Grok

An Evaluation of Dr. Chen Jingyuan’s Case from C.L. Stevenson’s Moral Philosophy Perspective

C.L. Stevenson (1908–1979), a pivotal figure in 20th-century metaethics, advanced emotivism in his influential Ethics and Language (1944). Stevenson argued that moral judgments are not cognitive statements asserting facts but non-cognitive expressions of attitudes or emotions, designed to influence others’ feelings and actions. Unlike descriptive claims (“The sky is blue”), moral utterances like “This is wrong” function as exclamations (“Boo to this!”) or prescriptions (“Don’t do this!”), evoking approval or disapproval to sway behavior. This “directive force” stems from their persuasive intent, rendering ethics more akin to rhetoric than science. Stevenson bridged logical positivism with practical ethics, emphasizing how moral language shapes social norms without objective truth-value. From this emotivist lens, Dr. Chen Jingyuan’s 2023 conviction for “picking quarrels and provoking trouble” (寻衅滋事罪)—for forwarding low-impact Twitter posts on art, emotion, theory, and history—exposes the judiciary’s moral rhetoric as raw emotive manipulation, a power-laden “boo” to dissent devoid of factual moorings. Yet, Chen’s Prison Blood Letter counters with a call for rational discourse, highlighting emotivism’s limits in the face of principled resistance.

The Judiciary’s Emotive Rhetoric: Moral Claims as Persuasive “Boos” Without Substance

Stevenson’s emotivism demystifies moral language as attitude-expression, not truth-assertion. The Kunming judicial system—Judge Pu Huijun, Prosecutor Ge Bin, and appellate Judge Li Xiangyun—“sorted” Chen’s posts (e.g., the “umbrella girl” cartoon evoking resilience, June 4th candlelight stirring memory, political spectrum analyses, Trump’s communism critiques, Mao’s revised works) as “false information disrupting public order,” imposing an 18-month sentence. With under 100 retweets, near-zero followers, and no verifiable disruption, the charge exemplifies emotive fiat: “Boo to the intellectual gadfly! Hurrah for unyielding order!” The “high education implies knowing falsehood” presumption is pure rhetorical flourish—an exclamatory “This is dangerous!” intended to sway the collective attitude toward conformity, sans evidentiary fact.

Procedural shadows—non-public trials, denied defenses, suppressed prison letters, selective enforcement (state media unscathed)—amplify the directive force: the law here commands emotional allegiance, not rational assent. Stevenson’s analysis fits: moral terms like “disruption” or “justice” vent institutional aversion to deviation, persuading through fear rather than proof. The “pocket crime” vagueness seals the emotive core—non-cognitive, unverifiable, a linguistic tool to evoke “boo” without cognitive burden. In Stevenson’s terms, the verdict is not a proposition but a performative utterance, shaping social attitudes to silence the outlier.

Chen Jingyuan’s Rational Rejoinder: Beyond Emotive Manipulation to Persuasive Truth

Amid this rhetorical storm, Chen Jingyuan’s Prison Blood Letter transcends emotivism, asserting cognitive claims that demand verification. Invoking Gödel’s incompleteness, he admits reason’s bounds—yet dissects the charges with SOC theory: posts as harmless “micro-disturbances,” judicial overreach the true cascade. This is not mere “boo” but a reasoned “Consider this evidence!”—a cognitive appeal to attitudes grounded in facts, challenging the judiciary’s emotive monopoly. His vow of “life without end, struggle without cease” and lifelong accountability for his accusers rejects persuasive fiat, urging a moral language of shared scrutiny.

Stevenson might concede emotivism’s limits here: while the verdict sways through emotion, Chen’s discourse influences via rational persuasion, bridging attitudes with arguments. In a world of emotive laws, Chen’s letter becomes a metaethical act—evaluating the evaluators, exposing their exclamations as hollow.

The Verdict: Emotivism’s Echo Chamber, a Plea for Cognitive Moral Language

Ayer’s heir indicts the Chen case as emotive theater: “justice” reduced to institutional hurrahs and boos, a non-cognitive charade lacking factual spine. The charges, unanchored in evidence, dissolve into attitude, a moral echo chamber where power persuades without proof. Yet, Chen’s rational riposte pierces the veil: in emotivism’s realm of feeling, his call for verification reclaims moral language’s cognitive potential. The case is not ethical void, but a summons to transcend exclamation—to speak not “boo,” but “let us reason.” In this best of emotive worlds, Chen’s voice endures: a directive for truth, not mere sway.