Rupert Sheldrake – banned from TED

On January 12th, 2013, Rupert gave a talk entitled The Science Delusion at TEDxWhitechapel. The theme for the night was Visions for Transition: Challenging existing paradigms and redefining values (for a more beautiful world). In response to protests from two militant materialist bloggers in the US, the talk was later taken down by TED and placed in a special corner of their website.

Rupert Sheldrake's banned TED talk

Background

Have you ever wondered what happens when a respected scientist steps onto one of the world's most prestigious stages and shares an idea so controversial that the entire establishment rushes to silence it? This isn't fiction. This is exactly what happened to Dr Rupert Sheldrake, a Cambridge educated biochemist whose TED talk became one of the most notorious cases of scientific censorship in recent history.

Imagine dedicating your life to scientific inquiry, being invited to share your findings on a global platform, only to have your presentation labeled as dangerous and effectively erased from public view. What could possibly be so threatening about a scientist questioning the foundations of modern science? Today, we're going to dive deep into the story behind the banned TED talk that shook the scientific community to its core. We'll explore not just what Sheldre said, but why his words were deemed too dangerous for public consumption. Because the truth is this isn't just about one man's ideas being silenced. It's about the very nature of scientific inquiry itself and who gets to decide what questions we're allowed to ask.

In January 2013, Rert Sheldrake took the stage at a TEDex event in White Chapel, London. The title of his talk was provocative yet simple, the science delusion. For those unfamiliar with Sheldrake, he's not some fringe pseudocientist or conspiracy theorist. He holds a PhD in biochemistry from Cambridge University, has published numerous peer-reviewed papers, and has spent decades conducting research that challenges mainstream scientific assumptions.

The TEDex event had been organized to explore challenging ideas and push boundaries. Sheldrake's presentation lasted just 18 minutes during which he calmly and methodically outlined what he called the 10 dogmas of modern science core assumptions that he argued most scientists accept without question treating them as facts rather than beliefs that should be empirically tested. Initially the talk was published online alongside other presentations from the event. It began to gain traction, accumulating views and sparking discussions across various online forums. People were intrigued by Sheldrake's measured critique of scientific materialism.

Then something unprecedented happened. In March 2013, TED's editorial board made a stunning decision. They removed Sheldrake's talk from their main YouTube channel and their official website. They relegated it to an obscure corner of their blog, labeling it as outside TED's scientific guidelines and flagging it with warnings about factual errors and pseudocience.

The official explanation provided by TED was that Sheldre's talk contained serious factual errors and made pseudocientific assertions that have been well discredited. However, TED never specified exactly what these errors were. Instead, they cited concerns from their science board, an anonymous group whose membership has never been publicly disclosed.

This decision ignited an immediate backlash. Prominent intellectuals, including author Graeme Hancock, whose TEDex talk was also removed in the same purge. Philosopher Deepac Chopra and even skeptic organizations questioned TED's approach. The controversy wasn't just about whether Sheldrake was right or wrong. It was about whether scientific institutions should have the power to silence dissenting voices without transparent criteria. What made the situation even more troubling was the contrast between TED's stated mission and their actions. TED had built its brand around the tagline ideas worth spreading, positioning itself as a platform for innovative cuttingedge thinking. Yet here they were actively suppressing an idea they deemed too dangerous or challenging to the status quo. The irony wasn't lost on observers. A talk questioning dogmatic thinking in science was itself being treated dogmatically. Ted's attempt to minimize Sheldrake's visibility backfired spectacularly. As news of the censorship spread, the talk gained far more attention than it likely would have received otherwise. People who had never heard of Rupert Sheldrake were now seeking out his band presentation, curious to discover what ideas could be so threatening that they needed to be hidden from public view.

But what exactly did Sheldrake say that warranted such an extreme reaction? What were these 10 dogmas that apparently crossed the line from acceptable scientific discourse into dangerous territory? At the heart of Sheldrake's controversial presentation were what he called the 10 dogmas or assumptions of modern science. These aren't fringe issues but fundamental assumptions about reality that underpin the entire scientific enterprise. According to Sheldrake, these assumptions have hardened into dogmas. Beliefs that are taken for granted rather than tested empirically.

Dogma #1: Nature is mechanical

The first and most fundamental dogma Sheldrake challenged is the belief that nature is mechanical. Modern science, he argued, treats the universe as a machine and living organisms as complex mechanisms. This view dates back to the 17th century and philosophers like Renee Deart who compared animals to automter. While this metaphor has been productive, Sheldrake suggested that it's just that a metaphor not a proven fact. What if nature is more organic than mechanical? What if the universe behaves more like an organism than a machine?

Dogma #2: Matter is unconscious

The second dogma Sheldrake identified is the belief that matter is unconscious. According to the prevailing scientific worldview, the physical world is made of inanimate unconscious matter.

Consciousness is seen as an anomaly that somehow emerged from complex arrangements of unconscious material. Sheldrake posed a provocative question. What if consciousness isn't an anomaly, but a fundamental aspect of nature? What if some form of consciousness or awareness exists throughout the natural world?

Dogma #3: The laws of nature are fixed

The third dogma concerns the laws of nature, which most scientists assume are fixed and unchanging. These laws are thought to have been set at the moment of the Big Bang and have remained constant ever since. But Sheldrake asked, "What if natural laws are more like habits that evolve over time? What if the regularities we observe in nature are not eternal mathematical truths but patterns that have developed and stabilized through repetition?

Dogma #4: Matter and energy is always conserved

The fourth dogma is the assumption that the total amount of matter and energy is always conserved. While conservation laws are cornerstone principles in physics, Sheldrake noted that they become problematic when applied to the universe as a whole, especially in light of concepts like dark energy. He suggested that our understanding of energy conservation might need revision at the cosmic scale.

Dogma #5: Nature is purposeless

The fifth dogma is the belief in nature's purposelessness. Modern science generally assumes that there is no purpose or direction in evolution or natural processes. They're driven by blind mechanical forces and random events. Sheldrake wondered, "What if there is some inherent purposiveness in nature? What if evolution isn't just a series of accidents, but has some directional quality?

Dogma #6: Biological inheritance is entirely material

The sixth dogma is the belief that biological inheritance is entirely material, carried exclusively by DNA and other material structures. Sheldrake proposed his alternative theory of morphic resonance, suggesting that organisms inherit a kind of memory from previous members of their species through non-material fields.

Dogma #7: Memories are material traces

The seventh dogma is that memories are stored as material traces in the brain. While neuroscience searches for these elusive memory traces, Sheldrake suggested that memories might not be stored in the brain at all, but accessed by the brain from a kind of non-local memory field.

Dogma #8: Mind is inside the head

The eighth dogma is that minds are inside heads. Our conscious experiences are generally assumed to be activities in our brains confined to our skulls. Sheldrake asked, "What if our minds extend beyond our brains? What if consciousness isn't generated by the brain but focused or channeled by it?

Dogma #9: Phychic phenomena are impossible

The ninth dogma is that psychic phenomena like telepathy are impossible because they contradict the previous dogmas. If minds are just brain activities confined to skulls, then telepathy and other sigh phenomena cannot exist. Yet Sheldre pointed to substantial evidence suggesting that these phenomena do occur which would necessitate a revision of our assumptions about consciousness.

Dogma #9: Only mechanistic medicine works

The 10th and final dogma is that mechanistic medicine is the only kind that really works. While acknowledging the tremendous successes of conventional medicine, Sheldrake argued that alternative healing practices like acupuncture might work through principles that current medical science doesn't recognize. What's crucial to understand about Sheldrake's approach is that he wasn't claiming these dogmas are definitely false. Rather, he was arguing that they should be recognized as assumptions that need to be tested rather than accepted as unquestionable truths. He was advocating for a more open, less dogmatic scientific method, one that questions its own foundations and is willing to consider alternative perspectives.

It's this call for open-minded scientific inquiry that paradoxically led to his talk being restricted. By suggesting that the foundational assumptions of modern science might be incomplete or mistaken, Sheldrake was challenging not just specific theories but the entire philosophical framework of scientific materialism. To understand why Sheldrake's ideas provoked such a strong reaction from scientific institutions, we need to recognize what's at stake. His critique goes beyond challenging individual theories or findings. It questions the very philosophical foundation of modern science, materialism. Scientific materialism holds that physical matter is the fundamental reality of the universe. In this worldview, consciousness, mind, and subjective experience are secondary phenomena emerging from and ultimately reducible to physical processes in the brain.

This perspective has dominated scientific thinking since the 19th century and has been extraordinarily productive in many ways, leading to countless technological innovations and medical breakthroughs. But materialism isn't just a scientific theory. It's a philosophical position with profound implications for how we understand ourselves and our place in the universe.

If materialism is correct, then we are essentially sophisticated biological machines. Our sense of free will is an illusion. Our consciousness is merely an epiphenomenon of neural activity. And when our bodies die, our conscious existence ends completely. When Sheldrake questions materialism, he's threatening a worldview that has become deeply entrenched, not just in science, but in educational institutions, government funding agencies, and corporate research departments. Trillions of dollars in research funding, countless academic careers, and entire industries are built upon materialist assumptions about reality.

Consider the implications. If Sheldre's alternative views were taken seriously, if consciousness isn't just a product of the brain, but a more fundamental aspect of reality, then the entire field of neuroscience would need to be reconceptualized. The billions invested in brain mapping initiatives and neurological research would be operating on flawed premises. If memory isn't stored physically in the brain, then decades of research into memory formation and storage would need to be reinterpreted and pharmaceutical approaches to memory disorders might be addressing the wrong targets. If minds extend beyond brains and telepathic communication is possible, then our understanding of human psychology, communication, and even social dynamics would require radical revision. The implications for privacy, security, and human relationships would be enormous.

If evolution has an inherent purposiveness rather than being driven solely by random mutation and natural selection, then evolutionary biology would need to incorporate teological principles that have been explicitly rejected for over a century. If the laws of nature themselves evolve over time rather than being fixed constants, then physics would face a crisis of predictability, and the search for a unified theory of everything would need to accommodate a universe with changing rules. These possibilities don't just challenge specific scientific theories. They undermine the entire materialist paradigm that has dominated Western thought since the Enlightenment. They suggest that reality might be far stranger, more complex, and more mindlike than our current scientific framework allows.

From the perspective of scientific institutions, this kind of fundamental challenge is dangerous, not because it's necessarily wrong, but because it threatens stability. Science progresses through what philosopher Thomas called normal science. Incremental research within established paradigms. Paradigm shifts are disruptive, messy, and threatening to those whose careers and identities are invested in the old framework. There's also a deeper cultural dimension to this resistance. Materialism doesn't just shape scientific research. It influences our entire modern worldview. It underpins secular societies, rationalist approaches to governance, and technocratic solutions to social problems. If materialism is incomplete or flawed, then many of our cultural institutions and approaches to collective challenges might also need rethinking.

This is why Sheldre's seemingly academic critique provoked such a visceral response. He wasn't just questioning scientific theories, but challenging the philosophical foundations of modern civilization. For institutions invested in maintaining the current paradigm, such challenges can appear not just wrong, but dangerous, worthy of suppression rather than engagement. Yet, history teaches us that scientific progress often comes precisely through questioning established dogmas. From Capernacus challenging geocentrism to Einstein questioning Newtonian physics, major advances have come from those willing to think beyond the accepted frameworks of their time. The question isn't whether Sheldrake is right about everything, but whether science is strong enough to engage with fundamental challenges rather than shutting them down.

The decision to remove Sheldrake's talk from TED's main platforms created a classic example of the Stryand effect when attempts to hide information lead to it spreading more widely than it would have otherwise. What might have been just another TEDex talk viewed by a modest audience suddenly became a symbol of scientific censorship and intellectual suppression. Within days of TED's announcement, news of the banned talk spread across alternative media sites, science forums, and social media platforms. People who had never heard of Rert Sheldrake were now searching for his work, curious about what ideas could be so threatening that they needed to be hidden from public view. The video was re-uploaded to countless YouTube channels, shared on file sharing sites, and discussed on podcasts and radio shows. The controversy sparked debates far beyond the content of the talk itself. It raised fundamental questions about who controls scientific discourse, what counts as legitimate scientific inquiry, and whether major platforms like TED have a responsibility to present diverse perspectives even when they challenge orthodoxy.

Many supporters of Sheldrake weren't necessarily endorsing all his specific theories, but were defending the principle that controversial ideas should be engaged with rather than silenced. Ted's handling of the situation drew criticism, even from those who disagreed with Sheldrake's views. Their initial removal of the talk without specific explanation, followed by vague accusations of factual errors without identifying them, seemed to many observers like an arbitrary exercise of power rather than a principled stand for scientific accuracy. When they eventually created a special blog post to house the controversial talks, the comment section quickly filled with thousands of responses, the vast majority critical of Ted's decision.

Prominent figures came to Sheldrake's defense. Graham Hancock, whose TEDex talk on consciousness was removed alongside Sheldre's, wrote extensive rebuttals to Ted's claims. Deepac Chopra and others published open letters questioning Ted's approach. Even some skeptics and mainstream scientists expressed concern about the precedent being set, arguing that bad ideas should be refuted through debate rather than suppression. For Sheldrake himself, the controversy elevated his profile significantly. His book Science Set Free, published as The Science Delusion in the UK, which elaborated on the ideas in his talk, saw a surge in sales. He received more invitations to speak at universities, conferences, and on podcasts. The very ideas that Ted had attempted to sideline were now reaching a far wider audience than they likely would have otherwise.

Perhaps most importantly, the controversy highlighted a growing divide in scientific and intellectual culture. On one side stood the defenders of the scientific status quo, institutional science, major academic journals, and established scientific organizations that view challenges to materialism as misguided at best and dangerous pseudocience at worst. On the other side were those advocating for a more open pluralistic approach to science. One that's willing to question fundamental assumptions and explore alternative paradigms.

This divide isn't just academic. It reflects broader tensions in society between institutional authority and grassroots movements, between established power structures and emerging networks of knowledge sharing. The internet has democratized information in unprecedented ways, making it harder for any single institution to control what ideas receive attention and consideration. In many ways, the Sheldrake controversy foreshadowed larger battles over information control that would emerge in subsequent years. Questions about who has the authority to determine what counts as misinformation, what ideas deserve platforms, and what boundaries should exist around acceptable discourse have become central to our cultural moment.

8 years after the banning, Sheldre's talk continues to circulate widely. It has been viewed millions of times across various platforms, far more than most officially sanctioned TED talks. The attempt to marginalize his ideas has failed spectacularly, demonstrating that in the digital age, efforts to suppress information often backfire. More importantly, many of the questions Sheldrake raised remain unresolved. The hard problem of consciousness, the limitations of purely materialist explanations for mental phenomena and the philosophical foundations of science continue to be active areas of debate among philosophers, scientists, and thinkers. Far from settling these questions, Ted's attempt to shut down the conversation only highlighted how vital and unresolved they truly are.

The controversy surrounding Sheldrake's banned TED talk offers several profound lessons about science, authority, and the evolution of ideas in the digital age. First and foremost, it reminds us that science at its best is not a body of unquestionable truths, but a method of inquiry, a process of questioning, testing, and revising our understanding of the world. When scientific institutions respond to challenges by attempting to silence them rather than engage with them, they betray this fundamental principle. True science thrives on questioning and skepticism, not dogmatic adherence to established views. As Sheldrake himself put it, science is being held back by centuries old assumptions that have hardened into dogmas.

The history of science is filled with examples of revolutionary ideas that were initially rejected by the scientific establishment. From continental drift to the bacterial cause of ulcers, many concepts now accepted as scientific fact were once dismissed as fringe or pseudocientific. Progress often comes precisely through challenging the boundaries of what's considered acceptable scientific thinking. The controversy also highlights the changing landscape of intellectual authority in the digital age. Traditional gatekeepers of knowledge, universities, scientific journals, mainstream media organizations, and platforms like TED no longer have monopoly control over what ideas receive attention. When TED attempted to minimize Sheldrake's visibility, they discovered the limited power of institutional censorship in an era of decentralized information sharing.

This shift has both positive and negative implications. On one hand, it's now harder for powerful institutions to suppress ideas simply because they challenge the status quo. On the other hand, the democratization of information can make it difficult to distinguish between well-founded challenges to scientific orthodoxy and genuinely misleading pseudocience. In this new landscape, we all bear greater responsibility for critical thinking and evaluating claims on their merits rather than their institutional backing. The Sheldrake case also raises important questions about the relationship between science and philosophy. Many of the dogmas Sheldrake identified aren't strictly scientific hypotheses, but philosophical assumptions that underly scientific practice. The belief that consciousness is produced by the brain, for instance, isn't simply a scientific finding, but a philosophical position with scientific implications. Science cannot operate without philosophical assumptions. But problems arise when these assumptions are treated as proven facts rather than foundations that themselves might require examination. A more intellectually honest approach would acknowledge the philosophical commitments underlying scientific materialism and recognize them as choices rather than necessities.

Perhaps most importantly, the controversy reveals how intertwined scientific questions are with broader cultural and even spiritual concerns. When Sheldrake questions whether minds are confined to brains or whether consciousness might be fundamental rather than emergent, he's not just raising scientific hypotheses, but touching on questions of human nature and our place in the cosmos. These are questions that matter deeply to people, extending beyond the laboratory into how we understand our lives and experiences. The strong reaction to Sheldrake suggests that what's at stake isn't just scientific accuracy, but competing visions of reality and human nature. Materialist science offers one such vision of a universe of physical processes in which consciousness is a recent and localized phenomenon. Sheldrake and others offer alternative visions in which mind or consciousness might play a more fundamental role in reality.

Neither science nor any other human endeavor can completely separate facts from values, descriptions from meanings. The questions we choose to ask, the phenomena we decide to study, and the frameworks we use to interpret our findings all reflect deeper commitments about what matters and what counts as understanding. This doesn't mean abandoning scientific rigor or embracing every alternative theory uncritically. Rather, it suggests approaching science with both commitment to empirical evidence and humility about the provisional nature of our knowledge. It means recognizing that today's scientific consensus is not the final word, but one moment in an ongoing conversation about reality.

The most valuable lesson from the Sheldre controversy might be the importance of intellectual courage, the willingness to question fundamental assumptions, even when doing so invites criticism or marginalization. Whether or not Sheldrake's specific theories prove correct, his willingness to challenge deeply held assumptions exemplifies the spirit of inquiry that drives genuine advances in human understanding. As we navigate an increasingly complex information landscape, this kind of courage combined with critical thinking, openness to evidence, and respect for the scientific method offers our best path toward expanding knowledge. Not by declaring certain questions offlimits or certain challenges too dangerous to consider, but by engaging seriously with the full range of human inquiry, even when it leads us beyond comfortable certainties. The story of Rupert Sheldrake's banned TED talk is far more than an academic controversy or a debate about specific scientific theories. It's a window into a much larger struggle over how we determine what's true, who gets to decide, and what happens when established institutions try to limit the boundaries of acceptable thought.

When Ted removed Sheldrake's presentation from their main platforms, they weren't just expressing disagreement with his ideas. They were making a statement about what kinds of questions can be asked and what challenges to orthodoxy will be tolerated in public discourse. In doing so, they revealed something important about the tension between institutional science and the spirit of open inquiry that science itself claims to champion.

This tension isn't new. Throughout history, from Galileo challenging geocentrism to Barbara Mcccleintoch questioning conventional genetics, those who push beyond the boundaries of accepted thinking have often faced resistance, ridicule, and sometimes outright suppression. What's different today is the difficulty of effectively silencing dissenting voices in an age of decentralized information sharing. Ted's attempt to marginalize Sheldrake's ideas failed spectacularly. Not only did his talk reach far more people than it likely would have otherwise, but the controversy itself became a powerful example of the very dogmatism he was critiquing. When institutions respond to challenging ideas with censorship rather than engagement, they inadvertently demonstrate the limitations of their commitment to open inquiry. This doesn't mean that all challenges to scientific consensus are equally valid or that criteria for evaluating claims should be abandoned.

Science has developed rigorous methods for testing hypotheses and building reliable knowledge precisely because human thinking is prone to biases and errors. But these methods work best when applied with humility, openness to evidence, and recognition of the provisional nature of all scientific understanding. What Sheldre offers isn't a rejection of science, but an invitation to a broader, more inclusive scientific enterprise, one that's willing to question its own foundations and explore phenomena that don't fit neatly into current paradigms. Whether or not his specific theories prove correct, his willingness to ask fundamental questions exemplifies the curiosity and courage that drive scientific progress.

As we move forward in an era of rapidly evolving information landscapes and unprecedented global challenges, we need this kind of courageous inquiry more than ever. The complex problems facing humanity, from climate change to pandemic response to artificial intelligence require not just technical solutions, but deeper reflection on our understanding of nature, consciousness, and our place in the cosmos. This doesn't mean abandoning scientific rigor or critical thinking. On the contrary, it means applying these virtues more broadly, including to the assumptions that underly our current scientific framework. It means being willing to consider evidence that challenges our preconceptions and engage seriously with alternative perspectives even when they make us uncomfortable. The most dangerous dogma of all might be the belief that our current understanding is complete or final, that the major questions have been settled and all that remains is to fill in details.

History repeatedly teaches us that today's scientific certainties often become tomorrow's outdated notions replaced by deeper, more comprehensive understandings. In this light, Sheldre's banned talk becomes not just a controversy, but an invitation to question more deeply, to think more broadly, and to approach both science and life with genuine openness to the unknown. Not everything outside the mainstream is valuable, but neither is everything within it complete or correct. True progress comes from the courage to question, the humility to reconsider, and the persistence to investigate even when the path leads beyond comfortable certainties. As Sheldrake himself said in that controversial presentation, I think that the sciences would be better off without these dogmas. Science would be freer, more interesting, and more fun.

In the end, perhaps that's the most important message of all. That the quest for understanding is not just about accumulating facts, but about expanding our capacity for wonder, for questioning, and for imagining possibilities beyond our current horizons. The fact that this message was deemed too dangerous to be freely shared tells us something important, not about Sheldrake, but about the systems of knowledge and power that shape our collective understanding of reality. And in recognizing those limitations, we take the first step toward transcending