Australia's National Disability Insurance Scheme is already cutting support for autistic children, and families say the state-run alternatives the government promised simply don't exist.
The cuts are the first tangible sign of the Albanese government's NDIS 'reforms'—a massive overhaul designed to rein in the scheme's ballooning costs by shifting some participants to state-funded services. The theory was simple: the NDIS would focus on people with the most complex needs, while states would pick up everyone else.
But according to The Guardian, the practice is anything but simple. Families across Australia are reporting that their children's NDIS plans have been slashed, often with no explanation and no alternative support in place.
Mate, the government said the NDIS was unsustainable. They might be right. But cutting kids' support before the replacements exist? That's not reform. That's abandonment.
What's being cut
The reports are disturbingly consistent. Families say their children—many of them autistic or with developmental delays—have had therapy hours reduced, funding caps imposed, or entire categories of support removed from their plans.
One mother told The Guardian her son's speech therapy was cut from three sessions a week to one, with the NDIS planner telling her the state education system should cover the rest. But when she contacted her local school, they said they didn't have speech therapists available and couldn't guarantee any support.
Another family had their child's occupational therapy funding halved, with the planner suggesting they access community services instead. The community services, when contacted, had 18-month waiting lists.
The pattern is clear: the NDIS is cutting support based on the assumption that states have services ready to fill the gap. But those services either don't exist, have massive waitlists, or are stretched so thin they can't take new clients.
The political context
The NDIS was always going to hit a political reckoning. Launched in 2013 under the Gillard government, it was designed as a rights-based scheme—if you had a disability, you were entitled to the support you needed. The costs were expected to grow, but within manageable bounds.
They didn't. The scheme now costs more than $40 billion a year and is on track to hit $60 billion by 2030. Successive governments have warned it's unsustainable, though disability advocates point out that much of the cost blowout is due to over-servicing by providers, not participants getting too much support.
The Albanese government's solution was to negotiate a deal with the states: the Commonwealth would continue funding the NDIS, but states would take responsibility for 'foundational supports'—services like early intervention, education support, and low-level therapies.
The deal was signed. Implementation, however, is a disaster.
Why the states aren't ready
State governments have spent the past decade offloading disability services onto the NDIS. Schools cut therapy staff. Health departments closed early intervention programs. The logic was simple: if the Commonwealth is paying, why should states?
Now the Commonwealth is trying to shift responsibility back, and the states don't have the infrastructure to handle it. Rebuilding those services—hiring therapists, training staff, setting up programs—takes years. The NDIS cuts are happening now.
The result is a gap. Families who had stable support now have nothing. Kids who were making progress are regressing. And state governments are blaming the Commonwealth, while the Commonwealth blames the states.
Meanwhile, autistic children are the ones paying the price.
What families are doing
Some families are appealing the cuts through the NDIS's internal review process, though that can take months and offers no guarantee of success. Others are paying out of pocket for therapies they can't afford, racking up debt to keep their children progressing.
A few have gone public, sharing their stories with media in the hope of forcing the government to act. Disability advocates are calling for a moratorium on cuts until state services are genuinely ready to fill the gap.
The government, for its part, insists the reforms are necessary and that states are on track to deliver. But the evidence on the ground suggests otherwise.
What happens next
The NDIS Minister has promised to monitor the transition closely and adjust if needed. But 'monitoring' doesn't help families whose children are losing support right now. And 'adjusting' suggests the government is willing to experiment with disabled kids' futures.
The broader question is whether the NDIS can be reformed without harming the people it was designed to help. The scheme has flaws—rorting by providers, bureaucratic bloat, inconsistent planning. But cutting support for autistic children before alternatives exist isn't fixing those flaws. It's just cost-shifting.
Mate, there's a whole continent down here watching this unfold. And what we're seeing is a government that promised reform but delivered cuts. The kids deserve better.
