Introduction
Claims of historical primacy often arise less from evidence than from retrospective desire. In the history of science, the figure of the “first”; the first astronomer, the first chemist, the first aviator, functions as a symbolic anchor around which collective memory organizes itself. Abbas ibn Firnas (c. 810–887 CE), frequently celebrated as the “first man to fly,” occupies precisely such a position within popular and semi-scholarly narratives of the Islamic Golden Age. Yet a closer examination of the sources, the intellectual milieu of ninth-century al-Andalus, and earlier cross-cultural attempts at flight reveals a more complex picture. Ibn Firnas emerges not as an originator ex nihilo, but as an experimental inheritor, working within a long-standing tradition of mechanical imagination, empirical trial, and observational reasoning.
This essay argues that (1) Abbas ibn Firnas relied primarily on early experimental traditions and accumulated knowledge, and (2) he cannot plausibly be regarded as the first human to attempt flight. Rather, his significance lies in his method: the treatment of flight as a technical problem subject to correction, failure, and refinement.
The Source Problem and the Construction of Ibn Firnas;
The principal accounts of Ibn Firnas’s flight experiments come from later Andalusian historians, most notably al-Maqqarī (d. 1632), writing more than seven centuries after the events described.¹ Al-Maqqarī himself relied on earlier sources now lost, such as Ibn Ḥayyān and Ibn al-Khaṭīb, but the chronological distance necessarily raises questions of embellishment, narrative compression, and symbolic amplification.
Crucially, even these laudatory accounts do not portray Ibn Firnas as a miraculous innovator. Instead, they describe a man who constructed an apparatus, tested it publicly, failed in landing, and afterward offered a technical explanation for that failure; namely, the absence of a tail-like stabilizing structure.² This detail, often cited to elevate Ibn Firnas’s genius, in fact situates him firmly within a trial-and-error experimental paradigm, rather than at the moment of invention itself.
Experimental Culture in Ninth-Century al-Andalus;
Ibn Firnas operated within a society already deeply engaged in empirical and mechanical inquiry. Umayyad Córdoba was not an intellectual vacuum; it was a node in a transregional network of translated Greek natural philosophy, late antique mechanics, and Near Eastern artisanal knowledge.³ Texts attributed to Aristotle on motion and animals, as well as Galenic and Alexandrian traditions of observation, circulated widely in elite circles.
More importantly, mechanical experimentation; particularly with automata, hydraulics, and astronomical instruments, was culturally normalized.⁴ Within such a context, the idea that a learned polymath might attempt to imitate avian motion through artificial means is not radical but predictable. Ibn Firnas’s work thus reflects continuity rather than rupture: an extension of existing mechanical curiosity into the domain of human bodily motion.
Pre-Islamic and Ancient Precedents;
Long before Ibn Firnas, the idea of human flight had moved beyond pure myth into speculative and experimental domains.
In Greek antiquity, the figure of Daedalus; often dismissed as a mere myth, was treated by some classical authors as a distorted memory of early mechanical ingenuity. Diodorus Siculus, for instance, presents Daedalus less as a sorcerer than as a master craftsman whose reputation grew through exaggeration.⁵ While the historicity of Daedalus remains uncertain, the persistence of such accounts indicates sustained technical engagement with the problem of flight.
More concretely, Archytas of Tarentum (4th century BCE) was credited with constructing a mechanical flying pigeon powered by compressed air.⁶ Though unmanned, this device demonstrates that the principles of lift, propulsion, and aerial motion were already objects of experimental reasoning centuries before Ibn Firnas.
Human Flight Attempts Prior to and Independent of Ibn Firnas;
The strongest challenge to Ibn Firnas’s supposed primacy lies in the patterned recurrence of early flight attempts across cultures.
Eilmer of Malmesbury (c. 1010 CE) provides an instructive comparative case. He constructed a glider, launched himself from a tower, traveled a considerable horizontal distance, and survived; only to conclude, like Ibn Firnas, that his failure stemmed from the absence of a tail.⁷ The striking similarity of diagnosis suggests not unique brilliance, but shared experimental logic derived from observation of birds.
What matters historiographically is not who flew first, but that multiple individuals, across centuries and cultures, converged on the same technical insights through independent experimentation. This convergence implies an underlying body of inherited observational knowledge rather than isolated invention.
Ibn Firnas as Experimental Improver, Not Originator;
The language used in medieval accounts of Ibn Firnas is revealing. He is praised not for discovering the possibility of flight, but for attempting it seriously, constructing apparatuses, and drawing conclusions from failure.⁸ These are the virtues of an experimental practitioner, not a foundational theorist.
Indeed, Ibn Firnas’s own reported realization, that birds require a tail for landing, presupposes extensive prior observation of avian biomechanics. Such observations were commonplace among natural philosophers long before the ninth century. Aristotle’s Historia Animalium had already emphasized the functional differentiation of wings, tails, and feathers.⁹ Ibn Firnas’s contribution was thus applied synthesis, not conceptual invention.
The Historiography of “Firsts” and Modern Appropriation;
Why, then, does the claim of primacy persist? Part of the answer lies in modern historiography itself. Narratives of scientific “firsts” often serve contemporary ideological needs, whether nationalist, civilizational, or pedagogical.¹⁰ In the case of Ibn Firnas, his elevation functions as a corrective to Eurocentric histories of aviation that leap from antiquity directly to Leonardo da Vinci and the Wright brothers.
Such corrective impulses are understandable, but they risk replacing one distortion with another. A more rigorous historical approach resists the romance of origins and instead emphasizes process, accumulation, and repetition.
Conclusion;
Abbas ibn Firnas was neither a mythic dreamer nor a solitary genius standing at the dawn of aviation. He was an experimental heir to a long tradition of mechanical curiosity, observational reasoning, and embodied risk-taking. He relied on inherited knowledge, tested it empirically, failed visibly, and learned from that failure. In this, his true historical significance resides.
To recognize that Ibn Firnas was not the first to attempt flight is not to diminish him. On the contrary, it restores him to his proper place within the history of science: not as an origin myth, but as an early practitioner of experimental rationality, working with imperfect tools in a world already thinking seriously about the conquest of air.
Footnotes
- Aḥmad ibn Muḥammad al-Maqqarī, Nafḥ al-Ṭīb min Ghuṣn al-Andalus al-Raṭīb (Cairo: al-Maṭbaʿa al-Amīriyya, 1855), vol. 2.
- Ibid.
- Dimitri Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture (London: Routledge, 1998).
- Donald R. Hill, Studies in Medieval Islamic Technology (Aldershot: Variorum, 1998).
- Diodorus Siculus, Bibliotheca Historica, Book IV.
- Aulus Gellius, Noctes Atticae, X.12.
- William of Malmesbury, Gesta Regum Anglorum, Book II.
- Al-Maqqarī, Nafḥ al-Ṭīb, vol. 2.
- Aristotle, Historia Animalium, Book IV.
- George Sarton, Introduction to the History of Science, vol. 1 (Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1927).
The writer is M.A. in History from University of Kashmir
e-mail: munshiyamin5@gmail.com