facing a severe cost-of-living crisis that is pushing ordinary families into poverty, and that the Salvation Army needs the reader’s financial support to help those affected. The text functions as a charitable appeal, designed to both inform and persuade.

The message is communicated through a clear problem-solution structure. The first half of the text establishes the severity of the crisis using statistics (logos): “more than 40 per cent of Aussie households have struggled to afford household basics,” and “over half of Australians say they will struggle to pay an essential bill.” These figures lend credibility and urgency to the appeal. The text also references research from the University of Melbourne about poverty being cyclical and generational, reinforcing the idea that the problem is systemic and long-term.

The text uses emotive language (pathos) to create sympathy. Phrases like “stretched to breaking point,” “shame and fear prevent many from seeking assistance,” and “vicious loop of cyclical and even generational disadvantage” paint a vivid picture of suffering. The accompanying image of a woman looking at overdue bills further reinforces the emotional impact.

The Salvation Army builds its ethos by highlighting “over 140 years’ experience in supporting Australians in need” and describing itself as “among the leading providers of specialist support services.” This establishes trust and authority.

Finally, the text employs direct address (“Your support,” “Your contribution has the power to transform countless lives”) to create a personal connection and make the reader feel individually responsible. The closing sentence – “ensure nobody struggles alone” – functions as a powerful emotional call to action.

Polarisation – the process of dividing society into opposing camps – is one of the most pressing challenges facing democracies today. The provided material illustrates several of its impacts, both political and personal.

The illustration by Igor Bastidas captures the core dynamic of polarisation with striking simplicity: two people inflating their own positions until they literally push each other out of the frame. This visual metaphor suggests that polarisation is not just about disagreement, but about the inflation of one’s own perspective to the point where there is no room left for the other. The result is not victory for either side, but the destruction of shared space.

The student quotes from Text B reinforce this point from a younger generation’s perspective. One student notes that “we associate ourselves with political parties too much,” suggesting that political identity has become so central that it overrides our willingness to compromise. This is concerning because democracy depends on the ability to negotiate and find common ground. When people see compromise as betrayal, political systems become paralysed.

Perhaps most thought-provoking is Text C, which reminds us that polarisation is not just a political phenomenon – it is also spatial and generational. Young people “inherit the spaces left to them by previous generations, along with all the divisions and characteristics embedded in them.” This means that polarisation is not simply a choice individuals make; it is a structural condition that shapes communities, neighbourhoods, and opportunities long before a young person forms their own political opinions.

In my view, the greatest danger of polarisation is that it erodes empathy. When we stop seeing those who disagree with us as fellow citizens and start seeing them as enemies, we lose the ability to solve problems together – which, ironically, is when we need cooperation the most.

Freedom: Ideal, Illusion, and Defiance

Freedom is perhaps the most celebrated value in American culture, yet it is also one of the most contested. The three texts presented in this exam – the Declaration of Independence, an excerpt from Jonathan Franzen’s novel Freedom, and Faith Ringgold’s artwork Freedom Flag #1 – each offer a distinct interpretation of what freedom means, revealing how the concept has evolved and been challenged throughout American history.

The Declaration of Independence (1776) presents freedom as a natural, God-given right. The famous phrase “all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness” establishes freedom as universal and self-evident. The language is elevated and philosophical, framing freedom as an abstract ideal that transcends individual circumstance. Importantly, the Declaration also links freedom to political legitimacy: governments exist to “secure these rights,” and when they fail, the people have the right “to alter or to abolish” them. Here, freedom is both a philosophical principle and a justification for revolution.

However, the Declaration’s noble language masks a deep contradiction. When Thomas Jefferson wrote that “all men are created equal,” he was a slave owner. Women were excluded from political participation, and Indigenous peoples were displaced from their lands. The freedom proclaimed in 1776 was, in practice, reserved for a specific group: white, property-owning men. This tension between the ideal and its application has defined American history ever since.

Jonathan Franzen’s Freedom (2010) offers a sharply critical and satirical perspective on American freedom. Through the character Walter, Franzen suggests that freedom in modern America has become a dogma that people cling to even when it harms them – listing examples of how Americans defend personal liberty even when it endangers their health, financial security, and children's lives. This interpretation presents freedom not as liberation but as self-destructive individualism. Walter observes that immigrants come to America seeking either wealth or liberty, and that those without economic security hold onto the ideal of freedom even more fiercely, suggesting that freedom has become a consolation prize for economic inequality.

This is a fundamentally different understanding from the Declaration’s. Where Jefferson presents freedom as the foundation of a just society, Franzen portrays it as an ideology that prevents Americans from addressing collective problems like gun violence, poverty, and public health. The freedom to own assault rifles, to smoke, to reject government intervention – these are all framed as personal liberties, but at what cost to the common good?

Faith Ringgold’s Freedom Flag #1, created on the very day of the September 11 attacks, presents yet another interpretation: freedom as collective resilience and defiance. The artwork reimagines the American flag with a brief inscription evoking the morning of the attacks and declaring that freedom cannot be destroyed. Here, freedom is not a political theory or an individual right – it is a communal declaration of survival. The use of the first-person plural (“we”) contrasts with Franzen’s individualistic freedom, suggesting that in moments of national crisis, freedom becomes a shared value that unites rather than divides.

Taken together, these three texts reveal that “freedom” in American culture is not a single, stable concept but a site of ongoing negotiation. The Declaration establishes the ideal; Franzen critiques its distortion; Ringgold reasserts its emotional power. What emerges is a picture of a nation that has always been defined by its relationship to freedom – and that continues to struggle with the gap between what freedom promises and what it delivers. The question is not whether Americans value freedom, but whose freedom counts and at what cost.

Progress and Persistence: Women’s Rights Across History

The four photographs presented in this exam span over fifty years of women’s activism, from the streets of New York in 1970 to the cities of India and Canada in the 2020s. Together, they tell a story of remarkable progress – but also of persistent inequality that demands continued struggle.

The first photograph, taken on 26 August 1970, shows women marching along 5th Avenue in New York City to commemorate the 50th anniversary of women’s suffrage in the United States. The banner carries a slogan of international female solidarity. The 19th Amendment, ratified in 1920, granted American women the right to vote after decades of campaigning by suffragists such as Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton. By 1970, however, the women’s movement had evolved beyond suffrage to address issues of workplace equality, reproductive rights, and social liberation.

The second photograph, from 1980, shows women campaigning outside the House of Commons for legal abortion access. Their posters demand reproductive choice and warn against the return of unsafe, illegal procedures. This image illustrates a central issue of second-wave feminism: bodily autonomy. In the United Kingdom, the Abortion Act of 1967 had legalised abortion under certain conditions, but by 1980, there were political efforts to restrict access. The protesters’ fears highlight how women’s rights are never permanently secured.

The third photograph shows a 2024 protest in Kolkata, India, following the murder of a trainee doctor. The poster rejects the language of harassment as inadequate, insisting that the violence women face should be named as a form of terrorism. This powerful reframing of language demands that society recognise the severity of violence against women.

The fourth photograph, from Edmonton, Canada, in 2022, shows participants in the annual Red Dress Day march for missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls (MMIWG). The poster's slogan calls for an end to the disappearance of Indigenous women. This draws attention to gender-based violence deeply intertwined with colonialism and racial inequality.

To what extent have women’s rights improved? In many English-speaking countries, women have gained legal rights that would have been unimaginable a century ago. However, the photographs also show that progress is uneven and fragile. Reproductive rights remain contested; violence against women persists; and marginalised groups continue to face intersecting forms of discrimination.

In conclusion, the history of women’s rights is a story of both achievement and unfinished business. The women in these photographs are united by a common belief: that equality is not yet achieved, and that it is worth fighting for.

America First: Unity at Home, Uncertainty Abroad

Donald Trump’s return to the White House in November 2024 marked one of the most dramatic political comebacks in modern American history. His victory speech struck a tone that was simultaneously triumphant and conciliatory – yet its implications for America’s role in the world are deeply uncertain.

Most notably, Trump repeats his signature slogan about prioritising America and states that the country must be put first, at least temporarily. This nationalist philosophy prioritises domestic concerns over international engagement. During his first presidency (2017–2021), this led to withdrawal from the Paris Climate Agreement, tensions with NATO allies, and trade wars.

What might Trump’s return mean for US cooperation with the rest of the world? First, climate cooperation may be weakened. Second, security alliances may face new pressures, as Trump has repeatedly questioned NATO’s value. Third, trade relations are likely to become more protectionist.

However, it would be simplistic to assume complete isolationism. His speech includes a call for unity and frames American success as beneficial for all. International cooperation may continue where it aligns with American interests.

In conclusion, Trump’s 2024 victory signals a return to a transactional approach to international relations, where cooperation is conditional on American benefit rather than rooted in shared values or institutional commitments. For the rest of the world, this means adapting to a less predictable, less multilateral America.

Love and Loss: Identity in “Nancy Mulligan” and “I Lost My Talk”

Ed Sheeran’s “Nancy Mulligan” and Rita Joe’s “I Lost My Talk” are strikingly different in tone and form – one a joyful, folk-inspired song; the other a spare, painful poem – yet both engage deeply with questions of cultural identity, belonging, and the forces that seek to divide or diminish people.

«Nancy Mulligan» tells the true story of Sheeran’s grandparents: William Sheeran, a Protestant from near Belfast in Northern Ireland, and Nancy Mulligan, a Catholic from Wexford in the Republic of Ireland. Their love story defied the sectarian divisions that were deeply entrenched throughout Ireland. The song’s refrain functions as a declaration of personal freedom against sectarian prejudice, with the speaker rejecting religious division and committing to the marriage regardless of the surrounding social pressure. The setting near the border evokes both the geographic border between the two parts of Ireland and the social and religious boundaries the couple cross.

The song’s tone is warm and celebratory. Small narrative details about the modest wedding — an improvised ring and borrowed garments — suggest poverty, but the emphasis is on love and endurance, with the speaker emphasising decades of devotion. Sheeran frames his grandparents’ story as a triumph of personal love over institutional division.

«I Lost My Talk» could not be more different in tone. Rita Joe writes about her experience at the Shubenacadie Indian Residential School, one of the institutions established by the Canadian government to forcibly assimilate Indigenous children. The opening is devastatingly direct, naming the loss of her language and identifying the school as the agent of that loss. The word the poem uses for language carries a double meaning, referring both to the Mi’kmaq language and to identity and selfhood. The poem’s use of anaphora — repeating that the speaker now speaks, thinks, and creates as her colonisers do — is deeply ironic: Joe has achieved fluency in the coloniser’s language at the cost of her own.

The poem’s power lies in its restraint. Joe ends with a softly stated request to recover her language so that she can share her own culture with the reader. This reframes the relationship between coloniser and colonised: it is the coloniser who is ignorant, and the Indigenous woman who has something to teach.

The key difference lies in power dynamics. William and Nancy chose to cross a border; Rita Joe was forced across one. William and Nancy’s story ends in triumph – sixty years of love. Rita Joe’s poem ends with a gentle request that may or may not be granted. This reflects the historical reality: while sectarianism in Ireland has diminished since the Good Friday Agreement (1998), the legacy of residential schools continues to shape Indigenous communities in Canada today.

In conclusion, both texts demonstrate how cultural and historical forces shape individual lives. Sheeran’s song celebrates love overcoming division, while Joe’s poem bears witness to the lasting damage of forced assimilation. Together, they remind us that identity is never merely personal – it is always embedded in history and systems of power.