
By Atiq Raja
More than a thousand years ago, the Persian philosopher and physician Ibn Sina, known in the West as Avicenna, presented a thought experiment that continues to challenge some of the most fundamental assumptions about human existence. He asked his readers to imagine a person created in mid-air, suspended in empty space, unable to see, hear, touch, smell or taste. Every part of the body was imagined to be completely isolated from every other part so that no physical sensation could arise. In such complete separation from the world, would that person still know that they existed? The remarkable simplicity of the question explains why it has remained one of the most enduring ideas in the history of philosophy.
Ibn Sina’s answer was both bold and profound. He argued that the person would still possess an immediate awareness of their own existence. Even without the evidence provided by the senses, the self would recognize itself. Existence, he believed, did not depend entirely on physical experience. Consciousness was not merely a collection of sensations but something more fundamental, capable of recognizing itself independently of the body. For an age in which philosophical and scientific inquiry were still developing, this was an extraordinary insight that has echoed across centuries.
The enduring significance of the Flying Man lies not only in its philosophical elegance but also in its continuing relevance. Modern science has transformed humanity’s understanding of the brain through advances in neuroscience, psychology and cognitive research. Sophisticated imaging technologies now allow researchers to observe patterns of neural activity that were once unimaginable. Yet despite this remarkable progress, one of the oldest questions remains unanswered. What exactly is consciousness? How does subjective awareness emerge? Is it simply the product of biological processes, or does it point towards something deeper about human existence? The debate has evolved, but the mystery remains remarkably similar to the one Ibn Sina first explored.
Perhaps the greatest value of the Flying Man today is not that it offers final answers but that it encourages thoughtful reflection. Modern life leaves little room for silence or introspection. People are surrounded by an endless stream of information, opinions and distractions. Social media rewards constant visibility, while economic pressures often encourage individuals to measure themselves through income, possessions or professional status. Identity is increasingly shaped by external recognition rather than inner conviction. In such an environment, it becomes easy to mistake public approval for personal worth.
Ibn Sina’s thought experiment quietly challenges that assumption. It asks what remains when every external marker of identity disappears. Titles, wealth, appearance, influence and reputation may all shape how others perceive us, but they do not necessarily define who we are. They can be gained, lost or altered by circumstances beyond our control. The awareness that exists beneath those changing conditions is far more enduring. It is through this awareness that values such as honesty, compassion, humility and integrity acquire their true importance.
This lesson is especially relevant for younger generations growing up in an age dominated by digital culture. Many young people experience relentless pressure to project carefully curated versions of themselves, seeking validation through followers, likes and public approval. Success is often measured by visibility rather than substance. Yet the Flying Man reminds us that genuine self-worth cannot be built on comparisons with others. Confidence rooted in character is more resilient than confidence built on popularity. A person who understands themselves is less vulnerable to the shifting judgments of the crowd.
Education, too, has an important role to play in this conversation. Schools and universities rightly seek to equip students with technical knowledge and professional skills. These are essential for economic progress and innovation. However, education should not stop at producing capable workers. It should also encourage students to reflect on ethical responsibility, emotional maturity and independent thought. Knowledge without wisdom risks creating societies that are technologically advanced yet morally uncertain. Intellectual achievement reaches its fullest value only when accompanied by self-awareness and a sense of purpose.
The same principle applies to leadership. Public office, corporate authority and social influence all demand more than technical competence. Leaders who lack self-knowledge often become prisoners of pride, insecurity or ambition. Those who understand their own strengths and limitations are better prepared to listen, to admit mistakes and to place the common good above personal interest. Trust is rarely built through displays of power alone. It grows from authenticity, humility and consistency, qualities that emerge from genuine self-awareness rather than outward success.
(The writer is a rights activist and CEO of AR Trainings and Consultancy, with degrees in Political Science and English Literature, can be reached at news@metro-morning.com)
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