For questions 100-105, six paragraphs have been removed from a book extract below. Choose from the paragraphs A-G the one that fits each gap. There is one extra paragraph which you do not need to use. Write your answers on the Answer Sheet.
LANGUAGE AND REALITY
One morning in the rainforested uplands of Kri territory in central Laos, I was traveling between village hamlets as I sought to learn more about the Kri language during my first field expedition to the area. All my energy was focused on building a vocabulary of the language. I had my notebook at the ready every minute. Two village men, Baai and Kham, were heading in the same direction as I was, and so they gave me a ride in their longboat.
100
That morning, we sat in file, pushing along through a still and spacious river pool with no perceptible flow. The only sound was the light cutting of oars into the mirror-like water and the trickle of runoff. Suddenly, an enormous bird emerged from the jungle overstory to our right, arcing high over the open expanse ò river and heading north. At the front of the boat, Baai pointed up. He turned to look at Kham and called out vung vaawq!
101
Later that evening, I puzzled over that moment as I checked my notes. From photographs, I figured out which bird Baai had referred to. But why, in that moment, had Baai turned to look at Kham and say the bird’s name? Just think about what this little example of language use consists of. A man sees something interesting, turns to his companion, and says the word for the thing out loud. If languages are problem-solving systems, what problem was Baai solving by calling out the word for the crested argus that day?
102
Words directly reflect this perceptual prominence. According to this view, when Baai turned to Kham and said vung vaawq, it was an intellectual act, a sheer expression of mental interest in distinguishing bird species and an act that was possible because the Kri language has a word for this bird.
103
This is the case with the Kri word for the crested argus. Kri speakers do not hunt, breed, eatch, or otherwise use these birds, or any other birds for that matter. Does this mean the word vung vaawq cannot be explained in utilitarian terms?
104
Let’s return to the crest argus. That day on the river, when Baai turned to Kham and said the name of the bird, one possibility is that he was taking a simple opportunity for social bonding through sharing experience. In that boat, both men individually had the same visual experience of seeing the bird, but when Baai looked at Kham and called its name, it was a public act that took two parallel experiences and converted them into a shared experience. Pointing something out serves a bonding function between people by aligning their attention on a common focus.
105
After all, Kri speakers know well over a hundred bird species names and yet have virtually no direct interactions with birds or any practical uses for them. They don’t raise or eat birds or any practical uses for them. They don’t raise or eat birds apart from chickens. According to the commonsense referential view of language, we have words to convey information about the world and to update others about things they haven’t experienced themselves. But in this case, the function of the word arguably has more to do with matters of social coordination and social bonding.
A. A long-standing scientific debate points to some possible answers. Why is it that "only a small subset of the species diversity in any one local habitat is ever recognized linguistically by local human populations"? The cognitive anthropologist Brent Berlin has pointed to two possible explanations. One is the intellectualist view: languages make the distinctions they make because human beings are inherently interested in acknowledging—by naming—the distinctions that are perceptually most prominent in nature.
B. Kri territory is nestled just to the west of the Annamite Cordillera, the mountain chain whose ridge serves as the Laos-Vietnam border, near where Vietnam is at its narrowest. The riverine environment features chains of river pools, expanses of still water that create breaks in the forest canopy. Traveling along these pools quietly in a canoe is a time to see wildlife, such as bands of macaques coming down to drink at the edge of the river, or to hear the calls of gibbons from the distant hilltops.
C. There are words for plants that appear to be of no direct utility to people who know the word—that is, where there are no consequences of knowing or not knowing those plants. But there is what we might call indirect utility. An example of the indirect utility of knowing a particular tree species is being able to distinguish it from others.
D. We should also note that Baai's act of saying the bird's name may also have been a display of expertise. Maybe he was bragging: I know what that bird is called. Could it be that the only reason the Kri language even has a word for that bird is so that speakers can display that they know it?
E. This is the Kri word for the crested argus (Rheinardia ocellata), a spectacular peafowl-like pheasant of the forest. And as quick as that, the great bird was gone. That was all. Everyone was silent, and on we went.
F. One idea is that the ideal communicative system would combine "perfectly informative (lossless) communication with perfect simplicity (no cognitive cost)," that is, telepathy or mind reading. But nothing remotely like literal mind reading is necessary if your purpose is to coordinate with someone.
G. Another view is utilitarian. According to this view, the naming of a plant or animal in a language will be guided by the “practical consequences of knowing or not knowing [that] plant or animal” in the relevant cultural context. An obvious problem with this claim is that languages often have words for plants and animals that are of no obvious utility to speakers, whether this utility be concerned with the need to pursue, avoid, or otherwise be invested in the ability to identify a life form.