The timing seemed almost too perfect. A new book, «The Girl Who Bristled», appeared—written through facilitated communication by Katja Rohde, a German autistic girl. Around the same time, Teresa Rendina, a devoted friend of Ombre e Luci, sent us a moving letter describing the communication breakthroughs her son Michele has made, and told us about another book, «The Albatross», written by Christian Moretti, an autistic young man from Rome.
Christian's book documents three years of learning. By typing on a computer keyboard, he moved from single words and fragments to complete, coherent sentences—letters, reflections on diverse subjects, whole thoughts. Francesca Benassi wrote the preface. She is an educator in Rome and one of the leading figures spreading facilitated communication (FC) among autistic youth.
Three years have passed since we last covered this subject (see Ombre e Luci no. 63 - 1998). FC has since spread across Italy, Europe, and the world with remarkable force—bringing enthusiasm, but also skepticism and criticism. This time we wanted to go to the source. We sat down with Francesca Benassi, who has worked with FC for nearly ten years, studied the method in France and the United States, and now directs the FC Study Center in Rome.
Many people with motor disorders, neuromotor difficulties, or autism struggle with a fundamental problem: they cannot translate intention into gesture. The coordination between cognitive and motor systems that we take for granted is broken. They cannot perform voluntary, purposeful movements. They cannot speak intelligibly. So they cannot communicate. And so we label them "low-functioning" and assume severe intellectual disability.
But research revealed something surprising. When these same people received structured training—focused, ongoing exercises—they could respond correctly to requests using a pointing method. Their answers exceeded expectations. The breakthrough came when researchers discovered that a purposeful gesture could happen if an operator initially steadied or gently resisted the person's spontaneous arm movement.
- Read also: Autism and Facilitated Communication: How Michele Broke Out of His "Fortress"
With minimal physical support—the facilitator's hand or arm steadying their own—the person could point to objects, images, symbols, and then letters on a keyboard. They could spell words. Answer questions. For the first time in their lives, they could express themselves. Computers made this easier and faster. As people typed, they could share sensations, then more complex thoughts.
So facilitated communication is an alternative communication method made possible by restoring voluntary motor function. The person using FC must already know written language—must have been to school or had contact with written text. This is crucial. Often these individuals learned letters and writing without ever showing it. Many have remarkable powers of concentration and memory. But they had no way to reveal what they understood.
The physical support—the facilitator's guiding pressure on the person's arm—must gradually lighten and eventually disappear. Many of Dr. Benassi's autistic clients now type independently, without any contact or assistance.
Dr. Benassi emphasized one important point about FC's purpose. She and her colleagues embraced this method forcefully because it offered something precious: a way for people locked in their own world to finally reach ours. To reveal their feelings, thoughts, frustrations, and fears. FC lets parents, family, and friends truly know the autistic person. It strips away the diagnosis and shows the person underneath. That changes everything about how we see them and treat them.
But—and Dr. Benassi was clear about this—the real goal must be to help the person rejoin the community with growing independence. From the start, the facilitator's role is to provide support and understanding, so the person wants to communicate. Not to test their intelligence. And certainly not to attempt amateur psychotherapy, which is beyond the facilitator's scope and could harm the person.
The back-and-forth of questions and answers is essential. It helps the person organize their thoughts.
The person working with a client in FC is called a "facilitator"—and the work is too complex for amateurs. Parents, siblings, friends can become facilitators, but they must be trained. A facilitator course at the FC Study Center, including theory, practice, and supervised work, takes about two years.
The essential rules for a facilitator seem less like textbook principles than like the qualities of a good friend: respect for the person in your care, deep faith in their hidden capacities, and tremendous patience. Progress varies wildly—weeks for some, years for others.
But Dr. Benassi assured us: the method is working. Every country where it has been applied has seen good results. It keeps spreading. In Italy, the FC Study Center now works with the Ministry of Education. Support teachers in public schools have received training. The method is used in several major day centers.
FC is not magic and works no miracles. It does not cure autism. But it does reveal something astonishing: active mental processes in people we thought were profoundly disabled. Language comprehension. The ability to build sentences using vocabulary sometimes richer than their age would predict. A discovery that would have been unthinkable just decades ago.
If you want to know more, parents, friends, and educators can contact Francesca Benassi. FC Study Center—Via del Colosseo 16/A—Tel. 06/69920878.
- by Tea Cabras, 2001