In the past few weeks, I have been following the controversy surrounding Holger Chen (陳之漢) — commonly known as Kuan Chang (館長) — the fitness influencer and YouTuber who, during a live stream, suggested the beheading of President William Lai (賴清德). The Taipei Times covered the story closely, detailing the legal response and the public debate it provoked. Reading those reports made me pause. Language, whether spoken in anger, jest, or political fervor, can slip easily from expression into incitement. Speech is never just communication; it shapes how people think, react and relate to one another.
Chen has insisted he never meant to threaten anyone, claiming his words were misinterpreted. Some viewers might accept that, seeing his statement as part of the exaggerated style that fuels many online personalities. Yet intention is only one part of meaning. Even if he did not mean any harm, his words had consequences — such as fear, anger and discussion — that were out of his control. Words carry weight. Once spoken, they often take on meanings beyond the speaker’s intent.
In linguistics, we talk about implicature and perlocutionary effect — how a statement generates meaning and responses beyond its literal sense. Chen’s comments were not harmless talk. They had social and political effects. They drew attention from prosecutors, dominated media coverage and contributed to unease about political hostility in Taiwan. I am not suggesting that every rash comment online deserves punishment. Still, when speech turns violent imagery, it shifts from opinion into something that could influence public behavior and sentiment.
The Taipei Times editorial “Threats and freedom of speech” (Oct. 10, page 8) reminded readers that freedom of speech in Taiwan is not without limits. Free expression exists so citizens can question power, share ideas and hold leaders accountable.
Yet it also relies on a shared understanding that speech should not intimidate or threaten others. As contributor Lin Han (林志翰) observed (“Beheading comments problematic,” Oct. 11, page 8), threats toward public officials can erode trust in the institutions that sustain democracy. I agree; language that undermines that trust weakens the foundation on which civic dialogue depends.
Should freedom of speech have boundaries? I believe it should. Not to silence dissent, but to balance liberty with responsibility. Freedom is not a blank check; it works best when paired with awareness of its effects on others. Practicing that awareness means recognizing that words, like actions, shape the public sphere.
This controversy is also a moment to reflect on the civic culture. It is not enough to defend the right to speak; people must consider how speech shapes others and the spaces they inhabit. Healthy debate depends on more than laws and institutions; it depends on citizens who understand that liberty carries obligation. Chen’s case shows that democracy relies on thoughtful expression as much as legal rights.
Freedom is not the absence of consequences. In a society that values open discussion and participation, thinking before we speak helps keep freedom meaningful. Chen’s livestream might have been a performance or provocation, but its effects are real. We cannot unhear it, and we cannot ignore what it might inspire. Democracy, like language, is alive; it responds to what people say and do. That is why words always matter and why we must reckon with them honestly.
Aiden Yeh is a professor in the English Department at Wenzao Ursuline University of Languages.
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