Communication with Non-Speaking and Minimally Speaking Autistic People: Listening Beyond Words

A few weeks before schools broke up for the summer holidays, I was observing a child in school whose primary way of communicating was not through spoken language. Throughout the morning, I watched adults ask questions, pause briefly and then continue the conversation when no verbal response came. What struck me was not that the child wasn't communicating. Quite the opposite. They were communicating constantly. Through eye gaze, gestures, facial expressions, movement around the classroom, changes in posture and the way they interacted with the people and environment around them, they were providing information all the time. The difficulty wasn't an absence of communication. It was that much of it wasn't being recognised.

That experience stayed with me because it reminded me how easily we can equate speech with communication, even though they are not the same thing. It is an assumption that I think many of us make without even realising it. We naturally associate communication with spoken language because that is how most of us communicate. When speech is limited or absent, it can be tempting to assume that understanding is limited too. Yet the more I work alongside autistic children, their families and the professionals supporting them, the more convinced I become that this is one of the most significant misconceptions we need to challenge.

Perhaps this is why I wanted to write this blog. Communication is far more than words. It is the means through which we express our thoughts, emotions, needs, preferences and experiences, and those means can look very different from one person to another. If we only recognise spoken language as communication, we inevitably overlook many of the ways people are already communicating with us. In doing so, we risk misunderstanding not only what they are trying to say, but who they are.

For many non-speaking and minimally speaking autistic people, this misunderstanding has profound consequences. Autistic advocates have spent years describing rich internal worlds, strong understanding of the people around them and a desire to communicate that was often underestimated because they could not rely on speech. Increasingly, research has also highlighted that expressive language and receptive language do not always develop in the same way. Some autistic people understand considerably more than they are able to express, while others communicate most effectively through augmentative and alternative communication (AAC), gesture, writing, facial expression or other non-speaking forms of communication. None of this should really surprise us, yet assumptions about speech and understanding continue to influence the expectations placed upon many autistic children and adults.

Communication Is More Than Speech

I sometimes wonder whether the problem begins with the way we define communication itself. We often talk about communication as though it is synonymous with talking, but communication is much broader than spoken language. Every day, all of us communicate through facial expressions, body posture, eye gaze, gesture, proximity, movement and behaviour, often without giving it a second thought. Spoken words are only one part of a much larger communication system.

This becomes particularly important when supporting non-speaking and minimally speaking autistic people because their communication may rely on methods that are less familiar to those around them. A child reaching towards a preferred object, turning away from an overwhelming environment, moving closer to someone they trust, pushing something away, smiling, vocalising, using symbols or selecting words on an AAC device is communicating something meaningful. The challenge is not that communication is absent. Rather, it is that adults sometimes fail to recognise those behaviours as communication because they do not resemble the forms of communication we expect.

Perhaps this is where behaviour analysis has shaped the way I think about communication. One of the most important lessons it has taught me is that behaviour can only really be understood when we consider the context in which it occurs. Communication is no different. Every communicative act serves a purpose for the individual at that moment. Sometimes it is requesting something they need. Sometimes it is refusing something that feels overwhelming. Sometimes it is seeking comfort, sharing enjoyment, expressing discomfort or simply trying to connect with another person. When we begin to look beyond speech and ask ourselves what a person's behaviour might be communicating, we often realise they have been communicating effectively all along. The challenge has been our ability to recognise and interpret it.

Presuming Competence

One concept that I think has transformed the way many professionals now approach communication is the idea of presuming competence. This does not mean assuming that every person can do everything or ignoring the support they may genuinely need. Rather, it means beginning from the position that an individual's understanding may be greater than their current ability to express it. It encourages us to avoid making assumptions about someone's cognitive abilities based solely on the way they communicate.

This distinction matters because expressive communication and receptive communication are not the same thing. A person may understand language far more effectively than they are able to produce it. Others may need additional processing time before responding, particularly within busy or sensory-demanding environments. Some may know exactly what they want to say but experience difficulties with the motor planning involved in producing speech. Others may communicate far more successfully through AAC than through spoken language. These differences remind us that communication is rarely a simple reflection of what someone knows or understands.

Perhaps one of the greatest risks is underestimating people because their communication looks different from our own. History has shown us countless examples of non-speaking autistic people who were initially assumed to have limited understanding, only to demonstrate sophisticated thinking once they were provided with communication methods that suited their individual strengths. While every autistic person is different and we should avoid making assumptions in either direction, I think it is far safer to presume potential than to unintentionally limit opportunities because we underestimated somebody's capacity.

For me, this is ultimately about respect. It means speaking directly to the person rather than about them. It means explaining what is happening, even if they do not respond verbally. It means allowing additional time, recognising alternative forms of communication and remaining curious about what the person might be trying to tell us rather than focusing only on what they are unable to say. Those may seem like relatively small changes, but they fundamentally alter the way relationships are built. When people feel that their communication is recognised and valued, they are far more likely to continue communicating in whatever way works best for them.

Communication Is Shaped by the Environment

One of the things I have come to appreciate more over the years is that communication never happens in isolation. Just as behaviour is influenced by the environment, so too is our ability to communicate. Most of us have experienced moments where we have struggled to find the right words because we were anxious, overwhelmed, exhausted or under pressure. For non-speaking and minimally speaking autistic people, those environmental influences can have an even greater impact.

A busy classroom, constant background noise, bright lighting, unfamiliar people or rapid-fire questioning can all increase the demands placed on the nervous system. When those demands become overwhelming, communication often becomes more difficult. This is why some autistic people may communicate fluently in one environment yet use very little or no spoken language in another. Their understanding has not changed. Rather, the environment has either supported or hindered their ability to express themselves.

I think this is an important reminder that communication should never be viewed as something that exists solely within the individual. It is relational. It is influenced not only by the person communicating but also by the people around them, the environment they are in and whether they feel safe enough to communicate in the first place. If we genuinely want to support communication, we need to think not only about what the individual can do, but also about what we can change around them. Sometimes the most effective communication support is not teaching new skills, but reducing the barriers that prevent existing skills from being used.

The Role of Augmentative and Alternative Communication

This is where augmentative and alternative communication (AAC) can be transformative. Whether someone communicates using picture symbols, communication books, written language, a speech-generating device or an AAC application such as Proloquo2Go, TD Snap, Grid for iPad or TouchChat, these systems should never be viewed as a last resort or something to introduce only when spoken language has "failed". They are legitimate forms of communication that enable people to express choices, opinions, emotions, ideas and experiences in ways that reflect their individual strengths. For many autistic people, AAC does not replace communication; it provides access to communication in a way that speech alone may not.

Unfortunately, I still occasionally encounter the misconception that introducing AAC might discourage spoken language. Research consistently suggests that this is not the case. If anything, providing someone with a reliable means of communication often reduces frustration, increases participation and, for some individuals, can support the development of spoken language alongside AAC. More importantly, it provides access to communication now rather than asking somebody to wait for speech to develop. Communication should never be delayed because we are hoping another method might eventually emerge.

However, providing an AAC system is only one part of the picture. Communication aids only become meaningful when they are consistently available, recognised as the person's authentic voice and modelled by the people around them. A speech-generating device that spends most of the day in a school bag, or a communication board that only appears during structured activities, is unlikely to become part of everyday interaction. Likewise, if adults rarely use the symbols themselves while speaking, opportunities for learning and meaningful communication are easily missed. Like any language, AAC needs to be experienced in real conversations, daily routines and genuine relationships, not simply during therapy sessions or designated communication activities.

Listening Beyond Words

Perhaps this is where I think the greatest shift needs to happen. We often spend a great deal of time asking how we can encourage autistic people to communicate, yet we spend far less time asking whether we are listening in ways that allow communication to be recognised. Sometimes that means waiting a little longer before assuming somebody has nothing to say. Sometimes it means resisting the urge to answer questions on their behalf or speaking about them as though they are not present. At other times, it means paying closer attention to eye gaze, gesture, body language, movement, facial expressions or subtle changes in behaviour that may be communicating something every bit as meaningful as spoken words.

Families frequently tell me that the biggest changes in their child's communication did not happen because of one particular intervention, but because the adults around them began interacting differently. Teachers became more comfortable with silence and allowed additional processing time. Professionals started speaking directly to the child rather than about them. AAC became part of everyday life rather than something reserved for therapy sessions. Small communicative attempts were acknowledged, responded to and valued instead of being overlooked because they did not resemble spoken language. Gradually, communication became less about producing words and more about creating opportunities for genuine connection.

The more I reflect on these experiences, the more I believe that communication is fundamentally a shared responsibility. It is not enough to ask whether somebody can communicate. We also need to ask whether we have created an environment where their communication can be recognised, respected and responded to in the way they intended. Sometimes the most meaningful change does not come from teaching somebody to communicate differently. It comes from learning to listen differently ourselves.

Rethinking What Good Communication Looks Like

The more I work alongside non-speaking and minimally speaking autistic people, the more I find myself questioning some of the assumptions that have traditionally shaped communication support. For many years, success was often measured by whether someone developed spoken language. While speech may be an important goal for some individuals, I do not think it should ever become the only measure of meaningful communication. If a person is able to express their thoughts, make choices, build relationships, advocate for themselves and participate in the world around them through another method, that communication is no less valid.

Perhaps this requires us to redefine what successful communication actually looks like. Rather than asking, "How do we get this child to talk?" perhaps we should first ask, "How can we ensure this child has a reliable way to communicate?" Those are not the same question. One focuses on the method, while the other focuses on the person's right to be understood. When we shift our thinking in that way, our priorities often begin to change. We become less focused on encouraging one particular form of communication and more focused on ensuring every form of communication is recognised, respected and responded to.

A Final Reflection

When I think back to the child I observed before the summer holidays, I realise that the biggest lesson from that morning had very little to do with speech. It was a reminder that communication is not something we simply listen for; it is something we learn to notice. Sometimes it is spoken, sometimes it is typed, sometimes it is selected on an AAC device and sometimes it is expressed through gesture, movement, facial expression or behaviour. Whatever form it takes, it deserves to be acknowledged because every attempt to communicate is also an attempt to connect.

I think this is something all of us can reflect on, whether we are parents, teachers, therapists or other professionals. How often do we allow enough time for somebody to respond? Do we speak directly to the person, regardless of how they communicate? Do we presume understanding rather than making assumptions based on the presence or absence of speech? Do we create environments where communication feels safe, valued and worthwhile? These questions are rarely answered by a policy or a communication assessment. They are answered through the small, everyday interactions that shape how people experience the world.

If there is one message I hope readers take away from this blog, it is that communication is not defined by words. It is defined by connection, understanding and the opportunity for every person to express who they are in the way that works best for them. The responsibility, therefore, is not simply to teach communication. It is also to become better listeners. Sometimes, the most meaningful change we can make is not asking autistic people to communicate more like us, but learning to recognise and value the ways they have been communicating all along.