19/08/2026
The NDIS Bill is creating a “survival of the fittest” model—and that is not disability support.
As the Founder and Clinical Director of Neurodiverse Playhouse, a clinician of approximately 20 years and a parent of neurodivergent children, I see the NDIS from several perspectives.
I understand that fraud must be addressed and that the NDIS must remain sustainable. However, sustainability cannot be achieved by making disabled people compete to prove who is impaired enough, articulate enough, organised enough or desperate enough to receive support.
In this new model, the people most likely to survive will not necessarily be those with the greatest needs. They will be those whose families have the time, money, knowledge and emotional capacity to navigate the system, pay for reports, understand NDIA language and repeatedly challenge decisions.
That is not support based on disability-related need. It is support based on administrative fitness.
I am particularly concerned about children. Early intervention works because it is early. We should not have to wait until a child is excluded from kindy, unable to attend school, experiencing significant anxiety or in crisis before they qualify for meaningful help.
Neurodivergent children can also be easily misunderstood by standardised assessments. A child may speak well in a quiet room but be unable to participate safely or consistently in a classroom. They may appear capable while using enormous physical, emotional and cognitive effort simply to get through the day.
A brief assessment cannot always capture the true cost of participation.
These reforms also risk forcing families and clinicians to describe children only through their worst days. We should be able to recognise a child’s strengths without those strengths being used as evidence that they do not need support.
The economic argument does not stack up either.
The strongest economies generally survive with the least preventable health and social dysfunction. They invest in early intervention, healthcare, education and disability support because healthier, better-supported communities are more able to participate and contribute.
When support is removed, the cost does not disappear. It spreads.
Parents reduce their working hours or leave employment. Schools attempt to manage without sufficient resources. Preventable physical and mental-health concerns escalate. Hospitals and crisis services carry more pressure. Families absorb the financial and emotional cost.
That is not a saving. It is cost-shifting.
Fraud should be addressed through effective regulation, auditing, provider oversight and prosecution—not by creating greater barriers for ordinary participants and families.
The NDIS can be reformed without abandoning its purpose. We can pursue sustainability without rationing dignity. We can stop exploitation without treating every participant as a financial risk.
The measure of a disability system is not how effectively it removes people from a balance sheet. It is whether people who need support can access it fairly, safely and with dignity.
If only the strongest advocates, wealthiest families and most administratively capable participants can survive the system, then the system is not working.
It is selecting its survivors.
This is a personal reflection based on my experiences as a clinician, service provider and parent. It is not legal advice.
