The NDIS Exclusion Lists

The National Disability Insurance Scheme was meant to be revolutionary, liberating people with disability from rigid systems that treated us as problems rather than human beings with rights. It promised individualised support and the chance to live on equal footing with other Australians. But the draft lists of "approved" and "not approved" supports represent a betrayal of these principles, regressing to a cookie-cutter approach that ignores our diverse needs.

These lists aren't mere administrative tweaks. They fundamentally reimagine the NDIS, stripping away individual choice in favour of a top-down model that has failed us for generations. The NDIS was built on the notion that we are experts in our own lives. These lists discard that wisdom, allowing faceless bureaucrats to dictate "appropriate" supports based on crude categories.

The potential consequences are dire. For ventilator-dependent individuals, while some respiratory supports remain, the exclusion of "equipment or assistive technology prescribed as a result of clinical care" could restrict access to specialised equipment, compromising essential care. People with acquired brain injuries face similar concerns. While some therapeutic supports are retained, the exclusion of "Supports related to mental health that are clinical in nature, including acute, ambulatory and continuing care, rehabilitation" could significantly limit access to crucial cognitive interventions.

For children with autism and developmental disabilities, the situation is equally troubling. While some early intervention supports remain, the exclusion of many educational aids and "specialised therapies" could dramatically reduce the effectiveness of these critical programs, potentially denying children timely support during key developmental windows.

The impact on mental health supports is particularly alarming. By excluding many interventions deemed "clinical in nature," the lists create an artificial and harmful divide between disability support and mental health care. For people with psychosocial disabilities, this could mean losing access to the very supports that enable community participation and prevent crisis.

Perhaps most insidious is how these changes threaten to entrench and expand segregation of people with disability. While not explicitly mandating segregation, the practical effect of these lists could push more people into segregated settings across multiple areas of life:

1. In education, by retaining funding for specialised schools while restricting supports for mainstream inclusion, more children could be pushed into segregated "special" education.
2. In employment, limitations on specialised therapies and technologies could make open employment harder to access, potentially increasing reliance on segregated Australian Disability Enterprises.
3. For housing, continued funding for group homes coupled with restrictions on home modifications could force more people into segregated living arrangements rather than independent community living.
4. In community participation, while some access supports remain, restrictions on specialised equipment and personal care could significantly limit many people's ability to engage in mainstream activities.
5. For mental health, excluding many community-based supports could lead to increased institutionalisation for people with psychosocial disabilities.

Crucially, these changes come at a time when mainstream, foundational supports in the community are woefully inadequate to replace NDIS supports. Our education system, workplaces, housing stock, and community facilities are simply not equipped to provide the level of accessibility and support that many people with disability require. By pulling NDIS supports without ensuring adequate mainstream alternatives, we risk leaving many people with nowhere to turn.

These changes represent more than specific cuts. They signal a fundamental shift away from individualised, person-centred care towards a one-size-fits-all approach that contradicts everything we know about effective disability support. The government cannot simply wave away these concerns by pointing to retained supports. The devil is in the details, and these details could have life-altering consequences for many Australians with disability.

Moreover, this approach violates our obligations under the UN Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities. It's not just a human rights violation; it perpetuates the "social apartheid" that has marginalised us for too long.

The proposed changes ignore decades of evidence showing that individualised, person-centred approaches produce better outcomes across the board. They risk exacerbating existing inequalities, particularly for those facing multiple forms of marginalisation.

Ultimately, these lists represent a fundamental shift in how we view disability and human rights. They treat disability as a medical problem to be managed, rather than a social and human rights issue. This approach has been roundly rejected by the disability community and international human rights bodies. It's the very mindset the NDIS was meant to replace.

We cannot accept this regression. The disability community has fought too hard, for too long, to return to a system that treats us as problems rather than people. These changes aren't just about the NDIS; they're about the kind of society we want to be. We must reject these harmful proposals and recommit to the original vision of the NDIS - a system that empowers us, recognises our rights and potential, and supports us to live the lives we choose. Anything less is not just a policy failure, but a moral one.