BEYOND WORDS: REIMAGINING LEGAL CAPACITY THROUGH FACILITATED AND NEURO-ASSISTED COMMUNICATION

ABSTRACT

In the twenty-first century, technology has transformed human communication. Nevertheless, for millions of individuals with disabilities who depend on Augmentative and Alternative Communication (AAC) devices—such as eye-tracking, text-to-speech software, and brain- computer interfaces—the law is still rooted in anachronistic assumptions about capacity and expression. Even as assistive technology has advanced, the majority of legal systems around the world, including India, still view speech or writing as the default forms of valid communication in contracts, consent, and testimony. This exclusion is a source of systemic marginalization and erodes fundamental human rights.

This article fills this important gap by challenging how legal systems need to and can change in order to acknowledge non-traditional communication technologies. It borrows from the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (UNCRPD), India’s Rights of Persons with Disabilities Act, 2016, and comparative international jurisprudence to make a case for a broadened legal conceptualization of communication. Through the introduction of the idea of technologically mediated autonomy, this article advocates a series of implementable reforms—ranging from judicial directives to legislative changes—that would provide dignity, autonomy, and equality of participation for individuals with disabilities in legal, medical, and social decision-making.

INTRODUCTION

Law is more than a system of rules; it is a language of rights, obligations, and abilities. Communicating is at the center of this language—the capacity to convey will, consent, dissent, or testimony. The legal system has traditionally acknowledged only certain forms of communication: spoken words, written texts, or signs. This limited conception systematically excludes millions of persons with disabilities who communicate using non-conventional modes of communication.

Take the case of someone with severe cerebral palsy using eye-gaze technology to choose words on a screen. Or a non-verbal autistic adult communicating by typing into a text-to-speech machine. Should their agreement to a medical intervention or signing of a contract be considered less sound just because they provided it using technology? The law’s silence on this matter promotes exclusion, infantilization, and even the denial of basic rights.

In India, even though the country ratified the UN Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (UNCRPD)¹ and passed the Rights of Persons with Disabilities Act, 2016², courts and institutions have not yet accepted the fact of technology-enabled communication. The failure of clear guidelines has kept judges, lawyers, doctors, and administrators in confusion. Consequently, the voice of non-verbal persons gets metaphorically and literally overlooked in legal arenas.

At issue is not simply procedural efficiency but the essence of autonomy. Autonomy in its fullest sense is the ability to choose and to communicate the choice in whatever form one desires. The development of communication technologies has furthered this liberty, but the law remains behind. This article makes the case for a paradigm shift: the establishment of technologically mediated autonomy as a governing legal principle of disability rights.

Through an analysis of international legal frameworks, moral arguments, and technological advances, this article aims to draw a map for mainstreaming alternative communication. This is not only legal reform but a rethink of what it actually means to speak up within the law.

THE    ALTERNATIVE   COMMUNICATION   LANDSCAPE:    GOING BEYOND SPEECH AND SIGN

Defining Augmentative and Alternative Communication (AAC):

“Augmentative and Alternative Communication (AAC) is a wide range of techniques, aids, and strategies that facilitate people with speech or communication impairments in conveying their ideas, wants, and desires”³. AAC is more than an aid; for most, it is the main channel of their independence. A comprehension of AAC involves breaking away from a reductionist medical model that describes it as a clinical intervention. Rather, it must be understood through a rights- driven framework—as a natural part of exercising legal capacity.

AAC can be classified as follows:

1.   Low-Tech AAC:

• Communication Boards: Pictures, letters, or symbols on boards that individuals point
• Picture Exchange Communication Systems (PECS): Utilized extensively by non-verbal autistic individuals.
• Gesture Systems: Tailor-made sign systems that are not necessarily within formal sign

2.   High-Tech AAC:

• Speech-Generating Devices (SGDs): Text-to-speech programmes which speak the typed
• Eye-Tracking Devices: Cameras that track eye movement to choose words or icons on a
• Brain-Computer Interfaces (BCIs): Neurotechnology devices enabling communication using brain signals—a field at the forefront of disability technology.⁴ BCIs were successfully employed by individuals with Locked-in Syndrome to convey basic needs and preferences.

Facilitated Communication (FC) is a method where a trained facilitator aids an individual with disabilities (normally with extreme motor impairments) to point or type out letters or symbols. FC has been controversial as a result of allegations of influence and control by facilitators. Denying FC completely ignores the subjective experiences of people who have successfully utilized it to engage in decision-making.

It demands a balanced approach wherein courts and the legal system embrace evidence-based procedures for establishing the genuineness of FC outputs without uncritically dismissing the approach. Ethical regulation, validation mechanisms, and third-party authentication can facilitate finding this balance.

Traditional legal thinking tends to situate tools as outside of the individual. But for users of AAC, technology is not another medium—technology is an extension of self, cognitive and communicative. Eye-tracking machines and BCIs are not add-ons; they are prosthetic devices for autonomy.

This is the reason why the law has to regard AAC-enabled communication as direct acts of will and preference, rather than second-order or derivative means of expression.

In order to place the conversation within lived reality, review the following examples:

• Stephen Hawking, not withstanding his serious ALS, gave scientific presentations, participated in debates, and gave consent through his speech-generating device. His case was exceptional due to his worldwide fame, but millions of less famous people utilize identical tools on a daily basis without similar fanfare.⁵
• Sarika, a non-verbal woman with cerebral palsy in Delhi, employs an eye-tracking system to express her choices in everyday life, yet her bank will not honor her account instructions since they aren’t delivered in writing or by signature. Her autonomy is functionally eliminated.
• The Locked-in Syndrome Case (France, 2017): Through the use of a brain-computer interface, a man provided “yes” and “no” answers to healthcare professionals for life-sustaining treatment choices. However, legal arguments arose on whether such communication was meaningful consent.⁶

Most legal systems, particularly in developing nations, fail to treat AAC as a legally effective type of communication in sensitive areas such as:

• Contracts and Property Transactions
• Medical Consent and Advance Directives
• Courtroom Testimony and Depositions
• Financial Management and Banking Transactions

This    produces    systemic    disenfranchisement,    producing   a    class    of   citizens    who    are technologically capable of self-expression yet legally muzzled.

This piece coins the term “Technologically Mediated Autonomy” to point out that:

For many individuals with disabilities, technology is not so much a tool—it is part of their cognitive and communicative being. Disregarding AAC is tantamount to excluding autonomy and agency in law. By integrating this idea into legal consciousness, the argument transcends accommodation to acknowledgment of AAC as an inherent right.

LEGAL UNDERPINNINGS OF THE RIGHT TO COMMUNICATE

Communicating is central to human dignity and self-determination. Communication is not, in law, a social act—it is the mechanism by which people make fundamental rights effective: entering into contracts, consenting to things, engaging in legal processes, or voicing political views. For individuals with disabilities, particularly those that are dependent on assistive devices to communicate, the legal system tends to deny the credibility of their communications. It is not necessarily a technical shortcoming; it is a contravention of the equality before the law principle. Both international human rights treaties and local laws require recognition of various modes of communication, yet practice continues to lag far behind.

At the global level, the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (UNCRPD) is the key document that reshapes the legal status of individuals with disabilities. The UNCRPD breaks with the medical model of disability—and its focus on individual impairments—and adopts the social model under which disability results from social and legal obstacles. A number of its provisions are directly applicable to the issue of alternative communication. Article 12⁷ requires equal recognition before the law to guarantee equal legal capacity for persons with disabilities to the same extent as others in every respect of life, including decision-making, contracting, and disposing of property. Article 21⁸ focuses on the right to freedom of expression and opinion, where state parties are required to receive and communicate by all accessible means, such as AAC, Braille, tactile communication, and other means of technology assistance. In addition to this, Article 19⁹ also emphasizes the right to live independently and lead an active life in society, which inherently encompasses the right to make decisions and communicate them, regardless of the means of communication.

India signed the UNCRPD in 2007 and later passed the Rights of Persons with Disabilities Act, 2016 (RPwD Act). This Act restates the central principles of the Convention but falls short of giving full detailed instructions on how technology-assisted communication must be applied in legal procedures. Respect for the inherent dignity and individual autonomy of persons with disabilities is highlighted under Section 7 of the RPwD Act, including freedom to make one’s own choices. Section 12 assures legal capacity on an equal basis with others in financial, contractual, and personal areas. The Act does not, however, specify how AAC or technologically facilitated communication will be acknowledged in contracts, wills, medical consent, or as testimony in court. This lack leaves courts and institutions uncertain as to whether communication facilitated by assistive devices will be valid.

The Indian Evidence Act, 1872, that applies to the admissibility of evidence and testimony in Indian courts also exhibits this lacuna. The Act provides for testimony to be oral or written, but there is no provision that specifically accepts eye-tracking devices, text-to-speech systems, or brain-computer interface outputs as evidence. As a result, the evidentiary weight of AAC-based communication is questionable, causing judicial hesitancy and frequently, direct exclusion.

In the same way, the Indian Contract Act, 1872¹⁰ presumes that parties to an agreement will be competent to express consent both clearly and conventionally—verbally or by signature. This does not consider individuals who can communicate consent using AAC but cannot physically sign or voice agreement. Lacking statutory protection, companies, banks, and government agencies commonly deny transactions based on AAC devices, excluding people with disabilities from equal economic and legal inclusion.

In some parts of the world, jurisdictions have now integrated AAC into their laws. For instance, in America, the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) mandates reasonable communication accommodations for people with disabilities. There have been some courts that have accepted AAC-assisted testimony, though it is still inconsistent from state to state. Canada has introduced Supported Decision-Making (SDM) models via provincial legislation, whereby individuals remain in control of making decisions with the provision of support to express their decisions. The United Kingdom’s Mental Capacity Act, 2005, then takes an extra step by requiring that “all practicable steps” should be pursued to support persons in decision-making, including the implementation of assistive technologies. These examples from other countries and jurisdictions serve as comparative models for India and all others, emphasizing the need to integrate AAC acknowledgment within legal practice.

Notably, the right to communicate is not a state-permitted privilege but an inherent human right in personhood. The non-discrimination against alternative ways of communicating is not just a breach of the right to communicate autonomously but also violates the doctrine of equality (Article 14 of the Indian Constitution) and the right to life and liberty (Article 21¹¹). The Supreme Court of India has consistently held that dignity is an essential part of Article 21, and dignity encompasses freedom to make substantial choices.¹² Unless barriers in communication are addressed in law, individuals with disabilities are deprived of this fundamental dignity.

In addition to statutory change, judicial interpretation is also necessary that recognizes technological fact. Courts have to understand that communication technologies are not optional tools anymore—those are basic extensions of human agency. Legal recognition of AAC must thus become integral to constitutional interpretation and rights law, instead of being a marginal issue of disability.

In short, the legal basis for the recognition of alternative communication already exists within international human rights law and domestic constitutional entitlements. Yet, the practice still lags far behind the principle. The widening gap must be closed not merely through reform of the law but through a cultural transformation in the conception of communication, capacity, and person in the information age.

THE AUTONOMY GAP: CHALLENGES IN RECOGNITION

Underlying the debate about the legal acceptance of augmentative and alternative communication (AAC) is the doctrine of autonomy—having the right to decide one’s life, body, and relationships. In the law, this is expressed through consent, contracts, and evidence. But for AAC users, particularly those who depend on neuro-assistive or facilitated approaches, there is a gap between technological feasibility and legal acceptability. Consequently, these people are normally deprived of the chance to fully enjoy their rights.

One such hurdle is “authenticity anxiety”—the concern of courts that AAC-based communication can be manipulated. Judges are worried that facilitators will guide responses or that eye-tracking equipment can be misinterpreted. This anxiety, especially in high-stakes situations such as guardianship or medical consent, triggers judicial over-caution. Rather than regarding AAC communication as acceptable unless demonstrated otherwise, courts tend to assume incapacity, contravening the UNCRPD’s requirement of equal legal status for people with disabilities.¹³

This conservatism in law results in quiet disenfranchisement, particularly in medicine. People capable of communicating using AAC are frequently bypassed in favor of relatives or conservators, even as medical ethics mandate informed consent. In situations like DNR orders or surgical interventions, lack of understanding for AAC places physicians between a legal and ethical dilemma—resulting in reliance on substituted consent for many. This reinforces a culture of medical paternalism, excluding people from having a voice in decisions on their own bodies.

A new challenge is unfolding in telemedicine. Although virtual spaces can bring people together and promote inclusion, tele-health systems mostly do not have procedures for AAC-based consent. This silence of technology on legal validation further excludes non-verbal users from equitable access to healthcare.

AAC users are also severely hindered in financial and contractual independence. Legal cultures prefer written signatures, spoken contracts, or biometric authentication—means frequently out of reach for AAC users. Consequently, those employing devices such as eye-gaze keyboards can be excluded from the signing of wills, the control of bank accounts, or contracts for services. Even virtual environments such as internet banking are based on multi-factor verification that seldom considers non-verbal users, further increasing exclusion.

This establishes a harsh paradox: although assistive technology makes users powerful, legal systems impose dependency by withholding acknowledgment of their means of communication. Powerful individuals are made legally invisible, sustaining economic and social dependency.

The digital divide makes this worse. AAC devices tend to need internet connectivity, software updates, and technical knowledge. Without system support, these tools become talismans of empowerment rather than anything of actual substance. Therefore, the autonomy gap is not merely legal or technological but a result of more fundamental socio-economic exclusion layered over top of existing stigmas.

At its heart is a legal contradiction: efforts to safeguard individuals with disabilities from harm ultimately lead to them being systematically excluded. Guardianship regimes and incapacity declarations, premised on safety concerns, essentially take away people’s agency. The justice system’s suspicion of AAC—the very devices that enable will and choice—further solidifies this issue.

There must be a transition from a risk-avoidance model to a rights-enablement model. A default presumption of capacity, rather than incapacity, should be adopted. Institutions and courts should spend money on validation processes—like video recordings, independent audits, and third-party verification—instead of en bloc refusals. The legal system can only then enforce the autonomy and dignity of AAC users without undermining protections.

POLICY AND LEGAL REFORMS: A ROADMAP FOR INCLUSIVE COMMUNICATION LAW

It will take more than token gestures to recognize AAC and neuro-technology in legal frameworks—it will take structural, procedural, and cultural change. To close the existing autonomy gap, India needs to make reforms incorporating alternative communication into the legal and governance mainstream. The judiciary is where it must start. Courts need to establish sound guidelines for the acceptance of AAC-based testimony, consent, and affidavits, so that alternative communication is not rejected out of unfamiliarity. Assistive technologies should be trained on by judges and court personnel, and courts need to hire experts in communications to help check AAC outputs. Such measures as video documentation, expert audits, and flexible procedures in courtrooms—including longer time allowances—can enhance judicial trust without undermining autonomy. Where neuro-technology like brain-computer interfaces is involved, courts should consult scientific experts to avoid uninformed skepticism.

Legislative reforms must complement judicial changes. Key statutes like the Indian Contract Act and the Indian Evidence Act should be amended to explicitly recognize AAC as valid for contracts, medical consent, and testimony. The Rights of Persons with Disabilities Act, 2016 can have a special chapter on “Technological Communication Rights” and must require AAC to be acknowledged across fields. Medical consent legislation also requires amending to legally sanction AAC-supported decisions, particularly in the case of sensitive issues like reproductive rights, surgeries, and mental health interventions. These would transpose AAC from being an accommodation to being a legal equivalent.

To forestall manipulation fears, the system has to include technology security measures without backsliding into over-protection. Blockchain-based authentication can produce immutable records of AAC communication, while biometric-associated AAC systems and AI-driven consistency checks can confirm outputs mirror the user’s real intention. Such technologies enhance trust, balancing empowerment with responsibility.

Apart from courts and contracts, the state needs to ensure institutional communication accessibility. Administrative offices, banks, and health centers need to embed AAC-compatible systems, allowing one to directly communicate with services without reliance. Electronic public spaces, such as voting websites, need to be accessible using AAC inputs. Equipping officials and service providers with AAC interaction training is also important. Emergency management procedures need to have provisions for AAC users, allowing them access to communication during emergencies.

Public consciousness is the social column of reform. There should be nationwide campaigns that make AAC use commonplace by presenting examples of AAC users as everyday citizens, not anomalies. There should be modules in schools about varied means of communication, and public environments should strive for “Communication Accessible” certifications, the equivalent of physical accessibility stamps nowadays. This shift in culture will humanize and normalize assistive communication.

Lastly, a National AAC & Neuro-technology Commission would need to be instituted to look after policy, ethics, and innovation in the field. The Commission would need to work with legal authorities, electoral commissions, and health institutions to evolve future-proof guidelines so that India is not just catching up with the rest of the world but also leading the way forward for inclusive, tech-driven justice

By embracing this integrative reform agenda, India has the potential to turn its legal system into a hearing system that hears each voice—no matter how it is framed—dawn a new age of participatory democracy and human dignity.

CONCLUSION: REIMAGINING COMMUNICATION AND LEGAL PERSONHOOD

The acknowledgment of Augmentative and Alternative Communication (AAC) and neuro- technology-enabled communication is not a future concern—it is an immediate human rights necessity. As this article has discussed, technology has already changed the communicative abilities of people previously deemed voiceless. But the legal and institutional frameworks are caught in archaic paradigms that resist this new reality.

At the center of this question is a fundamental one: What is it to be heard in a legal system? The law has long favored certain kinds of expression—speech, writing, and signature—for centuries. But as the digital age broadens the horizons of communication, these familiar forms are no longer the only signs of agency or consent. In order to accept AAC and neuro-technology as legitimate means of legal communication, the horizons of personhood, capacity, and autonomy must be redefined.

This is not just a question of technological adjustment but one of readjusting legal ethics and constitutional principles to the needs of an open, accessible, and diverse society. It requires a shift in paradigm from considering communication as the means of the able-bodied majority to understanding it as an active, changing medium of human expression—comprising devices, eye- tracking software, brain-computer interfaces, and emerging technologies yet to be imagined. The pathway is clear:

• Legal guidelines need to legitimize AAC-based communication in the judiciary and administrative processes.
• Amendments to legislation need to enshrine the rights of AAC users in contracts, medical consent, property sales, and testimony.
• Innovative technologies need to be used not only for efficiency but for empowerment, maintaining privacy, verification, and security.
• Public spaces, government offices, and online platforms need to be made communication accessible spaces, embracing a diversity of interaction modes.
• Ethical models need to move away from paternalistic protection toward supported decision-making and dignity of risk, trusting people to express themselves even if that “speech” is coming through a machine.

In redesigning communication rights for the 21st century, India can take the lead internationally, not merely by catching up with other jurisdictions but by setting fresh standards that harmonize constitutional morality, technological innovation, and inclusive ethics. The future of justice is not only about who we hear but how we listen—and to whom.

Reference(S):

¹ Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, Dec. 13, 2006, 2515 U.N.T.S. 3.

² Rights of Persons with Disabilities Act, No. 49 of 2016, India Code (2016).

³ Cf. American Psychological Association, Facilitated Communication: Position Statement, 1994.

⁴ Niels Birbaumer et al., A spelling device for the paralysed, 398 Nature 297 (1999).

⁵ Ian Sample, Stephen Hawking: Visionary Scientist Who Defied ALS and Inspired the World, The Guardian (Mar. 14, 2018), https://www.theguardian.com.

⁶ J.-D. Haynes et al., Brain–computer interfaces in locked-in syndrome, 12 Nat. Rev. Neurosci. 115 (2017).

⁷ UNCRPD, art. 12.

⁸ UNCRPD, art. 21.

⁹ UNCRPD, art. 19.

¹⁰ Indian Contract Act, No. 9 of 1872, §10–14 (India).

¹¹ INDIA CONST. art. 21.

¹² Justice K.S. Puttaswamy v. Union of India, (2017) 10 SCC 1.

¹³ Anna Arstein-Kerslake & Eilionóir Flynn, The General Comment on Article 12 of the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities: A Roadmap for Equality Before the Law, 20 INT’L J. HUM. RTS. 471 (2016).