Nonspeaking individuals have been widely misunderstood for decades (if not centuries). Regardless of whether the speech difficulty arises from autism, developmental delay, or stroke, people often assume that nonspeakers lack the capacity for complex thought or self-awareness. These assumptions have shaped educational practices, clinical approaches, and public perception, reinforcing the belief that an inability to speak reflects an inability to think. As a result, when some non-speakers demonstrate the ability to communicate through alternative methods—such as spelling on a letterboard, often with the support of a communication partner—their efforts are frequently met with skepticism. Critics question the validity of these messages, suggesting the responses may be unconsciously influenced or directed by the communication partner, rather than independently produced. However, a growing number of case reports and exploratory studies are challenging these assumptions by investigating an even more provocative possibility: that some nonspeakers with autism may be accessing and communicating their own thoughts as well as information they derive telepathically. This article examines the limitations of traditional testing approaches and explores emerging research into the nature of these communications.
One of the repeated requests of those who help nonspeakers learn to spell out their thoughts is “presume competence.” This request is necessary because humans have a natural bias to presume incompetence in interpersonal interactions when they see another person have a difficult time regulating and moving their bodies. We assume that physical grace is related to higher emotional intelligence (Dogerlioglu-Demir et al., 2023), for instance, because we want to trust that what is seen on the outside is paralleled on the inside. This works as long as the body is in a good working relationship with the mind’s intentions – but not when there is an intent-body disconnect. This can be a logical assumption some of the time – if someone is moving roughly or speaking ungracefully around others, perhaps they are signaling they just don’t want to be social. But this assumption can easily be wrong. There are three different systems that have to work together in the brain to create appropriate social movement: learning, desire, and ability. When we see someone behaving in ways that appear socially awkward or “inappropriate,” it is difficult to know which one of these systems might be involved.
Ability as the Bottleneck in Apraxia with Autism
Imagine a man at a dance party. He has learned how to dance socially, he wants to dance, and nothing is preventing him from dancing the way he wants to at that party – all three systems are working well (Figure 1, top), and others find his dance appropriate and fun. We draw the conclusion that he has a high emotional IQ (EQ), and he is more likely to be accepted as a CEO or spokesperson for a company (Dogerlioglu-Demir et al., 2023). Now imagine the same man (Figure 2, bottom), but without having learned appropriate movement (perhaps he grew up in a family that did not demonstrate appropriate movement), or without the desire to move appropriately (maybe he’s in a crappy mood and wants to be left alone), or without the ability (maybe he has one of several neurological movement disorders). We see his dance and know it isn’t appropriate – and we often leap to the conclusion that it is either a lack of learning about social dance, a lack of desire to dance, or some superficial ability to move appropriately (like a pulled muscle) that is getting in his way. Why? Because those reasons were more commonly the case for those of us who grew up in schools without integrating severely autistic and apraxic children. Many of us are not aware of the prevalence of apraxia, a neurological disorder that makes intentional movements very difficult, so we make incorrect assumptions based on what we know.
Here’s a real-life example of social misunderstanding that can occur often in the lives of families impacted by autism, which is often accompanied with apraxia. John is a bright eight year-old who loves life and his family. He does not speak to communicate because he has full-body apraxia that largely impacts the motor control needed for producing speech sounds. John is excited because his big sister is getting married, and he knows from listening to conversations that his mom, Faye, has waited for this moment for years. They are together at the bridal shower in a beautiful old Italian-style home on a peaceful lake. Faye recalls all of her daughter’s accomplishments during her younger years and realizes this day is the culmination of all those days of her growing into the woman she has become. But Faye is jarred back to reality when the whirlwind John bursts into the room with no acknowledgement of the social expectation of quiet. He runs up to the gift table, clearing it with one swoop of his hand, then immediately climbs under the table to hide with his head down and bottom pointed to the ceiling. Shower attendees make all sorts of assumptions about John: “His parents must have no skill in parenting or respect for the venue.” “John must be cognitively slow and unaware of others, their intent or their feelings.” “John is a bad boy and will probably end up in prison.” How sorry they felt for his sister on this monumental day. They feel he should be punished for what he has done.
Apraxic bodies that don’t speak well are often not in control of their actions, and appear to be less aware of others’ presence. This was the case with John. He was in fact fully aware of all the people in the room. He understood what this shower meant to his sister and parents, but he could not control his body at all, especially when he and his family were so excited. He felt shame and disappointment in himself. It had happened again… he had disrupted or possibly fully ruined another family event. Such a frustrating body he had.