You, hear me! Give this fire to that old man. Pull the black worm off the bark and give it to the mother. And no spitting in the ashes!
It's an odd little speech. But if you went back 15,000 years and spoke these words to hunter-gatherers in Asia in any one of hundreds of modern languages, there is a chance they would understand at least some of what you were saying.
That's because all the nouns, verbs, adjectives and adverbs in the four sentences are words that have descended largely unchanged from a language that died out as the glaciers retreated at the end of the last ice age. Those few words mean the same thing, and sound almost the same, as they did then.
The traditional view is that words cannot survive for more than 8,000 to 9,000 years. Evolution, linguistic "weathering" and the adoption of replacements from other languages eventually drive ancient words to extinction, just like the dinosaurs of the Jurassic era.
A new study, however, suggests that's not always true.
A team of researchers has come up with a list of two dozen "ultraconserved words" that have survived 150 centuries. It includes some predictable entries: "mother," "not," "what," "to hear" and "man." It also contains surprises: "to flow," "ashes" and "worm."
The existence of the long-lived words suggests there was a "proto-Eurasiatic" language that was the common ancestor to about 700 contemporary languages that are the native tongues of more than half the world's people.
"We've never heard this language, and it's not written down anywhere," said Mark Pagel, an evolutionary theorist at the University of Reading in England who headed the study published Monday in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. "But this ancestral language was spoken and heard. People sitting around campfires used it to talk to each other."
In all, "proto-Eurasiatic" gave birth to seven language families. Several of the world's important language families, however, fall outside that lineage, such as the one that includes Chinese and Tibetan, several African language families, and those of American Indians and Australian aborigines.
That a spoken sound carrying a specific meaning could remain unchanged over 15,000 years is a controversial idea for most historical linguists.
"Their general view is pessimistic," said William Croft, a professor of linguistics at the University of New Mexico who studies the evolution of language and was not involved in the study. "They basically think there's too little evidence to even propose a family like Eurasiatic." In Croft's view, however, the new study supports the plausibility of an ancestral language whose audible relics cross tongues today.
Pagel and three collaborators studied "cognates," which are words that have the same meaning and a similar sound in different languages. Father (English), padre (Italian), pere (French), pater (Latin) and pitar (Sanskrit) are cognates. Those words, however, are from languages in one family, the Indo-European. The researchers looked much further afield, examining seven language families in all.
In addition to Indo-European, the language families included Altaic (whose modern members include Turkish, Uzbek and Mongolian), Chukchi-Kamchatkan (languages of far northeastern Siberia), Dravidian (languages of south India), Inuit-Yupik (Arctic languages), Kartvelian (Georgian and three related languages), and Uralic (Finnish, Hungarian and a few others).
They make up a diverse group. Some don't use the Roman alphabet. Some had no written form until modern times. They sound different to the untrained ear. Their speakers live thousands of miles apart. In short, they seem unlikely candidates to share cognates.
Pagel's team used as its starting material 200 words that linguists know to be the core vocabulary of all languages.
Other researchers had searched for cognates of those words in members of each of the seven Eurasiatic language families. They looked, for example, for similar-sounding words for "fish" or "to drink" in the Altaic family of languages or in the Indo-European languages. When they found cognates, they constructed what they imagined were the cognates' ancestral words -- a task that requires knowing how sounds change between languages, such as "f" in Germanic languages becoming "p" in Romance languages.
Those made-up words are called "proto-words." Pagel's team compared them among language families. They made thousands of comparisons, asking such questions as: Do the proto-word for "hand" in the Inuit-Yupik language family and the proto-word for "hand" in the Indo-European language family sound similar?
Surprisingly, the answer to that question and many others was yes.
The 23 entries on the list of ultraconserved words are cognates in four or more language families. Could they sound the same purely by chance? Pagel and his colleagues think not.
Linguists have calculated the rate at which words are replaced in a language. Common ones disappear the slowest. It's those words that Pagel's team found were most likely to have cognates among the seven families.
In fact, they calculated that words uttered at least 16 times per day by an average speaker had the greatest chance of being cognates in at least three language families. If chance had been the explanation, some rarely used words would have ended up on the list. But they didn't.
As a group, the ultraconserved words give a hint of what has been important to people over the millennia.
"I was really delighted to see 'to give' there," Pagel said. "Human society is characterized by a degree of cooperation and reciprocity that you simply don't see in any other animal. Verbs tend to change fairly quickly, but that one hasn't."
Of course, one has to explain the presence of "bark."
"I have spoken to some anthropologists about that, and they say that bark played a very significant role in the lives of forest-dwelling hunter-gatherers," Pagel said. Bark was woven into baskets, stripped and braided into rope, burned as fuel, stuffed in empty spaces for insulation, and consumed as medicine.
"To spit" is also a surprising survivor. It may be that the sound of that word is just so expressive of the sound of the activity -- what linguists call "onomatopoeia" -- that it simply couldn't be improved on over 15,000 years.
As to the origin of the sound of the other ultraconserved words, and who made them up, that's a question best left to the poets.
By David Brown
The Washington Post