Introduction
In the early months of 2020, as the city of Wuhan became the epicenter of a mysterious and deadly virus, one voice emerged from behind the quarantined barricades to tell the story of life under siege. That voice belonged to Fang Fang (方方), a celebrated Chinese author, essayist, and novelist who had long chronicled the daily struggles of ordinary people. Through her online diary entries during Wuhan’s lockdown, she captured the raw reality of fear, resilience, anger, and hope amid the COVID-19 outbreak.
Her reflections resonated with millions both within and outside of China, not least because they spoke a truth that many felt but few dared to articulate. Among her most striking assertions was the line:
“There is no peace in the midst of disaster, only the living facing death.”
This statement is not only a poignant observation of life during the pandemic but also a timeless expression of the human condition when confronted with mortality, uncertainty, and collective crisis. The words cut through the layers of political propaganda, scientific jargon, and media narratives, exposing the existential core of human survival: when disaster strikes, peace is not an option—only endurance, confrontation, and the fragile balance between life and death remain.
This article explores the meaning, significance, and impact of Fang Fang’s words. It will trace her background as a writer, the emergence of her Wuhan Diary, the philosophical depth of her reflections, the social and political controversies surrounding her, and her enduring literary legacy. In doing so, it will argue that Fang Fang’s statement embodies both the tragedy and the resilience of humanity in times of catastrophe.
Part I: Fang Fang’s Life and Career
Fang Fang, born Wang Fang in 1955 in Nanjing, Jiangsu Province, grew up in Wuhan, the city that would later become synonymous with her most famous writings. She studied Chinese literature at Wuhan University, graduating in 1978, and soon embarked on a career as a writer. By the 1980s and 1990s, she had established herself as a leading voice in Chinese literature, known for her sharp observations of social inequality and her empathy for marginalized communities.
Her novels, such as Soft Burial and Run, Mengmeng, reveal her deep concern with historical trauma and the persistence of suffering across generations. Fang Fang’s style has always been marked by a refusal to romanticize. She strips away illusions and presents life as it is—sometimes cruel, sometimes tender, always real.
Before the pandemic, she was already a well-regarded figure, having won multiple literary awards and having served as chair of the Hubei Writers’ Association. Yet, despite her accolades, she was never a writer of escapist fiction or grand ideological narratives. Instead, her focus remained on ordinary people, their struggles, and the quiet dignity with which they endured hardship.
This orientation toward truth-telling and human dignity would later make her Wuhan Diary both powerful and controversial.
Part II: Wuhan Diary and the Birth of the Quote
When Wuhan was locked down on January 23, 2020, its 11 million residents were suddenly cut off from the rest of the world. Rumors spread faster than official information, fear gripped the population, and hospitals became overwhelmed. It was in this atmosphere that Fang Fang began posting her daily reflections on the Chinese social media platform Weibo.
Her diary entries were neither political manifestos nor scientific reports. They were deeply human records of daily life: the shortages of food and medical supplies, the suffering of the sick, the exhaustion of healthcare workers, the anxieties of families, and the grief of those who lost loved ones. She spoke of frustration with bureaucratic inefficiency, of anger at censorship, but also of moments of solidarity and kindness that kept hope alive.
It was within this diary that Fang Fang articulated the now-famous line:
“There is no peace in the midst of disaster, only the living facing death.”
The phrase emerged as she reflected on the atmosphere of Wuhan during the lockdown. Despite the appearance of calm streets and the enforced quiet of quarantine, true peace was absent. Beneath the silence lay fear, desperation, and uncertainty. Every resident lived under the shadow of infection, struggling with the knowledge that death was not far away.
Her words quickly spread, resonating with millions of readers not only in China but across the globe once her diary was translated. They expressed a truth that transcended Wuhan: in the face of disaster, peace is not found in denial or passivity but in the courage to live while acknowledging the ever-present proximity of death.
Part III: Dissecting the Quote
The power of Fang Fang’s statement lies in its stark simplicity. To understand its depth, we can break it down into two essential parts.
1. “There is no peace in the midst of disaster”
Peace, as Fang Fang suggests, is impossible during catastrophe. True peace implies safety, security, and stability—conditions absent in a city under siege by an invisible virus. Even if the streets were quiet, the silence was deceptive, masking the chaos unfolding in hospitals and in people’s hearts. The absence of noise was not peace; it was dread.
2. “Only the living facing death”
This phrase encapsulates the existential reality of disaster: every act of survival is shadowed by the possibility of death. In a pandemic, to go to the market, to touch a doorknob, to breathe the air is to confront mortality. People do not live in peace but in the liminal space between survival and loss.
Philosophically, Fang Fang’s statement echoes themes in existentialist thought. Jean-Paul Sartre and Albert Camus both emphasized that human beings are defined by their confrontation with mortality and absurdity. Camus, in The Plague, described how ordinary people confronted death not with peace but with endurance, solidarity, and defiance. Fang Fang’s words mirror this sentiment.
At the same time, her statement resonates with Chinese cultural traditions, particularly the Daoist and Buddhist acknowledgment of impermanence and suffering. To live is to face death; to endure disaster is to recognize fragility.
Part IV: Social and Political Context
While Fang Fang’s diary brought comfort and solidarity to many, it also sparked intense controversy. Within China, she was accused by some of “betraying her country” by exposing negative realities during a time when the government sought to project unity and strength. Nationalist critics claimed she was providing material for foreign critics of China, while supporters defended her as a truth-teller giving voice to the people’s real experiences.
The debate over her writings revealed the tension between literature and politics in modern China. On one hand, literature has historically served as a moral witness to suffering, from Lu Xun’s critiques of feudal society to contemporary social realist novels. On the other, the state’s emphasis on harmony and collective strength often leaves little room for voices that highlight weakness, failure, or pain.
Fang Fang’s statement about disaster and death was thus more than a literary reflection; it was also a subtle challenge to narratives of control and triumph. She reminded readers that beneath official slogans, people were struggling, grieving, and facing mortality every day.
Part V: The Human Condition in Crisis
The universality of Fang Fang’s words is one reason they resonated globally. Disasters strip away the illusions of peace and reveal the raw vulnerability of human existence. Whether in Wuhan, New York, Milan, or Mumbai, the pandemic showed that no amount of wealth, technology, or power could guarantee safety.
Fang Fang’s line also highlights the paradox of survival. To live in disaster is not to find peace but to exist in a state of constant confrontation with mortality. This is not unique to pandemics. Wars, natural disasters, and famines all force people into the same position.
Yet within this confrontation lies resilience. To live while facing death is itself an act of defiance, a testament to the human capacity for endurance. Fang Fang’s diary became a mirror in which millions saw their own struggles reflected.
Part VI: Reception Abroad
When Wuhan Diary was translated into English and other languages, Fang Fang’s words found new audiences. International readers, particularly in the early months of the pandemic, saw in her writing a voice of truth from the epicenter of the crisis. Her statement about disaster and death was often quoted in Western media as an emblem of the human experience under COVID-19.
At the same time, her reception abroad fueled further controversy at home. Critics accused her of allowing her work to be weaponized by foreign powers against China. Fang Fang, however, insisted that her aim was not political but humanistic: to bear witness to suffering and to remind the world of the shared fragility of human life.
Her global recognition reinforced the role of literature as a bridge across cultures. Even as political tensions grew between China and the West, her words transcended divisions, touching readers through the shared language of fear, resilience, and hope.
Part VII: Literary and Cultural Legacy
Fang Fang’s line—“There is no peace in the midst of disaster, only the living facing death”—has already entered the lexicon of pandemic literature. Scholars and critics compare her work to Camus’s The Plague and Daniel Defoe’s A Journal of the Plague Year. Like those earlier works, her diary not only documents an epidemic but also illuminates the moral and existential questions it raises.
Her writings ensure that the lived experience of Wuhan will not be reduced to statistics or propaganda. Instead, it will remain alive in the voices, fears, and endurance of ordinary people.
Moreover, Fang Fang’s legacy lies in her courage to write in real time, without the benefit of hindsight. This immediacy makes her reflections raw, flawed, and deeply authentic. In disaster, truth is not neat or comforting—it is jagged, painful, and filled with contradictions. Yet it is precisely this truth that future generations will need in order to understand what it meant to live through COVID-19.
Conclusion
Fang Fang’s assertion—“There is no peace in the midst of disaster, only the living facing death”—captures the essence of life under catastrophe. It is both a lament and a call to courage. In Wuhan, as in countless other cities worldwide, people discovered that disaster strips away illusions of safety, leaving only the fragile boundary between life and death.
Her words remind us that peace cannot be imposed by silence or propaganda. True peace is absent in disaster; what remains is the human will to endure, to face death with courage, and to continue living even when survival is uncertain.
In this way, Fang Fang’s writings are not just a record of one city during one pandemic. They are a universal testament to the human spirit in crisis. Her legacy, like her words, will endure long after the pandemic has passed—reminding future generations that to live is always, in some sense, to face death.
