Consciousness, The Crux of Life

By Anuvrat Tiwari

Biology defines consciousness as “the capacity of a living organism to be aware of itself and its surroundings, to perceive and respond to stimuli.” This definition has always intrigued me. If mere awareness and responsiveness were the core criteria, then even a robot programmed to perform such tasks could be considered a “conscious being.” 

Yet this biological definition feels limited. It is not that artificial algorithms could truly possess consciousness, but that the definition misses something essential. Grappling with this dilemma requires a shift in perspective, a shift that philosophy provides.

Through my engagement with philosophical thought and personal reflection, I have found that contradictions challenge many conventional arguments about what constitutes a conscious being. This raises a question: how can one account for exceptions or ensure there are no contradictions in understanding consciousness? I realized the answer lies in the ability to question and reflect. A robot might solve complex problems or perform tasks beyond human capability, but it cannot think independently. Humans, on the other hand, can challenge their own understanding, echoing Descartes’ claim in Meditations that self-awareness forms the foundation of existence. This capacity for self-reflection and unique thought defines consciousness.

Yet further reflection complicates this picture. Consider characters in books or films. They do not possess independent thought; their dialogues and personalities are crafted by an author, but to a reader, they may appear sentient, capable of reasoning and emotion. Does this mean perception alone grants consciousness, or does it reveal the limitations of definitions that rely too heavily on observation? Thomas Nagel’s question, “What is it like to be a bat?” underscores the subjective nature of experience, highlighting this tension. Perhaps, in some sense, we confer consciousness simply by noticing.

I have experienced this personally while reading a novel late at night. A character’s fear, hesitation, and small victories felt so real that I found myself pausing to consider what I would do in their place. For those few hours, the character seemed conscious, not because they truly were, but because my awareness had given them a presence in my mind.

This leads to a deeper question: must something be conscious to all observers to truly be considered conscious? In Toy Story, the boy’s toys are conscious among themselves but appear inanimate to humans. Within that universe, are they conscious? Similarly, Schrödinger’s cat, as an illustration of the Copenhagen interpretation in quantum mechanics, occupies a dual state, alive and dead, until observed. Does consciousness exist independently, or is it contingent on recognition? If observation is required, are humans conscious only when acknowledged by others?

These analogies also shed light on fictional characters. Only when a reader acknowledges a character as distinct does that character gain “consciousness” in the reader’s mind. It is not the traits themselves, but the observer’s recognition that seems to matter. Yet relying solely on belief leads to absurdities. Could a robot become conscious if everyone believed it was? Could a person be considered unconscious if all denied their awareness? These contradictions demonstrate that perception alone cannot define consciousness.

I have come to see that consciousness resists a single, rigid definition. It is rich, multifaceted, and elusive. From Schrödinger’s cat to Toy Story, these examples remind us that clarity, rather than certainty, is what matters. Perhaps the very act of questioning consciousness is itself proof of it. The reflections, the doubts, the inquiry, these are all expressions of consciousness. Consciousness is not merely a destination; it is the journey we undertake in pursuit of understanding. Philosophy illuminates this journey, celebrating the questions themselves and revealing, in the process, not only the nature of consciousness but something profoundly human about ourselves.

By Anuvrat Tiwari