Dr Malcolm Schofield and Dr Simon Bignell present their perspectives on hit US podcast ‘The Telepathy Tapes’, and how it blurs the lines between science, belief and entertainment.
26 February 2026
In one episode of The Telepathy Tapes, a parent is asked to silently think of a word while their non-speaking autistic child, supported by a communication partner, spells out the same word letter by letter. The podcast presents repeated instances of such demonstrations as evidence that some autistic children are telepathic. As lecturers in psychology working in autism and the psychology of belief, we listened to the series with growing concern. What follows is our response to the scientific, ethical and representational issues raised by what we heard.
Dr Malcolm Schofield (Senior Lecturer in Psychology at the University of Derby, and Council Member for the Society for Psychical Research):
The Telepathy Tapes is a US podcast hosted by Ky Dickens, which explores the claim that non-speaking autistic children are telepathic. It has been a huge hit, even briefly surpassing celebrity blogger Joe Rogan for the number one podcast spot. There is already a second season and a Netflix series on the subject in the works. I first became aware of the podcast after I read Stuart Vyse's article on it for the Skeptical Inquirer, 'A Dangerous Cornucopia of Pseudoscience'. No prizes for guessing what he thinks about it, but as a parapsychologist and a researcher in the psychology of belief, I decided I should probably listen myself.
My first impression was that it was very slick. I tend to listen to more chaotic podcasts – The Telepathy Tapes might as well have had panpipes on the soundtrack. But what about its substance?
Before proceeding, it is necessary to address the podcast's central claim: that telepathy is real and that non-speaking autistic children demonstrate it. Within established definitions, telepathy refers to mind-to-mind communication that occurs without the use of known sensory channels. Claims of telepathy have a long history within parapsychology, but they remain highly contested and dependent on the quality of evidence presented. The question is therefore not whether telepathy is conceivable in principle, but what would constitute reliable evidence for it and whether the podcast provides such evidence.
Of course, if telepathy were shown to be 'real', that would have all kinds of implications for consciousness and the entire way we see our world. Personally, I am sceptical but open minded. I have done research looking at precognition, finding no effect, and precisely what, if anything, is 'going on', remains very much up for debate.
In The Telepathy Tapes, we are told that science is too materialistic to accept that non-speaking autistics are telepathic. This is problematic on a number of levels; it gives the impression that science – I feel the need to call it 'big science' at this point, for some reason – is bad and closed off to any new ideas. This positions Ky et al. as truth warriors railing against the scientific establishment.
But there is no reason why a genuine case of telepathy, if discovered, could not be integrated into mainstream science, even within a materialist framework. Blaming science for the non-acceptance of methodologically flawed findings is shaky ground. Articles are out there that 'defend' the telepathy tapes with charges of scientism and pseudo scepticism, and in general, not being open to non-local consciousness. But the key issue here is the quality of the evidence provide to date. Before science can be blamed, the evidence presented must be evaluated.
In The Telepathy Tapes, there is also a cameraman who is cast as a sceptic to begin with, but after a few rounds of experiments, he comes around to being a believer. This is a well-known trope in the paranormal belief literature, known as an 'avowal of prior scepticism'. The idea is that the evidence must be good because it has made someone change their mind. It adds legitimacy to the power of the evidence, but in reality, it does not make the evidence stronger at all.
The way that The Telepathy Tapes tests non-speaking autistic children is as follows: the parent or carer thinks of a word, and the child then uses an iPad or similar to type out that word. Various versions of this are used during the podcast, but this is the general format. The results are staggering; the number of correct answers, or the 'hit' rate, is 100 per cent.
A reported accuracy rate of 100 per cent is not merely unusual within parapsychology; it is extraordinarily implausible across psychological science more broadly. In virtually all areas of psychology, observed effects vary and are quantified using effect sizes precisely because perfect performance is not expected in complex human behaviour. When apparent performance reaches ceiling levels, methodological artefact rather than genuine ability is typically suspected. In this context, a consistent 100 per cent 'hit rate' strongly suggests uncontrolled information transfer rather than telepathic communication. In the case of the Telepathy Tapes, this appears to be the parent guiding the child's responses.
Some controlled conditions are attempted, such as removing reflective surfaces and blindfolding the child and the crew. But to truly test what was happening, they could have employed more robust scientific measures, such as placing a blindfold on the parent, as suggested by Janyce Boynton in her blog post. But, as Boynton points out, the biggest methodological flaw could be the use of 'facilitated communication'.
The communication method depicted in The Telepathy Tapes closely resembles facilitated communication (FC) (recently covered in the context of The Telepathy Tapes in The Psychologist by Dr Naomi Fisher) and related approaches such as the Rapid Prompting Method (RPM) and Spelling to Communicate (S2C). In these methods, a communication partner physically supports or stabilises the hand, arm or body of a non-speaking person while that person selects letters on a board or keyboard, typically spelling messages letter by letter. Crucially, the facilitator remains in physical contact and can see both the letterboard and the target stimuli.
A substantial body of controlled research has demonstrated that messages produced under facilitation reflect the knowledge and expectations of the facilitator rather than the non-speaking individual. When facilitators are blinded to the target information, correct responding typically falls to chance levels, whereas performance remains high when facilitators know the answers. On this basis, UK professional guidance from the Royal College of Speech and Language Therapists advises against facilitated communication and related approaches, citing lack of validity and risk of harm through substitution of the facilitator's voice.
Notably, The Telepathy Tapes never names facilitated communication, RPM or S2C, despite depicting interactions in which parents or carers physically support the communicator while also being the individuals whose thoughts are supposedly being read. This configuration provides an obvious non-paranormal mechanism for the observed accuracy: the facilitator's knowledge can influence letter selection through subtle, often unconscious motor guidance. This is consistent with the well-established ideomotor effect, also implicated in Ouija board movements and related phenomena.
It is important to emphasise that facilitated communication and its variants are not regarded within speech-language therapy, psychology or autism research as promising or unresolved communication methods. The evidence base consistently shows that facilitated outputs originate from the facilitator rather than the disabled person, and UK professional guidance from the Royal College of Speech and Language Therapists advises against their use. The scientific question here is therefore not open; what remains unresolved is how such methods continue to be presented as evidence of communication or telepathy.
Dr Simon Bignell (Senior Lecturer in Psychology, the University of Derby):
The podcast raises serious concerns for me, not only about the shaky science behind its central claims, but also about how it frames autism. Rather than engaging with what we already know about autism, The Telepathy Tapes falls into a familiar trap: presenting autistic people – especially non-speaking children who sometimes have an associated learning disability – through a kind of mystical lens. It leans on wonder and speculation, rather than clarity, context, or care.
There are broadly two ways autism is typically understood. One is the neurodiversity approach, which views autism as a natural and meaningful variation in how people think, process information, and relate to the world. From this perspective, differences in social communication or sensory processing aren't necessarily 'problems' to be fixed; they're part of the diversity of human experience. The more traditional view, which is still dominant in clinical and diagnostic settings, defines autism as a neurodevelopmental condition involving characteristic difficulties in communication, social understanding, and behavioural flexibility.
In practice, most professionals, including myself, draw from both models to build a more complete and respectful picture. The difficulty with the podcast is that it bypasses both entirely and instead reaches for fantasy.
As an academic with a deep interest in autism and having spent many years studying communication differences in neurodivergent children, I found the central claim of The Telepathy Tapes genuinely troubling. Non-speaking autistic children are described as telepathic, based on a technique that closely resembles facilitated communication and related methods such as the Rapid Prompting Method and Spelling to Communicate, in which a communication partner supports the person's hand or body while they select letters.
Decades of controlled research have shown that when messages are produced under physical facilitation, they typically reflect the knowledge of the facilitator rather than the non-speaking individual. Unless the facilitator is fully blinded to the target information and has no physical influence over selection, there is no reliable way to determine authorship. Presenting facilitated spelling as evidence of telepathy therefore rests on a method already shown to be invalid. This is not merely a theoretical concern but an ethical one, because it risks attributing thoughts and intentions to disabled people that originate elsewhere.
There is also a broader issue here about how autism is being framed. The idea that non-verbal autistic children are somehow 'gifted' in a paranormal or supernatural way might sound like a positive spin, but in practice, it's just another distortion. It feeds into a long-running cultural narrative that swings between viewing autism as either tragic or magical. In both cases, the person gets lost. Everyday realities – things like sensory overload, anxiety, difficulty with communication – are brushed aside in favour of a story that's easier to sell.
Autism isn't a mystery to be solved, and it isn't a superpower. It's a complex, lifelong condition with a huge amount of variation between individuals. In my teaching, I refer to 'autisms' not autism, as it presents so differently and demands an individual approach.
What concerns me most is that this kind of storytelling pulls focus away from the things that actually help. Non-speaking autistic children can and do communicate in meaningful ways, often through well-tested methods such as augmentative and alternative communication (AAC) devices, picture exchange systems, or structured communication tools. These approaches are backed by research and help build real independence and connection. The podcast ignores all of that, offering something more dramatic but far less helpful. It replaces practical support with wishful thinking.
Being sceptical about the claims in the podcast doesn't mean being dismissive of autistic people; quite the opposite. Taking autism seriously means asking difficult questions, demanding proper evidence, and staying grounded in what improves people's lives. The Telepathy Tapes claims to be revealing something revolutionary. In reality, it's a striking example of how speculative and emotionally compelling storytelling can blur the lines between science, belief, and entertainment. It's recycling an old idea that has already caused confusion and harm. The impulse to believe in something extraordinary is understandable, but when that belief centres on children who can't easily speak for themselves, we have to be cautious.
Autism isn't magical. It's human. Furthermore, it deserves honest, careful attention, not myths dressed up as miracles.
07 November 2025
19 March 2024
22 April 2025
The British Psychological Society is a charity registered in England and Wales, Registration Number : 229642 and a charity registered in Scotland, Registration Number : SC039452 – VAT Registration Number : 283 2609 94
© Copyright 2000-2026 The British Psychological Society