Sentence 2 shows wealth and violence drive emigration.

Two reasons, not one: how sentence 2 reveals emigration’s tangled motives

Let’s imagine you’re reading a short passage about people leaving their homeland. The author isn’t content with a single reason, and that patience with nuance matters. In fact, sentence 2 turns out to be a tiny blueprint for how writers show why someone would pack up and go. It doesn’t pretend there’s just one push or pull; it signals a more complex mix. And that complexity is exactly what makes this kind of question so revealing—whether you’re studying for a PACT reading task or just sharpening your critical-eye for any sentence that asks you to interpret motive.

Here’s the thing about sentence 2: it points to both wealth and violence as motivations. Rather than listing money as a sole, solitary pull, the sentence pairs economic opportunity with safety concerns. That pairing isn’t casual. It’s a deliberate choice that mirrors real life, where people often weigh more than one factor when deciding to move. Some readers might latch onto wealth as the easy, obvious driver. Others might zero in on danger as the compelling push. When the author writes both together, the reader gets a feel for a richer human story—one where opportunity and peril coexist.

If you’re ever uncertain about why a sentence matters, ask yourself: what tensions is the author layering? In this case, wealth represents possibility—better jobs, improved living standards, perhaps a chance to send money back home. Violence, on the other hand, stands for risk—conflict, persecution, or daily threats that make staying feel untenable. Put together, they sketch the dual landscape of emigration: a tug toward a better life and a push away from harm.

A quick, practical way to notice this is to look for two kinds of signals in sentence 2. First, vocabulary that signals opportunity or prosperity—words like wealth, opportunities, success, prosperity. Second, language that hints at danger or instability—the word violence is a direct cue there, but you can also catch it through references to danger, threat, conflict, or fear. The moment you spot both kinds of cues in one sentence, you’ve found what the writer is doing: you’re seeing a dual motive laid out side by side.

The value of dual motives isn’t just academic. It reflects how people actually think when big decisions loom. If a reader only sees wealth, they might oversimplify. If they only see violence, they might miss the pull that emigration can exert—the chance to change one’s life trajectory. When a text presents both factors, it invites empathy and careful analysis. It also trains you to resist snap judgments. After all, real life rarely offers single-cause explanations for major choices.

How to read sentence 2 like a pro (without turning it into a soap opera)

• Scan for paired ideas. The simplest way to catch dual motives is to look for a sentence that pairs two different ideas with a shared impact. If one part nudges you toward thinking about money and the other toward safety, you’re likely dealing with a dual motive.

• Note the intensity of the ideas. Is wealth portrayed as a tempting opportunity, while violence is framed as a threat to safety? The contrast in tone often signals that the author wants you to hold both ideas at once, not pick one over the other.

• Watch for connecting language. Words like and, but, as well as, or, both—and often join these ideas. When sentence 2 uses a connector that ties wealth and violence together, that’s a strong cue that the author is presenting a combined motive rather than isolated reasons.

• Consider author’s purpose. Is the writer aiming to show realism, complexity, or human resilience? A sentence that couples wealth and violence usually tries to reflect the messy nature of migration decisions, not a tidy, one-note explanation.

• Practice with quick rephrasings. If you can restate sentence 2 as “People leave not only for money but also to escape danger,” you’ve captured the essence. Rephrasing helps you see the underlying structure and keeps you from getting stuck on surface wording.

The broader takeaway for PACT-style reading tasks

This kind of sentence is a teachable moment about nuance. It reminds you that robust thinking rarely reduces life to a single factor. When you encounter a line that mentions wealth alongside violence, pause. Ask what the author wants you to feel and how the two ideas interact. Are they presented as parallel motivations? Is one stronger than the other, or do they reinforce each other? Do you sense empathy for the people in the story, or is the author using the contrast to sharpen a point about policy, history, or human behavior?

If you’re sharpening your interpretive toolkit for PACT, here are a few companion strategies that can help you bigger-picture your reading:

• Track cause and effect with care. Does the sentence imply that wealth or violence acts as a driver? Often, writers want you to see a causal link, even if it’s not spelled out in one sentence.

• Attend to tone and mood. A neutral tone might mask strong feelings behind the facts. If sentence 2 leans toward a somber or urgent mood, that mood will shape how you weigh the motivations.

• Look for context clues in surrounding sentences. A single line can be telling, but the bigger message often rests on how the ideas are balanced across the paragraph.

• Distinguish between push factors (things that push someone away) and pull factors (things that attract someone toward a new place). In many passages, writers mix both to reflect the complexity of migration decisions.

• Practice with bite-sized passages. Try analyzing a few sentences from news articles, historical essays, or literary excerpts where authors discuss emigration. Note where dual motives appear and how the author uses them to shape your understanding.

Where this lands in real life (and why it matters)

You don’t need a classroom to feel the weight of sentence 2. People around the world make decisions under pressure, weighing options shaped by economics and safety—sometimes both at once. The dual-motive frame helps readers approach such topics with nuance, whether they’re evaluating a policy debate, reading a memoir, or watching a documentary. It’s a mirror of everyday life: we seldom have a single reason for a big move; we have a web of incentives, anxieties, hopes, and plans.

If you’re teaching or learning about how to write clearly about emigration, this approach can be liberating. You don’t have to pretend the world offers easy answers. You can acknowledge complexity, outline the main factors, and show how they interact. That doesn’t weaken your argument; it makes it more honest and relatable. And in the end, that honesty is what makes writing compelling.

A tiny example to ground the idea

Let me explain with a mini-sample. Suppose a passage says: “The prospect of better jobs drew many young people, but the constant fighting pushed others to leave.” Here’s what sentence 2 is doing: it lays out two motives—economic opportunity (better jobs) and safety concerns (the fighting). The author isn’t taking sides; they’re painting a fuller picture. If a test question asks you to interpret this emphasis, you’d point to the dual pull and show how the sentence signals that emigration can be driven by both hope and fear.

Another useful habit: connect to a real-world touchstone. Think of stories you’ve heard or read about people moving across borders. Some journeys are fueled by entrepreneurship, education, or family hopes. Others are born from conflict, political upheaval, or environmental risk. When you’ve exposed yourself to varied angles, you’ll spot these dual motivations faster in the sentences you analyze.

Why this matters for your reading toolkit

The beauty of sentence 2—its compact clarity—lies in how it forces you to see more than a checklist of reasons. It nudges you toward a human-centered reading: people aren’t statistics; they’re agents making hard choices in tough circumstances. When you treat sentences as doors into larger stories, you begin to notice how word choices, tone, and structure carry meaning beyond the surface.

If you want to keep this approach alive in your daily readings, try a routine like this:

• Pick a short article or editorial about migration or displacement.

• Identify the author’s stated motives and any hinted causes.

• Mark sentences that link two ideas with a coordinating word (and, but, or) or with paired nouns (wealth and violence, opportunity and danger).

• Write a quick one-liner explaining what that sentence reveals about motivation.

• Compare your reading of two different passages. Do they present the motives similarly, or do they frame them differently?

Keep the momentum going

Pages and passages don’t exist in a vacuum. They’re shaped by the people who write them and the choices those writers make to connect ideas. Sentence 2 is a crisp example of how a single line can carry a larger message: emigration is rarely sparked by one factor. It’s a decision born from a matrix of hopes and fears, opportunity and risk.

So the next time you encounter a line about why someone leaves, pause—look for the double pull. You’ll likely find that wealth and violence aren’t just nouns on a page; they’re signals that help you understand a more complete human story. And when you can see that, you’re not just answering a question—you’re reading with real insight.

A final thought to carry forward

If you walk away with one takeaway after reading sentence 2, let it be this: great writing often lives in the in-between. In the space where two ideas meet and tug in opposite directions, there’s energy, clarity, and truth. Acknowledging both wealth and violence as motivations doesn’t complicate the idea; it enriches it. It invites compassion, critical thinking, and a steadier grip on what moves people to seek new horizons.

So next time you’re parsing a sentence about emigration, let the tension between opportunity and danger guide your reading. Notice the pair, feel the nuance, and then articulate it clearly. That’s the kind of reading skill that travels well—whether you’re thinking about a classroom question, a policy discussion, or a story that rests somewhere between fact and human experience.